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@@ -1,27 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Jazz Age, by F. Scott Fitzgerald - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Tales of the Jazz Age - -Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald - -Release Date: January 14, 2003 [eBook #6695] -[Most recently updated: May 20, 2023] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Steve Schulze, Charles Franks, the Online Distributed Proofreading Team and Henry Flower - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6695 *** @@ -8287,7 +8264,7 @@ participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly wounded, and received a medal. Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required +army life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at the station by a brass band and escorted to his house. @@ -12006,357 +11983,4 @@ So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they made were as one. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - -***** This file should be named 6695-0.txt or 6695-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/6/9/6695/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Scott Fitzgerald</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> + <meta charset="utf-8"><title>Tales of the Jazz Age | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" > + <style> body { - margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; } @@ -84,54 +81,34 @@ h1,h2 .poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} .poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} .poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} - - </style> </head> <body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Jazz Age, by F. Scott Fitzgerald</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Tales of the Jazz Age</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 14, 2003 [eBook #6695]<br /> -[Most recently updated: May 20, 2023]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Steve Schulze, Charles Franks, the Online Distributed Proofreading Team and Henry Flower</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6695 ***</div> <h1>TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE</h1> -<p class="p2 center">BY<br /> +<p class="p2 center">BY<br > <span class="large">F. SCOTT FITZGERALD</span></p> -<p class="p2 center">NEW YORK<br /> +<p class="p2 center">NEW YORK<br > -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br > 1922</p> -<p class="break p4 center small"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1922, by</span><br /> +<p class="break p4 center small"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1922, by</span><br > CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> <p class="small center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, by</span> THE VANITY FAIR PUB. CO., INC.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, 1921, by</span> THE METROPOLITAN PUBLICATIONS, INC.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, by</span> THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, by</span> THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, 1921, by</span> THE SMART SET CO.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, by</span> THE VANITY FAIR PUB. CO., INC.<br > +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, 1921, by</span> THE METROPOLITAN PUBLICATIONS, INC.<br > +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, by</span> THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE<br > +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, by</span> THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.<br > +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, 1921, by</span> THE SMART SET CO.<br > </p> <p class="small center">Printed in the United States of America</p> @@ -139,7 +116,7 @@ CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> <p class="small center">Published September, 1922</p> <p class="break p4 center"> -<span class="small">QUITE INAPPROPRIATELY</span><br /> +<span class="small">QUITE INAPPROPRIATELY</span><br > TO MY MOTHER</p> @@ -1152,7 +1129,7 @@ his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely.</p> his throat. The air cleared and became radiant with dawn, and turning over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>In the sunshine of three o’clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along Jackson Street was hailed by the Jelly-bean, who stood on the curb @@ -1261,7 +1238,7 @@ going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change.</p> <p>“Oh.”</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth again as a world-old joke @@ -5853,7 +5830,7 @@ little depressing, Mr. Unger had thought—but now ....</p> destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>St. Midas’s School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one, except @@ -8412,7 +8389,7 @@ participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly wounded, and received a medal.</p> <p>Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required +army life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at the station by a brass band and escorted to his house.</p> @@ -11542,7 +11519,7 @@ gathered kindness in the other’s eyes.</p> <div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="MR_ICKY">MR. ICKY<br /> +<h3 class="nobreak" id="MR_ICKY">MR. ICKY<br > THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT</h3> </div> @@ -12174,446 +12151,6 @@ fit is over now. We must not part them.”</p> <p>So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they made were as one.</p> -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 6695-h.htm or 6695-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/6/9/6695/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Scott Fitzgerald - -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: Tales of the Jazz Age - -Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald - -Posting Date: July 17, 2010 [EBook #6695] -Release Date: October, 2004 -First Posted: January 14, 2003 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - - - - -Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team. This file was produced from -images generously made available by the Digital & Multimedia -Center, Michigan State University Libraries. - - - - - - - - - - -TALES FROM THE JAZZ AGE - - -BY - -F. SCOTT FITZGERALD - -1922 - - - - -A TABLE OF CONTENTS - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - -THE JELLY-BEAN - -This is a Southern story, with the scene laid in the small Lily of -Tarleton, Georgia. I have a profound affection for Tarleton, but -somehow whenever I write a story about it I receive letters from all -over the South denouncing me in no uncertain terms. "The Jelly-Bean," -published in "The Metropolitan," drew its full share of these -admonitory notes. - -It was written under strange circumstances shortly after my first -novel was published, and, moreover, it was the first story in which I -had a collaborator. For, finding that I was unable to manage the -crap-shooting episode, I turned it over to my wife, who, as a Southern -girl, was presumably an expert on the technique and terminology of -that great sectional pastime. - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - -I suppose that of all the stories I have ever written this one cost me -the least travail and perhaps gave me the most amusement. As to the -labor involved, it was written during one day in the city of New -Orleans, with the express purpose of buying a platinum and diamond -wrist watch which cost six hundred dollars. I began it at seven in the -morning and finished it at two o'clock the same night. It was -published in the "Saturday Evening Post" in 1920, and later included -in the O. Henry Memorial Collection for the same year. I like it least -of all the stories in this volume. - -My amusement was derived from the fact that the camel part of the -story is literally true; in fact, I have a standing engagement with -the gentleman involved to attend the next fancy-dress party to which -we are mutually invited, attired as the latter part of the camel--this -as a sort of atonement for being his historian. - - -MAY DAY. - -This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the "Smart -Set" in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the -spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great -impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general -hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my -story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a -pattern--a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New -York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the -younger generation. - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK. - -"And do you write for any other magazines?" inquired the young lady. - -"Oh, yes," I assured her. "I've had some stories and plays in the -'Smart Set,' for instance----" - -The young lady shivered. - -"The 'Smart Set'!" she exclaimed. "How can you? Why, they publish -stuff about girls in blue bathtubs, and silly things like that." - -And I had the magnificent joy of telling her that she was referring to -"Porcelain and Pink," which had appeared there several months before. - - -FANTASIES - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ. - -These next stories are written in what, were I of imposing stature, I -should call my "second manner." "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," -which appeared last summer in the "Smart Set," was designed utterly -for my own amusement. I was in that familiar mood characterized by a -perfect craving for luxury, and the story began as an attempt to feed -that craving on imaginary foods. - -One well-known critic has been pleased to like this extravaganza -better than anything I have written. Personally I prefer "The Offshore -Pirate." But, to tamper slightly with Lincoln: If you like this sort -of thing, this, possibly, is the sort of thing you'll like. - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. - -This story was inspired by a remark of Mark Twain's to the effect that -it was a pity that the best part of life came at the beginning and the -worst part at the end. By trying the experiment upon only one man in a -perfectly normal world I have scarcely given his idea a fair trial. -Several weeks after completing it, I discovered an almost identical -plot in Samuel Butler's "Note-books." - -The story was published in "Collier's" last summer and provoked this -startling letter from an anonymous admirer in Cincinnati: - -"Sir-- - -I have read the story Benjamin Button in Colliers and I wish to say -that as a short story writer you would make a good lunatic I have seen -many peices of cheese in my life but of all the peices of cheese I -have ever seen you are the biggest peice. I hate to waste a peice of -stationary on you but I will." - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE. - -Written almost six years ago, this story is a product of undergraduate -days at Princeton. Considerably revised, it was published in the -"Smart Set" in 1921. At the time of its conception I had but one -idea--to be a poet--and the fact that I was interested in the ring of -every phrase, that I dreaded the obvious in prose if not in plot, -shows throughout. Probably the peculiar affection I feel for it -depends more upon its age than upon any intrinsic merit. - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - -When this was written I had just completed the first draft of my -second novel, and a natural reaction made me revel in a story wherein -none of the characters need be taken seriously. And I'm afraid that I -was somewhat carried away by the feeling that there was no ordered -scheme to which I must conform. After due consideration, however, I -have decided to let it stand as it is, although the reader may find -himself somewhat puzzled at the time element. I had best say that -however the years may have dealt with Merlin Grainger, I myself was -thinking always in the present. It was published in the -"Metropolitan." - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS. - -Of this story I can say that it came to me in an irresistible form, -crying to be written. It will be accused perhaps of being a mere piece -of sentimentality, but, as I saw it, it was a great deal more. If, -therefore, it lacks the ring of sincerity, or even, of tragedy, the -fault rests not with the theme but with my handling of it. - -It appeared in the "Chicago Tribune," and later obtained, I believe, -the quadruple gold laurel leaf or some such encomium from one of the -anthologists who at present swarm among us. The gentleman I refer to -runs as a rule to stark melodramas with a volcano or the ghost of John -Paul Jones in the role of Nemesis, melodramas carefully disguised by -early paragraphs in Jamesian manner which hint dark and subtle -complexities to follow. On this order: - -"The case of Shaw McPhee, curiously enough, had no hearing on the -almost incredible attitude of Martin Sulo. This is parenthetical and, -to at least three observers, whose names for the present I must -conceal, it seems improbable, etc., etc., etc.," until the poor rat of -fiction is at last forced out into the open and the melodrama begins. - - -MR. ICKY - -This has the distinction of being the only magazine piece ever written -in a New York hotel. The business was done in a bedroom in the -Knickerbocker, and shortly afterward that memorable hostelry closed -its doors forever. - -When a fitting period of mourning had elapsed it was published in the -"Smart Set." - - -JEMINA. - -Written, like "Tarquin of Cheapside," while I was at Princeton, this -sketch was published years later in "Vanity Fair." For its technique I -must apologize to Mr. Stephen Leacock. - -I have laughed over it a great deal, especially when I first wrote it, -but I can laugh over it no longer. Still, as other people tell me it -is amusing, I include it here. It seems to me worth preserving a few -years--at least until the ennui of changing fashions suppresses me, my -books, and it together. - -With due apologies for this impossible Table of Contents, I tender -these tales of the Jazz Age into the hands of those who read as they -run and run as they read. - - - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - - -THE JELLY-BEAN. - - -Jim Powell was a Jelly-bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing -character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that -point. He was a bred-in-the-bone, dyed-in-the-wool, ninety-nine -three-quarters per cent Jelly-bean and he grew lazily all during -Jelly-bean season, which is every season, down in the land of the -Jelly-beans well below the Mason-Dixon line. - -Now if you call a Memphis man a Jelly-bean he will quite possibly pull -a long sinewy rope from his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient -telegraph-pole. If you Call a New Orleans man a Jelly-bean he will -probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras -ball. The particular Jelly-bean patch which produced the protagonist -of this history lies somewhere between the two--a little city of forty -thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern -Georgia occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something -about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone -else has forgotten long ago. - -Jim was a Jelly-bean. I write that again because it has such a -pleasant sound--rather like the beginning of a fairy story--as if Jim -were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of him with a round, -appetizing face and all sort of leaves and vegetables growing out of -his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from stooping -over pool-tables, and he was what might have been known in the -indiscriminating North as a corner loafer. "Jelly-bean" is the name -throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life -conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular--I am -idling, I have idled, I will idle. - -Jim was born in a white house on a green corner, It had four -weather-beaten pillars in front and a great amount of lattice-work in -the rear that made a cheerful criss-cross background for a flowery -sun-drenched lawn. Originally the dwellers in the white house had -owned the ground next door and next door to that and next door to -that, but this had been so long ago that even Jim's father, scarcely -remembered it. He had, in fact, thought it a matter of so little -moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he -neglected even to tell little Jim, who was five years old and -miserably frightened. The white house became a boarding-house run by a -tight-lipped lady from Macon, whom Jim called Aunt Mamie and detested -with all his soul. - -He became fifteen, went to high school, wore his hair in black snarls, -and was afraid of girls. He hated his home where four women and one -old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about -what lots the Powell place had originally included and what sorts of -flowers would be out next. Sometimes the parents of little girls in -town, remembering Jim's mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark -eyes and hair, invited him to parties, but parties made him shy and he -much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in Tilly's Garage, -rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. -For pocket money, he picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that -he stopped going to parties. At his third party little Marjorie Haight -had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a -boy who brought the groceries sometimes. So instead of the two-step -and polka, Jim had learned to throw, any number he desired on the dice -and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred -in the surrounding country during the past fifty years. - -He became eighteen. The war broke out and he enlisted as a gob and -polished brass in the Charleston Navy-yard for a year. Then, by way of -variety, he went North and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navy-yard -for a year. - -When the war was over he came home, He was twenty-one, has trousers -were too short and too tight. His buttoned shoes were long and narrow. -His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink marvellously -scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very -good old cloth, long exposed to the sun. - -In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down -along the cottonfields and over the sultry town, he was a vague figure -leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim -above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently -on a problem that had held his attention for an hour. The Jelly-bean had -been invited to a party. - -Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark -Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in school. But, while Jim's social -aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had -alternately fallen in and out of love, gone to college, taken to -drink, given it up, and, in short, become one of the best beaux of the -town. Nevertheless Clark and Jim had retained a friendship that, -though casual, was perfectly definite. That afternoon Clark's ancient -Ford had slowed up beside Jim, who was on the sidewalk and, out of a -clear sky, Clark invited him to a party at the country club. The -impulse that made him do this was no stranger than the impulse which -made Jim accept. The latter was probably an unconscious ennui, a -half-frightened sense of adventure. And now Jim was soberly thinking -it over. - -He began to sing, drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the -sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in time to the low throaty tune: - - "One smile from Home in Jelly-bean town, - Lives Jeanne, the Jelly-bean Queen. - She loves her dice and treats 'em nice; - No dice would treat her mean." - -He broke off and agitated the sidewalk to a bumpy gallop. - -"Daggone!" he muttered, half aloud. They would all be there--the old -crowd, the crowd to which, by right of the white house, sold long -since, and the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantel, Jim -should have belonged. But that crowd had grown up together into a -tight little set as gradually as the girls' dresses had lengthened -inch by inch, as definitely as the boys' trousers had dropped suddenly -to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppy -loves Jim was an outsider--a running mate of poor whites. Most of the -men knew him, condescendingly; he tipped his hat to three or four -girls. That was all. - -When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he -walked through the hot, pleasantly pungent town to Jackson Street. The -stores were closing and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as -if borne on the dreamy revolution of a slow merry-go-round. A -street-fair farther down a brilliant alley of varicolored booths -contributed a blend of music to the night--an oriental dance on a -calliope, a melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful -rendition of "Back Home in Tennessee" on a hand-organ. - -The Jelly-bean stopped in a store and bought a collar. Then he -sauntered along toward Soda Sam's, where he found the usual three or -four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies -running back and forth with sundaes and lemonades. - -"Hello, Jim." - -It was a voice at his elbow--Joe Ewing sitting in an automobile with -Marylyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a strange man were in the back seat. - -The Jelly-bean tipped his hat quickly. - -"Hi Ben--" then, after an almost imperceptible pause--"How y' all?" - -Passing, he ambled on toward the garage where he had a room up-stairs. -His "How y'all" had been said to Nancy Lamar, to whom he had not -spoken in fifteen years. - -Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and -blue-black hair inherited from her mother who had been born in -Budapest. Jim passed her often on the street, walking small-boy -fashion with her hands in her pockets and he knew that with her -inseparable Sally Carrol Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts -from Atlanta to New Orleans. - -For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed -and as he reached his door began to sing softly to himself: - - "Her Jelly Roll can twist your soul, - Her eyes are big and brown, - She's the Queen of the Queens of the Jelly-beans-- - My Jeanne of Jelly-bean Town." - - -II - -At nine-thirty, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started -for the Country Club in Clark's Ford. "Jim," asked Clark casually, as -they rattled through the jasmine-scented night, "how do you keep -alive?" - -The Jelly-bean paused, considered. - -"Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him -some with the cars in the afternoon an' he gives it to me free. -Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a little thataway. I -get fed up doin' that regular though." - -"That all?" - -"Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the day--Saturdays -usually--and then there's one main source of revenue I don't generally -mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'm about the champion crap-shooter -of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now because once I get the -feel of a pair of dice they just roll for me." - -Clark grinned appreciatively, - -"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish -you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar some day and take all her money away from -her. She will roll 'em with the boys and she loses more than her daddy -can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last -month to pay a debt." - -The Jelly-bean was noncommittal. - -"The white house on Elm Street still belong to you?" - -Jim shook his head. - -"Sold. Got a pretty good price, seein' it wasn't in a good part of -town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into Liberty bonds. But Aunt -Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to -keep her up at Great Farms Sanitarium. - -"Hm." - -"I got an old uncle up-state an' I reckin I kin go up there if ever I -get sure enough pore. Nice farm, but not enough niggers around to work -it. He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take -much to it. Too doggone lonesome--" He broke off suddenly. "Clark, I -want to tell you I'm much obliged to you for askin' me out, but I'd be -a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here an' let me walk -back into town." - -"Shucks!" Clark grunted. "Do you good to step out. You don't have to -dance--just get out there on the floor and shake." - -"Hold on," exclaimed. Jim uneasily, "Don't you go leadin' me up to any -girls and leavin' me there so I'll have to dance with 'em." - -Clark laughed. - -"'Cause," continued Jim desperately, "without you swear you won't do -that I'm agoin' to get out right here an' my good legs goin' carry me -back to Jackson street." - -They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was -to view the spectacle from a secluded settee in the corner where Clark -would join him whenever he wasn't dancing. - -So ten o'clock found the Jelly-bean with his legs crossed and his arms -conservatively folded, trying to look casually at home and politely -uninterested in the dancers. At heart he was torn between overwhelming -self-consciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on -around him. He saw the girls emerge one by one from the dressing-room, -stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over -their powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance -around to take in the room and, simultaneously, the room's reaction to -their entrance--and then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in -the sober arms of their waiting escorts. Sally Carrol Hopper, blonde -and lazy-eyed, appeared clad in her favorite pink and blinking like an -awakened rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the -girls he had seen loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled -and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights, were -miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and -gold, fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried. - -He had been there half an hour, totally uncheered by Clark's jovial -visits which were each one accompanied by a "Hello, old boy, how you -making out?" and a slap at his knee. A dozen males had spoken to him -or stopped for a moment beside him, but he knew that they were each -one surprised at finding him there and fancied that one or two were -even slightly resentful. But at half past ten his embarrassment -suddenly left him and a pull of breathless interest took him -completely out of himself--Nancy Lamar had come out of the -dressing-room. - -She was dressed in yellow organdie, a costume of a hundred cool -corners, with three tiers of ruffles and a big bow in back until she -shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent lustre. -The Jelly-bean's eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat. For -she stood beside the door until her partner hurried up. Jim recognized -him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that -afternoon. He saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low -voice, and laugh. The man laughed too and Jim experienced the quick -pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the -pair, a shaft of beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment -since. The Jelly-bean felt suddenly like a weed in a shadow. - -A minute later Clark approached him, bright-eyed and glowing. - -"Hi, old man" he cried with some lack of originality. "How you making -out?" - -Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected. - -"You come along with me," commanded Clark. "I've got something that'll -put an edge on the evening." - -Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the -locker-room where Clark produced a flask of nameless yellow liquid. - -"Good old corn." - -Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as "good old corn" -needed some disguise beyond seltzer. - -"Say, boy," exclaimed Clark breathlessly, "doesn't Nancy Lamar look -beautiful?" - -Jim nodded. - -"Mighty beautiful," he agreed. - -"She's all dolled up to a fare-you-well to-night," continued Clark. -"Notice that fellow she's with?" - -"Big fella? White pants?" - -"Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes -the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her. Been chasing, -after her all year. - -"She's a wild baby," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does -everybody. But she sure does do crazy stunts. She usually gets out -alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or -another she's done." - -"That so?" Jim passed over his glass. "That's good corn." - -"Not so bad. Oh, she's a wild one. Shoot craps, say, boy! And she do -like her high-balls. Promised I'd give her one later on." - -"She in love with this--Merritt?" - -"Damned if I know. Seems like all the best girls around here marry -fellas and go off somewhere." - -He poured himself one more drink and carefully corked the bottle. - -"Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just -stick this corn right on your hip as long as you're not dancing. If a -man notices I've had a drink he'll come up and ask me and before I -know it it's all gone and somebody else is having my good time." - -So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become -the private property of an individual in white trousers--and all -because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his -neighbor. As they descended the stairs Jim found the idea inexplicably -depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a vague and -romantic yearning. A picture of her began to form in his -imagination--Nancy walking boylike and debonnaire along the street, -taking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruit-dealer, charging a -dope on a mythical account, at Soda Sam's, assembling a convoy of -beaux and then driving off in triumphal state for an afternoon of -splashing and singing. - -The Jelly-bean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark -between the moon on the lawn and the single lighted door of the -ballroom. There he found a chair and, lighting a cigarette, drifted -into the thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a -reverie made sensuous by the night and by the hot smell of damp powder -puffs, tucked in the fronts of low dresses and distilling a thousand -rich scents, to float out through the open door. The music itself, -blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a languorous -overtone to the scraping of many shoes and slippers. - -Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was -obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come out of the dressing-room -and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a -low-breathed "doggone" and then she turned and saw him. It was Nancy -Lamar. - -Jim rose to his feet. - -"Howdy?" - -"Hello--" she paused, hesitated and then approached. "Oh, it's--Jim -Powell." - -He bowed slightly, tried to think of a casual remark. - -"Do you suppose," she began quickly, "I mean--do you know anything -about gum?" - -"What?" "I've got gum on my shoe. Some utter ass left his or her gum -on the floor and of course I stepped in it." - -Jim blushed, inappropriately. - -"Do you know how to get it off?" she demanded petulantly. "I've tried -a knife. I've tried every damn thing in the dressing-room. I've tried -soap and water--and even perfume and I've ruined my powder-puff trying -to make it stick to that." - -Jim considered the question in some agitation. - -"Why--I think maybe gasolene--" - -The words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and -pulled him at a run off the low veranda, over a flower bed and at a -gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first -hole of the golf course. - -"Turn on the gasolene," she commanded breathlessly. - -"What?" - -"For the gum of course. I've got to get it off. I can't dance with gum -on." - -Obediently Jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a -view to obtaining the desired solvent. Had she demanded a cylinder he -would have done his best to wrench one out. - -"Here," he said after a moment's search. "'Here's one that's easy. Got -a handkerchief?" - -"It's up-stairs wet. I used it for the soap and water." - -Jim laboriously explored his pockets. - -"Don't believe I got one either." - -"Doggone it! Well, we can turn it on and let it run on the ground." - -He turned the spout; a dripping began. - -"More!" - -He turned it on fuller. The dripping became a flow and formed an oily -pool that glistened brightly, reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on -its quivering bosom. - -"Ah," she sighed contentedly, "let it all out. The only thing to do is -to wade in it." - -In desperation he turned on the tap full and the pool suddenly widened -sending tiny rivers and trickles in all directions. - -"That's fine. That's something like." - -Raising her skirts she stepped gracefully in. - -"I know this'll take it off," she murmured. - -Jim smiled. - -"There's lots more cars." - -She stepped daintily out of the gasolene and began scraping her -slippers, side and bottom, on the running-board of the automobile. The -jelly-bean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive -laughter and after a second she joined in. - -"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" she asked as they walked -back toward the veranda. - -"Yes." - -"You know where he is now?" - -"Out dancin', I reckin." - -"The deuce. He promised me a highball." - -"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right -here in my pocket." - -She smiled at him radiantly. - -"I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale though," he added. - -"Not me. Just the bottle." - -"Sure enough?" - -She laughed scornfully. - -"Try me. I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down." - -She perched herself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of -the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork she held the flask -to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated. - -"Like it?" - -She shook her head breathlessly. - -"No, but I like the way it makes me feel. I think most people are that -way." - -Jim agreed. - -"My daddy liked it too well. It got him." - -"American men," said Nancy gravely, "don't know how to drink." - -"What?" Jim was startled. - -"In fact," she went on carelessly, "they don't know how to do anything -very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in -England." - -"In England?" - -"Yes. It's the one regret of my life that I wasn't." - -"Do you like it over there?" "Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in -person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the -army, Oxford and Cambridge men--you know, that's like Sewanee and -University of Georgia are here--and of course I've read a lot of -English novels." - -Jim was interested, amazed. - -"D' you ever hear of Lady Diana Manner?" she asked earnestly. - -No, Jim had not. - -"Well, she's what I'd like to be. Dark, you know, like me, and wild as -sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral -or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it -afterwards." - -Jim nodded politely. He was out of his depths. - -"Pass the bottle," suggested Nancy. "I'm going to take another little -one. A little drink wouldn't hurt a baby. - -"You see," she continued, again breathless after a draught. "People -over there have style, Nobody has style here. I mean the boys here -aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. -Don't you know?" - -"I suppose so--I mean I suppose not," murmured Jim. - -"And I'd like to do 'em an' all. I'm really the only girl in town that -has style." - -She stretched, out her arms and yawned pleasantly. - -"Pretty evening." - -"Sure is," agreed Jim. - -"Like to have boat" she suggested dreamily. "Like to sail out on a -silver lake, say the Thames, for instance. Have champagne and caviare -sandwiches along. Have about eight people. And one of the men would -jump overboard to amuse the party, and get drowned like a man did with -Lady Diana Manners once." - -"Did he do it to please her?" - -"Didn't mean drown himself to please -her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh." - -"I reckin they just died laughin' when he drowned." - -"Oh, I suppose they laughed a little," she admitted. "I imagine she -did, anyway. She's pretty hard, I guess--like I am." - -"You hard?" - -"Like nails." She yawned again and added, "Give me a little more from -that bottle." - -Jim hesitated but she held out her hand defiantly, "Don't treat me -like a girl;" she warned him. "I'm not like any girl _you_ ever -saw," She considered. "Still, perhaps you're right. You got--you got -old head on young shoulders." - -She jumped to her feet and moved toward the door. The Jelly-bean rose -also. - -"Good-bye," she said politely, "good-bye. Thanks, Jelly-bean." - -Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch. - - - -III - -At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the -women's dressing-room and, each one pairing with a coated beau like -dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with -sleepy happy laughter--through the door into the dark where autos -backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered -around the water-cooler. - -Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at -eleven; then Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered -into the soft-drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was -deserted except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two -boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was -about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark -looked up. - -"Hi, Jim" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I -guess there's not much left, but there's one all around." - -Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling -and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim's eye and winked at him -humorously. - -They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited -for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned -his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the -two boys at the next table. - -"Bring them over here," suggested Clark. - -Joe looked around. - -"We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules." - -"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up -and down, like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out -of his car." - -There was a general laugh. - -"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park -when she's around." - -"O Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you!" - -Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't -seen his silly little flivver in two weeks." - -Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of -uncertain age standing in the doorway. - -Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment. - -"Won't you join us Mr. Taylor?" - -"Thanks." - -Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I -guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got -funny with my car." - -His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim -wondered what he had heard from the doorway--tried to remember what -had been said. - -"I'm right to-night," Nancy sang out, "and my four bits is in the -ring." - -"Faded!" snapped Taylor suddenly. - -"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed -to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They -had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely -discouraged a series of rather pointed advances. - -"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." -Nancy was _cooing_ to the dice. She rattled them with a brave -underhand flourish, and rolled them out on the table. - -"Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up." - -Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it -personal, and after each success Jim watched triumph flutter across -her face. She was doubling with each throw--such luck could scarcely -last. "Better go easy," he cautioned her timidly. - -"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and -she called her number. - -"Little Ada, this time we're going South." - -Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and -half-hysterical, but her luck was holding. - -She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming -with his fingers on the table but he was in to stay. - -Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them -avidly. He shot in silence, and in the hush of excitement the clatter -of one pass after another on the table was the only sound. - -Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour passed. -Back and forth it went. Taylor had been at it again--and again and -again. They were even at last--Nancy lost her ultimate five dollars. - -"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll -shoot it all?" Her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as -she reached to the money. - -Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing. Taylor -shot again. He had Nancy's check. - -"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll do--money -everywhere as a matter of fact." - -Jim understood--the "good old corn" he had given her--the "good old -corn" she had taken since. He wished he dared interfere--a girl of -that age and position would hardly have two bank accounts. When the -clock struck two he contained himself no longer. - -"May I--can't you let me roll 'em for you?" he suggested, his low, -lazy voice a little strained. - -Suddenly sleepy and listless, Nancy flung the dice down before him. - -"All right--old boy! As Lady Diana Manners says, 'Shoot 'em, -Jelly-bean'--My luck's gone." - -"Mr. Taylor," said Jim, carelessly, "we'll shoot for one of those -there checks against the cash." - -Half an hour later Nancy swayed forward and clapped him on the back. - -"Stole my luck, you did." She was nodding her head sagely. - -Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them -into confetti and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing -and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "Ladies--that's you Marylyn. I -want to tell the world that Mr. Jim Powell, who is a well-known -Jelly-bean of this city, is an exception to the great rule--'lucky in -dice--unlucky in love.' He's lucky in dice, and as matter of fact I--I -_love_ him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, famous dark-haired -beauty often featured in the _Herald_ as one the most popular -members of younger set as other girls are often featured in this -particular case; Wish to announce--wish to announce, anyway, -Gentlemen--" She tipped suddenly. Clark caught her and restored her -balance. - -"My error," she laughed, "she--stoops to--stoops to--anyways--We'll -drink to Jelly-bean ... Mr. Jim Powell, King of the Jelly-beans." - -And a few minutes later as Jim waited hat in hand for Clark in the -darkness of that same corner of the porch where she had come searching -for gasolene, she appeared suddenly beside him. - -"Jelly-bean," she said, "are you here, Jelly-bean? I think--" and her -slight unsteadiness seemed part of an enchanted dream--"I think you -deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jelly-bean." - -For an instant her arms were around his neck--her lips were pressed to -his. - -"I'm a wild part of the world, Jelly-bean, but you did me a good -turn." - -Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricket-loud lawn. Jim saw -Merritt come out the front door and say something to her angrily--saw -her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. -Marylyn and Joe followed, singing a drowsy song about a Jazz baby. - -Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "All pretty lit, I guess," -he yawned. "Merritt's in a mean mood. He's certainly off Nancy." - -Over east along the golf course a faint rug of gray spread itself -across the feet of the night. The party in the car began to chant a -chorus as the engine warmed up. - -"Good-night everybody," called Clark. - -"Good-night, Clark." - -"Good-night." - -There was a pause, and then a soft, happy voice added, - -"Good-night, Jelly-bean." - -The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across -the way took up a solitary mournful crow, and behind them, a last -negro waiter turned out the porch light, Jim and Clark strolled over -toward the Ford, their shoes crunching raucously on the gravel drive. - -"Oh boy!" sighed Clark softly, "how you can set those dice!" - -It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin -cheeks--or to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar shame. - - - -IV - -Over Tilly's garage a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and -snorting down-stairs and the singing of the negro washers as they -turned the hose on the cars outside. It was a cheerless square of a -room, punctuated with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a -dozen books--Joe Miller's "Slow Train thru Arkansas," "Lucille," in an -old edition very much annotated in an old-fashioned hand; "The Eyes of -the World," by Harold Bell Wright, and an ancient prayer-book of the -Church of England with the name Alice Powell and the date 1831 written -on the fly-leaf. - -The East, gray when Jelly-bean entered the garage, became a rich and -vivid blue as he turned on his solitary electric light. He snapped it -out again, and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and -stared into the deepening morning. With the awakening of his emotions, -his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter -grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging -him in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare -room. And with his perception of this wall all that had been the -romance of his existence, the casualness, the light-hearted -improvidence, the miraculous open-handedness of life faded out. The -Jelly-bean strolling up Jackson Street humming a lazy song, known at -every shop and street stand, cropful of easy greeting and local wit, -sad sometimes for only the sake of sadness and the flight of -time--that Jelly-bean was suddenly vanished. The very name was a -reproach, a triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt -must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn would have -awakened not jealousy but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering -herself. And on his part the Jelly-bean had used for her a dingy -subterfuge learned from the garage. He had been her moral laundry; the -stains were his. - -As the gray became blue, brightened and filled the room, he crossed to -his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely. - -"I love her," he cried aloud, "God!" - -As he said this something gave way within him like a lump melting in -his throat. The air cleared and became radiant with dawn, and turning -over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow. - -In the sunshine of three o'clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along -Jackson Street was hailed by the Jelly-bean, who stood on the curb -with his fingers in his vest pockets. - -"Hi!" called Clark, bringing his Ford to an astonishing stop -alongside. "Just get up?" - -The Jelly-bean shook his head. - -"Never did go to bed. Felt sorta restless, so I took a long walk this -morning out in the country. Just got into town this minute." - -"Should think you _would_ feel restless. I been feeling thataway -all day--" - -"I'm thinkin' of leavin' town" continued the Jelly-bean, absorbed by -his own thoughts. "Been thinkin' of goin' up on the farm, and takin' a -little that work off Uncle Dun. Reckin I been bummin' too long." - -Clark was silent and the Jelly-bean continued: - -"I reckin maybe after Aunt Mamie dies I could sink that money of mine -in the farm and make somethin' out of it. All my people originally -came from that part up there. Had a big place." - -Clark looked at him curiously. - -"That's funny," he said. "This--this sort of affected me the same -way." - -The Jelly-bean hesitated. - -"I don't know," he began slowly, "somethin' about--about that girl -last night talkin' about a lady named Diana Manners--an English lady, -sorta got me thinkin'!" He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark, -"I had a family once," he said defiantly. - -Clark nodded. - -"I know." - -"And I'm the last of 'em," continued the Jelly-bean his voice rising -slightly, "and I ain't worth shucks. Name they call me by means -jelly--weak and wobbly like. People who weren't nothin' when my folks -was a lot turn up their noses when they pass me on the street." - -Again Clark was silent. - -"So I'm through, I'm goin' to-day. And when I come back to this town -it's going to be like a gentleman." - -Clark took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp brow. - -"Reckon you're not the only one it shook up," he admitted gloomily. -"All this thing of girls going round like they do is going to stop -right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it thataway." - -"Do you mean," demanded Jim in surprise, "that all that's leaked out?" - -"Leaked out? How on earth could they keep it secret. It'll be -announced in the papers to-night. Doctor Lamar's got to save his name -somehow." - -Jim put his hands on the sides of the car and tightened his long -fingers on the metal. - -"Do you mean Taylor investigated those checks?" - -It was Clark's turn to be surprised. - -"Haven't you heard what happened?" - -Jim's startled eyes were answer enough. - -"Why," announced Clark dramatically, "those four got another bottle of -corn, got tight and decided to shock the town--so Nancy and that fella -Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning." - -A tiny indentation appeared in the metal under the Jelly-bean's -fingers. - -"Married?" - -"Sure enough. Nancy sobered up and rushed back into town, crying and -frightened to death--claimed it'd all been a mistake. First Doctor -Lamar went wild and was going to kill Merritt, but finally they got it -patched up some way, and Nancy and Merritt went to Savannah on the -two-thirty train." - -Jim closed his eyes and with an effort overcame a sudden sickness. - -"It's too bad," said Clark philosophically. "I don't mean the -wedding--reckon that's all right, though I don't guess Nancy cared a -darn about him. But it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her -family that way." - -The Jelly-bean let go the car and turned away. Again something was -going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change. - -"Where you going?" asked Clark. - -The Jelly-bean turned and looked dully back over his shoulder. - -"Got to go," he muttered. "Been up too long; feelin' right sick." - -"Oh." - - * * * * * - -The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust -seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth again as a world-old joke -forever played on an eternity of afternoons. But at half past four a -first layer of quiet fell and the shades lengthened under the awnings -and heavy foliaged trees. In this heat nothing mattered. All life was -weather, a waiting through the hot where events had no significance -for the cool that was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a -tired forehead. Down in Georgia there is a feeling--perhaps -inarticulate--that this is the greatest wisdom of the South--so after -a while the Jelly-bean turned into a poolhall on Jackson Street where -he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old -jokes--the ones he knew. - - - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - - -The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above -title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup -and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything, -to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story Is the -exception. It has to do with a material, visible and large-as-life -camel's back. - -Starting from the neck we shall work toward the tail. I want you to -meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twenty-eight, lawyer, native of Toledo. -Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle. -You have met him before--in Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, -Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker Brothers, New York, -pause on their semi-annual trip through the West to clothe him; -Montmorency & Co. dispatch a young man post-haste every three months -to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his -shoes. He has a domestic roadster now, will have a French roadster if -he lives long enough, and doubtless a Chinese tank if it comes into -fashion. He looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his -sunset-colored chest with liniment and goes East every other year to -his class reunion. - -I want you to meet his Love. Her name is Betty Medill, and she would -take well in the movies. Her father gives her three hundred a month to -dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five -colors. I shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Medill. Though he is -to all appearances flesh and blood, he is, strange to say, commonly -known in Toledo as the Aluminum Man. But when he sits in his club -window with two or three Iron Men, and the White Pine Man, and the -Brass Man, they look very much as you and I do, only more so, if you -know what I mean. - -Now during the Christmas holidays of 1919 there took place in Toledo, -counting only the people with the italicized _the_, forty-one -dinner parties, sixteen dances, six luncheons, male and female, twelve -teas, four stag dinners, two weddings, and thirteen bridge parties. It -was the cumulative effect of all this that moved Perry Parkhurst on -the twenty-ninth day of December to a decision. - -This Medill girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him. She was -having such a good time that she hated to take such a definite step. -Meanwhile, their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as -if any day it might break off of its own weight. A little man named -Warburton, who knew it all, persuaded Perry to superman her, to get a -marriage license and go up to the Medill house and tell her she'd have -to marry him at once or call it off forever. So he presented himself, -his heart, his license, and his ultimatum, and within five minutes -they were in the midst of a violent quarrel, a burst of sporadic open -fighting such as occurs near the end of all long wars and engagements. -It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people who -are in love pull up sharp, look at each other coolly and think it's -all been a mistake. Afterward they usually kiss wholesomely and assure -the other person it was all their fault. Say it all was my fault! Say -it was! I want to hear you say it! - -But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in -a measure, stalling it off, so that they might the more voluptuously -and sentimentally enjoy it when it came, they were permanently -interrupted by a twenty-minute phone call for Betty from a garrulous -aunt. At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst, urged on by -pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, -picked up his light brown soft hat, and stalked out the door. - -"It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into -first. "It's all over--if I have to choke you for an hour, damn you!". -The last to the car, which had been standing some time and was quite -cold. - -He drove downtown--that is, he got into a snow rut that led him -downtown. He sat slouched down very low in his seat, much too -dispirited to care where he went. - -In front of the Clarendon Hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a -bad man named Baily, who had big teeth and lived at the hotel and had -never been in love. - -"Perry," said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him -at the curb, "I've got six quarts of the doggonedest still champagne -you ever tasted. A third of it's yours, Perry, if you'll come -up-stairs and help Martin Macy and me drink it." - -"Baily," said Perry tensely, "I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink -every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me." - -"Shut up, you nut!" said the bad man gently. "They don't put wood -alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff that proves the world is more -than six thousand years old. It's so ancient that the cork is -petrified. You have to pull it with a stone drill." - -"Take me up-stairs," said Perry moodily. "If that cork sees my heart -it'll fall out from pure mortification." - -The room up-stairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little -girls eating apples and sitting in swings and talking to dogs. The -other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper -devoted to ladies in pink tights. - -"When you have to go into the highways and byways----" said the pink -man, looking reproachfully at Baily and Perry. - -"Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age -champagne?" - -"What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a -party." - -Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. - -Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six -handsome bottles. - -"Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe -you'd like to have us open all the windows." - -"Give me champagne," said Perry. - -"Going to the Townsends' circus ball to-night?" - -"Am not!" - -"'Vited?" - -"Uh-huh." - -"Why not go?" - -"Oh, I'm sick of parties," exclaimed Perry. "I'm sick of 'em. I've -been to so many that I'm sick of 'em." - -"Maybe you're going to the Howard Tates' party?" - -"No, I tell you; I'm sick of 'em." - -"Well," said Macy consolingly, "the Tates' is just for college kids -anyways." - -"I tell you----" - -"I thought you'd be going to one of 'em anyways. I see by the papers -you haven't missed a one this Christmas." - -"Hm," grunted Perry morosely. - -He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his -mind--that side of his life was closed, closed. Now when a man says -"closed, closed" like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has -double-closed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other -classical thought, about how cowardly suicide is. A noble thought that -one--warm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if -suicide were not so cowardly! - -An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to -the young man in the liniment advertisement. He looked like a rough -draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singing--an impromptu song of -Baily's improvisation: - - _"One Lump Perry, the parlor snake, - Famous through the city for the way he drinks his tea; - Plays with it, toys with it - Makes no noise with it, - Balanced on a napkin on his well-trained knee--"_ - -"Trouble is," said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Baily's -comb and was tying an orange tie round it to get the effect of Julius -Caesar, "that you fellas can't sing worth a damn. Soon's I leave the -air and start singing tenor you start singin' tenor too." - -"'M a natural tenor," said Macy gravely. "Voice lacks cultivation, -tha's all. Gotta natural voice, m'aunt used say. Naturally good -singer." - -"Singers, singers, all good singers," remarked Baily, who was at the -telephone. "No, not the cabaret; I want night egg. I mean some -dog-gone clerk 'at's got food--food! I want----" - -"Julius Caesar," announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. "Man -of iron will and stern 'termination." - -"Shut up!" yelled Baily. "Say, iss Mr. Baily Sen' up enormous supper. -Use y'own judgment. Right away." - -He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then -with his lips closed and an expression of solemn intensity in his eyes -went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open. - -"Lookit!" he commanded. In his hands he held a truncated garment of -pink gingham. - -"Pants," he exclaimed gravely. "Lookit!" - -This was a pink blouse, a red tie, and a Buster Brown collar. - -"Lookit!" he repeated. "Costume for the Townsends' circus ball. I'm -li'l' boy carries water for the elephants." - -Perry was impressed in spite of himself. - -"I'm going to be Julius Caesar," he announced after a moment of -concentration. - -"Thought you weren't going!" said Macy. - -"Me? Sure I'm goin', Never miss a party. Good for the nerves--like -celery." - -"Caesar!" scoffed Baily. "Can't be Caesar! He is not about a circus. -Caesar's Shakespeare. Go as a clown." - -Perry shook his head. - -"Nope; Caesar," - -"Caesar?" - -"Sure. Chariot." - -Light dawned on Baily. - -"That's right. Good idea." - -Perry looked round the room searchingly. - -"You lend me a bathrobe and this tie," he said finally. Baily -considered. - -"No good." - -"Sure, tha's all I need. Caesar was a savage. They can't kick if I -come as Caesar, if he was a savage." - -"No," said Baily, shaking his head slowly. "Get a costume over at a -costumer's. Over at Nolak's." - -"Closed up." - -"Find out." - -After a puzzling five minutes at the phone a small, weary voice -managed to convince Perry that it was Mr. Nolak speaking, and that -they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. -Thus assured, Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his -third of the last bottle of champagne. At eight-fifteen the man in the -tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to -start his roadster. - -"Froze up," said Perry wisely. "The cold froze it. The cold air." - -"Froze, eh?" - -"Yes. Cold air froze it." - -"Can't start it?" - -"Nope. Let it stand here till summer. One those hot ole August days'll -thaw it out awright." - -"Goin' let it stand?" - -"Sure. Let 'er stand. Take a hot thief to steal it. Gemme taxi." - -The man in the tall hat summoned a taxi. - -"Where to, mister?" - -"Go to Nolak's--costume fella." - - -II - -Mrs. Nolak was short and ineffectual looking, and on the cessation of -the world war had belonged for a while to one of the new -nationalities. Owing to unsettled European conditions she had never -since been quite sure what she was. The shop in which she and her -husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and peopled -with suits of armor and Chinese mandarins, and enormous papier-mch -birds suspended from the ceiling. In a vague background many rows of -masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases full -of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers, and -paints, and crape hair, and wigs of all colors. - -When Perry ambled into the shop Mrs. Nolak was folding up the last -troubles of a strenuous day, so she thought, in a drawer full of pink -silk stockings. - -"Something for you?" she queried pessimistically. "Want costume of -Julius Hur, the charioteer." - -Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented -long ago. Was it for the Townsends' circus ball? - -It was. - -"Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's -really circus." - -This was an obstacle. - -"Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. "If you've got a piece -of canvas I could go's a tent." - -"Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware store is where -you'd have to go to. We have some very nice Confederate soldiers." - -"No. No soldiers." - -"And I have a very handsome king." - -He shook his head. - -"Several of the gentlemen" she continued hopefully, "are wearing -stovepipe hats and swallow-tail coats and going as ringmasters--but -we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a -mustache." - -"Want somep'n 'stinctive." - -"Something--let's see. Well, we have a lion's head, and a goose, and a -camel--" - -"Camel?" The idea seized Perry's imagination, gripped it fiercely. - -"Yes, but It needs two people." - -"Camel, That's the idea. Lemme see it." - -The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first -glance he appeared to consist entirely of a very gaunt, cadaverous -head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to -possess a dark brown, unwholesome-looking body made of thick, cottony -cloth. - -"You see it takes two people," explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel -in frank admiration. "If you have a friend he could be part of it. You -see there's sorta pants for two people. One pair is for the fella in -front, and the other pair for the fella in back. The fella in front -does the lookin' out through these here eyes, an' the fella in back -he's just gotta stoop over an' folla the front fella round." - -"Put it on," commanded Perry. - -Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabby-cat face inside the camel's head -and turned it from side to side ferociously. - -Perry was fascinated. - -"What noise does a camel make?" - -"What?" asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "Oh, -what noise? Why, he sorta brays." - -"Lemme see it in a mirror." - -Before a wide mirror Perry tried on the head and turned from side to -side appraisingly. In the dim light the effect was distinctly -pleasing. The camel's face was a study in pessimism, decorated with -numerous abrasions, and it must be admitted that his coat was in that -state of general negligence peculiar to camels--in fact, he needed to -be cleaned and pressed--but distinctive he certainly was. He was -majestic. He would have attracted attention in any gathering, if only -by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking round -his shadowy eyes. - -"You see you have to have two people," said Mrs. Nolak again. - -Perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about -him, tying the hind legs as a girdle round his waist. The effect on -the whole was bad. It was even irreverent--like one of those mediaeval -pictures of a monk changed into a beast by the ministrations of Satan. -At the very best the ensemble resembled a humpbacked cow sitting on -her haunches among blankets. - -"Don't look like anything at all," objected Perry gloomily. - -"No," said Mrs. Nolak; "you see you got to have two people." - -A solution flashed upon Perry. - -"You got a date to-night?" - -"Oh, I couldn't possibly----" - -"Oh, come on," said Perry encouragingly. "Sure you can! Here! Be good -sport, and climb into these hind legs." - -With difficulty he located them, and extended their yawning depths -ingratiatingly. But Mrs. Nolak seemed loath. She backed perversely -away. - -"Oh, no----" - -"C'mon! You can be the front if you want to. Or we'll flip a coin." - -"Make it worth your while." - -Mrs. Nolak set her lips firmly together. - -"Now you just stop!" she said with no coyness implied. "None of the -gentlemen ever acted up this way before. My husband----" - -"You got a husband?" demanded Perry. "Where is he?" - -"He's home." - -"Wha's telephone number?" - -After considerable parley he obtained the telephone number pertaining -to the Nolak penates and got into communication with that small, weary -voice he had heard once before that day. But Mr. Nolak, though taken -off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of -logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He refused firmly, but with -dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a -camel. - -Having rung off, or rather having been rung off on, Perry sat down on -a three-legged stool to think it over. He named over to himself those -friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty -Medill's name hazily and sorrowfully occurred to him. He had a -sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love affair was over, but -she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to -ask--to help him keep up his end of social obligation for one short -night. And if she insisted, she could be the front part of the camel -and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind -even turned to rosy-colored dreams of a tender reconciliation inside -the camel--there hidden away from all the world.... - -"Now you'd better decide right off." - -The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and -roused him to action. He went to the phone and called up the Medill -house. Miss Betty was out; had gone out to dinner. - -Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into -the store. He was a dilapidated individual with a cold in his head and -a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down low -on his head, and his chin was pulled down low on his chest, his coat -hung down to his shoes, he looked run-down, down at the heels, -and--Salvation Army to the contrary--down and out. He said that he was -the taxicab-driver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon -Hotel. He had been instructed to wait outside, but he had waited some -time, and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone -out the back way with purpose to defraud him--gentlemen sometimes -did--so he had come in. He sank down onto the three-legged stool. - -"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. - -"I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep -my job." - -"It's a very good party." - -"'S a very good job." - -"Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See--it's pretty!" He held -the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. - -"Huh!" - -Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth. - -"See!" he cried enthusiastically, holding up a selection of folds. -"This is your part. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is -to walk--and sit down occasionally. You do all the sitting down. Think -of it. I'm on my feet all the time and _you_ can sit down some of -the time. The only time _I_ can sit down is when we're lying -down, and you can sit down when--oh, any time. See?" - -"What's 'at thing?" demanded the individual dubiously. "A shroud?" - -"Not at all," said Perry indignantly. "It's a camel." - -"Huh?" - -Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the -land of grunts and assumed a practical tinge. Perry and the -taxi-driver tried on the camel in front of the mirror. - -"You can't see it," explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the -eyeholes, "but honestly, ole man, you look sim'ly great! Honestly!" - -A grunt from the hump acknowledged this somewhat dubious compliment. - -"Honestly, you look great!" repeated Perry enthusiastically. "Move -round a little." - -The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge cat-camel -hunching his back preparatory to a spring. - -"No; move sideways." - -The camel's hips went neatly out of joint; a hula dancer would have -writhed in envy. - -"Good, isn't it?" demanded Perry, turning to Mrs. Nolak for approval. - -"It looks lovely," agreed Mrs. Nolak. - -"We'll take it," said Perry. - -The bundle was stowed under Perry's arm and they left the shop. - -"Go to the party!" he commanded as he took his seat in the back. - -"What party?" - -"Fanzy-dress party." - -"Where'bouts is it?" - -This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names -of all those who had given parties during the holidays danced -confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking -out the window he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already -faded out, a little black smudge far down the snowy street. - -"Drive uptown," directed Perry with fine confidence. "If you see a -party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we get there." - -He fell into a hazy daydream and his thoughts wandered again to -Betty--he imagined vaguely that they had had a disagreement because -she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was -just slipping off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the -taxi-driver opening the door and shaking him by the arm. - -"Here we are, maybe." - -Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a -spreading gray stone house, from which issued the low drummy whine of -expensive jazz. He recognized the Howard Tate house. - -"Sure," he said emphatically; "'at's it! Tate's party to-night. Sure, -everybody's goin'." - -"Say," said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, -"you sure these people ain't gonna romp on me for comin' here?" - -Perry drew himself up with dignity. - -"'F anybody says anything to you, just tell 'em you're part of my -costume." - -The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to -reassure the individual. - -"All right," he said reluctantly. - -Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling -the camel. - -"Let's go," he commanded. - -Several minutes later a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting -clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump, -might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate -residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and -heading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom. The -beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an uncertain -lockstep and a stampede--but can best be described by the word -"halting." The camel had a halting gait--and as he walked he -alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina. - - - -III - -The Howard Tates are, as every one who lives in Toledo knows, the most -formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before -she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that -conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American -aristocracy. The Tates have reached the stage where they talk about -pigs and farms and look at you icy-eyed if you are not amused. They -have begun to prefer retainers rather than friends as dinner guests, -spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and, having lost all sense of -competition, are in process of growing quite dull. - -The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all -ages were represented, the dancers were mostly from school and -college--the younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball -up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside tie -ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes, and beaming -whenever she caught her bye. Beside her were two middle-aged -sycophants, who were saying what a perfectly exquisite child Millicent -was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the -skirt and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself -with an "Oof!" into her mother's arms. - -"Why, Emily, what's the trouble?" - -"Mamma," said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble, "there's something out on -the stairs." - -"What?" - -"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog, -mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog." - -"What do you mean, Emily?" - -The sycophants waved their heads sympathetically. - -"Mamma, it looks like a--like a camel." - -Mrs. Tate laughed. - -"You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all." - -"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mamma--big. I was going -down-stairs to see if there were any more people, and this dog or -something, he was coming up-stairs. Kinda funny, mamma, like he was -lame. And then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped -at the top of the landing, and I ran." - -Mrs. Tate's laugh faded. - -"The child must have seen something," she said. - -The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen something--and -suddenly all three women took an instinctive step away from the door -as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside. - -And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark brown form rounded -the corner, and they saw what was apparently a huge beast looking down -at them hungrily. - -"Oof!" cried Mrs. Tate. - -"O-o-oh!" cried the ladies in a chorus. - -The camel suddenly humped his back, and the gasps turned to shrieks. - -"Oh--look!" - -"What is it?" - -The dancing stopped, bat the dancers hurrying over got quite a -different impression of the invader; in fact, the young people -immediately suspected that it was a stunt, a hired entertainer come to -amuse the party. The boys in long trousers looked at it rather -disdainfully, and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets, -feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls -uttered little shouts of glee. - -"It's a camel!" - -"Well, if he isn't the funniest!" - -The camel stood there uncertainly, swaying slightly from side to aide, -and seeming to take in the room in a careful, appraising glance; then -as if he had come to an abrupt decision, he turned and ambled swiftly -out the door. - -Mr. Howard Tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor, -and was standing chatting with a young man in the hall. Suddenly they -heard the noise of shouting up-stairs, and almost immediately a -succession of bumping sounds, followed by the precipitous appearance -at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast that seemed to be -going somewhere in a great hurry. - -"Now what the devil!" said Mr. Tate, starting. - -The beast picked itself up not without dignity and, affecting an air -of extreme nonchalance, as if he had just remembered an important -engagement, started at a mixed gait toward the front door. In fact, -his front legs began casually to run. - -"See here now," said Mr. Tate sternly. "Here! Grab it, Butterfield! -Grab it!" - -The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling -arms, and, realizing that further locomotion was impossible, the front -end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some -agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring -down-stairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything from an ingenious -burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man: - -"Hold him! Lead him in here; we'll soon see." - -The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after -locking the door, took a revolver from a table drawer and instructed -the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and -returned the revolver to its hiding-place. - -"Well, Perry Parkhurst!" he exclaimed in amazement. - -"Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate," said Perry sheepishly. "Hope I didn't -scare you." - -"Well--you gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him. -"You're bound for the Townsends' circus ball." - -"That's the general idea." - -"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst." Then turning to -Perry; "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days." - -"I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry." - -"Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a -clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while." He turned to -Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us." - -The young man demurred. He was going to bed. - -"Have a drink, Perry?" suggested Mr. Tate. - -"Thanks, I will." - -"And, say," continued Tate quickly, "I'd forgotten all about -your--friend here." He indicated the rear part of the camel. "I didn't -mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out." - -"It's not a friend," explained Perry hurriedly. "I just rented him." - -"Does he drink?" - -"Do you?" demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously round. - -There was a faint sound of assent. - -"Sure he does!" said Mr. Tate heartily. "A really efficient camel -ought to be able to drink enough so it'd last him three days." - -"Tell you," said Perry anxiously, "he isn't exactly dressed up enough -to come out. If you give me the bottle I can hand it back to him and -he can take his inside." - -From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound -inspired by this suggestion. When a butler had appeared with bottles, -glasses, and siphon one of the bottles was handed back; thereafter the -silent partner could be heard imbibing long potations at frequent -intervals. - -Thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd -better be starting. He donned his clown's costume; Perry replaced the -camel's head, arid side by side they traversed on foot the single -block between the Tate house and the Tallyho Club. - -The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up -inside the ballroom and round the walls had been built rows of booths -representing the various attractions of a circus side show, but these -were now vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing -medley of youth and color--downs, bearded ladies, acrobats, bareback -riders, ringmasters, tattooed men, and charioteers. The Townsends had -determined to assure their party of success, so a great quantity of -liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their house and was -now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall completely round -the ballroom, with pointing arrows alongside and signs which -instructed the uninitiated to "Follow the green line!" The green line -led down to the bar, where waited pure punch and wicked punch and -plain dark-green bottles. - -On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and -under it the slogan: "Now follow this!" - -But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented, -there, the entrance of the camel created something of a stir, and -Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd -attempting to penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the -wide doorway eying the dancers with his hungry, melancholy gaze. - -And then Perry saw Betty standing in front of a booth, talking to a -comic policeman. She was dressed in the costume of an Egyptian -snake-charmer: her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass -rings, the effect crowned with a glittering Oriental tiara. Her fair -face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arms and the half -moon of her back writhed painted serpents with single eyes of venomous -green. Her feet were in sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees, -so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim serpents -painted just above her bare ankles. Wound about her neck was a -glittering cobra. Altogether a charming costume--one that caused the -more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her when she -passed, and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about -"shouldn't be allowed" and "perfectly disgraceful." - -But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only -her face, radiant, animated, and glowing with excitement, and her arms -and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the -outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination -exercised a sobering effect on him. With a growing clarity the events -of the day came back--rage rose within him, and with a half-formed -intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her--or -rather he elongated slightly, for he had neglected to issue the -preparatory command necessary to locomotion. - -But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him -bitterly and sardonically, decided to reward him in full for the -amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the -snake-charmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man -beside her and say, "Who's that? That camel?" - -"Darned if I know." - -But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary -to hazard an opinion: - -"It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it's probably Warren -Butterfield, the architect from New York, who's visiting the Tates." - -Something stirred in Betty Medill--that age-old interest of the -provincial girl in the visiting man. - -"Oh," she said casually after a slight pause. - -At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within -a few feet of the camel. With the informal audacity that was the -key-note of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's -nose. - -"Hello, old camel." - -The camel stirred uneasily. - -"You 'fraid of me?" said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. -"Don't be. You see I'm a snake-charmer, but I'm pretty good at camels -too." - -The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about -beauty and the beast. - -Mrs. Townsend approached the group. - -"Well, Mr. Butterfield," she said helpfully, "I wouldn't have -recognised you." - -Perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask. - -"And who is this with you?" she inquired. - -"Oh," said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite -unrecognizable, "he isn't a fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He's just part of -my costume." - -Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty, - -"So," he thought, "this is how much she cares! On the very day of our -final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man--an absolute -stranger." - -On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his -head suggestively toward the hall, making it clear that he desired her -to leave her partner and accompany him. - -"By-by, Rus," she called to her partner. "This old camel's got me. -Where we going, Prince of Beasts?" - -The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the -direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs. - -There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of -confusion which included gruff orders and sounds of a heated dispute -going on in his interior, placed himself beside her--his hind legs -stretching out uncomfortably across two steps. - -"Well, old egg," said Betty cheerfully, "how do you like our happy -party?" - -The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head -ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his hoofs. - -"This is the first time that I ever had a tte--tte with a man's -valet 'round"--she pointed to the hind legs--"or whatever that is." - -"Oh," mumbled Perry, "he's deaf and blind." - -"I should think you'd feel rather handicapped--you can't very well -toddle, even if you want to." - -The camel hang his head lugubriously. - -"I wish you'd say something," continued Betty sweetly. "Say you like -me, camel. Say you think I'm beautiful. Say you'd like to belong to a -pretty snake-charmer." - -The camel would. - -"Will you dance with me, camel?" - -The camel would try. - -Betty devoted half an hour to the camel. She devoted at least half an -hour to all visiting men. It was usually sufficient. When she -approached a new man the current dbutantes were accustomed to scatter -right and left like a close column deploying before a machine-gun. And -so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique privilege of seeing his -love as others saw her. He was flirted with violently! - - -IV - -This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a -general ingress to the ballroom; the cotillion was beginning. Betty -and the camel joined the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his -shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption of him. - -When they entered the couples were already seating themselves at -tables round the walls, and Mrs. Townsend, resplendent as a super -bareback rider with rather too rotund calves, was standing in the -centre with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to -the band every one rose and began to dance. - -"Isn't it just slick!" sighed Betty. "Do you think you can possibly -dance?" - -Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly exuberant. After all, -he was here incognito talking to his love--he could wink -patronizingly at the world. - -So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that is stretching -the word far beyond the wildest dreams of the jazziest terpsichorean. -He suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and -pull him here and there over the floor while he hung his huge head -docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy motions with his -feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by -hopping first on one foot and then on the other. Never being sure -whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by -going through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So -the spectacle was frequently presented of the front part of the camel -standing at ease and the rear keeping up a constant energetic motion -calculated to rouse a sympathetic perspiration in any soft-hearted -observer. - -He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered -with straw who announced jovially that she was a bale of hay and coyly -begged him not to eat her. - -"I'd like to; you're so sweet," said the camel gallantly. - -Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men up!" he lumbered -ferociously for Betty with the cardboard wienerwurst or the photograph -of the bearded lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes he -reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and -resulted in intense interior arguments. - -"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl, fiercely between his clenched -teeth, "get a little pep! I could have gotten her that time if you'd -picked your feet up." - -"Well, gimme a little warnin'!" - -"I did, darn you." - -"I can't see a dog-gone thing in here." - -"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging a load of -sand round to walk with you." - -"Maybe you wanta try back hare." - -"You shut up! If these people found you in this room they'd give you -the worst beating you ever had. They'd take your taxi license away -from you!" - -Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous -threat, but it seemed to have a soporific influence on his companion, -for he gave out an "aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence. - -The ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and waved his hand for -silence. - -"Prizes!" he cried. "Gather round!" - -"Yea! Prizes!" - -Self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who -had mustered the nerve to come as a bearded lady trembled with -excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The -man who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him -skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously when any one told -him he was sure to get it. - -"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced the ringmaster -jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had -by all. We will now bestow honor where honor is due by bestowing the -prizes. Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prices. Now, fellow -performers, the first prize is for that lady who has displayed this -evening the most striking, becoming"--at this point the bearded lady -sighed resignedly--"and original costume." Here the bale of hay -pricked up her ears. "Now I am sure that the decision which has been -agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present. The first prize -goes to Miss Betty Medill, the charming Egyptian snake-charmer." There -was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Medill, -blushing beautifully through her olive paint, was passed up to receive -her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a -huge bouquet of orchids. - -"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the other prize is for -that man who has the most amusing and original costume. This prize -goes without dispute to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is -visiting here but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry--in -short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his hungry -look and his brilliant dancing throughout the evening." - -He ceased and there was a violent clapping, and yeaing, for it was a -popular choice. The prize, a large box of cigars, was put aside for -the camel, as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person. - -"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will wind up the cotillion -with the marriage of Mirth to Folly! - -"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful snake-charmer and the -noble camel in front!" - -Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm round the -camel's neck. Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little -girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men -of Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all -of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color -round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under -bizarre wigs and barbaric paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding -march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a delirious blend from -the trombones and saxophones--and the march began. - -"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. -"Aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong -to the nice snake-charmer ever afterward?" - -The camel's front legs pranced, expressing excessive joy. - -"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried voices out of the -revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?" - -The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tally-ho Club for many -years, appeared rashly through a half-opened pantry door. - -"Oh, Jumbo!" - -"Get old Jumbo. He's the fella!" - -"Come on, Jumbo. How 'bout marrying us a couple?" - -"Yea!" - -Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron, and -escorted to a raised das at the head of the ball. There his collar -was removed and replaced back side forward with ecclesiastical effect. -The parade separated into two lines, leaving an aisle for the bride -and groom. - -"Lawdy, man," roared Jumbo, "Ah got ole Bible 'n' ev'ythin', sho -nuff." - -He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket. - -"Yea! Jumbo's got a Bible!" - -"Razor, too, I'll bet!" - -Together the snake-charmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle -and stopped in front of Jumbo. - -"Where's yo license, camel?" - -A man near by prodded Perry. - -"Give him a piece of paper. Anything'll do." - -Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and -pushed it out through the camel's mouth. Holding it upside down Jumbo -pretended to scan it earnestly. - -"Dis yeah's a special camel's license," he said. "Get you ring ready, -camel." - -Inside the camel Perry turned round and addressed his worse half. - -"Gimme a ring, for Heaven's sake!" - -"I ain't got none," protested a weary voice. - -"You have. I saw it." - -"I ain't goin' to take it offen my hand." - -"If you don't I'll kill you." - -There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass -inserted into his hand. - -Again he was nudged from the outside. - -"Speak up!" - -"I do!" cried Perry quickly. - -He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this -burlesque the sound thrilled him. - -Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat -and was slipping it on her finger, muttering ancient and historic -words after Jumbo. He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His -one idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for -Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A dignified young man, -Perry--and this might injure his infant law practice. - -"Embrace the bride!" - -"Unmask, camel, and kiss her!" - -Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly -and began to strike the card-board muzzle. He felt his self-control -giving way, he longed to surround her with his arms and declare his -identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot away--when -suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a curious -hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo -had given vent to a huge "Hello!" in such a startled voice that all -eyes were bent on him. - -"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage -license, which he had been holding upside down, produced spectacles, -and was studying it agonizingly. - -"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence his words were heard -plainly by every one in the room, "this yeah's a sho-nuff marriage -permit." - -"What?" - -"Huh?" - -"Say it again, Jumbo!" - -"Sure you can read?" - -Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood burned to fire in his -veins as he realized the break he had made. - -"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a sho-nuff license, and the -pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis yeah young lady, Miz Betty Medill, -and th' other's Mistah Perry Pa'khurst." - -There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out as all eyes fell -on the camel. Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes -giving out sparks of fury. - -"Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?" - -Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. -He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment, his cardboard face still -hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo. - -"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty -serious mattah. Outside mah duties at this club ah happens to be a -sho-nuff minister in the Firs' Cullud Baptis' Church. It done look to -me as though y'all is gone an' got married." - - -V - -The scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the -Tallyho Club. Stout matrons fainted, one hundred per cent Americans -swore, wild-eyed dbutantes babbled in lightning groups instantly -formed and instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent -yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic ballroom. Feverish -youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or some one, -and the Baptis' preacheh was besieged by a tempestuous covey of -clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making threats, demanding -precedents, ordering the bonds annulled, and especially trying to -ferret out any hint of prearrangement in what had occurred. - -In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. -Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to comfort her; they were -exchanging "all my fault's" volubly and voluminously. Outside on a -snow-covered walk Mr. Cyrus Medill, the Aluminum Man, was being paced -slowly up and down between two brawny charioteers, giving vent now to -a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let -him get at Jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild -man of Borneo, and the most exacting stage-manager would have -acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite -impossible. - -Meanwhile the two principals held the real centre of the stage. Betty -Medill--or was it Betty Parkhurst?--storming furiously, was surrounded -by the plainer girls--the prettier ones were too busy talking about -her to pay much attention to her--and over on the other side of the -hall stood the camel, still intact except for his headpiece, which -dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in -making protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry, puzzled men. -Every few minutes, just as he had apparently proved his case, some one -would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would -begin again. - -A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second best belle of Toledo, -changed the gist of the situation by a remark she made to Betty. - -"Well," she said maliciously, "it'll all blow over, dear. The courts -will annul it without question." - -Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes, her lips shut -tight together, and she looked stonily at Marion. Then she rose and, -scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the -room to Perry, who stared at her in terror. Again silence crept down -upon the room. - -"Will you have the decency to grant me five minutes' conversation--or -wasn't that included in your plans?" - -He nodded, his mouth unable to form words. - -Indicating coldly that he was to follow her she walked out into the -hall with her chin uptilted and headed for the privacy of one of the -little card-rooms. - -Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the -failure of his hind legs to function. - -"You stay here!" he commanded savagely. - -"I can't," whined a voice from the hump, "unless you get out first and -let me get out." - -Perry hesitated, but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the -curious crowd he muttered a command and the camel moved carefully from -the room on its four legs. - -Betty was waiting for him. - -"Well," she began furiously, "you see what you've done! You and that -crazy license! I told you you shouldn't have gotten it!" - -"My dear girl, I--" - -"Don't say 'dear girl' to me! Save that for your real wife if you ever -get one after this disgraceful performance. And don't try to pretend -it wasn't all arranged. You know you gave that colored waiter money! -You know you did! Do you mean to say you didn't try to marry me?" - -"No--of course--" - -"Yes, you'd better admit it! You tried it, and now what are you going -to do? Do you know my father's nearly crazy? It'll serve you right if -he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold steel in -you. Even if this wed--this _thing_ can be annulled it'll hang -over me all the rest of my life!" - -Perry could not resist quoting softly: "'Oh, camel, wouldn't you like -to belong to the pretty snake-charmer for all your--" - -"Shut-up!" cried Betty. - -There was a pause. - -"Betty," said Perry finally, "there's only one thing to do that will -really get us out clear. That's for you to marry me." - -"Marry you!" - -"Yes. Really it's the only--" - -"You shut up! I wouldn't marry you if--if--" - -"I know. If I were the last man on earth. But if you care anything -about your reputation--" - -"Reputation!" she cried. "You're a nice one to think about my -reputation _now_. Why didn't you think about my reputation before -you hired that horrible Jumbo to--to--" - -Perry tossed up his hands hopelessly. - -"Very well. I'll do anything you want. Lord knows I renounce all -claims!" - -"But," said a new voice, "I don't." - -Perry and Betty started, and she put her hand to her heart. - -"For Heaven's sake, what was that?" - -"It's me," said the camel's back. - -In a minute Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a lax, limp -object, his clothes hanging on him damply, his hand clenched tightly -on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them. - -"Oh," cried Betty, "you brought that object in here to frighten me! -You told me he was deaf--that awful person!" - -The camel's back sat down on a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. - -"Don't talk 'at way about me, lady. I ain't no person. I'm your -husband." - -"Husband!" - -The cry was wrung simultaneously from Betty and Perry. - -"Why, sure. I'm as much your husband as that gink is. The smoke didn't -marry you to the camel's front. He married you to the whole camel. -Why, that's my ring you got on your finger!" - -With a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it -passionately at the floor. - -"What's all this?" demanded Perry dazedly. - -"Jes' that you better fix me an' fix me right. If you don't I'm -a-gonna have the same claim you got to bein' married to her!" - -"That's bigamy," said Perry, turning gravely to Betty. - -Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance -on which he risked his fortunes. He rose and looked first at Betty, -where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the -individual who swayed from side to side on his chair, uncertainly, -menacingly. - -"Very well," said Perry slowly to the individual, "you can have her. -Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as far as I'm concerned our -marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my -rights to have you as my wife, and give you to--to the man whose ring -you wear--your lawful husband." - -There was a pause and four horror-stricken eyes were turned on him, - -"Good-by, Betty," he said brokenly. "Don't forget me in your new-found -happiness. I'm going to leave for the Far West on the morning train. -Think of me kindly, Betty." - -With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest -as his hand touched the door-knob. - -"Good-by," he repeated. He turned the door-knob. - -But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated -themselves violently toward him. - -"Oh, Perry, don't leave me! Perry, Perry, take me with you!" - -Her tears flowed damply on his neck. Calmly he folded his arms about -her. - -"I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a -minister at this hour and have it done over again I'll go West with -you." - -Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part -of the camel--and they exchanged a particularly subtle, esoteric sort -of wink that only true camels can understand. - - - - -MAY DAY - - -There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the -conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with -thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring -days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the -strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the brasses, while -merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding -to the windows, turned their white-bunched faces gravely upon the -passing battalions. - -Never had there been such splendor in the great city, for the -victorious war had brought plenty in its train, and the merchants had -flocked thither from the South and West with their households to taste -of all the luscious feasts and witness the lavish entertainments -prepared--and to buy for their women furs against the next winter and -bags of golden mesh and varicolored slippers of silk and silver and -rose satin and cloth of gold. - -So gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by -the scribes and poets of the conquering people that more and more -spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of -excitement, and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their -trinkets and slippers until they sent up a mighty cry for more -trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter -what was demanded of them. Some even of them flung up their hands -helplessly, shouting: - -"Alas! I have no more slippers! and alas! I have no more trinkets! May -heaven help me for I know not what I shall do!" - -But no one listened to their great outcry, for the throngs were far -too busy--day by day, the foot-soldiers trod jauntily the highway and -all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave, sound -of tooth and pink of cheek, and the young women of the land were -virgins and comely both of face and of figure. - -So during all this time there were many adventures that happened in -the great city, and, of these, several--or perhaps one--are here set -down. - -I - -At nine o'clock on the morning of the first of May, 1919, a young man -spoke to the room clerk at the Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip -Dean were registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr. -Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He -was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above -with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of -ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which -colored his face like a low, incessant fever. - -Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone -at the side. - -After a second his connection was made; a sleepy voice hello'd from -somewhere above. - -"Mr. Dean?"--this very eagerly--"it's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon -Sterrett. I'm down-stairs. I heard you were in New York and I had a -hunch you'd be here." - -The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, -old boy! Well, he certainly was surprised and tickled! Would Gordy -come right up, for Pete's sake! - -A few minutes later Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened -his door and the two young men greeted each other with a -half-embarrassed exuberance. They were both about twenty-four, Yale -graduates of the year before the war; but there the resemblance -stopped abruptly. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged under his thin -pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He -smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. - -"I was going to look you up," he cried enthusiastically. "I'm taking a -couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a sec I'll be right with you. -Going to take a shower." - -As he vanished into the bathroom his visitor's dark eyes roved -nervously around the room, resting for a moment on a great English -travelling bag in the corner and on a family of thick silk shirts -littered on the chairs amid impressive neckties and soft woollen -socks. - -Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute -examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow, with a pale blue -stripe--and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared -involuntarily at his own shirt-cuffs--they were ragged and linty at -the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held -his coat-sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they -were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself -with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded -and thumb-creased--it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes -of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three -years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections -at college for being the best-dressed man in his class. - -Dean emerged from the bathroom polishing his body. - -"Saw an old friend of yours last night," he remarked. -"Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my -neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year." - -Gordon started. - -"Edith Bradin? That whom you mean?" - -"'At's the one. Damn good looking. She's still sort of a pretty -doll--you know what I mean: as if you touched her she'd smear." - -He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled -faintly, exposing a section of teeth. - -"She must be twenty-three anyway," he continued. - -"Twenty-two last month," said Gordon absently. - -"What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Psi -dance. Did you know we're having a Yale Gamma Psi dance to-night at -Delmonico's? You better come up, Gordy. Half of New Haven'll probably -be there. I can get you an invitation." - -Draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear, Dean lit a cigarette -and sat down by the open window, inspecting his calves and knees under -the morning sunshine which poured into the room. - -"Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about what you've -been doing and what you're doing now and everything." - -Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and -spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his -face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic. - -"What's the matter?" asked Dean quickly. - -"Oh, God!" - -"What's the matter?" - -"Every God damn thing in the world," he said miserably, "I've -absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in." - -"Huh?" - -"I'm all in." His voice was shaking. - -Dean scrutinized him more closely with appraising blue eyes. - -"You certainly look all shot." - -"I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything." He paused. "I'd -better start at the beginning--or will it bore you?" - -"Not at all; go -on." There was, however, a hesitant note in Dean's voice. This trip -East had been planned for a holiday--to find Gordon Sterrett in -trouble exasperated him a little. - -"Go on," he repeated, and then added half under his breath, "Get it -over with." - -"Well," began Gordon unsteadily, "I got back from France in February, -went home to Harrisburg for a month, and then came down to New York to -get a job. I got one--with an export company. They fired me -yesterday." - -"Fired you?" - -"I'm coming to that, Phil. I want to tell you frankly. You're about -the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I -just tell you frankly, will you, Phil?" - -Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew -perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he was being unfairly saddled with -responsibility; he was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though -never surprised at finding Gordon Sterrett in mild difficulty, there -was something in this present misery that repelled him and hardened -him, even though it excited his curiosity. - -"Go on." - -"It's a girl." - -"Hm." Dean resolved that nothing was going to spoil his trip. If -Gordon was going to be depressing, then he'd have to see less of -Gordon. - -"Her name is Jewel Hudson," went on the distressed voice from the bed. -"She used to be 'pure,' I guess, up to about a year ago. Lived here -in New York--poor family. Her people are dead now and she lives with -an old aunt. You see it was just about the time I met her that -everybody began to come back from France in droves--and all I did was -to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with 'em. That's the -way it started, Phil, just from being glad to see everybody and having -them glad to see me." - -"You ought to've had more sense." - -"I know," Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. "I'm on my own -now, you know, and Phil, I can't stand being poor. Then came this darn -girl. She sort of fell in love with me for a while and, though I never -intended to get so involved, I'd always seem to run into her -somewhere. You can imagine the sort of work I was doing for those -exporting people--of course, I always intended to draw; do -illustrating for magazines; there's a pile of money in it." - -"Why didn't you? You've got to buckle down if you want to make good," -suggested Dean with cold formalism. - -"I tried, a little, but my stuff's crude. I've got talent, Phil; I can -draw--but I just don't know how. I ought to go to art school and I -can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just -as I was down to about my last dollar this girl began bothering me. -She wants some money; claims she can make trouble for me if she -doesn't get it." - -"Can she?" - -"I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job--she kept calling -up the office all the time, and that was sort of the last straw down -there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's -got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her." - -There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched -by his side. - -"I'm all in," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'm half crazy, -Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming East, I think I'd have killed -myself. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars." - -Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly -quiet--and the curious uncertainty playing between the two became taut -and strained. - -After a second Gordon continued: - -"I've bled the family until I'm ashamed to ask for another nickel." - -Still Dean made no answer. - -"Jewel says she's got to have two hundred dollars." - -"Tell her where she can go." - -"Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I -wrote her. Unfortunately she's not at all the flabby sort of person -you'd expect." - -Dean made an expression of distaste. - -"I can't stand that sort of woman. You ought to have kept away." - -"I know," admitted Gordon wearily. - -"You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money -you've got to work and stay away from women." - -"That's easy for you to say," began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. -"You've got all the money in the world." - -"I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I -spend. Just because I have a little leeway I have to be extra careful -not to abuse it." - -He raised the blind and let in a further flood of sunshine. - -"I'm no prig, Lord knows," he went on deliberately. "I like -pleasure--and I like a lot of it on a vacation like this, but -you're--you're in awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way -before. You seem to be sort of bankrupt--morally as well as -financially." - -"Don't they usually go together?" - -Dean shook his head impatiently. - -"There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand. It's a sort -of evil." - -"It's an air of worry and poverty and sleepless nights," said Gordon, -rather defiantly. - -"I don't know." - -"Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But, my God, Phil, a -week's rest and a new suit and some ready money and I'd be like--like -I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak, and you know it. But half the -time I haven't had the money to buy decent drawing materials--and I -can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in. With a little -ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started." - -"How do I know you wouldn't use it on some other woman?" - -"Why rub it in?" said Gordon, quietly. - -"I'm not rubbing it in. I hate to see you this way." - -"Will you lend me the money, Phil?" - -"I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money and it'll be darn -inconvenient for me." - -"It'll be hell for me if you can't--I know I'm whining, and it's all -my own fault but--that doesn't change it." - -"When could you pay it back?" - -This was encouraging. Gordon considered. It was probably wisest to be -frank. - -"Of course, I could promise to send it back next month, but--I'd -better say three months. Just as soon as I start to sell drawings." - -"How do I know you'll sell any drawings?" - -A new hardness in Dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over -Gordon. Was it possible that he wouldn't get the money? - -"I supposed you had a little confidence in me." - -"I did have--but when I see you like this I begin to wonder." - -"Do you suppose if I wasn't at the end of my rope I'd come to you like -this? Do you think I'm enjoying it?" He broke off and bit his lip, -feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice. After -all, he was the suppliant. - -"You seem to manage it pretty easily," said Dean angrily. "You put me -in the position where, if I don't lend it to you, I'm a sucker--oh, -yes, you do. And let me tell you it's no easy thing for me to get hold -of three hundred dollars. My income isn't so big but that a slice like -that won't play the deuce with it." - -He left his chair and began to dress, choosing his clothes carefully. -Gordon stretched out his arms and clenched the edges of the bed, -fighting back a desire to cry out. His head was splitting and -whirring, his mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in -his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular counts like a slow -dripping from a roof. - -Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece -of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette -case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and -settled the case in his vest pocket. - -"Had breakfast?" he demanded. - -"No; I don't eat it any more." - -"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money -later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to have a good time. - -"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added -with an implied reproof: "You've given up your job. You've got nothing -else to do." - -"I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money," said Gordon pointedly. - -"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in -glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money." - -He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to -Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an -added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever. -For an instant before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that -instant each found something that made him lower his own glance -quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated -each other. - - -II - -Fifth Avenue and Forty-fourth Street swarmed with the noon crowd. The -wealthy, happy sun glittered in transient gold through the thick -windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and -strings of pearls in gray velvet cases; upon gaudy feather fans of -many colors; upon the laces and silks of expensive dresses; upon the -bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate show -rooms of interior decorators. - -Working-girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these -windows, choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display -which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the -bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their -engagement rings, and their wedding rings and their platinum wrist -watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera -cloaks; meanwhile digesting the sandwiches and sundaes they had eaten -for lunch. - -All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great -fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from -Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and -finding the great city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they -were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the -weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley Dean and Gordon -wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity -at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had -been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and -dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to -Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless. - -In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who -greeted the visiting Dean vociferously. Sitting in a semicircle of -lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around. - -Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched -together _en masse_, warmed with liquor as the afternoon began. -They were all going to the Gamma Psi dance that night--it promised to -be the best party since the war. - -"Edith Bradin's coming," said some one to Gordon. "Didn't she used to -be an old flame of yours? Aren't you both from Harrisburg?" - -"Yes." He tried to change the subject. "I see her brother -occasionally. He's sort of a socialistic nut. Runs a paper or -something here in New York." - -"Not like his gay sister, eh?" continued his eager informant. "Well, -she's coming to-night--with a junior named Peter Himmel." - -Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock--he had promised to -have some money for her. Several times he glanced nervously at his -wrist watch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he -was going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as -they left the Club another of the party joined them, to Gordon's great -dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the -evening's party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers' he chose a dozen -neckties, selecting each one after long consultations with the other -man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back? And wasn't it a shame -that Rivers couldn't get any more Welsh Margotson collars? There never -was a collar like the "Covington." - -Gordon was in something of a panic. He wanted the money immediately. -And he was now inspired also with a vague idea of attending the Gamma -Psi dance. He wanted to see Edith--Edith whom he hadn't met since one -romantic night at the Harrisburg Country Club just before he went to -France. The affair had died, drowned in the turmoil of the war and -quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture -of her, poignant, debonnaire, immersed in her own inconsequential -chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and brought a hundred memories -with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college -with a sort of detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to -draw her--around his room had been a dozen sketches of her--playing -golf, swimming--he could draw her pert, arresting profile with his -eyes shut. - -They left Rivers' at five-thirty and parsed for a moment on the -sidewalk. - -"Well," said Dean genially, "I'm all set now. Think I'll go back to -the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and massage." - -"Good enough," said the other man, "I think I'll join you." - -Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty he -restrained himself from turning to the man and snarling out, "Go on -away, damn you!" In despair he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken -to him, was keeping him along in order to avoid a dispute about the -money. - -They went into the Biltmore--a Biltmore alive with girls--mostly from -the West and South, the stellar dbutantes of many cities gathered for -the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon -they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last -appeal, was about to come out with he knew not what, when Dean -suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm led -him aside. - -"Gordy," he said quickly, "I've thought the whole thing over carefully -and I've decided that I can't lend you that money. I'd like to oblige -you, but I don't feel I ought to--it'd put a crimp in me for a month." - -Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed -how much those upper teeth projected. - -"I'm--mighty sorry, Gordon," continued Dean, "but that's the way it -is." - -He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventy-five -dollars in bills. - -"Here," he said, holding them out, "here's seventy-five; that makes -eighty all together. That's all the actual cash I have with me, -besides what I'll actually spend on the trip." - -Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it -were a tongs he was holding, and clenched it again on the money. - -"I'll see you at the dance," continued Dean. "I've got to get along to -the barber shop." - -"So-long," said Gordon in a strained and husky voice. - -"So-long." - -Dean, began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly -and disappeared. - -But Gordon stood there, his handsome face awry with distress, the roll -of bills clenched tightly in his hand. Then, blinded by sudden tears, -he stumbled clumsily down the Biltmore steps. - - -III - -About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a -cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, -devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without -even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; -they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a -strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from -their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They -were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the -shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New -Jersey, landed three days before. - -The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his -veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran -blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long, -chinless face, the dull, watery eyes, and high cheek-bones, without -finding suggestion of either ancestral worth or native resourcefulness. - -His companion was swart and bandy-legged, with rat-eyes and a -much-broken hooked nose. His defiant air was obviously a pretense, a -weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of -physical bluff and physical menace, in which he had always lived. His -name was Gus Rose. - -Leaving the caf they sauntered down Sixth Avenue, wielding toothpicks -with great gusto and complete detachment. - -"Where to?" asked Rose, in a tone which implied that he would not be -surprised if Key suggested the South Sea Islands. - -"What you say we see if we can getta holda some liquor?" Prohibition -was not yet. The ginger in the suggestion was caused by the law -forbidding the selling of liquor to soldiers. - -Rose agreed enthusiastically. - -"I got an idea," continued Key, after a moment's thought, "I got a -brother somewhere." - -"In New York?" - -"Yeah. He's an old fella." He meant that he was an elder brother. -"He's a waiter in a hash joint." - -"Maybe he can get us some." - -"I'll say he can!" - -"B'lieve me, I'm goin' to get this darn uniform off me to-morra. Never -get me in it again, neither. I'm goin' to get me some regular -clothes." - -"Say, maybe I'm not." - -As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this -intention can be taken largely as a pleasant game of words, harmless -and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they -reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personages high in -biblical circles, adding such further emphasis as "Oh, boy!" "You -know!" and "I'll say so!" repeated many times over. - -The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended -nasal comment extended through the years upon the institution--army, -business, or poorhouse--which kept them alive, and toward their -immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning the -institution had been the "government" and the immediate superior had -been the "Cap'n"--from these two they had glided out and were now in -the vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next -bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and somewhat ill at ease. -This they hid by pretending an elaborate relief at being out of the -army, and by assuring each other that military discipline should never -again rule their stubborn, liberty-loving wills. Yet, as a matter of -fact, they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this -new-found and unquestionable freedom. - -Suddenly Key increased his gait. Rose, looking up and following his -glance, discovered a crowd that was collecting fifty yards down the -street. Key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd; -Rose thereupon also chuckled and his short bandy legs twinkled beside -the long, awkward strides of his companion. - -Reaching the outskirts of the crowd they immediately became an -indistinguishable part of it. It was composed of ragged civilians -somewhat the worse for liquor, and of soldiers representing many -divisions and many stages of sobriety, all clustered around a -gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving his -arms and delivering an excited but succinct harangue. Key and Rose, -having wedged themselves into the approximate parquet, scrutinized him -with acute suspicion, as his words penetrated their common -consciousness. - -"--What have you got outa the war?" he was crying fiercely. "Look -arounja, look arounja! Are you rich? Have you got a lot of money -offered you?--no; you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs; -you're lucky if you came back an' find your wife ain't gone off with -some other fella that had the money to buy himself out of the war! -That's when you're lucky! Who got anything out of it except J. P. -Morgan an' John D. Rockerfeller?" - -At this point the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile -impact of a fist upon the point of his bearded chin and he toppled -backward to a sprawl on the pavement. - -"God damn Bolsheviki!" cried the big soldier-blacksmith, who had -delivered the blow. There was a rumble of approval, the crowd closed -in nearer. - -The Jew staggered to his feet, and immediately went down again before -a half-dozen reaching-in fists. This time he stayed down, breathing -heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and -without. - -There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found -themselves flowing with the jumbled crowd down Sixth Avenue under the -leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier -who had summarily ended the oration. The crowd had marvellously -swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of more non-committal -citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support -by intermittent huzzas. - -"Where we goin'?" yelled Key to the man nearest him - -His neighbor pointed up to the leader in the slouch hat. - -"That guy knows where there's a lot of 'em! We're goin' to show 'em!" - -"We're goin' to show 'em!" whispered Key delightedly to Rose, who -repeated the phrase rapturously to a man on the other side. - -Down Sixth Avenue swept the procession, joined here and there by -soldiers and marines, and now and then by civilians, who came up with -the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves, as -if presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed Sporting and -Amusement Club. - -Then the procession swerved down a cross street and headed for Fifth -Avenue and the word filtered here and there that they were bound for a -Red meeting at Tolliver Hall. - -"Where is it?" - -The question went up the line and a moment later the answer floated -hack. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth Street. There was a bunch of -other sojers who was goin' to break it up and was down there now! - -But Tenth Street had a faraway sound and at the word a general groan -went up and a score of the procession dropped out. Among these were -Rose and Key, who slowed down to a saunter and let the more -enthusiastic sweep on by. - -"I'd rather get some liquor," said Key as they halted and made their -way to the sidewalk amid cries of "Shell hole!" and "Quitters!" - -"Does your brother work around here?" asked Rose, assuming the air of -one passing from the superficial to the eternal. - -"He oughta," replied Key. "I ain't seen him for a coupla years. I been -out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he don't work at night anyhow. It's -right along here. He can get us some o'right if he ain't gone." - -They found the place after a few minutes' patrol of the street--a -shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth Avenue and Broadway. Here -Key went inside to inquire for his brother George, while Rose waited -on the sidewalk. - -"He ain't here no more," said Key emerging. "He's a waiter up to -Delmonico's." - -Rose nodded wisely, as if he'd expected as much. One should not be -surprised at a capable man changing jobs occasionally. He knew a -waiter once--there ensued a long conversation as they waited as to -whether waiters made more in actual wages than in tips--it was decided -that it depended on the social tone of the joint wherein the waiter -labored. After having given each other vivid pictures of millionaires -dining at Delmonico's and throwing away fifty-dollar bills after their -first quart of champagne, both men thought privately of becoming -waiters. In fact, Key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask -his brother to get him a job. - -"A waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellas leave in -bottles," suggested Rose with some relish, and then added as an -afterthought, "Oh, boy!" - -By the time they reached Delmonico's it was half past ten, and they -were surprised to see a stream of taxis driving up to the door one -after the other and emitting marvelous, hatless young ladies, each one -attended by a stiff young gentleman in evening clothes. - -"It's a party," said Rose with some awe. "Maybe we better not go in. -He'll be busy." - -"No, he won't. He'll be o'right." - -After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the -least elaborate door and, indecision falling upon them immediately, -stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small -dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps -and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them and both -started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a -comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through -another door on the other side. - -There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers -mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them -suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if -prepared at any moment to turn and flee. - -"Say," began Key, "say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here." - -"His name is Key," annotated Rose. - -Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was up-stairs, he thought. There was a -big dance going on in the main ballroom. He'd tell him. - -Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the -utmost suspicion; his first and most natural thought being that he was -going to be asked for money. - -George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his -brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were not dull, they were alert and -twinkling, and his manner was suave, in-door, and faintly superior. -They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. -He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol -had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol. - -"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been -disposed of, "we want to get some booze, and they won't sell us none. -Can you get us some?" - -George considered. - -"Sure. Maybe I can. It may be half an hour, though." - -"All right," agreed Carrol, "we'll wait." - -At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed -to his feet by the indignant George. - -"Hey! Watch out, you! Can't sit down here! This room's all set for a -twelve o'clock banquet." - -"I ain't goin' to hurt it," said Rose resentfully. "I been through the -delouser." - -"Never mind," said George sternly, "if the head waiter seen me here -talkin' he'd romp all over me." - -"Oh." - -The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; -they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a -suggestion. - -"I tell you," said George, after a pause, "I got a place you can wait; -you just come here with me." - -They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a -pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room -chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, -and illuminated by a single dim electric light. There he left them, -after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour -with a quart of whiskey. - -"George is makin' money, I bet," said Key gloomily as he seated -himself on an inverted pail. "I bet he's making fifty dollars a week." - -Rose nodded his head and spat. - -"I bet he is, too." - -"What'd he say the dance was of?" - -"A lot of college fellas. Yale College." - -They, both nodded solemnly at each other. - -"Wonder where that crowda sojers is now?" - -"I don't know. I know that's too damn long to walk for me." - -"Me too. You don't catch me walkin' that far." - -Ten minutes later restlessness seized them. - -"I'm goin' to see what's out here," said Rose, stepping cautiously -toward the other door. - -It was a swinging door of green baize and he pushed it open a cautious -inch. - -"See anything?" - -For answer Rose drew in his breath sharply. - -"Doggone! Here's some liquor I'll say!" - -"Liquor?" - -Key joined Rose at the door, and looked eagerly. - -"I'll tell the world that's liquor," he said, after a moment of -concentrated gazing. - -It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in--and in it -was prepared a radiant feast of spirits. There were long walls of -alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, -brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention -an array of syphons and two great empty punch bowls. The room was as -yet uninhabited. - -"It's for this dance they're just starting," whispered Key; "hear the -violins playin'? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind havin' a dance." - -They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual -comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out. - -"I'd like to get my hands on a coupla those bottles," said Rose -emphatically. - -"Me too." - -"Do you suppose we'd get seen?" - -Key considered. - -"Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin' 'em. They got 'em all -laid out now, and they know how many of them there are." - -They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting -his hands on a bottle now and tucking it under his coat before anyone -came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. He was afraid he -might get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the -bottles were opened it'd be all right to take one, and everybody'd -think it was one of the college fellas. - -While they were still engaged in argument George Key hurried through -the room and, barely grunting at them, disappeared by way of the green -baize door. A minute later they heard several corks pop, and then the -sound of cracking ice and splashing liquid. George was mixing the -punch. - -The soldiers exchanged delighted grins. - -"Oh, boy!" whispered Rose. - -George reappeared. - -"Just keep low, boys," he said quickly. "Ill have your stuff for you -in five minutes." - -He disappeared through the door by which he had come. - -As soon as his footsteps receded down the stairs, Rose, after a -cautious look, darted into the room of delights and reappeared with a -bottle in his hand. - -"Here's what I say," he said, as they sat radiantly digesting their -first drink. "We'll wait till he comes up, and we'll ask him if we -can't just stay here and drink what he brings us--see. We'll tell him -we haven't got any place to drink it--see. Then we can sneak in there -whenever there ain't nobody in that there room and tuck a bottle under -our coats. We'll have enough to last us a coupla days--see?" - -"Sure," agreed Rose enthusiastically. "Oh, boy! And if we want to we -can sell it to sojers any time we want to." - -They were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea. Then Key -reached up and unhooked the collar of his O. D. coat. - -"It's hot in here, ain't it?" - -Rose agreed earnestly. - -"Hot as hell." - - -IV - -She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressing-room and -crossed the intervening parlor of politeness that opened onto the -hall--angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, -the merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had -occurred on this particular night. She had no quarrel with herself. -She had acted with that correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity -which she always employed. She had succinctly and deftly snubbed him. - -It had happened when their taxi was leaving the Biltmore--hadn't gone -half a block. He had lifted his right arm awkwardly--she was on his -right side--and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson -fur-trimmed opera cloak she wore. This in itself had been a mistake. -It was inevitably more graceful for a young man attempting to embrace -a young lady of whose acquiescence he was not certain, to first put -his far arm around her. It avoided that awkward movement of raising -the near arm. - -His second _faux pas_ was unconscious. She had spent the -afternoon at the hairdresser's; the idea of any calamity overtaking -her hair was extremely repugnant--yet as Peter made his unfortunate -attempt the point of his elbow had just faintly brushed it. That was -his second _faux pas_. Two were quite enough. - -He had begun to murmur. At the first murmur she had decided that he -was nothing but a college boy--Edith was twenty-two, and anyhow, this -dance, first of its kind since the war, was reminding her, with the -accelerating rhythm of its associations, of something else--of another -dance and another man, a man for whom her feelings had been little -more than a sad-eyed, adolescent mooniness. Edith Bradin was falling -in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett. - -So she came out of the dressing-room at Delmonico's and stood for a -second in the doorway looking over the shoulders of a black dress in -front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified -black moths around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left -drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to and fro of many -scented young beauties--rich perfumes and the fragile memory-laden -dust of fragrant powders. This odor drifting out acquired the tang of -cigarette smoke in the hall, and then settled sensuously down the -stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Psi dance was to be -held. It was an odor she knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly -sweet--the odor of a fashionable dance. - -She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were -powdered to a creamy white. She knew they looked very soft and would -gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them -to-night. The hairdressing had been a success; her reddish mass of -hair was piled and crushed and creased to an arrogant marvel of mobile -curves. Her lips were finely made of deep carmine; the irises of her -eyes were delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a -complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty, flowing -in an even line from a complex coiffure to two small slim feet. - -She thought of what she would say to-night at this revel, faintly -prestiged already by the sounds of high and low laughter and slippered -footsteps, and movements of couples up and down the stairs. She would -talk the language she had talked for many years--her line--made up of -the current expressions, bits of journalese and college slang strung -together into an intrinsic whole, careless, faintly provocative, -delicately sentimental. She stalled faintly as she heard a girl -sitting on the stairs near her say: "You don't know the half of it, -dearie!" - -And as she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes -she drew in a deep breath of pleasure. She dropped her arms to her -side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered -and suggested her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much -nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms. - -"I smell sweet," she said to herself simply, and then came another -thought "I'm made for love." - -She liked the sound of this and thought it again; then inevitable -succession came her new-born riot of dreams about Gordon. The twist of -her imagination which, two months before, had disclosed to her her -unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up -to this dance, this hour. - -For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slow-thinking girl. There -was a streak in her of that same desire to ponder, of that adolescent -idealism that had turned her brother socialist and pacifist. Henry -Bradin had left Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economies, -and had come to New York to pour the latest cures for incurable evils -into the columns of a radical weekly newspaper. - -Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon -Sterrett. There was a quality of weakness in Gordon that she wanted to -take care of; there was a helplessness in him that she wanted to -protect. And she wanted someone she had known a long while, someone -who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired; she wanted to -get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as -many memories, and this weariness, she had decided that next time she -saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed. She would say -something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her -evening. All evenings were her evenings. - -Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a -hurt look and an air of strained formality who presented himself -before her and bowed unusually low. It was the man she had come with, -Peter Himmel. He was tall and humorous, with horned-rimmed glasses and -an air of attractive whimsicality. She suddenly rather disliked -him--probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her. - -"Well," she began, "are you still furious at me?" - -"Not at all." - -She stepped forward and took his arm. - -"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I snapped out that -way. I'm in a bum humor to-night for some strange reason. I'm sorry." - -"S'all right," he mumbled, "don't mention it." - -He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his -late failure? - -"It was a mistake," she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. -"We'll both forget it." For this he hated her. - -A few minutes later they drifted out on the floor while the dozen -swaying, sighing members of the specially hired jazz orchestra -informed the crowded ballroom that "if a saxophone and me are left -alone why then two is com-pan-ee!" - -A man with a mustache cut in. - -"Hello," he began reprovingly. "You don't remember me." - -"I can't just think of your name," she said lightly--"and I know you -so well." - -"I met you up at--" His voice trailed disconsolately off as a man with -very fair hair cut in. Edith murmured a conventional "Thanks, -loads--cut in later," to the _inconnu_. - -The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She -placed him as one of the numerous Jims of her acquaintance--last name -a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in -dancing and found as they started that she was right. - -"Going to be here long?" he breathed confidentially. - -She leaned back and looked up at him. - -"Couple of weeks." - -"Where are you?" - -"Biltmore. Call me up some day." - -"I mean it," he assured her. "I will. We'll go to tea." - -"So do I--Do." - -A dark man cut in with intense formality. - -"You don't remember me, do you?" he said gravely. - -"I should say I do. Your name's Harlan." - -"No-ope. Barlow." - -"Well, I knew there were two syllables anyway. You're the boy that -played the ukulele so well up at Howard Marshall's house party. - -"I played--but not--" - -A man with prominent teeth cut in. Edith inhaled a slight cloud of -whiskey. She liked men to have had something to drink; they were so -much more cheerful, and appreciative and complimentary--much easier to -talk to. - -"My name's Dean, Philip Dean," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember -me, I know, but you used to come up to New Haven with a fellow I -roomed with senior year, Gordon Sterrett." - -Edith looked up quickly. - -"Yes, I went up with him twice--to the Pump and Slipper and the Junior -prom." - -"You've seen him, of course," said Dean carelessly. "He's here -to-night. I saw him just a minute ago." - -Edith started. Yet she had felt quite sure he would be here. - -"Why, no, I haven't--" - -A fat man with red hair cut in. - -"Hello, Edith," he began. - -"Why--hello there--" - -She slipped, stumbled lightly. - -"I'm sorry, dear," she murmured mechanically. - -She had seen Gordon--Gordon very white and listless, leaning against -the side of a doorway, smoking, and looking into the ballroom. Edith -could see that his face was thin and wan--that the hand he raised to -his lips with a cigarette, was trembling. They were dancing quite -close to him now. - -"--They invite so darn many extra fellas that you--" the short man was -saying. - -"Hello, Gordon," called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart -was pounding wildly. - -His large dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her -direction. Her partner turned her away--she heard his voice -bleating---- - -"--but half the stags get lit and leave before long, so--" Then a low -tone at her side. - -"May I, please?" - -She was dancing suddenly with Gordon; one of his arms was around her; -she felt it tighten spasmodically; felt his hand on her back with the -fingers spread. Her hand holding the little lace handkerchief was -crushed in his. - -"Why Gordon," she began breathlessly. - -"Hello, Edith." - -She slipped again--was tossed forward by her recovery until her face -touched the black cloth of his dinner coat. She loved him--she knew -she loved him--then for a minute there was silence while a strange -feeling of uneasiness crept over her. Something was wrong. - -Of a sudden her heart wrenched, and turned over as she realized what -it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a little drunk, and miserably -tired. - -"Oh--" she cried involuntarily. - -His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were -blood-streaked and rolling uncontrollably. - -"Gordon," she murmured, "we'll sit down; I want to sit down." - -They were nearly in mid-floor, but she had seen two men start toward -her from opposite sides of the room, so she halted, seized Gordon's -limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, -her face a little pale under her rouge, her eyes trembling with tears. - -She found a place high up on the soft-carpeted stairs, and he sat down -heavily beside her. - -"Well," he began, staring at her unsteadily, "I certainly am glad to -see you, Edith." - -She looked at him without answering. The effect of this on her was -immeasurable. For years she had seen men in various stages of -intoxication, from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs, and her -feelings had varied from amusement to disgust, but here for the first -time she was seized with a new feeling--an unutterable horror. - -"Gordon," she said accusingly and almost crying, "you look like the -devil." - -He nodded, "I've had trouble, Edith." - -"Trouble?" - -"All sorts of trouble. Don't you say anything to the family, but I'm -all gone to pieces. I'm a mess, Edith." - -His lower lip was sagging. He seemed scarcely to see her. - -"Can't you--can't you," she hesitated, "can't you tell me about it, -Gordon? You know I'm always interested in you." - -She bit her lip--she had intended to say something stronger, but found -at the end that she couldn't bring it out. - -Gordon shook his head dully. "I can't tell you. You're a good woman. I -can't tell a good woman the story." - -"Rot," she said, defiantly. "I think it's a perfect insult to call any -one a good woman in that way. It's a slam. You've been drinking, -Gordon." - -"Thanks." He inclined his head gravely. "Thanks for the information." - -"Why do you drink?" - -"Because I'm so damn miserable." - -"Do you think drinking's going to make it any better?" - -"What you doing--trying to reform me?" - -"No; I'm trying to help you, Gordon. Can't you tell me about it?" - -"I'm in an awful mess. Best thing you can do is to pretend not to know -me." - -"Why, Gordon?" - -"I'm sorry I cut in on you--its unfair to you. You're pure woman--and -all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get some one else to dance with -you." - -He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down -beside her on the stairs. - -"Here, Gordon. You're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting -like a--like a crazy man--" - -"I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. -There's something left me. It doesn't matter." - -"It does, tell me." - -"Just that. I was always queer--little bit different from other boys. -All right in college, but now it's all wrong. Things have been -snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress, and -it's about to come off when a few more hooks go. I'm very gradually -going loony." - -He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away -from him. - -"What _is_ the matter?" - -"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a -dream to me--this Delmonico's--" - -As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light -and gay and careless--a great lethargy and discouragement had come -over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising -boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void. - -"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. -Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith. Don't know why I'm telling -you this." - -She nodded absently. - -"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He -laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've become a damn beggar, a -leech on my friends. I'm a failure. I'm poor as hell." - -Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her -first possible cue to rise. - -Suddenly Gordon's eyes filled with tears. - -"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong -effort at self-control, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know -there's one person left who's interested in me." - -He reached out and patted her hand, and involuntarily she drew it -away. - -"It's mighty fine of you," he repeated. - -"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always -glad to see an old friend--but I'm sorry to see you like this, -Gordon." - -There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary -eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her -face quite expressionless. - -"Shall we dance?" she suggested, coolly. - ---Love is fragile--she was thinking--but perhaps the pieces are saved, -the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new -love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next -lover. - - -V - -Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being -snubbed; having been snubbed, he was hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed -of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery -terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and -explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental -correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He -searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this -attitude in the matter of a simple kiss. - -Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the mustache he went -out into the hall and, making up a sentence, said it over to himself -several times. Considerably deleted, this was it: - -"Well, if any girl ever led a man on and then jolted him, she did--and -she has no kick coming if I go out and get beautifully boiled." - -So he walked through the supper room into a small room adjoining it, -which he had located earlier in the evening. It was a room in which -there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He -took a seat beside the table which held the bottles. - -At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the -turbidity of events, sank into a vague background before which -glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves, -things lay quietly on their shelves; the troubles of the day arranged -themselves in trim formation and at his curt wish of dismissal, -marched off and disappeared. And with the departure of worry came -brilliant, permeating symbolism. Edith became a flighty, negligible -girl, not to be worried over; rather to be laughed at. She fitted like -a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him. He -himself became in a measure symbolic, a type of the continent -bacchanal, the brilliant dreamer at play. - -Then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his -imagination yielded to the warm glow and he lapsed into a state -similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this -point that he noticed that a green baize door near him was open about -two inches, and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were watching -him intently. - -"Hm," murmured Peter calmly. - -The green door closed--and then opened again--a bare half inch this -time. - -"Peek-a-boo," murmured Peter. - -The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of -tense intermittent whispers. - -"One guy." - -"What's he doin'?" - -"He's sittin' lookin'." - -"He better beat it off. We gotta get another li'l' bottle." - -Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness. - -"Now this," he thought, "is most remarkable." - -He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a -mystery. Affecting an elaborate carelessness he arose and waited -around the table--then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door, -precipitating Private Rose into the room. - -Peter bowed. - -"How do you do?" he said. - -Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for -fight, flight, or compromise. - -"How do you do?" repeated Peter politely. - -"I'm o'right." - -"Can I offer you a drink?" - -Private Rose looked at him searchingly, suspecting possible sarcasm. - -"O'right," he said finally. - -Peter indicated a chair. - -"Sit down." - -"I got a friend," said Rose, "I got a friend in there." He pointed to -the green door. - -"By all means let's have him in." - -Peter crossed over, opened the door and welcomed in Private Key, very -suspicious and uncertain and guilty. Chairs were found and the three -took their seats around the punch bowl. Peter gave them each a -highball and offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted -both with some diffidence. - -"Now," continued Peter easily, "may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to -lounge away your leisure hours in a room which is chiefly furnished, -as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race -has progressed to the stage where seventeen thousand chairs are -manufactured on every day except Sunday--" he paused. Rose and Key -regarded him vacantly. "Will you tell me," went on Peter, "why you -choose to rest yourselves on articles, intended for the transportation -of water from one place to another?" - -At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation. - -"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a -building beautifully hung with enormous candelabra, you prefer to -spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?" - -Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed -uproariously; they found it was impossible to look at each other -without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man--they were -laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was -either raving drunk or raving crazy. - -"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and -preparing another. - -They laughed again. - -"Na-ah." - -"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of -the university known as the Sheffield Scientific School." - -"Na-ah." - -"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to -preserve your incognito in this--this paradise of violet blue, as the -newspapers say." - -"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody." - -"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses, "very -interestin'. Had a date with a scrublady, eh?" - -They both denied this indignantly. - -"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A -scrublady's as good as any lady in the world." - -"Kipling says 'Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'" - -"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose. - -"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got -a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn girl I ever saw. Refused -to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure -I want to kiss you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger -generation comin' to?" - -"Say tha's hard luck," said Key--"that's awful hard luck." - -"Oh, boy!" said Rose. - -"Have another?" said Peter. - -"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but -it was too far away." - -"A fight?--tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. -"Fight 'em all! I was in the army." - -"This was with a Bolshevik fella." - -"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! -Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!" - -"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. - -"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americans! -Have another." - -They had another. - - -VI - -At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special -orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its members, seating -themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of -providing music for the Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a -famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for his feat of -standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played -the latest jazz on his flute. During his performance the lights were -extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another -roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic -colors over the massed dancers. - -Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only -with dbutantes, a state equivalent to the glow of a noble soul after -several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her -music; her partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the -colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it seemed as if days -had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary -subjects with many men. She had been kissed once and made love to six -times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates had danced -with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her -own entourage--that is, half a dozen gallants had singled her out or -were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty; -they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession. - -Several times she had seen Gordon--he had been sitting a long time on -the stairway with his palm to his head, his dull eyes fixed at an -infinite spark on the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and -quite drunk--but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All -that seemed long ago; her mind was passive now, her senses were lulled -to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in -hazy sentimental banter. - -But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral -indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her, sublimely and happily -drunk. She gasped and looked up at him. - -"Why, _Peter_!" - -"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith." - -"Why, Peter, you're a _peach_, you are! Don't you think it's a -bum way of doing--when you're with me?" - -Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish -sentimentality varied with a silly spasmodic smile. - -"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?" - -"You tell it well." - -"I love you--and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly. - -His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful -girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful eyes, like stars above. He wanted -to 'pologize--firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for -drinking--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was -mad at him---- - -The red-fat man cut in, and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly. - -"Did you bring any one?" she asked. - -No. The red-fat man was a stag. - -"Well, would you mind--would it be an awful bother for you to--to take -me home to-night?" (this extreme diffidence was a charming affectation -on Edith's part--she knew that the red-fat man would immediately -dissolve into a paroxysm of delight). - -"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn -glad to." - -"Thanks _loads_! You're awfully sweet." - -She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said -"half-past one" to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her -brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his -newspaper until after one-thirty every evening. - -Edith turned suddenly to her current partner. - -"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?" - -"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course." - -"I mean, what cross street?" - -"Why--let's see--it's on Forty-fourth Street." - -This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the -street and just around the corner, and it occurred to her immediately -that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on -him, a shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him -up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith revelled in doing--an -unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her -imagination--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. - -"My hair is just about to tumble entirely down," she said pleasantly -to her partner; "would you mind if I go and fix it?" - -"Not at all." - -"You're a peach." - -A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted -down a side-stairs, her cheeks glowing with excitement at her little -adventure. She ran by a couple who stood at the door--a weak-chinned -waiter and an over-rouged young lady, in hot dispute--and opening the -outer door stepped into the warm May night. - -VII - -The over-rouged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter -glance--then turned again to the weak-chinned waiter and took up her -argument. - -"You better go up and tell him I'm here," she said defiantly, "or I'll -go up myself." - -"No, you don't!" said George sternly. - -The girl smiled sardonically. - -"Oh, I don't, don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college -fellas and more of 'em know me, and are glad to take me out on a -party, than you ever saw in your whole life." - -"Maybe so--" - -"Maybe so," she interrupted. "Oh, it's all right for any of 'em like -that one that just ran out--God knows where _she_ went--it's all -right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like--but -when I want to see a friend they have some cheap, ham-slinging, -bring-me-a-doughnut waiter to stand here and keep me out." - -"See here," said the elder Key indignantly, "I can't lose my job. -Maybe this fella you're talkin' about doesn't want to see you." - -"Oh, he wants to see me all right." - -"Anyways, how could I find him in all that crowd?" - -"Oh, he'll be there," she asserted confidently. "You just ask anybody -for Gordon Sterrett and they'll point him out to you. They all know -each other, those fellas." - -She produced a mesh bag, and taking out a dollar bill handed it to -George. - -"Here," she said, "here's a bribe. You find him and give him my -message. You tell him if he isn't here in five minutes I'm coming up." - -George shook his head pessimistically, considered the question for a -moment, wavered violently, and then withdrew. - -In less than the allotted time Gordon came down-stairs. He was drunker -than he had been earlier in the evening and in a different way. The -liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust. He was heavy and -lurching--almost incoherent when he talked. - -"'Lo, Jewel," he said thickly. "Came right away, Jewel, I couldn't get -that money. Tried my best." - -"Money nothing!" she snapped. "You haven't been near me for ten days. -What's the matter?" - -He shook his head slowly. - -"Been very low, Jewel. Been sick." - -"Why didn't you tell me if you were sick. I don't care about the money -that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began -neglecting me." - -Again he shook his head. - -"Haven't been neglecting you. Not at all." - -"Haven't! You haven't been near me for three weeks, unless you been so -drunk you didn't know what you were doing." - -"Been sick. Jewel," he repeated, turning his eyes upon her wearily. - -"You're well enough to come and play with your society friends here -all right. You told me you'd meet me for dinner, and you said you'd -have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up." - -"I couldn't get any money." - -"Haven't I just been saying that doesn't matter? I wanted to see -_you_, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your somebody else." - -He denied this bitterly. - -"Then get your hat and come along," she suggested. Gordon -hesitated--and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms -around his neck. - -"Come on with me, Gordon," she said in a half whisper. "We'll go over -to Devineries' and have a drink, and then we can go up to my -apartment." - -"I can't, Jewel,----" - -"You can," she said intensely. - -"I'm sick as a dog!" - -"Well, then, you oughtn't to stay here and dance." - -With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, -Gordon hesitated; then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him -with soft, pulpy lips. - -"All right," he said heavily. "I'll get my hat." - - -VII - -When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night she found the -Avenue deserted. The windows of the big shops were dark; over their -doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs -of the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward Forty-second Street -she saw a commingled blur of lights from the all-night restaurants. -Over on Sixth Avenue the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the -street between the glimmering parallels of light at the station and -streaked along into the crisp dark. But at Forty-fourth Street it was -very quiet. - -Pulling her cloak close about her Edith darted across the Avenue. She -started nervously as a solitary man passed her and said in a hoarse -whisper--"Where bound, kiddo?" She was reminded of a night in her -childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a -dog had howled at her from a mystery-big back yard. - -In a minute she had reached her destination, a two-story, -comparatively old building on Forty-fourth, in the upper window of -which she thankfully detected a wisp of light. It was bright enough -outside for her to make out the sign beside the window--the _New -York Trumpet_. She stepped inside a dark hall and after a second -saw the stairs in the corner. - -Then she was in a long, low room furnished with many desks and hung on -all sides with file copies of newspapers. There were only two -occupants. They were sitting at different ends of the room, each -wearing a green eye-shade and writing by a solitary desk light. - -For a moment she stood uncertainly in the doorway, and then both men -turned around simultaneously and she recognized her brother. - -"Why, Edith!" He rose quickly and approached her in surprise, removing -his eye-shade. He was tall, lean, and dark, with black, piercing eyes -under very thick glasses. They were far-away eyes that seemed always -fixed just over the head of the person to whom he was talking. - -He put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek. - -"What is it?" he repeated in some alarm. - -"I was at a dance across at Delmonico's, Henry," she said excitedly, -"and I couldn't resist tearing over to see you." - -"I'm glad you did." His alertness gave way quickly to a habitual -vagueness. "You oughtn't to be out alone at night though, ought you?" - -The man at the other end of the room had been looking at them -curiously, but at Henry's beckoning gesture he approached. He was -loosely fat with little twinkling eyes, and, having removed his collar -and tie, he gave the impression of a Middle-Western farmer on a Sunday -afternoon. - -"This is my sister," said Henry. "She dropped in to see me." - -"How do you do?" said the fat man, smiling. "My name's Bartholomew, -Miss Bradin. I know your brother has forgotten it long ago." - -Edith laughed politely. - -"Well," he continued, "not exactly gorgeous quarters we have here, are -they?" - -Edith looked around the room. - -"They seem very nice," she replied. "Where do you keep the bombs?" - -"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good--the -bombs. Did you hear her, Henry? She wants to know where we keep the -bombs. Say, that's pretty good." - -Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over -the edge. Her brother took a seat beside her. - -"Well," he asked, absent-mindedly, "how do you like New York this -trip?" - -"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday. -Can't you come to luncheon to-morrow?" - -He thought a moment. - -"I'm especially busy," he objected, "and I hate women in groups." - -"All right," she agreed, unruffled. "Let's you and me have luncheon -together." - -"Very well." - -"I'll call for you at twelve." - -Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but -apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some -parting pleasantry. - -"Well"--he began awkwardly. - -They both turned to him. - -"Well, we--we had an exciting time earlier in the evening." - -The two men exchanged glances. - -"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat -encouraged. "We had a regular vaudeville." - -"Did you really?" - -"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in -the street and began to yell at the sign." - -"Why?" she demanded. - -"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl. -They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd -probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up." - -"Yes," said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith, "you should have been -here." - -He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he -turned abruptly and went back to his desk. - -"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of -her brother. "I mean do they attack you violently and all that?" - -Henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned. - -"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of -us are throw-backs; the soldiers don't know what they want, or what -they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies, -and they seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be -against us. There've been riots all over the city to-night. It's May -Day, you see." - -"Was the disturbance here pretty serious?" - -"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twenty-five of them stopped in -the street about nine o'clock, and began to bellow at the moon." - -"Oh"--She changed the subject. "You're glad to see me, Henry?" - -"Why, sure." - -"You don't seem to be." - -"I am." - -"I suppose you think I'm a--a waster. Sort of the World's Worst -Butterfly." - -Henry laughed. - -"Not at all. Have a good time while you're young. Why? Do I seem like -the priggish and earnest youth?" - -"No--" she paused,"--but somehow I began thinking how absolutely -different the party I'm on is from--from all your purposes. It seems -sort of--of incongruous, doesn't it?--me being at a party like that, -and you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party -impossible ever any more, if your ideas work." - -"I don't think of it that way. You're young, and you're acting just as -you were brought up to act. Go ahead--have a good time?" - -Her feet, which had been idly swinging, stopped and her voice dropped -a note. - -"I wish you'd--you'd come back to Harrisburg and have a good time. Do -you feel sure that you're on the right track----" - -"You're wearing beautiful stockings," he interrupted. "What on earth -are they?" - -"They're embroidered," she replied, glancing down; "Aren't they -cunning?" She raised her skirts and uncovered slim, silk-sheathed -calves. "Or do you disapprove of silk stockings?" - -He seemed slightly exasperated, bent his dark eyes on her piercingly. - -"Are you trying to make me out as criticizing you in any way, Edith?" - -"Not at all----" - -She paused. Bartholomew had uttered a grunt. She turned and saw that -he had left his desk and was standing at the window. - -"What is it?" demanded Henry. - -"People," said Bartholomew, and then after an instant: "Whole jam of -them. They're coming from Sixth Avenue." - -"People?" - -The fat man pressed his nose to the pane. - -"Soldiers, by God!" he said emphatically. "I had an idea they'd come -back." - -Edith jumped to her feet, and running over joined Bartholomew at the -window. - -"There's a lot of them!" she cried excitedly. "Come here, Henry!" - -Henry readjusted his shade, but kept his seat. - -"Hadn't we better turn out the lights?" suggested Bartholomew. - -"No. They'll go away in a minute." - -"They're not," said Edith, peering from the window. "They're not even -thinking of going away. There's more of them coming. Look--there's a -whole crowd turning the corner of Sixth Avenue." - -By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp she could see -that the sidewalk was crowded with men. They were mostly in uniform, -some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an -incoherent clamor and shouting. - -Henry rose, and going to the window exposed himself as a long -silhouette against the office lights. Immediately the shouting became -a steady yell, and a rattling fusillade of small missiles, corners of -tobacco plugs, cigarette-boxes, and even pennies beat against the -window. The sounds of the racket now began floating up the stairs as -the folding doors revolved. - -"They're coming up!" cried Bartholomew. - -Edith turned anxiously to Henry. - -"They're coming up, Henry." - -From down-stairs in the lower hall their cries were now quite audible. - -"--God Damn Socialists!" - -"Pro-Germans! Boche-lovers!" - -"Second floor, front! Come on!" - -"We'll get the sons--" - -The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the -clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, -that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had -seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then -the door opened and an overflow of men were forced into the room--not -the leaders, but simply those who happened to be in front. - -"Hello, Bo!" - -"Up late, ain't you!" - -"You an' your girl. Damn _you_!" - -She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the -front, where they wobbled fatuously--one of them was short and dark, -the other was tall and weak of chin. - -Henry stepped forward and raised his hand. - -"Friends!" he said. - -The clamor faded into a momentary stillness, punctuated with -mutterings. - -"Friends!" he repeated, his far-away eyes fixed over the heads of the -crowd, "you're injuring no one but yourselves by breaking in here -to-night. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you -in all fairness--" - -"Pipe down!" - -"I'll say you do!" - -"Say, who's your lady friend, buddy?" - -A man in civilian clothes, who had been pawing over a table, suddenly -held up a newspaper. - -"Here it is!" he shouted, "They wanted the Germans to win the war!" - -A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in and of a sudden the -room was full of men all closing around the pale little group at the -back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in -front. The short dark one had disappeared. - -She edged slightly backward, stood close to the open window, through -which came a clear breath of cool night air. - -Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging -forward, glimpsed the fat man swinging a chair over his -head--instantly the lights went out and she felt the push of warm -bodies under rough cloth, and her ears were full of shouting and -trampling and hard breathing. - -A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, -and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window -with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of -the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on -the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall -soldier with tie weak chin. - -Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged -blindly toward the thickest of the scuffling. She heard grunts, -curses, the muffled impact of fists. - -"Henry!" she called frantically, "Henry!" - -Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other -figures in the room. She heard a voice, deep, bullying, authoritative; -she saw yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. -The cries became more scattered. The scuffling increased and then -stopped. - -Suddenly the lights were on and the room was full of policemen, -clubbing left and right. The deep voice boomed out: - -"Here now! Here now! Here now!" - -And then: - -"Quiet down and get out! Here now!" - -The room seemed to empty like a wash-bowl. A policeman fast-grappled -in the corner released his hold on his soldier antagonist and started -him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith -perceived now that it came from a bull-necked police captain standing -near the door. - -"Here now! This is no way! One of your own sojers got shoved out of -the back window an' killed hisself!" - -"Henry!" called Edith, "Henry!" - -She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her; -she brushed between two others; fought, shrieked, and beat her way to -a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk. - -"Henry," she cried passionately, "what's the matter? What's the -matter? Did they hurt you?" - -His eyes were shut. He groaned and then looking up said disgustedly-- - -"They broke my leg. My God, the fools!" - -"Here now!" called the police captain. "Here now! Here now!" - - -IX - -"Childs', Fifty-ninth Street," at eight o'clock of any morning differs -from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the -degree of polish on the frying-pans. You will see there a crowd of -poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes, trying to look -straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor -people. But Childs', Fifty-ninth, four hours earlier is quite unlike -any Childs' restaurant from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine. -Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus -girls, college boys, debutantes, rakes, _filles de joie_--a not -unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway, and even of Fifth -Avenue. - -In the early morning of May the second it was unusually full. Over the -marble-topped tables were bent the excited faces of flappers whose -fathers owned individual villages. They were eating buckwheat cakes -and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto, an accomplishment that it -would have been utterly impossible for them to repeat in the same -place four hours later. - -Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Psi dance at Delmonico's -except for several chorus girls from a midnight revue who sat at a -side table and wished they'd taken off a little more make-up after the -show. Here and there a drab, mouse-like figure, desperately out of -place, watched the butterflies with a weary, puzzled curiosity. But -the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, -and celebration was still in the air. - -Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab -figures. How he had got himself from Forty-fourth Street to -Fifty-ninth Street after the riot was only a hazy half-memory. He had -seen the body of Carrol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and -then he had started up town with two or three soldiers. Somewhere -between Forty-fourth Street and Fifty-ninth Street the other soldiers -had met some women and disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus -Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of Childs' to minister to his -craving for coffee and doughnuts. He walked in and sat down. - -All around him floated airy, inconsequential chatter and high-pitched -laughter. At first he failed to understand, but after a puzzled five -minutes he realized that this was the aftermath of some gay party. -Here and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally -and familiarly between the tables, shaking hands indiscriminately and -pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters, -bearing cakes and eggs aloft, swore at him silently, and bumped him -out of the way. To Rose, seated at the most inconspicuous and least -crowded table, the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and -riotous pleasure. - -He became gradually aware, after a few moments, that the couple seated -diagonally across from him with their backs to the crowd, were not the -least interesting pair in the room. The man was drunk. He wore a -dinner coat with a dishevelled tie and shirt swollen by spillings of -water and wine. His eyes, dim and blood-shot, roved unnaturally from -side to side. His breath came short between his lips. - -"He's been on a spree!" thought Rose. - -The woman was almost if not quite sober. She was pretty, with dark -eyes and feverish high color, and she kept her active eyes fixed on -her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she -would lean and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by -inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish and repellent -wink. - -Rose scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes until the woman gave him -a quick, resentful look; then he shifted his gaze to two of the most -conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted -circuit of the tables. To his surprise he recognized in one of them -the young man by whom he had been so ludicrously entertained at -Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague -sentimentality, not unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen -thirty-five feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoa-nut. - -"He was a darn good guy," thought Rose mournfully. "He was a darn good -guy, o'right. That was awful hard luck about him." - -The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table -and the next, addressing friends and strangers alike with jovial -familiarity. Suddenly Rose saw the fair-haired one with the prominent -teeth stop, look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then -begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to side. - -The man with the blood-shot eyes looked up. - -"Gordy," said the promenader with the prominent teeth, "Gordy." - -"Hello," said the man with the stained shirt thickly. - -Prominent teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair, giving -the woman a glance of aloof condemnation. - -"What'd I tell you Gordy?" - -Gordon stirred in his seat. - -"Go to hell!" he said. - -Dean continued to stand there shaking his finger. The woman began to -get angry. - -"You go way!" she cried fiercely. "You're drunk, that's what you are!" - -"So's he," suggested Dean, staying the motion of his finger and -pointing it at Gordon. - -Peter Himmel ambled up, owlish now and oratorically inclined. - -"Here now," he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute -between children. "Wha's all trouble?" - -"You take your friend away," said Jewel tartly. "He's bothering us." - -"What's at?" - -"You heard me!" she said shrilly. "I said to take your drunken friend -away." - -Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a -waiter came hurrying up. - -"You gotta be more quiet!" - -"That fella's drunk," she cried. "He's insulting us." - -"Ah-ha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned -to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends. Been tryin' help him, haven't I, -Gordy?" - -Gordy looked up. - -"Help me? Hell, no!" - -Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm assisted him to his -feet. - -"Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half -whisper. "Let's us get out of here. This fella's got a mean drunk on." - -Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the -door. Jewel turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their -flight. - -"I know all about _you_!" she said fiercely. "Nice friend, you -are, I'll say. He told me about you." - -Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through -the curious crowd, paid their check, and went out. - -"You'll have to sit down," said the waiter to Peter after they had -gone. - -"What's 'at? Sit down?" - -"Yes--or get out." - -Peter turned to Dean. - -"Come on," he suggested. "Let's beat up this waiter." - -"All right." - -They advanced toward him, their faces grown stern. The waiter -retreated. - -Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and -picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a -languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by. - -"Hey! Ease up!" - -"Put him out!" - -"Sit down, Peter!" - -"Cut out that stuff!" - -Peter laughed and bowed. - -"Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will -lend me some more hash and a tall hat we will go on with the act." - -The bouncer bustled up. - -"You've gotta get out!" he said to Peter. - -"Hell, no!" - -"He's my friend!" put in Dean indignantly. - -A crowd of waiters were gathering. "Put him out!" - -"Better go, Peter." - -There was a short, struggle and the two were edged and pushed toward -the door. - -"I got a hat and a coat here!" cried Peter. - -"Well, go get 'em and be spry about it!" - -The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air -of extreme cunning, rushed immediately around to the other table, -where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the -exasperated waiters. - -"Think I just better wait a l'il longer," he announced. - -The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and four -another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another -struggle took place before the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he -was finally pinioned after overturning a sugar-bowl and several cups -of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk, where Peter -attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at -policemen. - -But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another -phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary -"Oh-h-h!" from every person in the restaurant. - -The great plate-glass front had turned to a deep blue, the color of a -Maxfield Parrish moonlight--a blue that seemed to press close upon the -pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in -Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouetting the great -statue of the immortal Christopher, and mingling in a curious and -uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside. - - -X - -Mr. In and Mr. Out are not listed by the census-taker. You will search -for them in vain through the social register or the births, marriages, -and deaths, or the grocer's credit list. Oblivion has swallowed them -and the testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy, -and inadmissible in a court of law. Yet I have it upon the best -authority that for a brief space Mr. In and Mr. Out lived, breathed, -answered to their names and radiated vivid personalities of their own. - -During the brief span of their lives they walked in their native -garments down the great highway of a great nation; were laughed at, -sworn at, chased, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no -more. - -They were already taking form dimly, when a taxi cab with the top open -breezed down Broadway in the faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car -sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out discussing with amazement the blue -light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of -Christopher Columbus, discussing with bewilderment the old, gray faces -of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown -bits of paper on a gray lake. They were agreed on all things, from the -absurdity of the bouncer in Childs' to the absurdity of the business -of life. They were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the -morning had awakened in their glowing souls. Indeed, so fresh and -vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt it should be -expressed by loud cries. - -"Ye-ow-ow!" hooted Peter, making a megaphone with his hands--and Dean -joined in with a call that, though equally significant and symbolic, -derived its resonance from its very inarticulateness. - -"Yo-ho! Yea! Yoho! Yo-buba!" - -Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; -Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a -yell of, "Look where you're aimin'!" in a pained and grieved voice. At -Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a -very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: - -"Some party, boys!" - -At Forty-ninth Street Peter turned to Dean. "Beautiful morning," he -said gravely, squinting up his owlish eyes. - -"Probably is." - -"Go get some breakfast, hey?" - -Dean agreed--with additions. - -"Breakfast and liquor." - -"Breakfast and liquor," repeated Peter, and they looked at each other, -nodding. "That's logical." - -Then they both burst into loud laughter. - -"Breakfast and liquor! Oh, gosh!" - -"No such thing," announced Peter. - -"Don't serve it? Ne'mind. We force 'em serve it Bring pressure bear." - -"Bring logic bear." - -The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed along a cross street, and -stopped in front of a heavy tomb-like building in Fifth Avenue. - -"What's idea?" - -The taxi-driver informed them that this was Delmonico's. - -This was somewhat puzzling. They were forced to devote several minutes -to intense concentration, for if such an order had been given there -must have been a reason for it. - -"Somep'm 'bouta coat," suggested the taxi-man. - -That was it. Peter's overcoat and hat. He had left them at -Delmonico's. Having decided this, they disembarked from the taxi and -strolled toward the entrance arm in arm. - -"Hey!" said the taxi-driver. - -"Huh?" - -"You better pay me." - -They shook their heads in shocked negation. - -"Later, not now--we give orders, you wait." - -The taxi-driver objected; he wanted his money now. With the scornful -condescension of men exercising tremendous self-control they paid him. - -Inside Peter groped in vain through a dim, deserted check-room in -search of his coat and derby. - -"Gone, I guess. Somebody stole it." - -"Some Sheff student." - -"All probability." - -"Never mind," said Dean, nobly. "I'll leave mine here too--then we'll -both be dressed the same." - -He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his -roving glance was caught and held magnetically by two large squares of -cardboard tacked to the two coat-room doors. The one on the left-hand -door bore the word "In" in big black letters, and the one on the -right-hand door flaunted the equally emphatic word "Out." - -"Look!" he exclaimed happily-- - -Peter's eyes followed his pointing finger. - -"What?" - -"Look at the signs. Let's take 'em." - -"Good idea." - -"Probably pair very rare an' valuable signs. Probably come in handy." - -Peter removed the left-hand sign from the door and endeavored to -conceal it about his person. The sign being of considerable -proportions, this was a matter of some difficulty. An idea flung -itself at him, and with an air of dignified mystery he turned his -back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around, and stretching -out his arms displayed himself to the admiring Dean. He had inserted -the sign in his vest, completely covering his shirt front. In effect, -the word "In" had been painted upon his shirt in large black letters. - -"Yoho!" cheered Dean. "Mister In." - -He inserted his own sign in like manner. - -"Mister Out!" he announced triumphantly. "Mr. In meet Mr. Out." - -They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they -rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth. - -"Yoho!" - -"We probably get a flock of breakfast." - -"We'll go--go to the Commodore." - -Arm in arm they sallied out the door, and turning east in Forty-fourth -Street set out for the Commodore. - -As they came out a short dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had -been wandering listlessly along the sidewalk, turned to look at them. - -He started over as though to address them, but as they immediately -bent on him glances of withering unrecognition, he waited until they -had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about -forty paces, chuckling to himself and saying, "Oh, boy!" over and over -under his breath, in delighted, anticipatory tones. - -Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning -their future plans. - -"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and -indivisible." - -"We want both 'em!" - -"Both 'em!" - -It was quite light now, and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on -the pair. Obviously they were engaged in a discussion, which afforded -each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter -would seize upon them so violently that, still with their arms -interlocked, they would bend nearly double. - -Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the -sleepy-eyed doorman, navigated the revolving door with some -difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but -startled lobby to the dining-room, where a puzzled waiter showed them -an obscure table in a corner. They studied the bill of fare -helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles. - -"Don't see any liquor here," said Peter reproachfully. - -The waiter became audible but unintelligible. - -"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems -to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon bill of -fare." - -"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the -waiter--"Bring us--bring us--" he scanned the bill of fare anxiously. -"Bring us a quart of champagne and a--a--probably ham sandwich." - -The waiter looked doubtful. - -"Bring it!" roared Mr. In and Mr. Out in chorus. - -The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during -which they were subjected without their knowledge to a careful -scrutiny by the head-waiter. Then the champagne arrived, and at the -sight of it Mr. In and Mr. Out became jubilant. - -"Imagine their objecting to us having, champagne for breakfast--jus' -imagine." - -They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, -but the feat was too much for them. It was impossible for their joint -imaginations to conjure up a world where any one might object any one -else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an -enormous _pop_ and their glasses immediately foamed with pale -yellow froth. - -"Here's health, Mr. In." - -"Here's same to you, Mr. Out." - -The waiter withdrew; the minutes passed; the champagne became low in -the bottle. - -"It's--it's mortifying," said Dean suddenly. - -"Wha's mortifying?" - -"The idea their objecting us having champagne breakfast." - -"Mortifying?" Peter considered. "Yes, tha's word--mortifying." - -Again they collapsed into laughter, howled, swayed, rocked back and -forth in their chairs, repeating the word "mortifying" over and over -to each other--each repetition seeming to make it only more -brilliantly absurd. - -After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another quart. Their -anxious waiter consulted his immediate superior, and this discreet -person gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be -served. Their check was brought. - -Five minutes later, arm in arm, they left the Commodore and made their -way through a curious, staring crowd along Forty-second Street, and up -Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they -rose to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast and -standing unnaturally erect. - -Once in the dining-room they repeated their performance. They were -torn between intermittent convulsive laughter and sudden spasmodic -discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their -dispositions. Their watches told them that it was now nine o'clock, -and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a memorable party, -something that they would remember always. They lingered over the -second bottle. Either of them had only to mention the word -"mortifying" to send them both into riotous gasps. The dining-room was -whirring and shifting now; a curious lightness permeated and rarefied -the heavy air. - -They paid their check and walked out into the lobby. - -It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved for the -thousandth time that morning, and admitted into the lobby a very pale -young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a -much-rumpled evening dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, -obviously not an appropriate escort. - -At the top of the stairs this couple encountered Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -"Edith," began Mr. In, stepping toward her hilariously and making a -sweeping bow, "darling, good morning." - -The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her -permission to throw this man summarily out of the way. - -"'Scuse familiarity," added Peter, as an afterthought. "Edith, -good-morning." - -He seized Dean's elbow and impelled him into the foreground. - -"Meet Mr. In, Edith, my bes' frien'. Inseparable. Mr. In and Mr. Out." - -Mr. Out advanced and bowed; in fact, he advanced so far and bowed so -low that he tipped slightly forward and only kept his balance by -placing a hand lightly on Edith's shoulder. - -"I'm Mr. Out, Edith," he mumbled pleasantly. "S'misterin Misterout." - -"'Smisterinanout," said Peter proudly. - -But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite -speck in the gallery above her. She nodded slightly to the stout man, -who advanced bull-like and with a sturdy brisk gesture pushed Mr. In -and Mr. Out to either side. Through this alley he and Edith walked. - -But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again--stopped and pointed to a -short, dark soldier who was eying the crowd in general, and the -tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular, with a sort of puzzled, -spell-bound awe. - -"There," cried Edith. "See there!" - -Her voice rose, became somewhat shrill. Her pointing finger shook -slightly. - -"There's the soldier who broke my brother's leg." - -There were a dozen exclamations; a man in a cutaway coat left his -place near the desk and advanced alertly; the stout person made a sort -of lightning-like spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the -lobby closed around the little group and blotted them from the sight -of Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -But to Mr. In and Mr. Out this event was merely a particolored -iridescent segment of a whirring, spinning world. - -They heard loud voices; they saw the stout man spring; the picture -suddenly blurred. - -Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. - -"What floor, please?" said the elevator man. - -"Any floor," said Mr. In. - -"Top floor," said Mr. Out. - -"This is the top floor," said the elevator man. - -"Have another floor put on," said Mr. Out. - -"Higher," said Mr. In. - -"Heaven," said Mr. Out. - - -XI - -In a bedroom of a small hotel just off Sixth Avenue Gordon Sterrett -awoke with a pain in the back of his head and a sick throbbing in all -his veins. He looked at the dusky gray shadows in the corners of the -room and at a raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where -it had long been in use. He saw clothes, dishevelled, rumpled clothes -on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The -windows were tight shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thrown a -dust-filled beam across the sill--a beam broken by the head of the -wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet--comatose, -drugged, his eyes wide, his mind clicking wildly like an unoiled -machine. - -It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with -the dust on it and the rip on the large leather chair that he had the -sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds -after that before that he realized that he was irrevocably married to -Jewel Hudson. - -He went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting -goods store. Then he took a took a taxi to the room where he had been -living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table -that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just -behind the temple. - - - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK - - -_A room in the down-stairs of a summer cottage. High around the wall -runs an art frieze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and -a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet -and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his -feet and so on. In one place on the frieze there is an overlapping--here -we have half a fisherman with half a pile of nets at his foot, -crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. -The frieze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could -continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects -in the room--a blue porcelain bath-tub. It has character, this -bath-tub. It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small with a -high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump; discouraged, -however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its -environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. But it grumpily refuses -to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs--which brings us -neatly to the second object in the room:_ - -_It is a girl--clearly an appendage to the bath-tub, only her head and -throat--beautiful girls have throats instead of necks--and a -suggestion of shoulder appearing above the side. For the first ten -minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she -really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether -it is being cheated and she is dressed._ - -_The girl's name is_ JULIE MARVIS. _From the proud way she sits -up in the bath-tub we deduce that she is not very tall and that she -carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper tip rolls a little -and reminds you of an Easter Bunny, She is within whispering distance -of twenty years old._ - -_One thing more--above and to the right of the bath-tub is a window. -It is narrow and has a wide sill; it lets in much sunshine, but -effectually prevents any one who looks in from seeing the bath-tub. -You begin to suspect the plot?_ - -_We open, conventionally enough, with a song, but, as the startled -gasp of the audience quite drowns out the first half, we will give -only the last of it:_ - -JULIE: (_In an airy sophrano--enthusiastico_) - - When Caesar did the Chicago - He was a graceful child, - Those sacred chickens - Just raised the dickens - The Vestal Virgins went wild. - Whenever the Nervii got nervy - He gave them an awful razz - They shook is their shoes - With the Consular blues - The Imperial Roman Jazz - -(_During the wild applause that follows_ JULIE _modestly moves -her arms and makes waves on the surface of the water--at least we -suppose she does. Then the door on the left opens and_ LOIS MARVIS -_enters, dressed but carrying garments and towels._ LOIS _is a -year older than_ JULIE _and is nearly her double in face and -voice, but in her clothes and expression are the marks of the -conservative. Yes, you've guessed it. Mistaken identity is the old -rusty pivot upon which the plot turns._) - -LOIS: (_Starting_) Oh, 'scuse me. I didn't know you were here. - -JULIE: Oh, hello. I'm giving a little concert-- - -LOIS: (_Interrupting_) Why didn't you lock the door? - -JULIE: Didn't I? - -LOIS: Of course you didn't. Do you think I just walked through it? - -JULIE: I thought you picked the lock, dearest. - -LOIS: You're _so_ careless. - -JULIE: No. I'm happy as a garbage-man's dog and I'm giving a little -concert. - -LOIS: (_Severely_) Grow up! - -JULIE: (_Waving a pink arm around the room_) The walls reflect -the sound, you see. That's why there's something very beautiful about -singing in a bath-tub. It gives an effect of surpassing loveliness. -Can I render you a selection? - -LOIS: I wish you'd hurry out of the tub. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head thoughtfully_) Can't be hurried. This -is my kingdom at present, Godliness. - -LOIS: Why the mellow name? - -JULIE: Because you're next to Cleanliness. Don't throw anything -please! - -LOIS: How long will you be? - -JULIE: (_After some consideration_) Not less than fifteen nor -more than twenty-five minutes. - -LOIS: As a favor to me will you make it ten? - -JULIE: (_Reminiscing_) Oh, Godliness, do you remember a day in -the chill of last January when one Julie, famous for her Easter-rabbit -smile, was going out and there was scarcely any hot water and young -Julie had just filled the tub for her own little self when the wicked -sister came and did bathe herself therein, forcing the young Julie to -perform her ablutions with cold cream--which is expensive and a darn -lot of troubles? - -LOIS: (_Impatiently_) Then you won't hurry? - -JULIE: Why should I? - -LOIS: I've got a date. - -JULIE: Here at the house? - -LOIS: None of your business. - -(_JULIE shrugs the visible tips of her shoulders and stirs the water -into ripples._) - -JULIE: So be it. - -LOIS: Oh, for Heaven's sake, yes! I have a date here, at the house--in -a way. - -JULIE: In a way? - -LOIS: He isn't coming in. He's calling for me and we're walking. - -JULIE: (_Raising her eyebrows_) Oh, the plot clears. It's that -literary Mr. Calkins. I thought you promised mother you wouldn't -invite him in. - -LOIS: (_Desperately_) She's so idiotic. She detests him because -he's just got a divorce. Of course she's had more expedience than I -have, but-- - -JULIE: (_Wisely_) Don't let her kid you! Experience is the -biggest gold brick in the world. All older people have it for sale. - -LOIS: I like him. We talk literature. - -JULIE: Oh, so that's why I've noticed all these weighty, books around -the house lately. - -LOIS: He lends them to me. - -JULIE: Well, you've got to play his game. When in Rome do as the -Romans would like to do. But I'm through with books. I'm all educated. - -LOIS: You're very inconsistent--last summer you read every day. - -JULIE: If I were consistent I'd still be living on warm milk out of a -bottle. - -LOIS: Yes, and probably my bottle. But I like Mr. Calkins. - -JULIE: I never met him. - -LOIS: Well, will you hurry up? - -JULIE: Yes. (_After a pause_) I wait till the water gets tepid -and then I let in more hot. - -LOIS: (_Sarcastically_) How interesting! - -JULIE: 'Member when we used to play "soapo"? - -LOIS: Yes--and ten years old. I'm really quite surprised that you -don't play it still. - -JULIE: I do. I'm going to in a minute. - -LOIS: Silly game. - -JULIE: (_Warmly_) No, it isn't. It's good for the nerves. I'll -bet you've forgotten how to play it. - -LOIS: (_Defiantly_) No, I haven't. You--you get the tub all full -of soapsuds and then you get up on the edge and slide down. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head scornfully_) Huh! That's only part of -it. You've got to slide down without touching your hand or feet-- - -LOIS:(_Impatiently_) Oh, Lord! What do I care? I wish we'd either -stop coming here in the summer or else get a house with two bath-tubs. - -JULIE: You can buy yourself a little tin one, or use the hose---- - -LOIS: Oh, shut up! - -JULIE: (_Irrelevantly_) Leave the towel. - -LOIS: What? - -JULIE: Leave the towel when you go. - -LOIS: This towel? - -JULIE: (_Sweetly_) Yes, I forgot my towel. - -LOIS: (_Looking around for the first time_) Why, you idiot! You -haven't even a kimono. - -JULIE: (_Also looking around_) Why, so I haven't. - -LOIS: (_Suspicion growing on her_) How did you get here? - -JULIE: (_Laughing_) I guess I--I guess I whisked here. You know--a -white form whisking down the stairs and-- - -LOIS: (_Scandalized_) Why, you little wretch. Haven't you any -pride or self-respect? - -JULIE: Lots of both. I think that proves it. I looked very well. I -really am rather cute in my natural state. - -LOIS: Well, you-- - -JULIE: (_Thinking aloud_) I wish people didn't wear any clothes. -I guess I ought to have been a pagan or a native or something. - -LOIS: You're a-- - -JULIE: I dreamt last night that one Sunday in church a small boy -brought in a magnet that attracted cloth. He attracted the clothes -right off of everybody; put them in an awful state; people were crying -and shrieking and carrying on as if they'd just discovered their skins -for the first time. Only _I_ didn't care. So I just laughed. I -had to pass the collection plate because nobody else would. - -LOIS: (_Who has turned a deaf ear to this speech_) Do you mean to -tell me that if I hadn't come you'd have run back to your -room--un--unclothed? - -JULIE: _Au naturel_ is so much nicer. - -LOIS: Suppose there had been some one in the living-room. - -JULIE: There never has been yet. - -LOIS: Yet! Good grief! How long-- - -JULIE: Besides, I usually have a towel. - -LOIS: (_Completely overcome_) Golly! You ought to be spanked. I -hope, you get caught. I hope there's a dozen ministers in the -living-room when you come out--and their wives, and their daughters. - -JULIE: There wouldn't be room for them in the living-room, answered -Clean Kate of the Laundry District. - -LOIS: All right. You've made your own--bath-tub; you can lie in it. - -(_LOIS starts determinedly for the door._) - -JULIE: (_In alarm_) Hey! Hey! I don't care about the k'mono, but -I want the towel. I can't dry myself on a piece of soap and a wet -wash-rag. - -LOIS: (_Obstinately_). I won't humor such a creature. You'll have -to dry yourself the best way you can. You can roll on the floor like -the animals do that don't wear any clothes. - -JULIE: (_Complacent again_) All right. Get out! - -LOIS: (_Haughtily_) Huh! - -(JULIE _turns on the cold water and with her finger directs a -parabolic stream at LOIS. LOIS retires quickly, slamming the door -after her. JULIE laughs and turns off the water_) - -JULIE: (Singing) - - When the Arrow-collar man - Meets the D'jer-kiss girl - On the smokeless Sante F - Her Pebeco smile - Her Lucile style - De dum da-de-dum one day-- - -(_She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps, -but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for -a moment--then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a -telephone_) - -JULIE: Hello! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_) -Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do -you want? (_No answer_) I believe you're a ghost. Are you? (_No -answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on -the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to -the spigot_) If you're the plumber that's a mean trick. Turn it on -for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don't argue! I want -water--water! _Water_! - -(_A young man's head appears in the window--a head decorated with a -slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they -can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean, -they decide him to speak_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted? - -JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water's no good for fits. - -JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits! - -THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping - -JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not! - -THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go -out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody -will gossip? - -JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It'd be more than -gossip--it'd be a regular scandal. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you're going it a little strong. Your family -might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are -suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old -women. Come on. - -JULIE: You don't know what you ask. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us? - -JULIE: A crowd? There'd be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving -New York hourly. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning? - -JULIE: Why? - -THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls. - -JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or -tapestry or panelling or something. - -JULIE: There's not even any furniture in here. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house! - -JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It's so nice talking to you like -this--when you're merely a voice. I'm rather glad I can't see you. - -JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing? - -JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess -it's a sort of pinkish white. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you? - -JULIE: Very. It's--it's old. I've had it for a long while. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes. - -JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear -it. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I'll bet it's divine. Is it in -style? - -JULIE: Quite. It's very simple, standard model. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut -my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And -I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand -there, water stretching on both sides of you-- - -(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young -man blinks_) - -YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it? - -JULIE: Yes. You're--you're very poetic, aren't you? - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when -I am stirred. - -JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon-- - -THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day -the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was "Evangeline." - -JULIE: That's a fib. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say "Evangeline"? I meant "The Skeleton in -Armor." - -JULIE: I'm a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one -verse: - - Parker and Davis - Sittin' on a fence - Tryne to make a dollar - Outa fif-teen cents. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature? - -JULIE: If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way -with people. I usually like 'em not too ancient or complicated or -depressing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I've read enormously. You told me last night -that you were very fond of Walter Scott. - -JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let's see. Yes, I've read "Ivanhoe" -and "The Last of the Mohicans." - -THE YOUNG MAN: That's by Cooper. - -JULIE: (_Angrily_) "Ivanhoe" is? You're crazy! I guess I know. I -read it. THE YOUNG MAN: "The Last of the Mohicans" is by Cooper. - -JULIE: What do I care! I like O. Henry. I don't see how he ever wrote -those stories. Most of them he wrote in prison. "The Ballad of Reading -Gaol" he made up in prison. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Biting his lip_) Literature--literature! How -much it has meant to me! - -JULIE: Well, as Gaby Deslys said to Mr. Bergson, with my looks and -your brains there's nothing we couldn't do. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Laughing_) You certainly are hard to keep up -with. One day you're awfully pleasant and the next you're in a mood. -If I didn't understand your temperament so well-- - -JULIE: (_Impatiently_) Oh, you're one of these amateur -character-readers, are you? Size people up in five minutes and then -look wise whenever they're mentioned. I hate that sort of thing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I don't boast of sizing you up. You're most mysterious, -I'll admit. - -JULIE: There's only two mysterious people in history. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Who are they? - -JULIE: The Man with the Iron Mask and the fella who says "ug uh-glug -uh-glug uh-glug" when the line is busy. - -THE YOUNG MAN: You _are_ mysterious, I love you. You're -beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that's the rarest known -combination. - -JULIE: You're a historian. Tell me if there are any bath-tubs in -history. I think they've been frightfully neglected. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Bath-tubs! Let's see. Well, Agamemnon was stabbed in -his bath-tub. And Charlotte Corday stabbed Marat in his bath-tub. - -JULIE: (_Sighing_) Way back there! Nothing new besides the sun, -is there? Why only yesterday I picked up a musical-comedy score that -mast have been at least twenty years old; and there on the cover it -said "The Shimmies of Normandy," but shimmie was spelt the old way, -with a "C." - -THE YOUNG MAN: I loathe these modern dances. Oh, Lois, I wish I could -see you. Come to the window. - -(_There is a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the flow -starts from the open taps. Julie turns them off quickly_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Puzzled_) What on earth was that? - -JULIE: (_Ingeniously_) I heard something, too. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Sounded like running water. - -JULIE: Didn't it? Strange like it. As a matter of fact I was filling -the gold-fish bowl. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Still puzzled_) What was that banging noise? - -JULIE: One of the fish snapping his golden jaws. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_With sudden resolution_) Lois, I love you. I am -not a mundane man but I am a forger-- - -JULIE: (_Interested at once_) Oh, how fascinating. - -THE YOUNG MAN:--a forger ahead. Lois, I want you. - -JULIE: (_Skeptically_) Huh! What you really want is for the world -to come to attention and stand there till you give "Rest!" - -THE YOUNG MAN: Lois I--Lois I-- - -(_He stops as Lois opens the door, comes in, and bangs it behind -her. She looks peevishly at _JULIE _and then suddenly catches -sight of the young man in the window_) - -LOIS: (_In horror_) Mr. Calkins! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Surprised_) Why I thought you said you were -wearing pinkish white! - -(_After one despairing stare _LOIS_ shrieks, throws up her -hands in surrender, and sinks to the floor._) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_In great alarm_) Good Lord! She's fainted! I'll -be right in. - -(JULIE'S _eyes light on the towel which has slipped from_ LOIS'S -_inert hand._) - -JULIE: In that case I'll be right out. - -(_She puts her hands on the side of the tub to lift herself out and -a murmur, half gasp, half sigh, ripples from the audience. - -A Belasco midnight comes quickly down and blots out the stage._) - -CURTAIN. - - - - -_FANTASIES_ - - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ - -1 - -John T. Unger came from a family that had been well known in Hades--a -small town on the Mississippi River--for several generations. John's -father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated -contest; Mrs. Unger was known "from hot-box to hot-bed," as the local -phrase went, for her political addresses; and young John T. Unger, who -had just turned sixteen, had danced all the latest dances from New -York before he put on long trousers. And now, for a certain time, he -was to be away from home. That respect for a New England education -which is the bane of all provincial places, which drains them yearly -of their most promising young men, had seized upon his parents. -Nothing would suit them but that he should go to St. Midas's School -near Boston--Hades was too small to hold their darling and gifted son. - -Now in Hades--as you know if you ever have been there--the names of -the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean very -little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that, -though they make a show of keeping up-to-date in dress and manners and -literature, they depend to a great extent on hearsay, and a function -that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed -by a Chicago beef-princess as "perhaps a little tacky." - -John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with maternal -fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric fans, and -Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocket-book stuffed with -money. - -"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be sure, -boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning." - -"I know," answered John huskily. - -"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued his -father proudly, "and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an -Unger--from Hades." - -So the old man and the young shook hands, and John walked away with -tears streaming from his eyes. Ten minutes later he had passed outside -the city limits and he stopped to glance back for the last time. Over -the gates the old-fashioned Victorian motto seemed strangely -attractive to him. His father had tried time and time again to have it -changed to something with a little more push and verve about it, such -as "Hades--Your Opportunity," or else a plain "Welcome" sign set over -a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights. The old motto was a -little depressing, Mr. Unger had thought--but now .... - -So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his -destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the -sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty. - - * * * * * - -St. Midas's School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce -motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one, except -John T. Unger, had ever arrived there save in a Rolls-Pierce and -probably no one ever will again. St. Midas's is the most expensive and -the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the world. - -John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the -boys were money-kings, and John spent his summer visiting at -fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he -visited, their fathers struck him as being much of a piece, and in his -boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness. When he told -them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down -there?" and John would muster a faint smile and answer, "It certainly -is." His response would have been heartier had they not all made this -joke--at best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you down there?" -which he hated just as much. - -In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy -named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The new-comer was -pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well dressed even for St. -Midas's, but for some reason he kept aloof from the other boys. The -only person with whom he was intimate was John T. Unger, but even to -John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his -family. That he was wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such -deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised rich -confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the -summer at his home "in the West." He accepted, without hesitation. - -It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the -first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating lunch -in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of several -of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and made an -abrupt remark. - -"My father," he said, "is by far the richest man in the world." - -"Oh," said John politely. He could think of no answer to make to this -confidence. He considered "That's very nice," but it sounded hollow -and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since it would -seem to question Percy's statement. And such an astounding statement -could scarcely be questioned. - -"By far the richest," repeated Percy. - -"I was reading in the _World Almanac_," began John, "that there -was one man in America with an income of over five million a years and -four men with incomes of over three million a year, and--" - -"Oh, they're nothing." Percy's mouth was a half-moon of scorn. -"Catch-penny capitalists, financial small-fry, petty merchants and -money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done -it." - -"But how does he--" - -"Why haven't they put down _his_ income-tax? Because he doesn't -pay any. At least he pays a little one--but he doesn't pay any on his -_real_ income." - -"He must be very rich," said John simply, "I'm glad. I like very rich -people. - -"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of -passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I visited the -Schnlitzer-Murphys last Easter. Vivian Schnlitzer-Murphy had rubies as -big as hen's eggs, and sapphires that were like globes with lights -inside them--" - -"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I wouldn't -want any one at school to know about it, but I've got quite a -collection myself. I used to collect them instead of stamps." - -"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The Schnlitzer-Murphys had -diamonds as big as walnuts--" - -"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a -low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My father has a diamond bigger -than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - - -II - -The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise -from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned sky. An -immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish, minute, -dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the -village of Fish, twelve sombre and inexplicable souls who sucked a -lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious -populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, -these twelve men of Fish, like some species developed by an early whim -of nature, which on second thought had abandoned them to struggle and -extermination. - -Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of -moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men of -Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of -the seven o'clock train, the Transcontinental Express from Chicago. -Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through some -inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and when -this occurred a figure or so would disembark, mount into a buggy that -always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off toward the bruised -sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon -had become a sort of cult among the men of Fish. To observe, that was -all; there remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion -which would make them wonder or speculate, else a religion might have -grown up around these mysterious visitations. But the men of Fish were -beyond all religion--the barest and most savage tenets of even -Christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rock--so there was -no altar, no priest, no sacrifice; only each night at seven the silent -concourse by the shanty depot, a congregation who lifted up a prayer -of dim, anaemic wonder. - -On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified any -one, they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist, had -ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or -inhuman) deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Washington -and John T. Unger disembarked, hurried past the spellbound, the agape, -the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into a buggy -which had obviously appeared from nowhere, and drove away. - -After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the -silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body somewhere -ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned upon -them a luminous disc which regarded them like a malignant eye out of -the unfathomable night. As they came closer, John saw that it was the -tail-light of an immense automobile, larger and more magnificent than -any he had ever seen. Its body was of gleaming metal richer than -nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the wheels were -studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellow--John -did not dare to guess whether they were glass or jewel. - -Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pictures -of royal processions in London, were standing at attention beside the -car and, as the two young men dismounted from the buggy, they were -greeted in some language which the guest could not understand, but -which seemed to be an extreme form of the Southern negro's dialect. - -"Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to the -ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we had to bring you this far in -that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train -or those God-forsaken fellas in Fish to see this automobile." - -"Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its interior. -John saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute and -exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries, and -set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats in -which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled -duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colours of the ends of ostrich -feathers. - -"What a car!" cried John again, in amazement. - -"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for a -station wagon." - -By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the -break between the two mountains. - -"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the -clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to be like anything you -ever saw before." - -If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared -to be astonished indeed. The simple piety prevalent in Hades has the -earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its -creed--had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his -parents would have turned away in horror at the blasphemy. - -They had now reached and were entering the break between the two -mountains and almost immediately the way became much rougher. - -"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch," -said Percy, trying to peer out of the window. He spoke a few words -into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a -searchlight and swept the hillsides with an immense beam. - -"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an -hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew the -way. You notice we're going uphill now." - -They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car was -crossing a high rise, where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon newly -risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures -took shape out of the dark beside it--these were negroes also. Again -the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recognisable dialect; -then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from -overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jewelled -wheels. At a resounding "Hey-yah!" John felt the car being lifted -slowly from the ground--up and up--clear of the tallest rocks on both -sides--then higher, until he could see a wavy, moonlit valley -stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks -that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rock--and -then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around. - -It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-blade of -stone, projecting perpendicularly into the air. In a moment they were -going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon -the smooth earth. - -"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's only -five miles from here, and our own road--tapestry brick--all the way. -This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father -says." - -"Are we in Canada?" - -"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But you are -now on the only five square miles of land in the country that's never -been surveyed." - -"Why hasn't it? Did they forget it?" - -"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The -first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the State -survey; the second time he had the official maps of the United States -tinkered with--that held them for fifteen years. The last time was -harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the -strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set -of surveying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow -for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones -that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what -looked like a village up on its banks--so that they'd see it, and -think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one -thing my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the -world that could be used to find us out." - -"What's that?" - -Percy sank his voice to a whisper. - -"Aeroplanes," he breathed. "We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft guns -and we've arranged it so far--but there've been a few deaths and a -great many prisoners. Not that we mind _that_, you know, father -and I, but it upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the -chance that some time we won't be able to arrange it." - -Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green moon's -heaven, were passing the green moon like precious Eastern stuffs -paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to John that -it was day, and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in -the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine circulars, with -their messages of hope for despairing, rock-bound hamlets. It seemed -to him that he could see them look down out of the clouds and -stare--and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place -whither he was bound--What then? Were they induced to land by some -insidious device to be immured far from patent medicines and from -tracts until the judgment day--or, should they fail to fall into the -trap, did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp round of a splitting -shell bring them drooping to earth--and "upset" Percy's mother and -sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued -silently from his parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden -here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre Croesus? What terrible and -golden mystery?... - -The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and, outside the Montana -night was bright as day the tapestry brick of the road was smooth to -the tread of the great tyres as they rounded a still, moonlit lake; -they passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and -cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn, and John's -exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn "We're -home." - -Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite chteau rose from the -borders of the lake, climbed in marble radiance half the height of an -adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in -translucent feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of -pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the sloping parapets, -the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs -and hectagons and triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of -the intersecting planes of star-shine and blue shade, all trembled on -John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the -tallest, the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights -at the top made a sort of floating fairyland--and as John gazed up in -warm enchantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in -a rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever beard before. Then -in a moment the car stepped before wide, high marble steps around -which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At the top of -the steps two great doors swung silently open and amber light flooded -out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady -with black, high-piled hair, who held out her arms toward them. - -"Mother," Percy was saying, "this is my friend, John Unger, from -Hades." - -Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many colours, -of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love, and of -the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces. There -was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-hued cordial from a -crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was a girl with a flowery -face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There -was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the -pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic conception -of the ultimate prison--ceiling, floor, and all, it was lined with an -unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every size and shape, until, -lit with tail violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a -whiteness that could be compared only with itself, beyond human wish, -or dream. - -Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes the -floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from lighting -below, patterns of barbaric clashing colours, of pastel delicacy, of -sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some -mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal -he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and -growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of -every texture and colour or along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken -as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct -before the age of man .... - -Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinner--where -each plate was of two almost imperceptible layers of solid diamond -between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a -shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, -drifted down through far corridors--his chair, feathered and curved -insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he -drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question -that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that clasped his body -added to the illusion of sleep--jewels, fabrics, wines, and metals -blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist .... - -"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough -for me down there." - -He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement, without -resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an iced dessert -that was pink as a dream .... He fell asleep. - -When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great -quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination that was too -faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was standing -over him. - -"You fell asleep at dinner," Percy was saying. "I nearly did, too--it -was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school. -Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping." - -"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percy--before you go, -I want to apologise." - -"For what?" - -"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the -Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - -Percy smiled. - -"I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know." - -"What mountain?" - -"The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big, for a mountain. -But except about fifty feet of sod and gravel on top it's solid -diamond. _One_ diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you -listening? Say----" - -But John T. Unger had again fallen asleep. - - -III - -Morning. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at the -same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panels of one wall -had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half open to -the day. A large negro in a white uniform stood beside his bed. - -"Good-evening," muttered John, summoning his brains from the wild -places. - -"Good-morning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't get -up--I'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton your pyjamas--there. -Thank you, sir." - -John lay quietly as his pyjamas were removed--he was amused and -delighted; he expected to be lifted like a child by this black -Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened; -instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side--he began to roll, -startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached -the wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a -fleecy incline he plumped gently into water the same temperature as -his body. - -He looked about him. The runway or rollway on which he had arrived had -folded gently back into place. He had been projected into another -chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the -level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and -the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue aquarium, and -gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he could see fish -swimming among amber lights and even gliding without curiosity past -his outstretched toes, which were separated from them only by the -thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight came down through -sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it. - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -IV - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without food he -began to grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was forced to -pursue a squirrel, and, in the course of the pursuit, he noticed that -it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it vanished -into its hole--for Providence did not intend that this squirrel should -alleviate his hunger--it dropped its burden. Sitting down to consider -the situation Fitz-Norman's eye was caught by a gleam in the grass -beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his appetite and -gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel, which had refused -with annoying persistence to become food, had made him a present of a -large and perfect diamond. - -Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all -the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole digging -furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered -a rhinestone mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever seen even -a small diamond before, they believed him, without question. When the -magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him, he found himself in -a quandary. The mountain was _a_ diamond--it was literally -nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle bags full of -glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul. There he -managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones--when he tried a -larger one a storekeeper fainted and Fitz-Norman was arrested as a -public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for New -York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received in -exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did not -dare to produce any exceptional gems--in fact, he left New York just -in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in jewellery circles, -not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the -city from mysterious sources. Wild rumours became current that a -diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on the Jersey -coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excursion trains, -packed with men carrying picks and shovels, began to leave New York -hourly, bound for various neighbouring El Dorados. But by that time -young Fitz-Norman was on his way back to Montana. - -By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the -mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the -diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any -regular computation, however, for it was _one solid diamond_--and -if it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the -market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual -arithmetical progression, there would not be enough gold in the world -to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do with a diamond -that size? - -It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest man -that ever lived--and yet was he worth anything at all? If his secret -should transpire there was no telling to what measures the Government -might resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well as in -jewels. They might take over the claim immediately and institute a -monopoly. - -There was no alternative--he must market his mountain in secret. He -sent South for his younger brother and put him in charge of his -coloured following, darkies who had never realised that slavery was -abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he -had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reorganised the -shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched -battle. The negroes believed him implicitly. They passed a vote -declaring it a good thing and held revival services immediately. - -Fitz-Norman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred -thousand dollars and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all -sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk, and six months after -his departure from Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure -lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller, announcing -that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St. Petersburg for -two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered, living from lodging -to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or four -times during the whole fortnight. - -On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he -was allowed to leave for India. Before he left, however, the Court -Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum of -fifteen million dollars--under four different aliases. - -He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two -years. He had visited the capitals of twenty-two countries and talked -with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan, and a -sultan. At that time Fitz-Norman estimated his own wealth at one -billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the disclosure -of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public -eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough -fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it from the -days of the first Babylonian Empire. - -From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman -Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of -course--he evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he -had a single son, and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate -complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of -drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times -endangered their safety. But very few other murders stained these happy -years of progress and expansion. - -Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few -million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk, -which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, -marked as bric-a-brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington, followed -this policy on an even more tensive scale. The minerals were converted -into the rarest of all elements--radium--so that the equivalent of a -billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no bigger than -a cigar box. - -When Fitz-Norman had been dead three years his son, Braddock, decided -that the business had gone far enough. The amount of wealth that he -and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact -computation. He kept a note-book in cipher in which he set down the -approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand banks he -patronised, and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he -did a very simple thing--he sealed up the mine. - -He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all -the Washingtons yet to be born in unparalleled luxury for generations. -His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the -possible panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced with -all the property-holders in the world to utter poverty. - -This was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the -story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning after his -arrival. - - -V - -After breakfast, John found his way out the great marble entrance, and -looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from the -diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still -gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine -sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of elms -made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough -masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark-blue -green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file patter -out from one clump about a half-mile away and disappear with awkward -gaiety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would not -have been surprised to see a goat-foot piping his way among the trees -or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin and flying yellow hair -between the greenest of the green leaves. - -In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing -faintly the sleep of two silky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and -set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no -particular direction. - -He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity -as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, -but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly -imagined future--flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only -prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young -dream. - -John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air -with heavy scent, and struck off across a park toward a patch of moss -under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted to see -whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an -adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass. She -was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. - -She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, -and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound -up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she -came. She was younger than John--not more than sixteen. - -"Hallo," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine." - -She was much more than that to John already. He advanced toward her, -scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes. - -"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, "Oh, -but you've missed a great deal!"... "You met my sister, Jasmine, last -night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her soft voice, and -her eye continued, "and when I'm sick I'm sweet--and when I'm well." - -"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes, "and -I'm not so slow myself"--"How do you do?" said his voice. "I hope -you're better this morning."--"You darling," added his eyes -tremulously. - -John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her -suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of which -he failed to determine. - -He was critical about women. A single defect--a thick ankle, a hoarse -voice, a glass eye--was enough to make him utterly indifferent. And -here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to -him the incarnation of physical perfection. - -"Are you from the East?" asked Kismine with charming interest. - -"No," answered John simply. "I'm from Hades." - -Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant -comment to make upon it, for she did not discuss it further. - -"I'm going East to school this fall" she said. "D'you think I'll like -it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's. It's very strict, but you -see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in our -New York house, because father heard that the girls had to go walking -two by two." - -"Your father wants you to be proud," observed John. - -"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity. "None of us has -ever been punished. Father said we never should be. Once when my -sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just -got up and limped away. - -"Mother was--well, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when she -heard that you were from--from where you _are_ from, you know. -She said that when she was a young girl--but then, you see, she's a -Spaniard and old-fashioned." - -"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the fact -that he was somewhat hurt by this remark. It seemed an unkind allusion -to his provincialism. - -"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next summer -Jasmine is going to Newport. She's coming out in London a year from -this fall. She'll be presented at court." - -"Do you know," began John hesitantly, "you're much more sophisticated -than I thought you were when I first saw you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think of -being. I think that sophisticated young people are _terribly_ -common, don't you? I'm not all, really. If you say I am, I'm going to -cry." - -She was so distressed that her lip was trembling. John was impelled to -protest: - -"I didn't mean that; I only said it to tease you." - -"Because I wouldn't mind if I _were_," she persisted, "but I'm -not. I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke, or drink, or read -anything except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry. -I dress _very_ simply--in fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think -sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me. I believe that -girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way." - -"I do, too," said John, heartily, - -Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a still-born tear -dripped from the comer of one blue eye. - -"I like you," she whispered intimately. "Are you going to spend all -your time with Percy while you're here, or will you be nice to me? -Just think--I'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in love -with me in all my life. I've never been allowed even to _see_ -boys alone--except Percy. I came all the way out here into this grove -hoping to run into you, where the family wouldn't be around." - -Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught at -dancing school in Hades. - -"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with mother -at eleven. You haven't asked me to kiss you once. I thought boys -always did that nowadays." - -John drew himself up proudly. - -"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that sort -of thing--in Hades." - -Side by side they walked back toward the house. - - -6 - -John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight. The -elder man was about forty, with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent -eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses--the -best horses. He carried a plain walking-stick of gray birch with a -single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing John around. - -"The slaves' quarters are there." His walking-stick indicated a -cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful Gothic along the -side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from -the business of life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time -they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one of their -rooms with a tile bath." - -"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they -used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy told me that -once he--" - -"The opinions of Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy are of little importance, I -should imagine," interrupted Braddock Washington coldly. "My slaves -did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe every -day, and they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sulphuric -acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite another reason. -Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for certain -races--except as a beverage." - -John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement. -Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable. - -"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North -with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that -they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect -has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them -up to speak English--my secretary and two or three of the house -servants. - -"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the -velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you see--no fairway, no rough, -no hazards." - -He smiled pleasantly at John. - -"Many men in the cage, father?" asked Percy suddenly. - -Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary curse. - -"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darkly--and then added -after a moment, "We've had difficulties." - -"Mother was telling me," exclaimed Percy, "that Italian teacher--" - -"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of course -there's a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he fell -somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's -always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be -believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men looking for him in -different towns around here." - -"And no luck?" - -"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent they'd each killed a man -answering to that description, but of course it was probably only the -reward they were after--" - -He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the -circumference of a merry-go-round, and covered by a strong iron -grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane -down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. -Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below. - -"Come on down to Hell!" - -"Hallo, kiddo, how's the air up there?" - -"Hey! Throw us a rope!" - -"Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches?" - -"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show you -a quick disappearance scene." - -"Paste him one for me, will you?" - -It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell -from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices -that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited -type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the -grass, and the scene below sprang into light. - -"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to -discover El Dorado," he remarked. - -Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like -the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of -polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two -dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their -upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with -cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the -exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a -well-fed, healthy lot. - -Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat -down. - -"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially. - -A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too -dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock -Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had -died away he spoke again. - -"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?" - -From here and there among them a remark floated up. - -"We decided to stay here for love!" - -"Bring us up there and we'll find us a way!" - -Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said: - -"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here, I wish to heaven -I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that -you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be -glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to -digging tunnels--yes, I know about the new one you've started--you -won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with -all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the type who -worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have taken up -aviation." - -A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to call -his captor's attention to what he was about to say. - -"Let me ask you a few questions!" he cried. "You pretend to be a -fair-minded man." - -"How absurd. How could a man of _my_ position be fair-minded -toward you? You might as well speak of a Spaniard being fair-minded -toward a piece of steak." - -At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen fell, but the -tall man continued: - -"All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a -humanitarian and you're not fair-minded, but you're human--at least -you say you are--and you ought to be able to put yourself in our place -for long enough to think how--how--how--" - -"How what?" demanded Washington, coldly. - -"--how unnecessary--" - -"Not to me." - -"Well--how cruel--" - -"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where self-preservation is -involved. You've been soldiers; you know that. Try another." - -"Well, then, how stupid." - -"There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think of -an alternative. I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly -executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives, sweethearts, -children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge -your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives. -If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have all -of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside of my -preserves. But that's as far as my ideas go." - -"How about trusting us not to peach on you?" cried some one. - -"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington, with -an expression of scorn. "I did take out one man to teach my daughter -Italian. Last week he got away." - -A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats and -a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog-danced and cheered and -yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal -spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they -could, and slid back to the bottom upon the natural cushions of their -bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined-- - - "_Oh, we'll hang the kaiser - On a sour apple-tree_--" - -Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was -over. - -"You see," he remarked, when he could gain a modicum of attention. "I -bear you no ill-will. I like to see you enjoying yourselves. That's -why I didn't tell you the whole story at once. The man--what was his -name? Critchtichiello?--was shot by some of my agents in fourteen -different places." - -Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of -rejoicing subsided immediately. - -"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried to -run away. Do you expect me to take chances with any of you after an -experience like that?" - -Again a series of ejaculations went up. - -"Sure!" - -"Would your daughter like to learn Chinese?" - -"Hey, I can speak Italian! My mother was a wop." - -"Maybe she'd like t'learna speak N'Yawk!" - -"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot -of things better than Italian." - -"I know some Irish songs--and I could hammer brass once't." - -Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the -button in the grass so that the picture below went out instantly, and -there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the -black teeth of the grating. - -"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away without -givin' us your blessing?" - -But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already strolling on -toward the ninth hole of the golf course, as though the pit and its -contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had -triumphed with ease. - - -7 - -July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket -nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love. He -did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend -_Pro deo et patria et St. Mida_) which he had given her rested on -a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her part -was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her -simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John's jewel box. - -Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they -spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she gave him such a -look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward him--then -hesitated. - -"Did you say 'Kismine'?" she asked softly, "or--" - -She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunderstood. - -Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour -it seemed to make little difference. - -The afternoon drifted away. That night, when a last breath of music -drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake, happily -dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be -married as soon as possible. - - -8 - -Every day Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting or fishing -in the deep forests or played golf around the somnolent course--games -which John diplomatically allowed his host to win--or swam in the -mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Washington a somewhat -exacting personality--utterly uninterested in any ideas or opinions -except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times. -She was apparently indifferent to her two daughters, and entirely -absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she held interminable -conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner. - -Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearance--except -that she was somewhat bow-legged, and terminated in large hands and -feet--but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favourite books -had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John -learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never recovered from the shock -and disappointment caused her by the termination of the World War, -just as she was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had -even pined away for a time, and Braddock Washington had taken steps to -promote a new war in the Balkans--but she had seen a photograph of -some wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole -proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed to have inherited the -arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A -chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pattern through their -every idea. - -John was enchanted by the wonders of the chteau and the valley. -Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped a -landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a -French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his -entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply them -with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work -out some ideas of their own. But one by one they had shown their -uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewailing his -separation, from the boulevards in spring--he made some vague remarks -about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that was of any -practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make the -whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects--a state of -things that the Washingtons would soon have grown tired of. And as for -the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought only in terms -of convention. They must make this like this and that like that. - -But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done with -them--they all went mad early one morning after spending the night in -a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain, and -were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at Westport, -Connecticut. - -"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful -reception rooms and halls, and approaches and bathrooms--?" - -"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a -moving-picture fella. He was the only man we found who was used to -playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his -napkin in his collar and couldn't read or write." - -As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon go -back to school. He and Kismine had decided to elope the following -June. - -"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but of -course I could never get father's permission to marry you at all. Next -to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be -married in America at present--they always have to send out bulletins -to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants, when -what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and some used -lace worn once by the Empress Eugenie." - -"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the -Schnlitzer-Murphys, the eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, married a man -whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what a -tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk--and -then she ended up by saying that 'Thank God, I have four good maids -anyhow, and that helps a little.'" - -"It's absurd," commented Kismine--"Think of the millions and millions -of people in the world, labourers and all, who get along with only two -maids." - -One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's changed the -face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state of terror. - -They were in their favourite grove, and between kisses John was -indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added -poignancy to their relations. - -"Sometimes I think we'll never marry," he said sadly. "You're too -wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other -girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale -hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her -half-million." - -"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," remarked -Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been contented with her. She was a -friend of my sister's. She visited here." - -"Oh, then you've had other guests?" exclaimed John in surprise. - -Kismine seemed to regret her words. - -"Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, "we've had a few." - -"But aren't you--wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside?" - -"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered, "Let's talk about -something pleasanter." - -But John's curiosity was aroused. - -"Something pleasanter!" he demanded. "What's unpleasant about that? -Weren't they nice girls?" - -To his great surprise Kismine began to weep. - -"Yes--th--that's the--the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite attached to -some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting them anyway. I -couldn't under_stand_ it." - -A dark suspicion was born in John's heart. - -"Do you mean that they _told_, and your father had -them--removed?" - -"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no chances--and -Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had _such_ a good -time!" - -She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief. - -Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there -open-mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many -sparrows perched upon his spinal column. - -"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming suddenly -and drying her dark blue eyes. - -"Do you mean to say that your father had them _murdered_ before -they left?" - -She nodded. - -"In August usually--or early in September. It's only natural for us to -get all the pleasure out of them that we can first." - -"How abominable! How--why, I must be going crazy! Did you really admit -that--" - -"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very -well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual -reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine -and me, because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that -way we avoided any farewell scene-" - -"So you murdered them! Uh!" cried John. - -"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were -asleep--and their families were always told that they died of scarlet -fever in Butte." - -"But--I fail to understand why you kept on inviting them!" - -"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did. And -they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest presents -toward the last. I shall probably have visitors too--I'll harden up to -it. We can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of -enjoying life while we have it. Think of how lonesome it'd be out here -if we never had _any_ one. Why, father and mother have sacrificed -some of their best friends just as we have." - -"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make love -to you and pretending to return it, and talking about marriage, all -the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here -alive--" - -"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first. You -were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days might as -well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, -and--and I'm honestly sorry you're going to--going to be put -away--though I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss another -girl." - -"Oh, you would, would you?" cried John ferociously. - -"Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun -with a man whom she knows she can never marry. Oh, why did I tell you? -I've probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we were really -enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things -sort of depressing for you." - -"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've heard -about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and decency than -to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much better than a -corpse, I don't want to have any more to with you!" - -"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a corpse! -I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse!" - -"I said nothing of the sort!" - -"You did! You said I kissed a corpse!" - -"I didn't!" - -Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both -subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the path -in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted -displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his -good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them. - -"Who kissed a corpse?" he demanded in obvious disapproval. - -"Nobody," answered Kismine quickly. "We were just joking." - -"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly. "Kismine, -you ought to be--to be reading or playing golf with your sister. Go -read! Go play golf! Don't let me find you here when I come back!" - -Then he bowed at John and went up the path. - -"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've -spoiled it all. We can never meet any more. He won't let me meet you. -He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love." - -"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his mind at -rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going to stay -around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains, if I -have to gnaw a passage through them, and on my way East." They had -both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put -her arm through his. - -"I'm going, too." - -"You must be crazy--" - -"Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently. - -"You most certainly are not. You--" - -"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father and talk it -over with him." - -Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile. - -"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affection, -"we'll go together." - -His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She was -his--she would go with him to share his dangers. He put his arms about -her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him; she had saved -him, in fact. - -Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the chteau. -They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them together -they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were -unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of -peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into the -turquoise and sable card-room and pounded on the back by one of the -under-butlers, which Percy considered a great joke. - - -9 - -Long after midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, he sat suddenly -upright, staring into the veils of somnolence that draped the room. -Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open windows, he -had heard a faint far-away sound that died upon a bed of wind before -identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy dreams. But the -sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the -room--the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper, he could not -tell; a hard lump gathered in the pit of his stomach, and his whole -body ached in the moment that he strained agonisingly to hear. Then -one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure -standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and blocked in upon -the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem -distorted, like a reflection seen in a dirty pane of glass. - -With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the button -by his bedside, and the next moment he was sitting in the green sunken -bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the -cold water which half filled it. - -He sprang out, and, his wet pyjamas scattering a heavy trickle of -water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led out on -to the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. -A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the -magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty. For -a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendour massed about -him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the -solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing. Then -simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sitting-room -swung open, precipitating three naked negroes into the hall--and, as -John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another door slid back -in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John saw Braddock -Washington standing in the lighted lift, wearing a fur coat and a pair -of riding boots which reached to his knees and displayed, above, the -glow of his rose-colored pyjamas. - -On the instant the three negroes--John had never seen any of them -before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the -professional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and -turned expectantly to the man in the lift, who burst out with an -imperious command: - -"Get in here! All three of you! Quick as hell!" - -Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage, the -oblong of light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut, and John -was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against an ivory -stair. - -It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, something -which, for the moment at least, had postponed his own petty disaster. -What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the aviators forced -aside the iron bars of the grating? Or had the men of Fish stumbled -blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak, joyless eyes upon the -gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint whir of air as the -lift whizzed up again, and then, a moment later, as it descended. It -was probable that Percy was hurrying to his father's assistance, and -it occurred to John that this was his opportunity to join Kismine and -plan an immediate escape. He waited until the lift had been silent for -several minutes; shivering a little with the night cool that whipped -in through his wet pyjamas, he returned to his room and dressed -himself quickly. Then he mounted a long flight of stairs and turned -down the corridor carpeted with Russian sable which led to Kismine's -suite. - -The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted. -Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near the window Of the room in a -listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward -him. - -"Oh, it's you!" she whispered, crossing the room to him. "Did you hear -them?" - -"I heard your father's slaves in my--" - -"No," she interrupted excitedly. "Aeroplanes!" - -"Aeroplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me." - -"There're at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead against -the moon. The guard back by the cliff fired his rifle and that's what -roused father. We're going to open on them right away." - -"Are they here on purpose?" - -"Yes--it's that Italian who got away--" - -Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks -tumbled in through the open window. Kismine uttered a little cry, took -a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to -one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was in -darkness--she had blown out the fuse. - -"Come on!" she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden, and -watch it from there!" - -Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their way -out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she pressed -the button that shot them upward he put his arms around her in the -darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. -A minute later they had stepped out upon the star-white platform. -Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of -cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-winged bodies in a -constant circling course. From here and there in the valley flashes of -fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kismine -clapped her hands with pleasure, which, a moment later, turned to -dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal, began to release -their bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep -reverberate sound and lurid light. - -Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the -points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was -almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a -park of rose bushes. - -"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this -attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard -shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead--" - -"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her. -"You'll have to talk louder!" - -"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they -begin to shell the chateau!" - -Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a -geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments -of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake. - -"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at -pre-war prices. So few Americans have any respect for property." - -John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the -aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only two of -the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the -garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much longer. - -"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you -realise that those aviators will kill you without question if they -find you?" - -She consented reluctantly. - -"We'll have to wake Jasmine!" she said, as they hurried toward the -lift. Then she added in a sort of childish delight: "We'll be poor, -won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly -free. Free and poor! What fun!" She stopped and raised her lips to him -in a delighted kiss. - -"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People have -found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of the -two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel -box into your pockets." - -Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they -descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last time -through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a -moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the -flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on the other side of the -lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the -attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their -thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance shot -might annihilate its Ethiopian crew. - -John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply -to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound like a -garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily wooded spot -half-way up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe -the wild night in the valley--finally to make an escape, when it -should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully. - - -10 - -It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The -obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning -against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm -around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle -among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. -Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging -sound, and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though -the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling -closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the -beleaguered possessed no further resources they would land and the -dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over. - -With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of -the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in -the grass. The chteau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light -as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of -Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. -Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound -asleep. - -It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the -path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence -until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-point -he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of -human origin, and the dew was cold; he knew that the dawn would break -soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the -mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way to the -steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread -itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he -slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life -just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head -gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded; this is what he -saw: - -Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against -the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came up out of -the east, lending a gold green colour to the earth, it brought the -solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day. - -While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in -some inscrutable contemplation; then he signalled to the two negroes -who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As -they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck -through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled -diamond--and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air -like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its -weight for a moment--then their rippling muscles caught and hardened -under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again -motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens. - -After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms -in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd to -hear--but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain -and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The -figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an -inextinguishable pride. - -"You--out there--!" he cried in a trembling voice. - -"You--there----!" He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held -attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his -eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain, but -the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking -flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a -moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed--there was something in -the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer. - -"Oh, you above there!" - -The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn -supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous -condescension. - -"You there--" Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing -one into the other .... John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase -here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off -again--now strong and argumentative, now coloured with a slow, puzzled -impatience, Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single -listener, and as realisation crept over him a spray of quick blood -rushed through his arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe -to God! - -That was it--there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves -was some advance sample, a promise of more to follow. - -That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his -sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten -sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of -Christ. For a while his discourse took the farm of reminding God of -this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men--great -churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and -gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of -children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and -goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been -offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of -alleviation from the Divine wrath--and now he, Braddock Washington, -Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of -splendour and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as princes before -him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride. - -He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, -the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many -more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the -whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger -than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many years. It would be -set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped -with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be -hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of iridescent, -decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any -worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer--and on this altar there -would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor any victim -He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most -powerful man alive. - -In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be -absurdly easy--only that matters should be as they were yesterday at -this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the -heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes--and then -close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and -well. - -There was no one else with whom he had ever needed: to treat or -bargain. - -He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His -price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said: He -must have His price. And the price would be rare--no cathedral whose -building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand -workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid. - -He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to -specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it -would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it -or leave it. - -As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and -uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to catch the -slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His -hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his -head high to the heavens like a prophet of old--magnificently mad. - -Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a -curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as though -the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden -murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets, a sighing like -the rustle of a great silken robe--for a time the whole of nature -round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the -trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of -dull, menacing thunder. - -That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The -dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent -hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The -leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bough -was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the -bribe. - -For another moment John, watched the triumph of the day. Then, -turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another -flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from -the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth. - -John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the -clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. -Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a -question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no -time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing a -moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the -tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind -them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of the -peacocks far away and the pleasant of morning. - -When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and -entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At the -highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested -upon the mountainside they had just left--oppressed by some dark sense -of tragic impendency. - -Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly descending -the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes, who -carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the -sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them--John could see that -they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon whose arm she leaned. The -aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in -front of the chateau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the -diamond mountain in skirmishing formation. - -But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was -engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of -rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a -trap-door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, -the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two -negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the -sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all. - -Kismine clutched John's arm. - -"Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they going to -do?" - -"It must be some underground way of escape--" - -A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence. - -"Don't you see?" sobbed Kismine hysterically. "The mountain is wired!" - -Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before -their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a -dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as -light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow -continued, and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared, -revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying -off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the -aviators there was left neither blood nor bone--they were consumed as -completely as the five souls who had gone inside. - -Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the chteau literally -threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as it rose, -and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay -projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire--what -smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few -minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great -featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no -more sound and the three people were alone in the valley. - - -9 - -At sunset John and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had -marked the boundaries of the Washington's dominion, and looking back -found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They sat down to -finish the food which Jasmine had brought with her in a basket. - -"There!" she said, as she spread the table-cloth and put the -sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look tempting? I always -think that food tastes better outdoors." - -"With that remark," remarked Kismine, "Jasmine enters the middle -class." - -"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what -jewels you brought along. If you made a good selection we three ought -to live comfortably all the rest of our lives." - -Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls -of glittering stones before him. "Not so bad," cried John -enthusiastically. "They aren't very big, but-Hallo!" His expression -changed as he held one of them up to the declining sun. "Why, these -aren't diamonds! There's something the matter! - -"By golly!" exclaimed Kismine, with a startled look. "What an idiot I -am!" - -"Why, these are rhinestones!" cried John. - -"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer. They -belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine. I got her to give -them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything but -precious stones before." - -"And this is what you brought?" - -"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I -like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds." - -"Very well," said John gloomily. "We'll have to live in Hades. And you -will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong drawer. -Unfortunately, your father's bank-books were consumed with him." - -"Well, what's the matter with Hades?" - -"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as -not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they say down there." - -Jasmine spoke up. - -"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own -handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and support you both." - -"Do they have washwomen in Hades?" asked Kismine innocently. - -"Of course," answered John. "It's just like anywhere else." - -"I thought--perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes." - -John laughed. - -"Just try it!" he suggested. "They'll run you out before you're half -started." - -"Will father be there?" she asked. - -John turned to her in astonishment. - -"Your father is dead," he replied sombrely. "Why should he go to -Hades? You have it confused with another place that was abolished long -ago." - -After supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their blankets -for the night. - -"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars. "How -strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless fiance! - -"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before. I -always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some -one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, -all my youth." - -"It _was_ a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a -dream, a form of chemical madness." - -"How pleasant then to be insane!" - -"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any -rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a -form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only -diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of -disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing -of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the -night's full of chill and you'll get pneumonia. His was a great sin -who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours." - -So wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep. - - - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON - -I - - -As long ago as 1860 it was the proper thing to be born at home. At -present, so I am told, the high gods of medicine have decreed that the -first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of -a hospital, preferably a fashionable one. So young Mr. and Mrs. Roger -Button were fifty years ahead of style when they decided, one day in -the summer of 1860, that their first baby should be born in a -hospital. Whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the -astonishing history I am about to set down will never be known. - -I shall tell you what occurred, and let you judge for yourself. - -The Roger Buttons held an enviable position, both social and -financial, in ante-bellum Baltimore. They were related to the This -Family and the That Family, which, as every Southerner knew, entitled -them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated -the Confederacy. This was their first experience with the charming old -custom of having babies--Mr. Button was naturally nervous. He hoped it -would be a boy so that he could be sent to Yale College in -Connecticut, at which institution Mr. Button himself had been known -for four years by the somewhat obvious nickname of "Cuff." - -On the September morning consecrated to the enormous event he arose -nervously at six o'clock dressed himself, adjusted an impeccable -stock, and hurried forth through the streets of Baltimore to the -hospital, to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in -new life upon its bosom. - -When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private -Hospital for Ladies and Gentlemen he saw Doctor Keene, the family -physician, descending the front steps, rubbing his hands together with -a washing movement--as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten -ethics of their profession. - -Mr. Roger Button, the president of Roger Button & Co., Wholesale -Hardware, began to run toward Doctor Keene with much less dignity than -was expected from a Southern gentleman of that picturesque period. -"Doctor Keene!" he called. "Oh, Doctor Keene!" - -The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious -expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face as Mr. Button drew -near. - -"What happened?" demanded Mr. Button, as he came up in a gasping rush. -"What was it? How is she? A boy? Who is it? What--" - -"Talk sense!" said Doctor Keene sharply, He appeared somewhat -irritated. - -"Is the child born?" begged Mr. Button. - -Doctor Keene frowned. "Why, yes, I suppose so--after a fashion." Again -he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button. - -"Is my wife all right?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it a boy or a girl?" - -"Here now!" cried Doctor Keene in a perfect passion of irritation, -"I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous!" He snapped the -last word out in almost one syllable, then he turned away muttering: -"Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation? -One more would ruin me--ruin anybody." - -"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Button appalled. "Triplets?" - -"No, not triplets!" answered the doctor cuttingly. "What's more, you -can go and see for yourself. And get another doctor. I brought you -into the world, young man, and I've been physician to your family for -forty years, but I'm through with you! I don't want to see you or any -of your relatives ever again! Good-bye!" - -Then he turned sharply, and without another word climbed into his -phaeton, which was waiting at the curbstone, and drove severely away. - -Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from -head to foot. What horrible mishap had occurred? He had suddenly lost -all desire to go into the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and -Gentlemen--it was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later, -he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door. - -A nurse was sitting behind a desk in the opaque gloom of the hall. -Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her. - -"Good-morning," she remarked, looking up at him pleasantly. - -"Good-morning. I--I am Mr. Button." - -At this a look of utter terror spread itself over girl's face. She -rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall, restraining -herself only with the most apparent difficulty. - -"I want to see my child," said Mr. Button. - -The nurse gave a little scream. "Oh--of course!" she cried -hysterically. "Upstairs. Right upstairs. Go--_up!_" - -She pointed the direction, and Mr. Button, bathed in cool -perspiration, turned falteringly, and began to mount to the second -floor. In the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached -him, basin in hand. "I'm Mr. Button," he managed to articulate. "I -want to see my----" - -Clank! The basin clattered to the floor and rolled in the direction of -the stairs. Clank! Clank! It began a methodical descent as if sharing -in the general terror which this gentleman provoked. - -"I want to see my child!" Mr. Button almost shrieked. He was on the -verge of collapse. - -Clank! The basin reached the first floor. The nurse regained control -of herself, and threw Mr. Button a look of hearty contempt. - -"All _right_, Mr. Button," she agreed in a hushed voice. "Very -_well!_ But if you _knew_ what a state it's put us all in this -morning! It's perfectly outrageous! The hospital will never have -a ghost of a reputation after----" - -"Hurry!" he cried hoarsely. "I can't stand this!" - -"Come this way, then, Mr. Button." - -He dragged himself after her. At the end of a long hall they reached a -room from which proceeded a variety of howls--indeed, a room which, in -later parlance, would have been known as the "crying-room." They -entered. - -"Well," gasped Mr. Button, "which is mine?" - -"There!" said the nurse. - -Mr. Button's eyes followed her pointing finger, and this is what he -saw. Wrapped in a voluminous white blanket, and partly crammed into -one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently about seventy years -of age. His sparse hair was almost white, and from his chin dripped a -long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth, fanned -by the breeze coming in at the window. He looked up at Mr. Button with -dim, faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled question. - -"Am I mad?" thundered Mr. Button, his terror resolving into rage. "Is -this some ghastly hospital joke? - -"It doesn't seem like a joke to us," replied the nurse severely. "And -I don't know whether you're mad or not--but that is most certainly -your child." - -The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button's forehead. He closed -his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no -mistake--he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten--a _baby_ -of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the -crib in which it was reposing. - -The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and -then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice. "Are you my -father?" he demanded. - -Mr. Button and the nurse started violently. - -"Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd -get me out of this place--or, at least, get them to put a comfortable -rocker in here." - -"Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you?" burst out Mr. -Button frantically. - -"I can't tell you _exactly_ who I am," replied the querulous -whine, "because I've only been born a few hours--but my last name is -certainly Button." - -"You lie! You're an impostor!" - -The old man turned wearily to the nurse. "Nice way to welcome a -new-born child," he complained in a weak voice. "Tell him he's wrong, -why don't you?" - -"You're wrong. Mr. Button," said the nurse severely. "This is your -child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you -to take him home with you as soon as possible-some time to-day." - -"Home?" repeated Mr. Button incredulously. - -"Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know?" - -"I'm right glad of it," whined the old man. "This is a fine place to -keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling, I -haven't been able to get a wink of sleep. I asked for something to -eat"--here his voice rose to a shrill note of protest--"and they -brought me a bottle of milk!" - -Mr. Button, sank down upon a chair near his son and concealed his face -in his hands. "My heavens!" he murmured, in an ecstasy of horror. -"What will people say? What must I do?" - -"You'll have to take him home," insisted the nurse--"immediately!" - -A grotesque picture formed itself with dreadful clarity before the -eyes of the tortured man--a picture of himself walking through the -crowded streets of the city with this appalling apparition stalking by -his side. - -"I can't. I can't," he moaned. - -People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He -would have to introduce this--this septuagenarian: "This is my son, -born early this morning." And then the old man would gather his -blanket around him and they would plod on, past the bustling stores, -the slave market--for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately -that his son was black--past the luxurious houses of the residential -district, past the home for the aged.... - -"Come! Pull yourself together," commanded the nurse. - -"See here," the old man announced suddenly, "if you think I'm going to -walk home in this blanket, you're entirely mistaken." - -"Babies always have blankets." - -With a malicious crackle the old man held up a small white swaddling -garment. "Look!" he quavered. "_This_ is what they had ready for -me." - -"Babies always wear those," said the nurse primly. - -"Well," said the old man, "this baby's not going to wear anything in -about two minutes. This blanket itches. They might at least have given -me a sheet." - -"Keep it on! Keep it on!" said Mr. Button hurriedly. He turned to the -nurse. "What'll I do?" - -"Go down town and buy your son some clothes." - -Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the hall: "And a -cane, father. I want to have a cane." - -Mr. Button banged the outer door savagely.... - - -2 - - -"Good-morning," Mr. Button said nervously, to the clerk in the -Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. "I want to buy some clothes for my -child." - -"How old is your child, sir?" - -"About six hours," answered Mr. Button, without due consideration. - -"Babies' supply department in the rear." - -"Why, I don't think--I'm not sure that's what I want. It's--he's an -unusually large-size child. Exceptionally--ah large." - -"They have the largest child's sizes." - -"Where is the boys' department?" inquired Mr. Button, shifting his -ground desperately. He felt that the clerk must surely scent his -shameful secret. - -"Right here." - -"Well----" He hesitated. The notion of dressing his son in men's -clothes was repugnant to him. If, say, he could only find a very large -boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white -hair brown, and thus manage to conceal the worst, and to retain -something of his own self-respect--not to mention his position in -Baltimore society. - -But a frantic inspection of the boys' department revealed no suits to -fit the new-born Button. He blamed the store, of course--in such -cases it is the thing to blame the store. - -"How old did you say that boy of yours was?" demanded the clerk -curiously. - -"He's--sixteen." - -"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six _hours_. You'll -find the youths' department in the next aisle." - -Mr. Button turned miserably away. Then he stopped, brightened, and -pointed his finger toward a dressed dummy in the window display. -"There!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that suit, out there on the dummy." - -The clerk stared. "Why," he protested, "that's not a child's suit. At -least it _is_, but it's for fancy dress. You could wear it -yourself!" - -"Wrap it up," insisted his customer nervously. "That's what I want." - -The astonished clerk obeyed. - -Back at the hospital Mr. Button entered the nursery and almost threw -the package at his son. "Here's your clothes," he snapped out. - -The old man untied the package and viewed the contents with a -quizzical eye. - -"They look sort of funny to me," he complained, "I don't want to be -made a monkey of--" - -"You've made a monkey of me!" retorted Mr. Button fiercely. "Never you -mind how funny you look. Put them on--or I'll--or I'll _spank_ -you." He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling -nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say. - -"All right, father"--this with a grotesque simulation of filial -respect--"you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say." - -As before, the sound of the word "father" caused Mr. Button to start -violently. - -"And hurry." - -"I'm hurrying, father." - -When his son was dressed Mr. Button regarded him with depression. The -costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse -with a wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish -beard, drooping almost to the waist. The effect was not good. - -"Wait!" - -Mr. Button seized a hospital shears and with three quick snaps -amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement -the ensemble fell far short of perfection. The remaining brush of -scraggly hair, the watery eyes, the ancient teeth, seemed oddly out of -tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was -obdurate--he held out his hand. "Come along!" he said sternly. - -His son took the hand trustingly. "What are you going to call me, -dad?" he quavered as they walked from the nursery--"just 'baby' for a -while? till you think of a better name?" - -Mr. Button grunted. "I don't know," he answered harshly. "I think -we'll call you Methuselah." - - -3 - -Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his hair cut -short and then dyed to a sparse unnatural black, had had his face -shaved so close that it glistened, and had been attired in small-boy -clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for -Button to ignore the fact that his son was a poor excuse for a first -family baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button--for it was by -this name they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious -Methuselah--was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not -conceal this, nor did the clipping and dyeing of his eyebrows disguise -the fact that the eyes under--were faded and watery and tired. In -fact, the baby-nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house -after one look, in a state of considerable indignation. - -But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a -baby, and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if -Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether, -but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter, -and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a -rattle and, giving it to Benjamin, insisted in no uncertain terms that -he should "play with it," whereupon the old man took it with--a weary -expression and could be heard jingling it obediently at intervals -throughout the day. - -There can be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him, and that he -found other and more soothing amusements when he was left alone. For -instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week -he had smoked more cigars than ever before--a phenomenon, which was -explained a few days later when, entering the nursery unexpectedly, he -found the room full of faint blue haze and Benjamin, with a guilty -expression on his face, trying to conceal the butt of a dark Havana. -This, of course, called for a severe spanking, but Mr. Button found -that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his -son that he would "stunt his growth." - -Nevertheless he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead -soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals -made of cotton, and, to perfect the illusion which he was -creating--for himself at least--he passionately demanded of the clerk -in the toy-store whether "the paint would come oft the pink duck if -the baby put it in his mouth." But, despite all his father's efforts, -Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs -and return to the nursery with a volume of the Encyclopedia -Britannica, over which he would pore through an afternoon, while his -cotton cows and his Noah's ark were left neglected on the floor. -Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail. - -The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, prodigious. What the -mishap would have cost the Buttons and their kinsfolk socially cannot -be determined, for the outbreak of the Civil War drew the city's -attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite -racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents--and -finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby -resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of -decay common to all men of seventy, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs. -Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was -furiously insulted. - -Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. Several -small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a stiff-jointed -afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles--he even -managed, quite accidentally, to break a kitchen window with a stone -from a sling shot, a feat which secretly delighted his father. - -Thereafter Benjamin contrived to break something every day, but he did -these things only because they were expected of him, and because he -was by nature obliging. - -When his grandfather's initial antagonism wore off, Benjamin and that -gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would -sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and, -like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of -the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than -in his parents'--they seemed always somewhat in awe of him and, -despite the dictatorial authority they exercised over him, frequently -addressed him as "Mr." - -He was as puzzled as any one else at the apparently advanced age of -his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal, -but found that no such case had been previously recorded. At his -father's urging he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and -frequently he joined in the milder games--football shook him up too -much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would -refuse to knit. - -When he was five he was sent to kindergarten, where he initiated into -the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving coloured -maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to -drowse off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both -irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief she -complained to his parents, and he was removed from the school. The -Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young. - -By the time he was twelve years old his parents had grown used to him. -Indeed, so strong is the force of custom that they no longer felt that -he was different from any other child--except when some curious -anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his -twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made, or -thought he made, an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him, -or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to -iron-gray under its concealing dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his -face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier and firmer, with -even a touch of ruddy winter colour? He could not tell. He knew that -he no longer stooped, and that his physical condition had improved -since the early days of his life. - -"Can it be----?" he thought to himself, or, rather, scarcely dared to -think. - -He went to his father. "I am grown," he announced determinedly. "I -want to put on long trousers." - -His father hesitated. "Well," he said finally, "I don't know. Fourteen -is the age for putting on long trousers--and you are only twelve." - -"But you'll have to admit," protested Benjamin, "that I'm big for my -age." - -His father looked at him with illusory speculation. "Oh, I'm not so -sure of that," he said. "I was as big as you when I was twelve." - -This was not true-it was all part of Roger Button's silent agreement -with himself to believe in his son's normality. - -Finally a compromise was reached. Benjamin was to continue to dye his -hair. He was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own -age. He was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street. -In return for these concessions he was allowed his first suit of long -trousers.... - - -4 - -Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first -year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of -normal ungrowth. When Benjamin was eighteen he was erect as a man of -fifty; he had more hair and it was of a dark gray; his step was firm, -his voice had lost its cracked quaver and descended to a healthy -baritone. So his father sent him up to Connecticut to take -examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his -examination and became a member of the freshman class. - -On the third day following his matriculation he received a -notification from Mr. Hart, the college registrar, to call at his -office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror, -decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but -an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye -bottle was not there. Then he remembered--he had emptied it the day -before and thrown it away. - -He was in a dilemma. He was due at the registrar's in five minutes. -There seemed to be no help for it--he must go as he was. He did. - -"Good-morning," said the registrar politely. "You've come to inquire -about your son." - -"Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button----" began Benjamin, but -Mr. Hart cut him off. - -"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here -any minute." - -"That's me!" burst out Benjamin. "I'm a freshman." - -"What!" - -"I'm a freshman." - -"Surely you're joking." - -"Not at all." - -The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. "Why, I have -Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen." - -"That's my age," asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly. - -The registrar eyed him wearily. "Now surely, Mr. Button, you don't -expect me to believe that." - -Benjamin smiled wearily. "I am eighteen," he repeated. - -The registrar pointed sternly to the door. "Get out," he said. "Get -out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic." - -"I am eighteen." - -Mr. Hart opened the door. "The idea!" he shouted. "A man of your age -trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well, -I'll give you eighteen minutes to get out of town." - -Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room, and half a dozen -undergraduates, who were waiting in the hall, followed him curiously -with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced -the infuriated registrar, who was still standing in the door-way, and -repeated in a firm voice: "I am eighteen years old." - -To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates, -Benjamin walked away. - -But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy walk to -the railroad station he found that he was being followed by a group, -then by a swarm, and finally by a dense mass of undergraduates. The -word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance -examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of -eighteen. A fever of excitement permeated the college. Men ran hatless -out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined -the mob, professors' wives with bonnets awry and bustles out of -position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a -continual succession of remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of -Benjamin Button. - -"He must be the wandering Jew!" - -"He ought to go to prep school at his age!" - -"Look at the infant prodigy!" - -"He thought this was the old men's home." - -"Go up to Harvard!" - -Benjamin increased his gait, and soon he was running. He would show -them! He _would_ go to Harvard, and then they would regret these -ill-considered taunts! - -Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the -window. "You'll regret this!" he shouted. - -"Ha-ha!" the undergraduates laughed. "Ha-ha-ha!" It was the biggest -mistake that Yale College had ever made.... - - -5 - -In 1880 Benjamin Button was twenty years old, and he signalised his -birthday by going to work for his father in Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware. It was in that same year that he began "going out -socially"--that is, his father insisted on taking him to several -fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son -were more and more companionable--in fact, since Benjamin had ceased -to dye his hair (which was still grayish) they appeared about the same -age, and could have passed for brothers. - -One night in August they got into the phaeton attired in their -full-dress suits and drove out to a dance at the Shevlins' country -house, situated just outside of Baltimore. It was a gorgeous evening. -A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless colour of platinum, -and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air -aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter. The open country, -carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent as in the -day. It was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty -of the sky--almost. - -"There's a great future in the dry-goods business," Roger Button was -saying. He was not a spiritual man--his aesthetic sense was -rudimentary. - -"Old fellows like me can't learn new tricks," he observed profoundly. -"It's you youngsters with energy and vitality that have the great -future before you." - -Far up the road the lights of the Shevlins' country house drifted into -view, and presently there was a sighing sound that crept persistently -toward them--it might have been the fine plaint of violins or the -rustle of the silver wheat under the moon. - -They pulled up behind a handsome brougham whose passengers were -disembarking at the door. A lady got out, then an elderly gentleman, -then another young lady, beautiful as sin. Benjamin started; an almost -chemical change seemed to dissolve and recompose the very elements of -his body. A rigour passed over him, blood rose into his cheeks, his -forehead, and there was a steady thumping in his ears. It was first -love. - -The girl was slender and frail, with hair that was ashen under the -moon and honey-coloured under the sputtering gas-lamps of the porch. -Over her shoulders was thrown a Spanish mantilla of softest yellow, -butterflied in black; her feet were glittering buttons at the hem of -her bustled dress. - -Roger Button leaned over to his son. "That," he said, "is young -Hildegarde Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief." - -Benjamin nodded coldly. "Pretty little thing," he said indifferently. -But when the negro boy had led the buggy away, he added: "Dad, you -might introduce me to her." - -They approached a group, of which Miss Moncrief was the centre. Reared -in the old tradition, she curtsied low before Benjamin. Yes, he might -have a dance. He thanked her and walked away--staggered away. - -The interval until the time for his turn should arrive dragged itself -out interminably. He stood close to the wall, silent, inscrutable, -watching with murderous eyes the young bloods of Baltimore as they -eddied around Hildegarde Moncrief, passionate admiration in their -faces. How obnoxious they seemed to Benjamin; how intolerably rosy! -Their curling brown whiskers aroused in him a feeling equivalent to -indigestion. - -But when his own time came, and he drifted with her out upon the -changing floor to the music of the latest waltz from Paris, his -jealousies and anxieties melted from him like a mantle of snow. Blind -with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning. - -"You and your brother got here just as we did, didn't you?" asked -Hildegarde, looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue -enamel. - -Benjamin hesitated. If she took him for his father's brother, would it -be best to enlighten her? He remembered his experience at Yale, so he -decided against it. It would be rude to contradict a lady; it would be -criminal to mar this exquisite occasion with the grotesque story of -his origin. Later, perhaps. So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy. - -"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so -idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and -how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to -appreciate women." - -Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he -choked back the impulse. "You're just the romantic age," she -continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too worldly-wise; thirty is apt to be -pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole -cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is -the mellow age. I love fifty." - -Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be -fifty. - -"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man -of fifty and be taken care of than many a man of thirty and take care -of _him_." - -For Benjamin the rest of the evening was bathed in a honey-coloured -mist. Hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that -they were marvellously in accord on all the questions of the day. She -was to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they -would discuss all these questions further. - -Going home in the phaeton just before the crack of dawn, when the -first bees were humming and the fading moon glimmered in the cool dew, -Benjamin knew vaguely that his father was discussing wholesale -hardware. - -".... And what do you think should merit our biggest attention after -hammers and nails?" the elder Button was saying. - -"Love," replied Benjamin absent-mindedly. - -"Lugs?" exclaimed Roger Button, "Why, I've just covered the question -of lugs." - -Benjamin regarded him with dazed eyes just as the eastern sky was -suddenly cracked with light, and an oriole yawned piercingly in the -quickening trees... - - -6 - -When, six months later, the engagement of Miss Hildegarde Moncrief to -Mr. Benjamin Button was made known (I say "made known," for General -Moncrief declared he would rather fall upon his sword than announce -it), the excitement in Baltimore society reached a feverish pitch. The -almost forgotten story of Benjamin's birth was remembered and sent out -upon the winds of scandal in picaresque and incredible forms. It was -said that Benjamin was really the father of Roger Button, that he was -his brother who had been in prison for forty years, that he was John -Wilkes Booth in disguise--and, finally, that he had two small conical -horns sprouting from his head. - -The Sunday supplements of the New York papers played up the case with -fascinating sketches which showed the head of Benjamin Button attached -to a fish, to a snake, and, finally, to a body of solid brass. He -became known, journalistically, as the Mystery Man of Maryland. But -the true story, as is usually the case, had a very small circulation. - -However, every one agreed with General Moncrief that it was "criminal" -for a lovely girl who could have married any beau in Baltimore to -throw herself into the arms of a man who was assuredly fifty. In vain -Mr. Roger Button published his son's birth certificate in large type in -the Baltimore _Blaze_. No one believed it. You had only to look -at Benjamin and see. - -On the part of the two people most concerned there was no wavering. So -many of the stories about her fianc were false that Hildegarde -refused stubbornly to believe even the true one. In vain General -Moncrief pointed out to her the high mortality among men of fifty--or, -at least, among men who looked fifty; in vain he told her of the -instability of the wholesale hardware business. Hildegarde had chosen -to marry for mellowness, and marry she did.... - - -7 - -In one particular, at least, the friends of Hildegarde Moncrief were -mistaken. The wholesale hardware business prospered amazingly. In the -fifteen years between Benjamin Button's marriage in 1880 and his -father's retirement in 1895, the family fortune was doubled--and this -was due largely to the younger member of the firm. - -Needless to say, Baltimore eventually received the couple to its -bosom. Even old General Moncrief became reconciled to his son-in-law -when Benjamin gave him the money to bring out his _History of the -Civil War_ in twenty volumes, which had been refused by nine -prominent publishers. - -In Benjamin himself fifteen years had wrought many changes. It seemed -to him that the blood flowed with new vigour through his veins. It -began to be a pleasure to rise in the morning, to walk with an active -step along the busy, sunny street, to work untiringly with his -shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. It was in 1890 that he -executed his famous business coup: he brought up the suggestion that -_all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped -are the property of the shippee_, a proposal which became a -statute, was approved by Chief Justice Fossile, and saved Roger Button -and Company, Wholesale Hardware, more than _six hundred nails every -year_. - -In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more -attracted by the gay side of life. It was typical of his growing -enthusiasm for pleasure that he was the first man in the city of -Baltimore to own and run an automobile. Meeting him on the street, his -contemporaries would stare enviously at the picture he made of health -and vitality. - -"He seems to grow younger every year," they would remark. And if old -Roger Button, now sixty-five years old, had failed at first to give a -proper welcome to his son he atoned at last by bestowing on him what -amounted to adulation. - -And here we come to an unpleasant subject which it will be well to -pass over as quickly as possible. There was only one thing that -worried Benjamin Button; his wife had ceased to attract him. - -At that time Hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five, with a son, -Roscoe, fourteen years old. In the early days of their marriage -Benjamin had worshipped her. But, as the years passed, her -honey-coloured hair became an unexciting brown, the blue enamel of her -eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery--moreover, and, most of all, -she had become too settled in her ways, too placid, too content, too -anaemic in her excitements, and too sober in her taste. As a bride it -been she who had "dragged" Benjamin to dances and dinners--now -conditions were reversed. She went out socially with him, but without -enthusiasm, devoured already by that eternal inertia which comes to -live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end. - -Benjamin's discontent waxed stronger. At the outbreak of the -Spanish-American War in 1898 his home had for him so little charm that -he decided to join the army. With his business influence he obtained a -commission as captain, and proved so adaptable to the work that he was -made a major, and finally a lieutenant-colonel just in time to -participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly -wounded, and received a medal. - -Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required -attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at -the station by a brass band and escorted to his house. - - -8 - -Hildegarde, waving a large silk flag, greeted him on the porch, and -even as he kissed her he felt with a sinking of the heart that these -three years had taken their toll. She was a woman of forty now, with a -faint skirmish line of gray hairs in her head. The sight depressed -him. - -Up in his room he saw his reflection in the familiar mirror--he went -closer and examined his own face with anxiety, comparing it after a -moment with a photograph of himself in uniform taken just before the -war. - -"Good Lord!" he said aloud. The process was continuing. There was no -doubt of it--he looked now like a man of thirty. Instead of being -delighted, he was uneasy--he was growing younger. He had hitherto -hoped that once he reached a bodily age equivalent to his age in -years, the grotesque phenomenon which had marked his birth would cease -to function. He shuddered. His destiny seemed to him awful, -incredible. - -When he came downstairs Hildegarde was waiting for him. She appeared -annoyed, and he wondered if she had at last discovered that there was -something amiss. It was with an effort to relieve the tension between -them that he broached the matter at dinner in what he considered a -delicate way. - -"Well," he remarked lightly, "everybody says I look younger than -ever." - -Hildegarde regarded him with scorn. She sniffed. "Do you think it's -anything to boast about?" - -"I'm not boasting," he asserted uncomfortably. She sniffed again. "The -idea," she said, and after a moment: "I should think you'd have enough -pride to stop it." - -"How can I?" he demanded. - -"I'm not going to argue with you," she retorted. "But there's a right -way of doing things and a wrong way. If you've made up your mind to be -different from everybody else, I don't suppose I can stop you, but I -really don't think it's very considerate." - -"But, Hildegarde, I can't help it." - -"You can too. You're simply stubborn. You think you don't want to be -like any one else. You always have been that way, and you always will -be. But just think how it would be if every one else looked at things -as you do--what would the world be like?" - -As this was an inane and unanswerable argument Benjamin made no reply, -and from that time on a chasm began to widen between them. He wondered -what possible fascination she had ever exercised over him. - -To add to the breach, he found, as the new century gathered headway, -that his thirst for gaiety grew stronger. Never a party of any kind in -the city of Baltimore but he was there, dancing with the prettiest of -the young married women, chatting with the most popular of the -debutantes, and finding their company charming, while his wife, a -dowager of evil omen, sat among the chaperons, now in haughty -disapproval, and now following him with solemn, puzzled, and -reproachful eyes. - -"Look!" people would remark. "What a pity! A young fellow that age -tied to a woman of forty-five. He must be twenty years younger than -his wife." They had forgotten--as people inevitably forget--that back -in 1880 their mammas and papas had also remarked about this same -ill-matched pair. - -Benjamin's growing unhappiness at home was compensated for by his many -new interests. He took up golf and made a great success of it. He went -in for dancing: in 1906 he was an expert at "The Boston," and in 1908 -he was considered proficient at the "Maxine," while in 1909 his -"Castle Walk" was the envy of every young man in town. - -His social activities, of course, interfered to some extent with his -business, but then he had worked hard at wholesale hardware for -twenty-five years and felt that he could soon hand it on to his son, -Roscoe, who had recently graduated from Harvard. - -He and his son were, in fact, often mistaken for each other. This -pleased Benjamin--he soon forgot the insidious fear which had come -over him on his return from the Spanish-American War, and grew to take -a nave pleasure in his appearance. There was only one fly in the -delicious ointment--he hated to appear in public with his wife. -Hildegarde was almost fifty, and the sight of her made him feel -absurd.... - - -9 - -One September day in 1910--a few years after Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware, had been handed over to young Roscoe Button--a -man, apparently about twenty years old, entered himself as a freshman -at Harvard University in Cambridge. He did not make the mistake of -announcing that he would never see fifty again, nor did he mention the -fact that his son had been graduated from the same institution ten -years before. - -He was admitted, and almost immediately attained a prominent position -in the class, partly because he seemed a little older than the other -freshmen, whose average age was about eighteen. - -But his success was largely due to the fact that in the football game -with Yale he played so brilliantly, with so much dash and with such a -cold, remorseless anger that he scored seven touchdowns and fourteen -field goals for Harvard, and caused one entire eleven of Yale men to -be carried singly from the field, unconscious. He was the most -celebrated man in college. - -Strange to say, in his third or junior year he was scarcely able to -"make" the team. The coaches said that he had lost weight, and it -seemed to the more observant among them that he was not quite as tall -as before. He made no touchdowns--indeed, he was retained on the team -chiefly in hope that his enormous reputation would bring terror and -disorganisation to the Yale team. - -In his senior year he did not make the team at all. He had grown so -slight and frail that one day he was taken by some sophomores for a -freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known -as something of a prodigy--a senior who was surely no more than -sixteen--and he was often shocked at the worldliness of some of his -classmates. His studies seemed harder to him--he felt that they were -too advanced. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the -famous preparatory school, at which so many of them had prepared for -college, and he determined after his graduation to enter himself at -St. Midas's, where the sheltered life among boys his own size would be -more congenial to him. - -Upon his graduation in 1914 he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard -diploma in his pocket. Hildegarde was now residing in Italy, so -Benjamin went to live with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed -in a general way there was obviously no heartiness in Roscoe's feeling -toward him--there was even perceptible a tendency on his son's part to -think that Benjamin, as he moped about the house in adolescent -mooniness, was somewhat in the way. Roscoe was married now and -prominent in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal to creep out in -connection with his family. - -Benjamin, no longer _persona grata_ with the dbutantes and -younger college set, found himself left much done, except for the -companionship of three or four fifteen-year-old boys in the -neighbourhood. His idea of going to St. Midas's school recurred to -him. - -"Say," he said to Roscoe one day, "I've told you over and over that I -want to go to prep, school." - -"Well, go, then," replied Roscoe shortly. The matter was distasteful -to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion. - -"I can't go alone," said Benjamin helplessly. "You'll have to enter me -and take me up there." - -"I haven't got time," declared Roscoe abruptly. His eyes narrowed and -he looked uneasily at his father. "As a matter of fact," he added, -"you'd better not go on with this business much longer. You better -pull up short. You better--you better"--he paused and his face -crimsoned as he sought for words--"you better turn right around and -start back the other way. This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't -funny any longer. You--you behave yourself!" - -Benjamin looked at him, on the verge of tears. - -"And another thing," continued Roscoe, "when visitors are in the house -I want you to call me 'Uncle'--not 'Roscoe,' but 'Uncle,' do you -understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my -first name. Perhaps you'd better call me 'Uncle' _all_ the time, -so you'll get used to it." - -With a harsh look at his father, Roscoe turned away.... - - -10 - -At the termination of this interview, Benjamin wandered dismally -upstairs and stared at himself in the mirror. He had not shaved for -three months, but he could find nothing on his face but a faint white -down with which it seemed unnecessary to meddle. When he had first -come home from Harvard, Roscoe had approached him with the proposition -that he should wear eye-glasses and imitation whiskers glued to his -cheeks, and it had seemed for a moment that the farce of his early -years was to be repeated. But whiskers had itched and made him -ashamed. He wept and Roscoe had reluctantly relented. - -Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, _The Boy Scouts in Bimini -Bay_, and began to read. But he found himself thinking persistently -about the war. America had joined the Allied cause during the -preceding month, and Benjamin wanted to enlist, but, alas, sixteen was -the minimum age, and he did not look that old. His true age, which was -fifty-seven, would have disqualified him, anyway. - -There was a knock at his door, and the butler appeared with a letter -bearing a large official legend in the corner and addressed to Mr. -Benjamin Button. Benjamin tore it open eagerly, and read the enclosure -with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had -served in the Spanish-American War were being called back into service -with a higher rank, and it enclosed his commission as brigadier-general -in the United States army with orders to report immediately. - -Benjamin jumped to his feet fairly quivering with enthusiasm. This was -what he had wanted. He seized his cap, and ten minutes later he had -entered a large tailoring establishment on Charles Street, and asked -in his uncertain treble to be measured for a uniform. - -"Want to play soldier, sonny?" demanded a clerk casually. - -Benjamin flushed. "Say! Never mind what I want!" he retorted angrily. -"My name's Button and I live on Mt. Vernon Place, so you know I'm good -for it." - -"Well," admitted the clerk hesitantly, "if you're not, I guess your -daddy is, all right." - -Benjamin was measured, and a week later his uniform was completed. He -had difficulty in obtaining the proper general's insignia because the -dealer kept insisting to Benjamin that a nice V.W.C.A. badge would -look just as well and be much more fun to play with. - -Saying nothing to Roscoe, he left the house one night and proceeded by -train to Camp Mosby, in South Carolina, where he was to command an -infantry brigade. On a sultry April day he approached the entrance to -the camp, paid off the taxicab which had brought him from the station, -and turned to the sentry on guard. - -"Get some one to handle my luggage!" he said briskly. - -The sentry eyed him reproachfully. "Say," he remarked, "where you -goin' with the general's duds, sonny?" - -Benjamin, veteran of the Spanish-American War, whirled upon him with -fire in his eye, but with, alas, a changing treble voice. - -"Come to attention!" he tried to thunder; he paused for breath--then -suddenly he saw the sentry snap his heels together and bring his rifle -to the present. Benjamin concealed a smile of gratification, but when -he glanced around his smile faded. It was not he who had inspired -obedience, but an imposing artillery colonel who was approaching on -horseback. - -"Colonel!" called Benjamin shrilly. - -The colonel came up, drew rein, and looked coolly down at him with a -twinkle in his eyes. "Whose little boy are you?" he demanded kindly. - -"I'll soon darn well show you whose little boy I am!" retorted -Benjamin in a ferocious voice. "Get down off that horse!" - -The colonel roared with laughter. - -"You want him, eh, general?" - -"Here!" cried Benjamin desperately. "Read this." And he thrust his -commission toward the colonel. - -The colonel read it, his eyes popping from their sockets. - -"Where'd you get this?" he demanded, slipping the -document into his own pocket. - -"I got it from the Government, as you'll -soon find out!" - -"You come along with me," said the colonel with a -peculiar look. "We'll go up to headquarters and talk this over. Come -along." - -The colonel turned and began walking his horse in the -direction of headquarters. There was nothing for Benjamin to do but -follow with as much dignity as possible--meanwhile promising himself a -stern revenge. - -But this revenge did not materialise. Two days later, -however, his son Roscoe materialised from Baltimore, hot and cross -from a hasty trip, and escorted the weeping general, _sans_ -uniform, back to his home. - - -II - -In 1920 Roscoe Button's first child was born. During the attendant -festivities, however, no one thought it "the thing" to mention, that -the little grubby boy, apparently about ten years of age who played -around the house with lead soldiers and a miniature circus, was the -new baby's own grandfather. - -No one disliked the little boy whose fresh, cheerful face was crossed -with just a hint of sadness, but to Roscoe Button his presence was a -source of torment. In the idiom of his generation Roscoe did not -consider the matter "efficient." It seemed to him that his father, in -refusing to look sixty, had not behaved like a "red-blooded -he-man"--this was Roscoe's favourite expression--but in a curious and -perverse manner. Indeed, to think about the matter for as much as a -half an hour drove him to the edge of insanity. Roscoe believed that -"live wires" should keep young, but carrying it out on such a scale -was--was--was inefficient. And there Roscoe rested. - -Five years later Roscoe's little boy had grown old enough to play -childish games with little Benjamin under the supervision of the same -nurse. Roscoe took them both to kindergarten on the same day, and -Benjamin found that playing with little strips of coloured paper, -making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most -fascinating game in the world. Once he was bad and had to stand in the -corner--then he cried--but for the most part there were gay hours in -the cheerful room, with the sunlight coming in the windows and Miss -Bailey's kind hand resting for a moment now and then in his tousled -hair. - -Roscoe's son moved up into the first grade after a year, but Benjamin -stayed on in the kindergarten. He was very happy. Sometimes when other -tots talked about what they would do when they grew up a shadow would -cross his little face as if in a dim, childish way he realised that -those were things in which he was never to share. - -The days flowed on in monotonous content. He went back a third year to -the kindergarten, but he was too little now to understand what the -bright shining strips of paper were for. He cried because the other -boys were bigger than he, and he was afraid of them. The teacher -talked to him, but though he tried to understand he could not -understand at all. - -He was taken from the kindergarten. His nurse, Nana, in her starched -gingham dress, became the centre of his tiny world. On bright days -they walked in the park; Nana would point at a great gray monster and -say "elephant," and Benjamin would say it after her, and when he was -being undressed for bed that night he would say it over and over aloud -to her: "Elyphant, elyphant, elyphant." Sometimes Nana let him jump on -the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right it would -bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said "Ah" for a long time -while you jumped you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect. - -He loved to take a big cane from the hat-rack and go around hitting -chairs and tables with it and saying: "Fight, fight, fight." When -there were people there the old ladies would cluck at him, which -interested him, and the young ladies would try to kiss him, which he -submitted to with mild boredom. And when the long day was done at five -o'clock he would go upstairs with Nana and be fed on oatmeal and nice -soft mushy foods with a spoon. - -There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep; no token -came to him of his brave days at college, of the glittering years when -he flustered the hearts of many girls. There were only the white, safe -walls of his crib and Nana and a man who came to see him sometimes, -and a great big orange ball that Nana pointed at just before his -twilight bed hour and called "sun." When the sun went his eyes were -sleepy--there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him. - -The past--the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the -first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk -down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days -before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old -Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded -like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. -He did not remember. - -He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his -last feeding or how the days passed--there was only his crib and -Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was -hungry he cried--that was all. Through the noons and nights he -breathed and over him there were soft mumblings and murmurings that he -scarcely heard, and faintly differentiated smells, and light and -darkness. - -Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved -above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether -from his mind. - - - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE - - -Running footsteps--light, soft-soled shoes made of curious leathery -cloth brought from Ceylon setting the pace; thick flowing boots, two -pairs, dark blue and gilt, reflecting the moonlight in blunt gleams -and splotches, following a stone's throw behind. - -Soft Shoes flashes through a patch of moonlight, then darts into a -blind labyrinth of alleys and becomes only an intermittent scuffle -ahead somewhere in the enfolding darkness. In go Flowing Boots, with -short swords lurching and long plumes awry, finding a breath to curse -God and the black lanes of London. - -Soft Shoes leaps a shadowy gate and crackles through a hedgerow. -Flowing Boots leap the gate and crackles through the hedgerow--and -there, startlingly, is the watch ahead--two murderous pikemen of -ferocious cast of mouth acquired in Holland and the Spanish marches. - -But there is no cry for help. The pursued does not fall panting at the -feet of the watch, clutching a purse; neither do the pursuers raise a -hue and cry. Soft Shoes goes by in a rush of swift air. The watch -curse and hesitate, glance after the fugitive, and then spread their -pikes grimly across the road and wait for Flowing Boots. Darkness, -like a great hand, cuts off the even flow the moon. - -The hand moves off the moon whose pale caress finds again the eaves -and lintels, and the watch, wounded and tumbled in the dust. Up the -street one of Flowing Boots leaves a black trail of spots until he -binds himself, clumsily as he runs, with fine lace caught from his -throat. - -It was no affair for the watch: Satan was at large tonight and Satan -seemed to be he who appeared dimly in front, heel over gate, knee over -fence. Moreover, the adversary was obviously travelling near home or -at least in that section of London consecrated to his coarser whims, -for the street narrowed like a road in a picture and the houses bent -over further and further, cooping in natural ambushes suitable for -murder and its histrionic sister, sudden death. - -Down long and sinuous lanes twisted the hunted and the harriers, -always in and out of the moon in a perpetual queen's move over a -checker-board of glints and patches. Ahead, the quarry, minus his -leather jerkin now and half blinded by drips of sweat, had taken to -scanning his ground desperately on both sides. As a result he suddenly -slowed short, and retracing his steps a bit scooted up an alley so -dark that it seemed that here sun and moon had been in eclipse since -the last glacier slipped roaring over the earth. Two hundred yards -down he stopped and crammed himself into a niche in the wall where he -huddled and panted silently, a grotesque god without bulk or outline -in the gloom. - -Flowing Boots, two pairs, drew near, came up, went by, halted twenty -yards beyond him, and spoke in deep-lunged, scanty whispers: - -"I was attune to that scuffle; it stopped." - -"Within twenty paces." - -"He's hid." - -"Stay together now and we'll cut him up." - -The voice faded into a low crunch of a boot, nor did Soft Shoes wait -to hear more--he sprang in three leaps across the alley, where he -bounded up, flapped for a moment on the top of the wall like a huge -bird, and disappeared, gulped down by the hungry night at a mouthful. - - -II - - "He read at wine, he read in bed, - He read aloud, had he the breath, - His every thought was with the dead, - And so he read himself to death." - -Any visitor to the old James the First graveyard near Peat's Hill may -spell out this bit of doggerel, undoubtedly one of the worst recorded -of an Elizabethan, on the tomb of Wessel Caster. - -This death of his, says the antiquary, occurred when he was -thirty-seven, but as this story is concerned with the night of a -certain chase through darkness, we find him still alive, still -reading. His eyes were somewhat dim, his stomach somewhat obvious-he -was a mis-built man and indolent--oh, Heavens! But an era is an era, -and in the reign of Elizabeth, by the grace of Luther, Queen of -England, no man could help but catch the spirit of enthusiasm. Every -loft in Cheapside published its _Magnum Folium_ (or magazine)--of -its new blank verse; the Cheapside Players would produce anything on -sight as long as it "got away from those reactionary miracle plays," -and the English Bible had run through seven "very large" printings in, -as many months. - -So Wessel Caxter (who in his youth had gone to sea) was now a reader -of all on which he could lay his hands--he read manuscripts In holy -friendship; he dined rotten poets; he loitered about the shops where -the _Magna Folia_ were printed, and he listened tolerantly while -the young playwrights wrangled and bickered among them-selves, and -behind each other's backs made bitter and malicious charges of -plagiarism or anything else they could think of. - -To-night he had a book, a piece of work which, though inordinately -versed, contained, he thought, some rather excellent political satire. -"The Faerie Queene" by Edmund Spenser lay before him under the -tremulous candle-light. He had ploughed through a canto; he was -beginning another: - -THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS OR OF CHASTITY - - _It falls me here to write of Chastity. - The fayrest vertue, far above the rest_.... - -A sudden rush of feet on the stairs, a rusty swing-open of the thin -door, and a man thrust himself into the room, a man without a jerkin, -panting, sobbing, on the verge of collapse. - -"Wessel," words choked him, "stick me away somewhere, love of Our -Lady!" - -Caxter rose, carefully closing his book, and bolted the door in some -concern. - -"I'm pursued," cried out Soft Shoes. "I vow there's two short-witted -blades trying to make me into mincemeat and near succeeding. They saw -me hop the back wall!" - -"It would need," said Wessel, looking at him curiously, "several -battalions armed with blunderbusses, and two or three Armadas, to keep -you reasonably secure from the revenges of the world." - -Soft Shoes smiled with satisfaction. His sobbing gasps were giving way -to quick, precise breathing; his hunted air had faded to a faintly -perturbed irony. - -"I feel little surprise," continued Wessel. - -"They were two such dreary apes." - -"Making a total of three." - -"Only two unless you stick me away. Man, man, come alive, they'll be -on the stairs in a spark's age." - -Wessel took a dismantled pike-staff from the corner, and raising it to -the high ceiling, dislodged a rough trap-door opening into a garret -above. - -"There's no ladder." - -He moved a bench under the trap, upon which Soft Shoes mounted, -crouched, hesitated, crouched again, and then leaped amazingly upward. -He caught at the edge of the aperture and swung back and forth, for a -moment, shifting his hold; finally doubled up and disappeared into the -darkness above. There was a scurry, a migration of rats, as the -trap-door was replaced;... silence. - -Wessel returned to his reading-table, opened to the Legend of -Britomartis or of Chastity--and waited. Almost a minute later there -was a scramble on the stairs and an intolerable hammering at the door. -Wessel sighed and, picking up his candle, rose. - -"Who's there?" - -"Open the door!" - -"Who's there?" - -An aching blow frightened the frail wood, splintered it around the -edge. Wessel opened it a scarce three inches, and held the candle -high. His was to play the timorous, the super-respectable citizen, -disgracefully disturbed. - -"One small hour of the night for rest. Is that too much to ask from -every brawler and--" - -"Quiet, gossip! Have you seen a perspiring fellow?" - -The shadows of two gallants fell in immense wavering outlines over the -narrow stairs; by the light Wessel scrutinized them closely. -Gentlemen, they were, hastily but richly dressed--one of them wounded -severely in the hand, both radiating a sort of furious horror. Waving -aside Wessel's ready miscomprehension, they pushed by him into the -room and with their swords went through the business of poking -carefully into all suspected dark spots in the room, further extending -their search to Wessel's bedchamber. - -"Is he hid here?" demanded the wounded man fiercely. - -"Is who here?" - -"Any man but you." - -"Only two others that I know of." - -For a second Wessel feared that he had been too damned funny, for the -gallants made as though to prick him through. - -"I heard a man on the stairs," he said hastily, "full five minutes -ago, it was. He most certainly failed to come up." - -He went on to explain his absorption in "The Faerie Queene" but, for -the moment at least, his visitors, like the great saints, were -anaesthetic to culture. - -"What's been done?" inquired Wessel. - -"Violence!" said the man with the wounded hand. Wessel noticed that -his eyes were quite wild. "My own sister. Oh, Christ in heaven, give -us this man!" - -Wessel winced. - -"Who is the man?" - -"God's word! We know not even that. What's that trap up there?" he -added suddenly. - -"It's nailed down. It's not been used for years." He thought of the -pole in the corner and quailed in his belly, but the utter despair of -the two men dulled their astuteness. - -"It would take a ladder for any one not a tumbler," said the wounded -man listlessly. - -His companion broke into hysterical laughter. - -"A tumbler. Oh, a tumbler. Oh--" - -Wessel stared at them in wonder. - -"That appeals to my most tragic humor," cried the man, "that no -one--oh, no one--could get up there but a tumbler." - -The gallant with the wounded hand snapped his good fingers -impatiently. - -"We must go next door--and then on--" - -Helplessly they went as two walking under a dark and storm-swept sky. - -Wessel closed and bolted the door and stood a moment by it, frowning -in pity. - -A low-breathed "Ha!" made him look up. Soft Shoes had already raised -the trap and was looking down into the room, his rather elfish face -squeezed into a grimace, half of distaste, half of sardonic amusement. - -"They take off their heads with their helmets," he remarked in a -whisper, "but as for you and me, Wessel, we are two cunning men." - -"Now you be cursed," cried Wessel vehemently. "I knew you for a dog, -but when I hear even the half of a tale like this, I know you for such -a dirty cur that I am minded to club your skull." - -Soft Shoes stared at him, blinking. - -"At all events," he replied finally, "I find dignity impossible in -this position." - -With this he let his body through the trap, hung for an instant, and -dropped the seven feet to the floor. - -"There was a rat considered my ear with the air of a gourmet," he -continued, dusting his hands on his breeches. "I told him in the rat's -peculiar idiom that I was deadly poison, so he took himself off." - -"Let's hear of this night's lechery!" insisted Wessel angrily. - -Soft Shoes touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled the fingers -derisively at Wessel. - -"Street gamin!" muttered Wessel. - -"Have you any paper?" demanded Soft Shoes irrelevantly, and then -rudely added, "or can you write?" - -"Why should I give you paper?" - -"You wanted to hear of the night's entertainment. So you shall, an you -give me pen, ink, a sheaf of paper, and a room to myself." - -Wessel hesitated. - -"Get out!" he said finally. - -"As you will. Yet you have missed a most intriguing story." - -Wessel wavered--he was soft as taffy, that man--gave in. Soft Shoes -went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and -precisely closed the door. Wessel grunted and returned to "The Faerie -Queene"; so silence came once more upon the house. - - -III - -Three o'clock went into four. The room paled, the dark outside was -shot through with damp and chill, and Wessel, cupping his brain in his -hands, bent low over his table, tracing through the pattern of knights -and fairies and the harrowing distresses of many girls. There were -dragons chortling along the narrow street outside; when the sleepy -armorer's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clink and -clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching -cavalcade. - -A fog shut down at the first flare of dawn, and the room was grayish -yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and -pulled open the door. His guest turned on him a face pale as parchment -in which two distraught eyes burned like great red letters. He had -drawn a chair close to Wessel's _prie-dieu_ which he was using as -a desk; and on it was an amazing stack of closely written pages. With -a long sigh Wessel withdrew and returned to his siren, calling himself -fool for not claiming his bed here at dawn. - -The dump of boots outside, the croaking of old beldames from attic to -attic, the dull murmur of morning, unnerved him, and, dozing, he -slumped in his chair, his brain, overladen with sound and color, -working intolerably over the imagery that stacked it. In this restless -dream of his he was one of a thousand groaning bodies crushed near the -sun, a helpless bridge for the strong-eyed Apollo. The dream tore at -him, scraped along his mind like a ragged knife. When a hot hand -touched his shoulder, he awoke with what was nearly a scream to find -the fog thick in the room and his guest, a gray ghost of misty stuff, -beside him with a pile of paper in his hand. - -"It should be a most intriguing tale, I believe, though it requires -some going over. May I ask you to lock it away, and in God's name let -me sleep?" - -He waited for no answer, but thrust the pile at Wessel, and literally -poured himself like stuff from a suddenly inverted bottle upon a couch -in the corner, slept, with his breathing regular, but his brow -wrinkled in a curious and somewhat uncanny manner. - -Wessel yawned sleepily and, glancing at the scrawled, uncertain first -page, he began reading aloud very softly: - - _The Rape of Lucrece - - "From the besieged Ardea all in post, - Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, - Lust-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman host--"_ - - - - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - - -Merlin Grainger was employed by the Moonlight Quill Bookshop, which -you may have visited, just around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton on -Forty-seventh Street. The Moonlight Quill is, or rather was, a very -romantic little store, considered radical and admitted dark. It was -spotted interiorly with red and orange posters of breathless exotic -intent, and lit no less by the shiny reflecting bindings of special -editions than by the great squat lamp of crimson satin that, lighted -through all the day, swung overhead. It was truly a mellow bookshop. -The words "Moonlight Quill" were worked over the door in a sort of -serpentine embroidery. The windows seemed always full of something -that had passed the literary censors with little to spare; volumes -with covers of deep orange which offer their titles on little white -paper squares. And over all there was the smell of the musk, which the -clever, inscrutable Mr. Moonlight Quill ordered to be sprinkled -about-the smell half of a curiosity shop in Dickens' London and half -of a coffee-house on the warm shores of the Bosphorus. - -From nine until five-thirty Merlin Grainger asked bored old ladies in -black and young men with dark circles under their eyes if they "cared -for this fellow" or were interested in first editions. Did they buy -novels with Arabs on the cover, or books which gave Shakespeare's -newest sonnets as dictated psychically to Miss Sutton of South Dakota? -he sniffed. As a matter of fact, his own taste ran to these latter, -but as an employee at the Moonlight Quill he assumed for the working -day the attitude of a disillusioned connoisseur. - -After he had crawled over the window display to pull down the front -shade at five-thirty every afternoon, and said good-bye to the -mysterious Mr. Moonlight Quill and the lady clerk, Miss McCracken, and -the lady stenographer, Miss Masters, he went home to the girl, -Caroline. He did not eat supper with Caroline. It is unbelievable that -Caroline would have considered eating off his bureau with the collar -buttons dangerously near the cottage cheese, and the ends of Merlin's -necktie just missing his glass of milk--he had never asked her to eat -with him. He ate alone. He went into Braegdort's delicatessen on Sixth -Avenue and bought a box of crackers, a tube of anchovy paste, and some -oranges, or else a little jar of sausages and some potato salad and a -bottled soft drink, and with these in a brown package he went to his -room at Fifty-something West Fifty-eighth Street and ate his supper -and saw Caroline. - -Caroline was a very young and gay person who lived with some older -lady and was possibly nineteen. She was like a ghost in that she never -existed until evening. She sprang into life when the lights went on in -her apartment at about six, and she disappeared, at the latest, about -midnight. Her apartment was a nice one, in a nice building with a -white stone front, opposite the south side of Central Park. The back -of her apartment faced the single window of the single room occupied -by the single Mr. Grainger. - -He called her Caroline because there was a picture that looked like -her on the jacket of a book of that name down at the Moonlight Quill. - -Now, Merlin Grainger was a thin young man of twenty-five, with dark -hair and no mustache or beard or anything like that, but Caroline was -dazzling and light, with a shimmering morass of russet waves to take -the place of hair, and the sort of features that remind you of -kisses--the sort of features you thought belonged to your first love, -but know, when you come across an old picture, didn't. She dressed in -pink or blue usually, but of late she had sometimes put on a slender -black gown that was evidently her especial pride, for whenever she -wore it she would stand regarding a certain place on the wall, which -Merlin thought most be a mirror. She sat usually in the profile chair -near the window, but sometimes honored the _chaise longue_ by the -lamp, and often she leaned 'way back and smoked a cigarette with -posturings of her arms and hands that Merlin considered very graceful. - -At another time she had come to the window and stood in it -magnificently, and looked out because the moon had lost its way and -was dripping the strangest and most transforming brilliance into the -areaway between, turning the motif of ash-cans and clothes-lines into -a vivid impressionism of silver casks and gigantic gossamer cobwebs. -Merlin was sitting in plain sight, eating cottage cheese with sugar -and milk on it; and so quickly did he reach out for the window cord -that he tipped the cottage cheese into his lap with his free hand--and -the milk was cold and the sugar made spots on his trousers, and he was -sure that she had seen him after all. - -Sometimes there were callers--men in dinner coats, who stood and -bowed, hat in hand and coat on arm, as they talked to Caroline; then -bowed some more and followed her out of the light, obviously bound for -a play or for a dance. Other young men came and sat and smoked -cigarettes, and seemed trying to tell Caroline something--she sitting -either in the profile chair and watching them with eager intentness or -else in the _chaise longue_ by the lamp, looking very lovely and -youthfully inscrutable indeed. - -Merlin enjoyed these calls. Of some of the men he approved. Others won -only his grudging toleration, one or two he loathed--especially the -most frequent caller, a man with black hair and a black goatee and a -pitch-dark soul, who seemed to Merlin vaguely familiar, but whom he -was never quite able to recognize. - -Now, Merlin's whole life was not "bound up with this romance he had -constructed"; it was not "the happiest hour of his day." He never -arrived in time to rescue Caroline from "clutches"; nor did he even -marry her. A much stranger thing happened than any of these, and it is -this strange thing that will presently be set down here. It began one -October afternoon when she walked briskly into the mellow interior of -the Moonlight Quill. - -It was a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, -and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York -afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, whisking -along battered newspapers and pieces of things, and little lights were -pricking out all the windows--it was so desolate that one was sorry -for the tops of sky-scrapers lost up there in the dark green and gray -heaven, and felt that now surely the farce was to close, and presently -all the buildings would collapse like card houses, and pile up in a -dusty, sardonic heap upon all the millions who presumed to wind in and -out of them. - -At least these were the sort of musings that lay heavily upon the soul -of Merlin Grainger, as he stood by the window putting a dozen books -back in a row after a cyclonic visit by a lady with ermine trimmings. -He looked out of the window full of the most distressing thoughts--of -the early novels of H. G. Wells, of the boot of Genesis, of how Thomas -Edison had said that in thirty years there would be no dwelling-houses -upon the island, but only a vast and turbulent bazaar; and then he set -the last book right side up, turned--and Caroline walked coolly into -the shop. - -She was dressed in a jaunty but conventional walking costume--he -remembered this when he thought about it later. Her skirt was plaid, -pleated like a concertina; her jacket was a soft but brisk tan; her -shoes and spats were brown and her hat, small and trim, completed her -like the top of a very expensive and beautifully filled candy box. - -Merlin, breathless and startled, advanced nervously toward her. - -"Good-afternoon--" he said, and then stopped--why, he did not know, -except that it came to him that something very portentous in his life -was about to occur, and that it would need no furbishing but silence, -and the proper amount of expectant attention. And in that minute -before the thing began to happen he had the sense of a breathless -second hanging suspended in time: he saw through the glass partition -that bounded off the little office the malevolent conical head of his -employer, Mr. Moonlight Quill, bent over his correspondence. He saw -Miss McCracken and Miss Masters as two patches of hair drooping over -piles of paper; he saw the crimson lamp overhead, and noticed with a -touch of pleasure how really pleasant and romantic it made the -book-store seem. - -Then the thing happened, or rather it began to happen. Caroline picked -up a volume of poems lying loose upon a pile, fingered it absently -with her slender white hand, and suddenly, with an easy gesture, -tossed it upward toward the ceiling where it disappeared in the -crimson lamp and lodged there, seen through the illuminated silk as a -dark, bulging rectangle. This pleased her--she broke into young, -contagious laughter, in which Merlin found himself presently joining. - -"It stayed up!" she cried merrily. "It stayed up, didn't it?" To both -of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity. Their laughter -mingled, filled the bookshop, and Merlin was glad to find that her -voice was rich and full of sorcery. - -"Try another," he found himself suggesting--"try a red one." - -At this her laughter increased, and she had to rest her hands upon the -stack to steady herself. - -"Try another," she managed to articulate between spasms of mirth. "Oh, -golly, try another!" - -"Try two." - -"Yes, try two. Oh, I'll choke if I don't stop laughing. Here it goes." - -Suiting her action to the word, she picked up a red book and sent it -in a gentle hyperbola toward the ceiling, where it sank into the lamp -beside the first. It was a few minutes before either of them could do -more than rock back and forth in helpless glee; but then by mutual -agreement they took up the sport anew, this time in unison. Merlin -seized a large, specially bound French classic and whirled it upward. -Applauding his own accuracy, he took a best-seller in one hand and a -book on barnacles in the other, and waited breathlessly while she made -her shot. Then the business waxed fast and furious--sometimes they -alternated, and, watching, he found how supple she was in every -movement; sometimes one of them made shot after shot, picking up the -nearest book, sending it off, merely taking time to follow it with a -glance before reaching for another. Within three minutes they had -cleared a little place on the table, and the lamp of crimson satin was -so bulging with books that it was near breaking. - -"Silly game, basket-ball," she cried scornfully as a book left her -hand. "High-school girls play it in hideous bloomers." - -"Idiotic," he agreed. - -She paused in the act of tossing a book, and replaced it suddenly in -its position on the table. - -"I think we've got room to sit down now," she said gravely. - -They had; they had cleared an ample space for two. With a faint touch -of nervousness Merlin glanced toward Mr. Moonlight Quill's glass -partition, but the three heads were still bent earnestly over their -work, and it was evident that they had not seen what had gone on in -the shop. So when Caroline put her hands on the table and hoisted -herself up Merlin calmly imitated her, and they sat side by side -looking very earnestly at each other. - -"I had to see you," she began, with a rather pathetic expression in -her brown eyes. - -"I know." - -"It was that last time," she continued, her voice trembling a little, -though she tried to keep it steady. "I was frightened. I don't like -you to eat off the dresser. I'm so afraid you'll--you'll swallow a -collar button." - -"I did once--almost," he confessed reluctantly, "but it's not so easy, -you know. I mean you can swallow the flat part easy enough or else the -other part--that is, separately--but for a whole collar button you'd -have to have a specially made throat." He was astonishing himself by -the debonnaire appropriateness of his remarks. Words seemed for the -first time in his life to ran at him shrieking to be used, gathering -themselves into carefully arranged squads and platoons, and being -presented to him by punctilious adjutants of paragraphs. - -"That's what scared me," she said. "I knew you had to have a specially -made throat--and I knew, at least I felt sure, that you didn't have -one." - -He nodded frankly. - -"I haven't. It costs money to have one--more money unfortunately than -I possess." - -He felt no shame in saying this--rather a delight in making the -admission--he knew that nothing he could say or do would be beyond her -comprehension; least of all his poverty, and the practical -impossibility of ever extricating himself from it. - -Caroline looked down at her wrist watch, and with a little cry slid -from the table to her feet. - -"It's after five," she cried. "I didn't realize. I have to be at the -Ritz at five-thirty. Let's hurry and get this done. I've got a bet on -it." - -With one accord they set to work. Caroline began the matter by seizing -a book on insects and sending it whizzing, and finally crashing -through the glass partition that housed Mr. Moonlight Quill. The -proprietor glanced up with a wild look, brushed a few pieces of glass -from his desk, and went on with his letters. Miss McCracken gave no -sign of having heard--only Miss Masters started and gave a little -frightened scream before she bent to her task again. - -But to Merlin and Caroline it didn't matter. In a perfect orgy of -energy they were hurling book after book in all directions until -sometimes three or four were in the air at once, smashing against -shelves, cracking the glass of pictures on the walls, falling in -bruised and torn heaps upon the floor. It was fortunate that no -customers happened to come in, for it is certain they would never have -come in again--the noise was too tremendous, a noise of smashing and -ripping and tearing, mixed now and then with the tinkling of glass, -the quick breathing of the two throwers, and the intermittent -outbursts of laughter to which both of them periodically surrendered. - -At five-thirty Caroline tossed a last book at the lamp, and gave the -final impetus to the load it carried. The weakened silk tore and -dropped its cargo in one vast splattering of white and color to the -already littered floor. Then with a sigh of relief she turned to -Merlin and held out her hand. - -"Good-by," she said simply. - -"Are you going?" He knew she was. His question was simply a lingering -wile to detain her and extract for another moment that dazzling -essence of light he drew from her presence, to continue his enormous -satisfaction in her features, which were like kisses and, he thought, -like the features of a girl he had known back in 1910. For a minute he -pressed the softness of her hand--then she smiled and withdrew it and, -before he could spring to open the door, she had done it herself and -was gone out into the turbid and ominous twilight that brooded -narrowly over Forty-seventh Street. - -I would like to tell you how Merlin, having seen how beauty regards -the wisdom of the years, walked into the little partition of Mr. -Moonlight Quill and gave up his job then and there; thence issuing out -into the street a much finer and nobler and increasingly ironic man. -But the truth is much more commonplace. Merlin Grainger stood up and -surveyed the wreck of the bookshop, the ruined volumes, the torn silk -remnants of the once beautiful crimson lamp, the crystalline -sprinkling of broken glass which lay in iridescent dust over the whole -interior--and then he went to a corner where a broom was kept and -began cleaning up and rearranging and, as far as he was able, -restoring the shop to its former condition. He found that, though some -few of the books were uninjured, most of them had suffered in varying -extents. The backs were off some, the pages were torn from others, -still others were just slightly cracked in the front, which, as all -careless book returners know, makes a book unsalable, and therefore -second-hand. - -Nevertheless by six o'clock he had done much to repair the damage. He -had returned the books to their original places, swept the floor, and -put new lights in the sockets overhead. The red shade itself was -ruined beyond redemption, and Merlin thought in some trepidation that -the money to replace it might have to come out of his salary. At six, -therefore, having done the best he could, he crawled over the front -window display to pull down the blind. As he was treading delicately -back, he saw Mr. Moonlight Quill rise from his desk, put on his -overcoat and hat, and emerge into the shop. He nodded mysteriously at -Merlin and went toward the door. With his hand on the knob he paused, -turned around, and in a voice curiously compounded of ferocity and -uncertainty, he said: - -"If that girl comes in here again, you tell her to behave." - -With that he opened the door, drowning Merlin's meek "Yessir" in its -creak, and went out. - -Merlin stood there for a moment, deciding wisely not to worry about -what was for the present only a possible futurity, and then he went -into the back of the shop and invited Miss Masters to have supper with -him at Pulpat's French Restaurant, where one could still obtain red -wine at dinner, despite the Great Federal Government. Miss Masters -accepted. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly," she said. - -Merlin laughed inwardly as he compared her to Caroline, or rather as -he didn't compare her. There was no comparison. - - -II - -Mr. Moonlight Quill, mysterious, exotic, and oriental in temperament -was, nevertheless, a man of decision. And it was with decision that he -approached the problem of his wrecked shop. Unless he should make an -outlay equal to the original cost of his entire stock--a step which -for certain private reasons he did not wish to take--it would be -impossible for him to continue in business with the Moonlight Quill as -before. There was but one thing to do. He promptly turned his -establishment from an up-to-the-minute book-store into a second-hand -bookshop. The damaged books were marked down from twenty-five to fifty -per cent, the name over the door whose serpentine embroidery had once -shone so insolently bright, was allowed to grow dim and take on the -indescribably vague color of old paint, and, having a strong penchant -for ceremonial, the proprietor even went so far as to buy two -skull-caps of shoddy red felt, one for himself and one for his clerk, -Merlin Grainger. Moreover, he let his goatee grow until it resembled -the tail-feathers of an ancient sparrow and substituted for a once -dapper business suit a reverence-inspiring affair of shiny alpaca. - -In fact, within a year after Caroline's catastrophic visit to the -bookshop the only thing in it that preserved any semblance of being up -to date was Miss Masters. Miss McCracken had followed in the footsteps -of Mr. Moonlight Quill and become an intolerable dowd. - -For Merlin too, from a feeling compounded of loyalty and listlessness, -had let his exterior take on the semblance of a deserted garden. He -accepted the red felt skull-cap as a symbol of his decay. Always a -young man known, as a "pusher," he had been, since the day of his -graduation from the manual training department of a New York High -School, an inveterate brusher of clothes, hair, teeth, and even -eyebrows, and had learned the value of laying all his clean socks toe -upon toe and heel upon heel in a certain drawer of his bureau, which -would be known as the sock drawer. - -These things, he felt, had won him his place in the greatest splendor -of the Moonlight Quill. It was due to them that he was not still -making "chests useful for keeping things," as he was taught with -breathless practicality in High School, and selling them to whoever -had use of such chests--possibly undertakers. Nevertheless when the -progressive Moonlight Quill became the retrogressive Moonlight Quill -he preferred to sink with it, and so took to letting his suits gather -undisturbed the wispy burdens of the air and to throwing his socks -indiscriminately into the shirt drawer, the underwear drawer, and even -into no drawer at all. It was not uncommon in his new carelessness to -let many of his clean clothes go directly back to the laundry without -having ever been worn, a common eccentricity of impoverished -bachelors. And this in the face of his favorite magazines, which at -that time were fairly staggering with articles by successful authors -against the frightful impudence of the condemned poor, such as the -buying of wearable shirts and nice cuts of meat, and the fact that -they preferred good investments in personal jewelry to respectable -ones in four per cent saving-banks. - -It was indeed a strange state of affairs and a sorry one for many -worthy and God-fearing men. For the first time in the history of the -Republic almost any negro north of Georgia could change a one-dollar -bill. But as at that time the cent was rapidly approaching the -purchasing power of the Chinese ubu and was only a thing you got back -occasionally after paying for a soft drink, and could use merely in -getting your correct weight, this was perhaps not so strange a -phenomenon as it at first seems. It was too curious a state of things, -however, for Merlin Grainger to take the step that he did take--the -hazardous, almost involuntary step of proposing to Miss Masters. -Stranger still that she accepted him. - -It was at Pulpat's on Saturday night and over a $1.75 bottle of water -diluted with _vin ordinaire_ that the proposal occurred. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly, doesn't it you?" chattered Miss -Masters gaily. - -"Yes," answered Merlin absently; and then, after a long and pregnant -pause: "Miss Masters--Olive--I want to say something to you if you'll -listen to me." - -The tingliness of Miss Masters (who knew what was coming) increased -until it seemed that she would shortly be electrocuted by her own -nervous reactions. But her "Yes, Merlin," came without a sign or -flicker of interior disturbance. Merlin swallowed a stray bit of air -that he found in his mouth. - -"I have no fortune," he said with the manner of making an -announcement. "I have no fortune at all." - -Their eyes met, locked, became wistful, and dreamy and beautiful. - -"Olive," he told her, "I love you." - -"I love you too, Merlin," she answered simply. "Shall we have another -bottle of wine?" - -"Yes," he cried, his heart beating at a great rate. "Do you mean--" - -"To drink to our engagement," she interrupted bravely. "May it be a -short one!" - -"No!" he almost shouted, bringing his fist fiercely down upon the -table. "May it last forever!" - -"What?" - -"I mean--oh, I see what you mean. You're right. May it be a short -one." He laughed and added, "My error." - -After the wine arrived they discussed the matter thoroughly. - -"We'll have to take a small apartment at first," he said, "and I -believe, yes, by golly, I know there's a small one in the house where -I live, a big room and a sort of a dressing-room-kitchenette and the -use of a bath on the same floor." - -She clapped her hands happily, and he thought how pretty she was -really, that is, the upper part of her face--from the bridge of the -nose down she was somewhat out of true. She continued enthusiastically: - -"And as soon as we can afford it we'll take a real swell apartment, -with an elevator and a telephone girl." - -"And after that a place in the country--and a car." - -"I can't imagine nothing more fun. Can you?" - -Merlin fell silent a moment. He was thinking that he would have to -give up his room, the fourth floor rear. Yet it mattered very little -now. During the past year and a half--in fact, from the very date of -Caroline's visit to the Moonlight Quill--he had never seen her. For a -week after that visit her lights had failed to go on--darkness brooded -out into the areaway, seemed to grope blindly in at his expectant, -uncurtained window. Then the lights had appeared at last, and instead -of Caroline and her callers they stowed a stodgy family--a little man -with a bristly mustache and a full-bosomed woman who spent her -evenings patting her hips and rearranging bric--brac. After two days -of them Merlin had callously pulled down his shade. - -No, Merlin could think of nothing more fun than rising in the world -with Olive. There would be a cottage in a suburb, a cottage painted -blue, just one class below the sort of cottages that are of white -stucco with a green roof. In the grass around the cottage would be -rusty trowels and a broken green bench and a baby-carriage with a -wicker body that sagged to the left. And around the grass and the -baby-carriage and the cottage itself, around his whole world there -would be the arms of Olive, a little stouter, the arms of her -neo-Olivian period, when, as she walked, her cheeks would tremble up -and down ever so slightly from too much face-massaging. He could hear -her voice now, two spoons' length away: - -"I knew you were going to say this to-night, Merlin. I could see--" - -She could see. Ah--suddenly he wondered how much she could see. Could -she see that the girl who had come in with a party of three men and -sat down at the next table was Caroline? Ah, could she see that? Could -she see that the men brought with them liquor far more potent than -Pulpat's red ink condensed threefold?... - -Merlin stared breathlessly, half-hearing through an auditory ether -Olive's low, soft monologue, as like a persistent honey-bee she sucked -sweetness from her memorable hour. Merlin was listening to the -clinking of ice and the fine laughter of all four at some -pleasantry--and that laughter of Caroline's that he knew so well -stirred him, lifted him, called his heart imperiously over to her -table, whither it obediently went. He could see her quite plainly, and -he fancied that in the last year and a half she had changed, if ever -so slightly. Was it the light or were her cheeks a little thinner and -her eyes less fresh, if more liquid, than of old? Yet the shadows were -still purple in her russet hair; her mouth hinted yet of kisses, as -did the profile that came sometimes between his eyes and a row of -books, when it was twilight in the bookshop where the crimson lamp -presided no more. - -And she had been drinking. The threefold flush in her cheeks was -compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic--that he could tell. -She was making great amusement for the young man on her left and the -portly person on her right, and even for the old fellow opposite her, -for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly -reproachful cackles of another generation. Merlin caught the words of -a song she was intermittently singing-- - - _"Just snap your fingers at care, - Don't cross the bridge 'til you're there--"_ - -The portly person filled her glass with chill amber. A waiter after -several trips about the table, and many helpless glances at Caroline, -who was maintaining a cheerful, futile questionnaire as to the -succulence of this dish or that, managed to obtain the semblance of an -order and hurried away.... - -Olive was speaking to Merlin-- - -"When, then?" she asked, her voice faintly shaded with disappointment. -He realized that he had just answered no to some question she had -asked him. - -"Oh, sometime." - -"Don't you--care?" - -A rather pathetic poignancy in her question brought his eyes back to -her. - -"As soon as possible, dear," he replied with surprising tenderness. -"In two months--in June." - -"So soon?" Her delightful excitement quite took her breath away. - -"Oh, yes, I think we'd better say June. No use waiting." - -Olive began to pretend that two months was really too short a time for -her to make preparations. Wasn't he a bad boy! Wasn't he impatient, -though! Well, she'd show him he mustn't be too quick with _her_. -Indeed he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to -marry him at all. - -"June," he repeated sternly. - -Olive sighed and smiled and drank her coffee, her little finger lifted -high above the others in true refined fashion. A stray thought came to -Merlin that he would like to buy five rings and throw at it. - -"By gosh!" he exclaimed aloud. Soon he _would_ be putting rings -on one of her fingers. - -His eyes swung sharply to the right. The party of four had become so -riotous that the head-waiter had approached and spoken to them. -Caroline was arguing with this head-waiter in a raised voice, a voice -so clear and young that it seemed as though the whole restaurant would -listen--the whole restaurant except Olive Masters, self-absorbed in -her new secret. - -"How do you do?" Caroline was saying. "Probably the handsomest -head-waiter in captivity. Too much noise? Very unfortunate. -Something'll have to be done about it. Gerald"--she addressed the man -on her right--"the head-waiter says there's too much noise. Appeals to -us to have it stopped. What'll I say?" - -"Sh!" remonstrated Gerald, with laughter. "Sh!" and Merlin heard him -add in an undertone: "All the bourgeoisie will be aroused. This is -where the floorwalkers learn French." - -Caroline sat up straight in sudden alertness. - -"Where's a floorwalker?" she cried. "Show me a floorwalker." This -seemed to amuse the party, for they all, including Caroline, burst -into renewed laughter. The head-waiter, after a last conscientious but -despairing admonition, became Gallic with his shoulders and retired -into the background. - -Pulpat's, as every one knows, has the unvarying respectability of the -table d'hte. It is not a gay place in the conventional sense. One -comes, drinks the red wine, talks perhaps a little more and a little -louder than usual under the low, smoky ceilings, and then goes home. -It closes up at nine-thirty, tight as a drum; the policeman is paid -off and given an extra bottle of wine for the missis, the coat-room -girl hands her tips to the collector, and then darkness crushes the -little round tables out of sight and life. But excitement was prepared -for Pulpat's this evening--excitement of no mean variety. A girl with -russet, purple-shadowed hair mounted to her table-top and began to -dance thereon. - -"_Sacr nom de Dieu!_ Come down off there!" cried the -head-waiter. "Stop that music!" - -But the musicians were already playing so loud that they could pretend -not to hear his order; having once been young, they played louder and -gayer than ever, and Caroline danced with grace and vivacity, her -pink, filmy dress swirling about her, her agile arms playing in -supple, tenuous gestures along the smoky air. - -A group of Frenchmen at a table near by broke into cries of applause, -in which other parties joined--in a moment the room was full of -clapping and shouting; half the diners were on their feet, crowding -up, and on the outskirts the hastily summoned proprietor was giving -indistinct vocal evidences of his desire to put an end to this thing -as quickly as possible. - -"... Merlin!" cried Olive, awake, aroused at last; "she's such a -wicked girl! Let's get out--now!" - -The fascinated Merlin protested feebly that the check was not paid. - -"It's all right. Lay five dollars on the table. I despise that girl. I -can't _bear_ to look at her." She was on her feet now, tagging at -Merlin's arm. - -Helplessly, listlessly, and then with what amounted to downright -unwillingness, Merlin rose, followed Olive dumbly as she picked her -way through the delirious clamor, now approaching its height and -threatening to become a wild and memorable riot. Submissively he took -his coat and stumbled up half a dozen steps into the moist April air -outside, his ears still ringing with the sound of light feet on the -table and of laughter all about and over the little world of the cafe. -In silence they walked along toward Fifth Avenue and a bus. - -It was not until next day that she told him about the wedding--how she -had moved the date forward: it was much better that they should be -married on the first of May. - - -III - -And married they were, in a somewhat stuffy manner, under the -chandelier of the flat where Olive lived with her mother. After -marriage came elation, and then, gradually, the growth of weariness. -Responsibility descended upon Merlin, the responsibility of making his -thirty dollars a week and her twenty suffice to keep them respectably -fat and to hide with decent garments the evidence that they were. - -It was decided after several weeks of disastrous and well-nigh -humiliating experiments with restaurants that they would join the -great army of the delicatessen-fed, so he took up his old way of life -again, in that he stopped every evening at Braegdort's delicatessen -and bought potatoes in salad, ham in slices, and sometimes even -stuffed tomatoes in bursts of extravagance. - -Then he would trudge homeward, enter the dark hallway, and climb three -rickety flights of stairs covered by an ancient carpet of long -obliterated design. The hall had an ancient smell--of the vegetables -of 1880, of the furniture polish in vogue when "Adam-and Eve" Bryan -ran against William McKinley, of portieres an ounce heavier with dust, -from worn-out shoes, and lint from dresses turned long since into -patch-work quilts. This smell would pursue him up the stairs, -revivified and made poignant at each landing by the aura of -contemporary cooking, then, as he began the next flight, diminishing -into the odor of the dead routine of dead generations. - -Eventually would occur the door of his room, which slipped open with -indecent willingness and closed with almost a sniff upon his "Hello, -dear! Got a treat for you to-night." - -Olive, who always rode home on the bus to "get a morsel of air," would -be making the bed and hanging up things. At his call she would come up -to him and give him a quick kiss with wide-open eyes, while he held -her upright like a ladder, his hands on her two arms, as though she -were a thing without equilibrium, and would, once he relinquished -hold, fall stiffly backward to the floor. This is the kiss that comes -in with the second year of marriage, succeeding the bridegroom kiss -(which is rather stagey at best, say those who know about such things, -and apt to be copied from passionate movies). - -Then came supper, and after that they went out for a walk, up two -blocks and through Central Park, or sometimes to a moving picture, -which taught them patiently that they were the sort of people for whom -life was ordered, and that something very grand and brave and -beautiful would soon happen to them if they were docile and obedient -to their rightful superiors and kept away from pleasure. - -Such was their day for three years. Then change came into their lives: -Olive had a baby, and as a result Merlin had a new influx of material -resources. In the third week of Olive's confinement, after an hour of -nervous rehearsing, he went into the office of Mr. Moonlight Quill and -demanded an enormous increase in salary. - -"I've been here ten years," he said; "since I was nineteen. I've -always tried to do my best in the interests of the business." - -Mr. Moonlight Quill said that he would think it over. Next morning he -announced, to Merlin's great delight, that he was going to put into -effect a project long premeditated--he was going to retire from active -work in the bookshop, confining himself to periodic visits and leaving -Merlin as manager with a salary of fifty dollars a week and a -one-tenth interest in the business. When the old man finished, -Merlin's cheeks were glowing and his eyes full of tears. He seized his -employer's hand and shook it violently, saying over and over again: - -"It's very nice of you, sir. It's very white of you. It's very, very -nice of you." - -So after ten years of faithful work in the store he had won out at -last. Looking back, he saw his own progress toward this hill of -elation no longer as a sometimes sordid and always gray decade of -worry and failing enthusiasm and failing dreams, years when the -moonlight had grown duller in the areaway and the youth had faded out -of Olive's face, but as a glorious and triumphant climb over obstacles -which he had determinedly surmounted by unconquerable will-power. The -optimistic self-delusion that had kept him from misery was seen now in -the golden garments of stern resolution. Half a dozen times he had -taken steps to leave the Moonlight Quill and soar upward, but through -sheer faintheartedness he had stayed on. Strangely enough he now -thought that those were times when he had exerted tremendous -persistence and had "determined" to fight it out where he was. - -At any rate, let us not for this moment begrudge Merlin his new and -magnificent view of himself. He had arrived. At thirty he had reached -a post of importance. He left the shop that evening fairly radiant, -invested every penny in his pocket in the most tremendous feast that -Braegdort's delicatessen offered, and staggered homeward with the -great news and four gigantic paper bags. The fact that Olive was too -sick to eat, that he made himself faintly but unmistakably ill by a -struggle with four stuffed tomatoes, and that most of the food -deteriorated rapidly in an iceless ice-box: all next day did not mar -the occasion. For the first time since the week of his marriage Merlin -Grainger lived under a sky of unclouded tranquillity. - -The baby boy was christened Arthur, and life became dignified, -significant, and, at length, centered. Merlin and Olive resigned -themselves to a somewhat secondary place in their own cosmos; but what -they lost in personality they regained in a sort of primordial pride. -The country house did not come, but a month in an Asbury Park -boarding-house each summer filled the gap; and during Merlin's two -weeks' holiday this excursion assumed the air of a really merry -jaunt--especially when, with the baby asleep in a wide room opening -technically on the sea, Merlin strolled with Olive along the thronged -board-walk puffing at his cigar and trying to look like twenty -thousand a year. - -With some alarm at the slowing up of the days and the accelerating of -the years, Merlin became thirty-one, thirty-two--then almost with a -rush arrived at that age which, with all its washing and panning, can -only muster a bare handful of the precious stuff of youth: he became -thirty-five. And one day on Fifth Avenue he saw Caroline. - -It was Sunday, a radiant, flowerful Easter morning and the avenue was -a pageant of lilies and cutaways and happy April-colored bonnets. -Twelve o'clock: the great churches were letting out their people--St. -Simon's, St. Hilda's, the Church of the Epistles, opened their doors -like wide mouths until the people pouring forth surely resembled happy -laughter as they met and strolled and chattered, or else waved white -bouquets at waiting chauffeurs. - -In front of the Church of the Epistles stood its twelve vestrymen, -carrying out the time-honored custom of giving away Easter eggs full -of face-powder to the church-going debutantes of the year. Around them -delightedly danced the two thousand miraculously groomed children of -the very rich, correctly cute and curled, shining like sparkling -little jewels upon their mothers' fingers. Speaks the sentimentalist -for the children of the poor? Ah, but the children of the rich, -laundered, sweet-smelling, complexioned of the country, and, above -all, with soft, in-door voices. - -Little Arthur was five, child of the middle class. Undistinguished, -unnoticed, with a nose that forever marred what Grecian yearnings his -features might have had, he held tightly to his mother's warm, sticky -hand, and, with Merlin on his other side, moved, upon the home-coming -throng. At Fifty-third Street, where there were two churches, the -congestion was at its thickest, its richest. Their progress was of -necessity retarded to such an extent that even little Arthur had not -the slightest difficulty in keeping up. Then it was that Merlin -perceived an open landaulet of deepest crimson, with handsome nickel -trimmings, glide slowly up to the curb and come to a stop. In it sat -Caroline. - -She was dressed in black, a tight-fitting gown trimmed with lavender, -flowered at the waist with a corsage of orchids. Merlin started and -then gazed at her fearfully. For the first time in the eight years -since his marriage he was encountering the girl again. But a girl no -longer. Her figure was slim as ever--or perhaps not quite, for a -certain boyish swagger, a sort of insolent adolescence, had gone the -way of the first blooming of her cheeks. But she was beautiful; -dignity was there now, and the charming lines of a fortuitous -nine-and-twenty; and she sat in the car with such perfect -appropriateness and self-possession that it made him breathless to -watch her. - -Suddenly she smiled--the smile of old, bright as that very Easter and -its flowers, mellower than ever--yet somehow with not quite the -radiance and infinite promise of that first smile back there in the -bookshop nine years before. It was a steelier smile, disillusioned and -sad. - -But it was soft enough and smile enough to make a pair of young men in -cutaway coats hurry over, to pull their high hats off their wetted, -iridescent hair; to bring them, flustered and bowing, to the edge of -her landaulet, where her lavender gloves gently touched their gray -ones. And these two were presently joined by another, and then two -more, until there was a rapidly swelling crowd around the landaulet. -Merlin would hear a young man beside him say to his perhaps -well-favored companion: - -"If you'll just pardon me a moment, there's some one I _have_ to -speak to. Walk right ahead. I'll catch up." - -Within three minutes every inch of the landaulet, front, back, and -side, was occupied by a man--a man trying to construct a sentence -clever enough to find its way to Caroline through the stream of -conversation. Luckily for Merlin a portion of little Arthur's clothing -had chosen the opportunity to threaten a collapse, and Olive had -hurriedly rushed him over against a building for some extemporaneous -repair work, so Merlin was able to watch, unhindered, the salon in the -street. - -The crowd swelled. A row formed in back of the first, -two more behind that. In the midst, an orchid rising from a black -bouquet, sat Caroline enthroned in her obliterated car, nodding and -crying salutations and smiling with such true happiness that, of a -sudden, a new relay of gentlemen had left their wives and consorts and -were striding toward her. - -The crowd, now phalanx deep, began to be augmented by the merely -curious; men of all ages who could not possibly have known Caroline -jostled over and melted into the circle of ever-increasing diameter, -until the lady in lavender was the centre of a vast impromptu -auditorium. - -All about her were faces--clean-shaven, bewhiskered, old, young, -ageless, and now, here and there, a woman. The mass was rapidly -spreading to the opposite curb, and, as St. Anthony's around the -corner let out its box-holders, it overflowed to the sidewalk and -crushed up against the iron picket-fence of a millionaire across the -street. The motors speeding along the avenue were compelled to stop, -and in a jiffy were piled three, five, and six deep at the edge of the -crowd; auto-busses, top-heavy turtles of traffic, plunged into the -jam, their passengers crowding to the edges of the roofs in wild -excitement and peering down into the centre of the mass, which -presently could hardly be seen from the mass's edge. - -The crush had become terrific. No fashionable audience at a -Yale-Princeton football game, no damp mob at a world's series, could -be compared with the panoply that talked, stared, laughed, and honked -about the lady in black and lavender. It was stupendous; it was -terrible. A quarter mile down the block a half-frantic policeman -called his precinct; on the same corner a frightened civilian crashed -in the glass of a fire-alarm and sent in a wild paean for all the -fire-engines of the city; up in an apartment high in one of the tall -buildings a hysterical old maid telephoned in turn for the prohibition -enforcement agent; the special deputies on Bolshevism, and the -maternity ward of Bellevue Hospital. - -The noise increased. The first fire-engine arrived, filling the Sunday -air with smoke, clanging and crying a brazen, metallic message down -the high, resounding walls. In the notion that some terrible calamity -had overtaken the city, two excited deacons ordered special services -immediately and set tolling the great bells of St. Hilda's and St. -Anthony's, presently joined by the jealous gongs of St. Simon's and -the Church of the Epistles. Even far off in the Hudson and the East -River the sounds of the commotion were heard, and the ferry-boats and -tugs and ocean liners set up sirens and whistles that sailed in -melancholy cadence, now varied, now reiterated, across the whole -diagonal width of the city from Riverside Drive to the gray -water-fronts of the lower East Side.... - -In the centre of her landaulet sat the lady in black and lavender, -chatting pleasantly first with one, then with another of that -fortunate few in cutaways who had found their way to speaking distance -in the first rush. After a while she glanced around her and beside her -with a look of growing annoyance. - -She yawned and asked the man nearest her if he couldn't run in -somewhere and get her a glass of water. The man apologized in some -embarrassment. He could not have moved hand or foot. He could not have -scratched his own ear.... - -As the first blast of the river sirens keened along the air, Olive -fastened the last safety-pin in little Arthur's rompers and looked up. -Merlin saw her start, stiffen slowly like hardening stucco, and then -give a little gasp of surprise and disapproval. - -"That woman," she cried suddenly. "Oh!" - -She flashed a glance at Merlin that mingled reproach and pain, and -without another word gathered up little Arthur with one hand, grasped -her husband by the other, and darted amazingly in a winding, bumping -canter through the crowd. Somehow people gave way before her; somehow -she managed to-retain her grasp on her son and husband; somehow she -managed to emerge two blocks up, battered and dishevelled, into an -open space, and, without slowing up her pace, darted down a -side-street. Then at last, when uproar had died away into a dim and -distant clamor, did she come to a walk and set little Arthur upon his -feet. - -"And on Sunday, too! Hasn't she disgraced herself enough?" This was -her only comment. She said it to Arthur, as she seemed to address her -remarks to Arthur throughout the remainder of the day. For some -curious and esoteric reason she had never once looked at her husband -during the entire retreat. - - -IV - -The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the -passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they -are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted -first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing -and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds -of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the -certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and -women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from -life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad -amusements and curiosities of youth, to a line with less, when we peel -down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, -our friends to a few to whom we are anaesthetic; ending up at last in -a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, where the shells -now whistle abominably, now are but half-heard as, by turns frightened -and tired, we sit waiting for death. - -At forty, then, Merlin was no different from himself at thirty-five; a -larger paunch, a gray twinkling near his ears, a more certain lack of -vivacity in his walk. His forty-five differed from his forty by a like -margin, unless one mention a slight deafness in his left ear. But at -fifty-five the process had become a chemical change of immense -rapidity. Yearly he was more and more an "old man" to his -family--senile almost, so far as his wife was concerned. He was by -this time complete owner of the bookshop. The mysterious Mr. Moonlight -Quill, dead some five years and not survived by his wife, had deeded -the whole stock and store to him, and there he still spent his days, -conversant now by name with almost all that man has recorded for three -thousand years, a human catalogue, an authority upon tooling and -binding, upon folios and first editions, an accurate inventory of a -thousand authors whom he could never have understood and had certainly -never read. - -At sixty-five he distinctly doddered. He had assumed the melancholy -habits of the aged so often portrayed by the second old man in -standard Victorian comedies. He consumed vast warehouses of time -searching for mislaid spectacles. He "nagged" his wife and was nagged -in turn. He told the same jokes three or four times a year at the -family table, and gave his son weird, impossible directions as to his -conduct in life. Mentally and materially he was so entirely different -from the Merlin Grainger of twenty-five that it seemed incongruous -that he should bear the same name. - -He worked still In the bookshop with the assistance of a youth, whom, -of course, he considered very idle, indeed, and a new young woman, -Miss Gaffney. Miss McCracken, ancient and unvenerable as himself, -still kept the accounts. Young Arthur was gone into Wall Street to -sell bonds, as all the young men seemed to be doing in that day. This, -of course, was as it should be. Let old Merlin get what magic he could -from his books--the place of young King Arthur was in the -counting-house. - -One afternoon at four when he had slipped noiselessly up to the front -of the store on his soft-soled slippers, led by a newly formed habit, -of which, to be fair, he was rather ashamed, of spying upon the young -man clerk, he looked casually out of the front window, straining his -faded eyesight to reach the street. A limousine, large, portentous, -impressive, had drawn to the curb, and the chauffeur, after -dismounting and holding some sort of conversation with persons in the -interior of the car, turned about and advanced in a bewildered fashion -toward the entrance of the Moonlight Quill. He opened the door, -shuffled in, and, glancing uncertainly at the old man in the -skull-cap, addressed him in a thick, murky voice, as though his words -came through a fog. - -"Do you--do you sell additions?" - -Merlin nodded. - -"The arithmetic books are in the back of the store." - -The chauffeur took off his cap and scratched a close-cropped, fuzzy -head. - -"Oh, naw. This I want's a detecatif story." He jerked a thumb back -toward the limousine. "She seen it in the paper. Firs' addition." - -Merlin's interest quickened. Here was possibly a big sale. - -"Oh, editions. Yes, we've advertised some firsts, but-detective -stories, I-don't-believe-What was the title?" - -"I forget. About a crime." - -"About a crime. I have-well, I have 'The Crimes of the Borgias'-full -morocco, London 1769, beautifully--" - -"Naw," interrupted the chauffeur, "this was one fella did this crime. -She seen you had it for sale in the paper." He rejected several -possible titles with the air of connoisseur. - -"'Silver Bones,'" he announced suddenly out of a slight pause. - -"What?" demanded Merlin, suspecting that the stiffness of his sinews -were being commented on. - -"Silver Bones. That was the guy that done the crime." - -"Silver Bones?" - -"Silver Bones. Indian, maybe." - -Merlin, stroked his grizzly cheeks. "Gees, Mister," went on the -prospective purchaser, "if you wanna save me an awful bawln' out jes' -try an' think. The old lady goes wile if everything don't run smooth." - -But Merlin's musings on the subject of Silver Bones were as futile as -his obliging search through the shelves, and five minutes later a very -dejected charioteer wound his way back to his mistress. Through the -glass Merlin could see the visible symbols of a tremendous uproar -going on in the interior of the limousine. The chauffeur made wild, -appealing gestures of his innocence, evidently to no avail, for when -he turned around and climbed back into the driver's seat his -expression was not a little dejected. - -Then the door of the limousine opened and gave forth a pale and -slender young man of about twenty, dressed in the attenuation of -fashion and carrying a wisp of a cane. He entered the shop, walked -past Merlin, and proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it. -Merlin approached him. - -"Anything I can do for you, sir?" - -"Old boy," said the youth coolly, "there are seveereal things; You can -first let me smoke my ciggy in here out of sight of that old lady in -the limousine, who happens to be my grandmother. Her knowledge as to -whether I smoke it or not before my majority happens to be a matter of -five thousand dollars to me. The second thing is that you should look -up your first edition of the 'Crime of Sylvester Bonnard' that you -advertised in last Sunday's _Times_. My grandmother there happens -to want to take it off your hands." - -Detecatif story! Crime of somebody! Silver Bones! All was explained. -With a faint deprecatory chuckle, as if to say that he would have -enjoyed this had life put him in the habit of enjoying anything, -Merlin doddered away to the back of his shop where his treasures were -kept, to get this latest investment which he had picked up rather -cheaply at the sale of a big collection. - -When he returned with it the young man was drawing on his cigarette -and blowing out quantities of smoke with immense satisfaction. - -"My God!" he said, "She keeps me so close to her the entire day -running idiotic errands that this happens to be my first puff in six -hours. What's the world coming to, I ask you, when a feeble old lady -in the milk-toast era can dictate to a man as to his personal vices. I -happen to be unwilling to be so dictated to. Let's see the book." - -Merlin passed it to him tenderly and the young man, after opening it -with a carelessness that gave a momentary jump to the book-dealer's -heart, ran through the pages with his thumb. - -"No illustrations, eh?" he commented. "Well, old boy, what's it worth? -Speak up! We're willing to give you a fair price, though why I don't -know." - -"One hundred dollars," said Merlin with a frown. - -The young man gave a startled whistle. - -"Whew! Come on. You're not dealing with somebody from the cornbelt. I -happen to be a city-bred man and my grandmother happens to be a -city-bred woman, though I'll admit it'd take a special tax -appropriation to keep her in repair. We'll give you twenty-five -dollars, and let me tell you that's liberal. We've got books in our -attic, up in our attic with my old play-things, that were written -before the old boy that wrote this was born." - -Merlin stiffened, expressing a rigid and meticulous horror. - -"Did your grandmother give you twenty-five dollars to buy this with?" - -"She did not. She gave me fifty, but she expects change. I know that -old lady." - -"You tell her," said Merlin with dignity, "that she has missed a very -great bargain." - -"Give you forty," urged the young man. "Come on now--be reasonable and -don't try to hold us up----" - -Merlin had wheeled around with the precious volume under his arm and -was about to return it to its special drawer in his office when there -was a sudden interruption. With unheard-of magnificence the front door -burst rather than swung open, and admitted in the dark interior a -regal apparition in black silk and fur which bore rapidly down upon -him. The cigarette leaped from the fingers of the urban young man and -he gave breath to an inadvertent "Damn!"--but it was upon Merlin that -the entrance seemed to have the most remarkable and incongruous -effect--so strong an effect that the greatest treasure of his shop -slipped from his hand and joined the cigarette on the floor. Before -him stood Caroline. - -She was an old woman, an old woman remarkably preserved, unusually -handsome, unusually erect, but still an old woman. Her hair was a -soft, beautiful white, elaborately dressed and jewelled; her face, -faintly rouged la grande dame, showed webs of wrinkles at the edges -of her eyes and two deeper lines in the form of stanchions connected -her nose with the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were dim, ill -natured, and querulous. - -But it was Caroline without a doubt: Caroline's features though in -decay; Caroline's figure, if brittle and stiff in movement; Caroline's -manner, unmistakably compounded of a delightful insolence and an -enviable self assurance; and, most of all, Caroline's voice, broken -and shaky, yet with a ring in it that still could and did make -chauffeurs want to drive laundry wagons and cause cigarettes to fall -from the fingers of urban grandsons. - -She stood and sniffed. Her eyes found the cigarette upon the floor. - -"What's that?" she cried. The words were not a question--they were an -entire litany of suspicion, accusation, confirmation, and decision. -She tarried over them scarcely an instant. "Stand up!" she said to her -grandson, "stand up and blow that nicotine out of your lungs!" - -The young man looked at her in trepidation. - -"Blow!" she commanded. - -He pursed his lips feebly and blew into the air. - -"Blow!" she repeated, more peremptorily than before. - -He blew again, helplessly, ridiculously. - -"Do you realize," she went on briskly, "that you've forfeited five -thousand dollars in five minutes?" - -Merlin momentarily expected the young man to fall pleading upon his -knees, but such is the nobility of human nature that he remained -standing--even blew again into the air, partly from nervousness, -partly, no doubt, with some vague hope of reingratiating himself. - -"Young ass!" cried Caroline. "Once more, just once more and you leave -college and go to work." - -This threat had such an overwhelming effect upon the young man that he -took on an even paler pallor than was natural to him. But Caroline was -not through. - -"Do you think I don't know what you and your brothers, yes, and your -asinine father too, think of me? Well, I do. You think I'm senile. You -think I'm soft. I'm not!" She struck herself with her-fist as though -to prove that she was a mass of muscle and sinew. "And I'll have more -brains left when you've got me laid out in the drawing-room some sunny -day than you and the rest of them were born with." - -"But Grandmother----" - -"Be quiet. You, a thin little stick of a boy, who if it weren't for my -money might have risen to be a journeyman barber out in the Bronx--Let -me see your hands. Ugh! The hands of a barber--_you_ presume to -be smart with _me_, who once had three counts and a bona-fide -duke, not to mention half a dozen papal titles pursue me from the city -of Rome to the city of New York." She paused, took breath. "Stand up! -Blow'!" - -The young man obediently blew. Simultaneously the door opened and an -excited gentleman of middle age who wore a coat and hat trimmed with -fur, and seemed, moreover, to be trimmed with the same sort of fur -himself on upper lip and chin, rushed into the store and up to -Caroline. - -"Found you at last," he cried. "Been looking for you all over town. -Tried your house on the 'phone and your secretary told me he thought -you'd gone to a bookshop called the Moonlight--" - -Caroline turned to him irritably. - -"Do I employ you for your reminiscences?" she snapped. "Are you my -tutor or my broker?" - -"Your broker," confessed the fur-trimmed man, taken somewhat aback. "I -beg your pardon. I came about that phonograph stock. I can sell for a -hundred and five." - -"Then do it." - -"Very well. I thought I'd better--" - -"Go sell it. I'm talking to my grandson." - -"Very well. I--" - -"Good-by." - -"Good-by, Madame." The fur-trimmed man made a slight bow and hurried -in some confusion from the shop. - -"As for you," said Caroline, turning to her grandson, "you stay just -where you are and be quiet." - -She turned to Merlin and included his entire length in a not -unfriendly survey. Then she smiled and he found himself smiling too. -In an instant they had both broken into a cracked but none the less -spontaneous chuckle. She seized his arm and hurried him to the other -side of the store. There they stopped, faced each other, and gave vent -to another long fit of senile glee. - -"It's the only way," she gasped in a sort of triumphant malignity. -"The only thing that keeps old folks like me happy is the sense that -they can make other people step around. To be old and rich and have -poor descendants is almost as much fun as to be young and beautiful -and have ugly sisters." - -"Oh, yes," chuckled Merlin. "I know. I envy you." - -She nodded, blinking. - -"The last time I was in here, forty years ago," she said, "you were a -young man very anxious to kick up your heels." - -"I was," he confessed. - -"My visit must have meant a good deal to you." - -"You have all along," he exclaimed. "I thought--I used to think at -first that you were a real person--human, I mean." - -She laughed. - -"Many men have thought me inhuman." - -"But now," continued Merlin excitedly, "I understand. Understanding is -allowed to us old people--after nothing much matters. I see now that -on a certain night when you danced upon a table-top you were nothing -but my romantic yearning for a beautiful and perverse woman." - -Her old eyes were far away, her voice no more than the echo of a -forgotten dream. - -"How I danced that night! I remember." - -"You were making an attempt at me. Olive's arms were closing about me -and you warned me to be free and keep my measure of youth and -irresponsibility. But it seemed like an effect gotten up at the last -moment. It came too late." - -"You are very old," she said inscrutably. "I did not realize." - -"Also I have not forgotten what you did to me when I was thirty-five. -You shook me with that traffic tie-up. It was a magnificent effort. -The beauty and power you radiated! You became personified even to my -wife, and she feared you. For weeks I wanted to slip out of the house -at dark and forget the stuffiness of life with music and cocktails and -a girl to make me young. But then--I no longer knew how." - -"And now you are so very old." - -With a sort of awe she moved back and away from him. - -"Yes, leave me!" he cried. "You are old also; the spirit withers with -the skin. Have you come here only to tell me something I had best -forget: that to be old and poor is perhaps more wretched than to be -old and rich; to remind me that _my_ son hurls my gray failure in -my face?" - -"Give me my book," she commanded harshly. "Be quick, old man!" - -Merlin looked at her once more and then patiently obeyed. He picked up -the book and handed it to her, shaking his head when she offered him a -bill. - -"Why go through the farce of paying me? Once you made me wreck these -very premises." - -"I did," she said in anger, "and I'm glad. Perhaps there had been -enough done to ruin _me_." - -She gave him a glance, half disdain, half ill-concealed uneasiness, -and with a brisk word to her urban grandson moved toward the door. - -Then she was gone--out of his shop--out of his life. The door clicked. -With a sigh he turned and walked brokenly back toward the glass -partition that enclosed the yellowed accounts of many years as well as -the mellowed, wrinkled Miss McCracken. - -Merlin regarded her parched, cobwebbed face with an odd sort of pity. -She, at any rate, had had less from life than he. No rebellious, -romantic spirit popping out unbidden had, in its memorable moments, -given her life a zest and a glory. - -Then Miss McGracken looked up and spoke to him: - -"Still a spunky old piece, isn't she?" - -Merlin started. - -"Who?" - -"Old Alicia Dare. Mrs. Thomas Allerdyce she is now, of course; has -been, these thirty years." - -"What? I don't understand you." Merlin sat down suddenly in his swivel -chair; his eyes were wide. - -"Why, surely, Mr. Grainger, you can't tell me that you've forgotten -her, when for ten years she was the most notorious character in New -York. Why, one time when she was the correspondent in the Throckmorton -divorce case she attracted so much attention on Fifth Avenue that -there was a traffic tie-up. Didn't you read about it in the papers." - -"I never used to read the papers." His ancient brain was whirring. - -"Well, you can't have forgotten the time she came in here and ruined -the business. Let me tell you I came near asking Mr. Moonlight Quill -for my salary, and clearing out." - -"Do you mean, that--that you _saw_ her?" - -"Saw her! How could I help it with the racket that went on. Heaven -knows Mr. Moonlight Quill didn't like it either but of course _he_ -didn't say anything. He was daffy about her and she could twist him -around her little finger. The second he opposed one of her whims she'd -threaten to tell his wife on him. Served him right. The idea of that -man falling for a pretty adventuress! Of course he was never rich -enough for _her_ even though the shop paid well in those days." - -"But when I saw her." stammered Merlin, "that is, when I -_thought_ saw her, she lived with her mother." - -"Mother, trash!". said Miss McCracken indignantly. "She had a woman -there she called 'Aunty', who was no more related to her than I am. -Oh, she was a bad one--but clever. Right after the Throckmorton -divorce case she married Thomas Allerdyce, and made herself secure for -life." - -"Who was she?" cried Merlin. "For God's sake what was she--a witch?" - -"Why, she was Alicia Dare, the dancer, of course. In those days you -couldn't pick up a paper without finding her picture." - -Merlin sat very quiet, his brain suddenly fatigued and stilled. He was -an old man now indeed, so old that it was impossible for him to dream -of ever having been young, so old that the glamour was gone out of the -world, passing not into the faces of children and into the persistent -comforts of warmth and life, but passing out of the range of sight and -feeling. He was never to smile again or to sit in a long reverie when -spring evenings wafted the cries of children in at his window until -gradually they became the friends of his boyhood out there, urging him -to come and play before the last dark came down. He was too old now -even for memories. - -That night he sat at supper with his wife and son, who had used him -for their blind purposes. Olive said: - -"Don't sit there like a death's-head. Say something." - -"Let him sit quiet," growled Arthur. "If you encourage him he'll tell -us a story we've heard a hundred times before." - -Merlin went up-stairs very quietly at nine o'clock. When he was in his -room and had closed the door tight he stood by it for a moment, his -thin limbs trembling. He knew now that he had always been a fool. - -"O Russet Witch!" - -But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many -temptations. There was nothing left but heaven, where he would meet -only those who, like him, had wasted earth. - - - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS - - -If you should look through the files of old magazines for the first -years of the present century you would find, sandwiched in between the -stories of Richard Harding Davis and Frank Norris and others long -since dead, the work of one Jeffrey Curtain: a novel or two, and -perhaps three or four dozen short stories. You could, if you were -interested, follow them along until, say, 1908, when they suddenly -disappeared. - -When you had read them all you would have been quite sure that here -were no masterpieces--here were passably amusing stories, a bit out of -date now, but doubtless the sort that would then have whiled away a -dreary half hour in a dental office. The man who did them was of good -intelligence, talented, glib, probably young. In the samples of his -work you found there would have been nothing to stir you to more than -a faint interest in the whims of life--no deep interior laughs, no -sense of futility or hint of tragedy. - -After reading them you would yawn and put the number back in the -files, and perhaps, if you were in some library reading-room, you -would decide that by way of variety you would look at a newspaper of -the period and see whether the Japs had taken Port Arthur. But if by -any chance the newspaper you had chosen was the right one and had -crackled open at the theatrical page, your eyes would have been -arrested and held, and for at least a minute you would have forgotten -Port Arthur as quickly as you forgot Chteau Thierry. For you would, -by this fortunate chance, be looking at the portrait of an exquisite -woman. - -Those were tie days of "Florodora" and of sextets, of pinched-in -waists and blown-out sleeves, of almost bustles and absolute ballet -skirts, but here, without doubt, disguised as she might be by the -unaccustomed stiffness and old fashion of her costume, was a butterfly -of butterflies. Here was the gayety of the period--the soft wine of -eyes, the songs that flurried hearts, the toasts and tie bouquets, the -dances and the dinners. Here was a Venus of the hansom, cab, the -Gibson girl in her glorious prime. Here was... - -...here was you. Find by looking at the name beneath, one Roxanne -Milbank, who had been chorus girl and understudy in "The Daisy Chain," -but who, by reason of an excellent performance when the star was -indisposed, had gained a leading part. - -You would look again--and wonder. Why you had never heard of her. Why -did her name not linger in popular songs and vaudeville jokes and -cigar bands, and the memory of that gay old uncle of yours along with -Lillian Russell and Stella Mayhew and Anna Held? Roxanne -Milbank-whither had she gone? What dark trap-door had opened suddenly -and swallowed her up? Her name was certainly not in last Sunday's -supplement on the list of actresses married to English noblemen. No -doubt she was dead--poor beautiful young lady--and quite forgotten. - -I am hoping too much. I am having you stumble on Jeffrey Curtains's -stories and Roxanne Milbank's picture. It would be incredible that you -should find a newspaper item six months later, a single item two -inches by four, which informed the public of the marriage, very -quietly, of Miss Roxanne Milbank, who had been on tour with "The Daisy -Chain," to Mr. Jeffrey Curtain, the popular author. "Mrs. Curtain," it -added dispassionately, "will retire from the stage." - -It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; -she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs -they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together. Yet had -Jeffrey Curtain kept at scrivening for twoscore years he could not -have put a quirk into one of his stories weirder than the quirk that -came into his own life. Had Roxanne Milbank played three dozen parts -and filled five thousand houses she could never have had a role with -more happiness and more despair than were in the fate prepared for -Roxanne Curtain. - -For a year they lived in hotels, travelled to California, to Alaska, -to Florida, to Mexico, loved and quarrelled gently, and gloried in the -golden triflings of his wit with her beauty--they were young and -gravely passionate; they demanded everything and then yielded -everything again in ecstasies of unselfishness and pride. She loved -the swift tones of his voice and his frantic, if unfounded jealousy. -He loved her dark radiance, the white irises of her eyes, the warm, -lustrous enthusiasm of her smile. - -"Don't you like her?" he would demand rather excitedly and shyly. -"Isn't she wonderful? Did you ever see--" - -"Yes," they would answer, grinning. "She's a wonder. You're lucky." - -The year passed. They tired of hotels. They bought an old house and -twenty acres near the town of Marlowe, half an hour from Chicago; -bought a little car, and moved out riotously with a pioneering -hallucination that would have confounded Balboa. - -"Your room will be here!" they cried in turn. - ---And then: - -"And my room here!" - -"And the nursery here when we have children." - -"And we'll build a sleeping porch--oh, next year." - -They moved out in April. In July Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry -Cromwell same to spend a week--they met him at the end of the long -lawn and hurried him proudly to the house. - -Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before -and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had -gathered from Jeffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as -Harry--Jeffrey had met her once and considered her--"shallow." But -Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparently happy, so -Jeffrey guessed that she was probably all right. - -"I'm making biscuits," chattered Roxanne gravely. "Can you wife make -biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know -how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can -make biscuits can surely do no----" - -"You'll have to come out here and live," said Jeffrey. "Get a place -out in the country like us, for you and Kitty." - -"You don't know Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her -theatres and vaudevilles." - -"Bring her out," repeated Jeffrey. "We'll have a colony. There's an -awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out!" - -They were at the porch steps now and Roxanne made a brisk gesture -toward a dilapidated structure on the right. - -"The garage," she announced. "It will also be Jeffrey's writing-room -within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I -will mix a cocktail." - -The two men ascended to the second floor--that is, they ascended -half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest's -suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed: - -"For God's sake, Harry, how do you like her?" - -"We will go up-stairs," answered his guest, "and we will shut the -door." - -Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library -Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of -biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose. - -"They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely. - -"Exquisite," murmured Harry. - -Roxanne beamed. - -"Taste one. I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all -and I can't bear to take them back until I find what they taste like." - -"Like manna, darling." - -Simultaneously the two men raised the biscuits to their lips, nibbled -tentatively. Simultaneously they tried to change the subject. But -Roxanne undeceived, set down the pan and seized a biscuit. After a -second her comment rang out with lugubrious finality: - -"Absolutely bum!" - -"Really----" - -"Why, I didn't notice----" - -Roxanne roared. - -"Oh, I'm useless," she cried laughing. "Turn me out, Jeffrey--I'm a -parasite; I'm no goal----" - -Jeffrey put his arm around her. - -"Darling, I'll eat your biscuits." - -"They're beautiful, anyway," insisted Roxanne. - -"They're-they're decorative," suggested Harry. - -Jeffrey took him up wildly. - -"That's the word. They're decorative; they're masterpieces. We'll use -them." - -He rushed to the kitchen and returned with a hammer and a handful of -nails. - -"We'll use them, by golly, Roxanne! We'll make a frieze out of them." - -"Don't!" wailed Roxanne. "Our beautiful house." - -"Never mind. We're going to have the library repapered in October. -Don't you remember?" - -"Well----" - -Bang! The first biscuit was impaled to the wall, where it quivered for -a moment like a live thing. - -Bang!... - -When Roxanne returned, with a second round of cocktails the biscuits -were in a perpendicular row, twelve of them, like a collection of -primitive spear-heads. - -"Roxanne," exclaimed Jeffrey, "you're an artist! Cook?--nonsense! You -shall illustrate my books!" - -During dinner the twilight faltered into dusk, and later it was a -starry dark outside, filled and permeated with the frail gorgeousness -of Roxanne's white dress and her tremulous, low laugh. - ---Such a little girl she is, thought Harry. Not as old as Kitty. - -He compared the two. Kitty--nervous without being sensitive, -temperamental without temperament, a woman who seemed to flit and -never light--and Roxanne, who was as young as spring night, and summed -up in her own adolescent laughter. - ---A good match for Jeffrey, he thought again. Two very young people, -the sort who'll stay very young until they suddenly find themselves -old. - -Harry thought these things between his constant thoughts about Kitty, -He was depressed about Kitty. It seemed to him that she was well -enough to come back to Chicago and bring his little son. He was -thinking vaguely of Kitty when he said good-night to his friend's wife -and his friend at the foot of the stairs. - -"You're our first real house guest," called Roxanne after him. "Aren't -you thrilled and proud?" - -When he was out of sight around the stair corner she turned to -Jeffrey, who was standing beside her resting his hand on the end of -the banister. - -"Are you tired, my dearest?" - -Jeffrey rubbed the centre of his forehead with his fingers. - -"A little. How did you know?" - -"Oh, how could I help knowing about you?" - -"It's a headache," he said moodily. "Splitting. I'll take some -aspirin." - -She reached over and snapped out the light, and with his arm tight -about her waist they walked up the stairs together. - - -II - -Harry's week passed. They drove about the dreaming lanes or idled in -cheerful inanity upon lake or lawn. In the evening Roxanne, sitting -inside, played to them while the ashes whitened on the glowing ends of -their cigars. Then came a telegram from Kitty saying that she wanted -Harry to come East and get her, so Roxanne and Jeffrey were left alone -in that privacy of which they never seemed to tire. - -"Alone" thrilled them again. They wandered about the house, each -feeling intimately the presence of the other; they sat on the same -side of the table like honeymooners; they were intensely absorbed, -intensely happy. - -The town of Marlowe, though a comparatively old settlement, had only -recently acquired a "society." Five or six years before, alarmed at -the smoky swelling of Chicago, two or three young married couples, -"bungalow people," had moved out; their friends had followed. The -Jeffrey Curtains found an already formed "set" prepared to welcome: -them; a country club, ballroom, and golf links yawned for them, and -there were bridge parties, and poker parties, and parties where they -drank beer, and parties where they drank nothing at all. - -It was at a poker party that they found themselves a week after -Harry's departure. There were two tables, and a good proportion of the -young wives were smoking and shouting their bets, and being very -daringly mannish for those days. - -Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation; she -wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice--beer gave -her a headache--and then passed from table to table, looking over -shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffrey and being pleasantly -unexcited and content. Jeffrey, with intense concentration, was -raising a pile of chips of all colors, and Roxanne knew by the -deepened wrinkle between his eyes that he was interested. She liked to -see him interested in small things. - -She crossed over quietly and sat down on the arm of his chair. - -She sat there five minutes, listening to the sharp intermittent -comments of the men and the chatter of the women, which rose from the -table like soft smoke--and yet scarcely hearing either. Then quite -innocently she reached out her hand, intending to place it on -Jeffrey's shoulder--as it touched him he started of a sudden, gave a -short grunt, and, sweeping back his arm furiously, caught her a -glancing blow on her elbow. - -There was a general gasp. Roxanne regained her balance, gave a little -cry, and rose quickly to her feet. It had been the greatest shock of -her life. This, from Jeffrey, the heart of kindness, of -consideration--this instinctively brutal gesture. - -The gasp became a silence. A dozen eyes were turned on Jeffrey, who -looked up as though seeing Roxanne for the first time. An expression -of bewilderment settled on his face. - -"Why--Roxanne----" he said haltingly. - -Into a dozen minds entered a quick suspicion, a rumor of scandal. -Could it be that behind the scenes with this couple, apparently so in -love, lurked some curious antipathy? Why else this streak of fire, -across such a cloudless heaven? - -"Jeffrey!"--Roxanne's voice was pleading--startled and horrified, she -yet knew that it was a mistake. Not once did it occur to her to blame -him or to resent it. Her word was a trembling supplication--"Tell me, -Jeffrey," it said, "tell Roxanne, your own Roxanne." - -"Why, Roxanne--" began Jeffrey again. The bewildered look changed to -pain. He was clearly as startled as she. "I didn't intend that," he -went on; "you startled me. You--I felt as if some one were attacking -me. I--how--why, how idiotic!" - -"Jeffrey!" Again the word was a prayer, incense offered up to a high -God through this new and unfathomable darkness. - -They were both on their feet, they were saying good-by, faltering, -apologizing, explaining. There was no attempt to pass it off easily. -That way lay sacrilege. Jeffrey had not been feeling well, they said. -He had become nervous. Back of both their minds was the unexplained -horror of that blow--the marvel that there had been for an instant -something between them--his anger and her fear--and now to both a -sorrow, momentary, no doubt, but to be bridged at once, at once, while -there was yet time. Was that swift water lashing under their feet--the -fierce glint of some uncharted chasm? - -Out in their car under the harvest moon he talked brokenly. It was -just--incomprehensible to him, he said. He had been thinking of the -poker game--absorbed--and the touch on his shoulder had seemed like an -attack. An attack! He clung to that word, flung it up as a shield. He -had hated what touched him. With the impact of his hand it had gone, -that--nervousness. That was all he knew. - -Both their eyes filled with tears and they whispered love there under -the broad night as the serene streets of Marlowe sped by. Later, when -they went to bed, they were quite calm. Jeffrey was to take a week off -all work--was simply to loll, and sleep, and go on long walks until -this nervousness left him. When they had decided this safety settled -down upon Roxanne. The pillows underhead became soft and friendly; the -bed on which they lay seemed wide, and white, and sturdy beneath the -radiance that streamed in at the window. - -Five days later, in the first cool of late afternoon, Jeffrey picked -up an oak chair and sent it crashing through his own front window. -Then he lay down on the couch like a child, weeping piteously and -begging to die. A blood clot the size of a marble had broken his -brain. - - -III - -There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one -has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue -and a new sun, that the quality of the life around has changed. It is -a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then -leading is a branch shoot of life and is related to life only as a -moving picture or a mirror--that the people, and streets, and houses -are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past. It was in such -a state that Roxanne found herself during the first months of -Jeffrey's illness. She slept only when she was utterly exhausted; she -awoke under a cloud. The long, sober-voiced consultations, the faint -aura of medicine in the halls, the sudden tiptoeing in a house that -had echoed to many cheerful footsteps, and, most of ail, Jeffrey's -white face amid the pillows of the bed they had shared--these things -subdued her and made her indelibly older. The doctors held out hope, -but that was all. A long rest, they said, and quiet. So responsibility -came to Roxanne. It was she who paid the bills, pored over his -bank-book, corresponded with his publishers. She was in the kitchen -constantly. She learned from the nurse how to prepare his meals and -after the first month took complete charge of the sick-room. She had -had to let the nurse go for reasons of economy. One of the two colored -girls left at the same time. Roxanne was realizing that they had been -living from short story to short story. - -The most frequent visitor was Harry Cromwell. He had been shocked and -depressed by the news, and though his wife was now living with him in -Chicago he found time to come out several times a month. Roxanne found -his sympathy welcome--there was some quality of suffering in the man, -some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. -Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with -Jeffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most -of all she needed and should have had. - -It was six months after Jeffrey's collapse and when the nightmare had -faded, leaving not the old world but a new one, grayer and colder, -that she wait to see Harry's wife. Finding herself in Chicago with an -extra hour before train time, she decided out of courtesy to call. - -As she stepped inside the door she had an immediate impression that -the apartment was very like some place she had seen before--and almost -instantly she remembered a round-the-corner bakery of her childhood, a -bakery full of rows and rows of pink frosted cakes--a stuffy pink, -pink as a food, pink triumphant, vulgar, and odious. - -And this apartment was like that. It was pink. It smelled pink! - -Mrs. Cromwell, attired in a wrapper of pink and black, opened the -door. Her hair was yellow, heightened, Roxanne imagined by a dash of -peroxide in the rinsing water every week. Her eyes were a thin waxen -blue--she was pretty and too consciously graceful. Her cordiality was -strident and intimate, hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that -it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice--never touching -nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. - -But to Roxanne these things were secondary; her eyes were caught and -held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean. -From its lowest hem up four inches it was sheerly dirty with the blue -dust of the floor; for the next three inches it was gray--then it -shaded off into its natural color, which, was--pink. It was dirty at -the sleeves, too, and at the collar--and when the woman turned to lead -the way into the parlor, Roxanne was sure that her neck was dirty. - -A one-sided rattle of conversation began. Mrs. Cromwell became -explicit about her likes and dislikes, her head, her stomach, her -teeth, her apartment--avoiding with a sort of insolent meticulousness -any inclusion of Roxanne with life, as if presuming that Roxanne, -having been dealt a blow, wished life to be carefully skirted. - -Roxanne smiled. That kimono! That neck! - -After five minutes a little boy toddled into the parlor--a dirty -little boy clad in dirty pink rompers. His face was smudgy--Roxanne -wanted to take him into her lap and wipe his nose; other parts in the -of his head needed attention, his tiny shoes were kicked out at the -toes. Unspeakable! - -"What a darling little boy!" exclaimed Roxanne, smiling radiantly. -"Come here to me." - -Mrs. Cromwell looked coldly at her son. - -"He will get dirty. Look at that face!" She held her head on one side -and regarded it critically. - -"Isn't he a _darling?_" repeated Roxanne. - -"Look at his rompers," frowned Mrs. Cromwell. - -"He needs a change, don't you, George?" - -George stared at her curiously. To his mind the word rompers -connotated a garment extraneously smeared, as this one. - -"I tried to make him look respectable this morning," complained Mrs. -Cromwell as one whose patience had been sorely tried, "and I found he -didn't have any more rompers--so rather than have him go round without -any I put him back in those--and his face--" - -"How many pairs has he?" Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious, "How -many feather fans have you?" she might have asked. - -"Oh,--" Mrs. Cromwell considered, wrinkling her pretty brow. "Five, I -think. Plenty, I know." - -"You can get them for fifty cents a pair." - -Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise--and the faintest superiority. -The price of rompers! - -"Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have plenty, but I haven't -had a minute all week to send the laundry out." Then, dismissing the -subject as irrelevant--"I must show you some things--" - -They rose and Roxanne followed her past an open bathroom door whose -garment-littered floor showed indeed that the laundry hadn't been sent -out for some time, into another room that was, so to speak, the -quintessence of pinkness. This was Mrs. Cromwell's room. - -Here the Hostess opened a closet door and displayed before' Roxanne's -eyes an amazing collection of lingerie. - -There were dozens of filmy marvels of lace and silk, all clean, -unruffled, seemingly not yet touched. On hangers beside them were -three new evening dresses. - -"I have some beautiful things," said Mrs. Cromwell, "but not much of a -chance to wear them. Harry doesn't care about going out." Spite crept -into her voice. "He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and -housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening." - -Roxanne smiled again. - -"You've got some beautiful clothes here." - -"Yes, I have. Let me show you----" - -"Beautiful," repeated Roxanne, interrupting, "but I'll have to run if -I'm going to catch my train." - -She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this -woman and shake her--shake her. She wanted her locked up somewhere and -set to scrubbing floors. - -"Beautiful," she repeated, "and I just came in for a moment." - -"Well, I'm sorry Harry isn't here." - -They moved toward the door. - -"--and, oh," said Roxanne with an effort--yet her voice was still -gentle and her lips were smiling--"I think it's Argile's where you can -get those rompers. Good-by." - -It was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to -Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six -months that her mind had been off Jeffrey. - - -IV - -A week later Harry appeared at Marlowe, arrived unexpectedly at five -o'clock, and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of -exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The -doctors were coming at five-thirty, bringing a celebrated nerve -specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed, -but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him. - -"What's the matter?" - -"Nothing, Roxanne," he denied. "I came to see how Jeff was doing. -Don't you bother about me." - -"Harry," insisted Roxanne, "there's something the matter." - -"Nothing," he repeated. "How's Jeff?" - -Anxiety darkened her face. - -"He's a little worse, Harry. Doctor Jewett has come on from New York. -They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try -and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original -blood clot." - -Harry rose. - -"Oh, I'm sorry," he said jerkily. "I didn't know you expected a -consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your -porch for an hour--" - -"Sit down," she commanded. - -Harry hesitated. - -"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped -him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet. -I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer." - -All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his -hands. - -"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried. -This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been getting my -breakfast down town--and--well, just after I went to the office she -left the house, went East to her mother's with George and a suitcase -full of lace underwear." - -"Harry!" - -"And I don't know--" - -There was a crunch on the gravel, a car turning into the drive. -Roxanne uttered a little cry. - -"It's Doctor Jewett." - -"Oh, I'll--" - -"You'll wait, won't you?" she interrupted abstractedly. He saw that -his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind. - -There was an embarrassing minute of vague, elided introductions and -then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the -stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa. - -For an hour he watched the sun creep up the patterned folds of the -chintz curtains. In the deep quiet a trapped wasp buzzing on the -inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From -time to time another buzzing drifted down from up-stairs, resembling -several more larger wasps caught on larger window-panes. He heard low -footfalls, the clink of bottles, the clamor of pouring water. - -What had he and Roxanne done that life should deal these crashing -blows to them? Up-stairs there was taking place a living inquest on -the soul of his friend; he was sitting here in a quiet room listening -to the plaint of a wasp, just as when he was a boy he had been -compelled by a strict aunt to sit hour-long on a chair and atone for -some misbehavior. But who had put him here? What ferocious aunt had -leaned out of the sky to make him atone for--what? - -About Kitty he felt a great hopelessness. She was too expensive--that -was the irremediable difficulty. Suddenly he hated her. He wanted to -throw her down and kick at her--to tell her she was a cheat and a -leech--that she was dirty. Moreover, she must give him his boy. - -He rose and began pacing up and down the room. Simultaneously he heard -some one begin walking along the hallway up-stairs in exact time with -him. He found himself wondering if they would walk in time until the -person reached the end of the hall. - -Kitty had gone to her mother. God help her, what a mother to go to! He -tried to imagine the meeting: the abused wife collapsing upon the -mother's breast. He could not. That Kitty was capable of any deep -grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as -something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of -course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider -this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped; a picture -flashed before him--of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he -could not see, of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was -surely: passion. - -"God!" he cried aloud. "God! God! God!" - -Then the pictures came thick and fast. The Kitty of this morning -faded; the soiled kimono rolled up and disappeared; the pouts, and -rages, and tears all were washed away. Again she was Kitty Carr--Kitty -Carr with yellow hair and great baby eyes. Ah, she had loved him, she -had loved him. - -After a while he perceived that something was amiss with him, -something that had nothing to do with Kitty or Jeff, something of a -different genre. Amazingly it burst on him at last; he was hungry. -Simple enough! He would go into the kitchen in a moment and ask the -colored cook for a sandwich. After that he must go back to the city. - -He paused at the wall, jerked at something round, and, fingering it -absently, put it to his mouth and tasted it as a baby tastes a bright -toy. His teeth closed on it--Ah! - -She'd left that damn kimono, that dirty pink kimono. She might have -had the decency to take it with her, he thought. It would hang in the -house like the corpse of their sick alliance. He would try to throw it -away, but he would never be able to bring himself to move it. It would -be like Kitty, soft and pliable, withal impervious. You couldn't move -Kitty; you couldn't reach Kitty. There was nothing there to reach. He -understood that perfectly--he had understood it all along. - -He reached to the wall for another biscuit and with an effort pulled -it out, nail and all. He carefully removed the nail from the centre, -wondering idly if he had eaten the nail with the first biscuit. -Preposterous! He would have remembered--it was a huge nail. He felt -his stomach. He must be very hungry. He considered--remembered--yesterday -he had had no dinner. It was the girl's day out and Kitty had -lain in her room eating chocolate drops. She had said she felt -"smothery" and couldn't bear having him near her. He had given -George a bath and put him to bed, and then lain down on the couch -intending to rest a minute before getting his own dinner. There -he had fallen asleep and awakened about eleven, to find that -there was nothing in the ice-box except a spoonful of potato salad. -This he had eaten, together with some chocolate drops that he found on -Kitty's bureau. This morning he had breakfasted hurriedly down town -before going to the office. But at noon, beginning to worry about -Kitty, he had decided to go home and take her out to lunch. After that -there had been the note on his pillow. The pile of lingerie in the -closet was gone--and she had left instructions for sending her trunk. - -He had never been so hungry, he thought. - -At five o'clock, when the visiting nurse tiptoed down-stairs, he was -sitting on the sofa staring at the carpet. - -"Mr. Cromwell?" - -"Yes?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Curtain won't be able to see you at dinner. She's not well -She told me to tell you that the cook will fix you something and that -there's a spare bedroom." - -"She's sick, you say?" - -"She's lying down in her room. The consultation is just over." - -"Did they--did they decide anything?" - -"Yes," said the nurse softly. "Doctor Jewett says there's no hope. Mr. -Curtain may live indefinitely, but he'll never see again or move again -or think. He'll just breathe." - -"Just breathe?" - -"Yes." - -For the first time the nurse noted that beside the writing-desk where -she remembered that she had seen a line of a dozen curious round -objects she had vaguely imagined to be some exotic form of decoration, -there was now only one. Where the others had been, there was now a -series of little nail-holes. - -Harry followed her glance dazedly and then rose to his feet. - -"I don't believe I'll stay. I believe there's a train." - -She nodded. Harry picked up his hat. - -"Good-by," she said pleasantly. - -"Good-by," he answered, as though talking to himself and, evidently -moved by some involuntary necessity, he paused on his way to the door -and she saw him pluck the last object from the wall and drop it into -his pocket. - -Then he opened the screen door and, descending the porch steps, passed -out of her sight. - - -V - -After a while the coat of clean white paint on the Jeffrey Curtain -house made a definite compromise with the suns of many Julys and -showed its good faith by turning gray. It scaled--huge peelings of -very brittle old paint leaned over backward like aged men practising -grotesque gymnastics and finally dropped to a moldy death in the -overgrown grass beneath. The paint on the front pillars became -streaky; the white ball was knocked off the left-hand door-post; the -green blinds darkened, then lost all pretense of color. - -It began to be a house that was avoided by the tender-minded--some -church bought a lot diagonally opposite for a graveyard, and this, -combined with "the place where Mrs. Curtain stays with that living -corpse," was enough to throw a ghostly aura over that quarter of the -road. Not that she was left alone. Men and women came to see her, met -her down town, where she went to do her marketing, brought her home in -their cars--and came in for a moment to talk and to rest, in the -glamour that still played in her smile. But men who did not know her -no longer followed her with admiring glances in the street; a -diaphanous veil had come down over her beauty, destroying its -vividness, yet bringing neither wrinkles nor fat. - -She acquired a character in the village--a group of little stories -were told of her: how when the country was frozen over one winter so -that no wagons nor automobiles could travel, she taught herself to -skate so that she could make quick time to the grocer and druggist, -and not leave Jeffrey alone for long. It was said that every night -since his paralysis she slept in a small bed beside his bed, holding -his hand. - -Jeffrey Curtain was spoken of as though he were already dead. As the -years dropped by those who had known him died or moved away--there -were but half a dozen of the old crowd who had drunk cocktails -together, called each other's wives by their first names, and thought -that Jeff was about the wittiest and most talented fellow that Marlowe -had ever known. How, to the casual visitor, he was merely the reason -that Mrs. Curtain excused herself sometimes and hurried upstairs; he -was a groan or a sharp cry borne to the silent parlor on the heavy air -of a Sunday afternoon. - -He could not move; he was stone blind, dumb and totally unconscious. -All day he lay in his bed, except for a shift to his wheel-chair every -morning while she straightened the room. His paralysis was creeping -slowly toward his heart. At first-for the first year--Roxanne had -received the faintest answering pressure sometimes when she held his -hand--then it had gone, ceased one evening and never come back, and -through two nights Roxanne lay wide-eyed, staring into the dark and -wondering what had gone, what fraction of his soul had taken flight, -what last grain of comprehension those shattered broken nerves still -carried to the brain. - -After that hope died. Had it not been for her unceasing care the last -spark would have gone long before. Every morning she shaved and bathed -him, shifted him with her own hands from bed to chair and back to bed. -She was in his room constantly, bearing medicine, straightening a -pillow, talking to him almost as one talks to a nearly human dog, -without hope of response or appreciation, but with the dim persuasion -of habit, a prayer when faith has gone. - -Not a few people, one celebrated nerve specialist among them, gave her -a plain impression that it was futile to exercise so much care, that -if Jeffrey had been conscious he would have wished to die, that if his -spirit were hovering in some wider air it would agree to no such -sacrifice from her, it would fret only for the prison of its body to -give it full release. - -"But you see," she replied, shaking her head gently, "when I married -Jeffrey it was--until I ceased to love him." - -"But," was protested, in effect, "you can't love that." - -"I can love what it once was. What else is there for me to do?" - -The specialist shrugged his shoulders and went away to say that Mrs. -Curtain was a remarkable woman and just about as sweet as an -angel--but, he added, it was a terrible pity. - -"There must be some man, or a dozen, just crazy to take care of -her...." - -Casually--there were. Here and there some one began in hope--and ended -in reverence. There was no love in the woman except, strangely enough, -for life, for the people in the world, from the tramp to whom she gave -food she could ill afford to the butcher who sold her a cheap cut of -steak across the meaty board. The other phase was sealed up somewhere -in that expressionless mummy who lay with his face turned ever toward -the light as mechanically as a compass needle and waited dumbly for -the last wave to wash over his heart. - -After eleven years he died in the middle of a May night, when the -scent of the syringa hung upon the window-sill and a breeze wafted in -the shrillings of the frogs and cicadas outside. Roxanne awoke at two, -and realized with a start she was alone in the house at last. - - -VI - -After that she sat on her weather-beaten porch through many -afternoons, gazing down across the fields that undulated in a slow -descent to the white and green town. She was wondering what she would -do with her life. She was thirty-six--handsome, strong, and free. The -years had eaten up Jeffrey's insurance; she had reluctantly parted -with the acres to right and left of her, and had even placed a small -mortgage on the house. - -With her husband's death had come a great physical restlessness. She -missed having to care for him in the morning, she missed her rush to -town, and the brief and therefore accentuated neighborly meetings in -the butcher's and grocer's; she missed the cooking for two, the -preparation of delicate liquid food for him. One day, consumed with -energy, she went out and spaded up the whole garden, a thing that had -not been done for years. - -And she was alone at night in the room that had seen the glory of her -marriage and then the pain. To meet Jeff again she went back in spirit -to that wonderful year, that intense, passionate absorption and -companionship, rather than looked forward to a problematical meeting -hereafter; she awoke often to lie and wish for that presence beside -her--inanimate yet breathing--still Jeff. - -One afternoon six months after his death she was sitting on the porch, -in a black dress which took away the faintest suggestion of plumpness -from her figure. It was Indian summer--golden brown all about her; a -hush broken by the sighing of leaves; westward a four o'clock sun -dripping streaks of red and yellow over a flaming sky. Most of the -birds had gone--only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the -cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent cheeping varied by -occasional fluttering sallies overhead. Roxanne moved her chair to -where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of -the afternoon. - -Harry Cromwell was coming out from Chicago to dinner. Since his -divorce over eight years before he had been a frequent visitor. They -had kept up what amounted to a tradition between them: when he arrived -they would go to look at Jeff; Harry would sit down on the edge of the -bed and in a hearty voice ask: - -"Well, Jeff, old man, how do you feel to-day?" - -Roxanne, standing beside, would look intently at Jeff, dreaming that -some shadowy recognition of this former friend had passed across that -broken mind--but the head, pale, carven, would only move slowly in its -sole gesture toward the light as if something behind the blind eyes -were groping for another light long since gone out. - -These visits stretched over eight years--at Easter, Christmas, -Thanksgiving, and on many a Sunday Harry had arrived, paid his call on -Jeff, and then talked for a long while with Roxanne on the porch. He -was devoted to her. He made no pretense of hiding, no attempt to -deepen, this relation. She was his best friend as the mass of flesh on -the bed there had been his best friend. She was peace, she was rest; -she was the past. Of his own tragedy she alone knew. - -He had been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he -worked had shifted him to the East and only a business trip had -brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written him to -come when he could--after a night in the city he had caught a train -out. - -They shook hands and he helped her move two rockers together. - -"How's George?" - -"He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school." - -"Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him." - -"Of course--" - -"You miss him horribly, Harry?" - -"Yes--I do miss him. He's a funny boy--" - -He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring -him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her -life--a child in dirty rompers. - -She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner--she had -four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She -put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they -continued their talk about George. - -"If I had a child--" she would say. - -Afterward, Harry having given her what slender advice he could about -investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to -recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court -had lain.... - -"Do you remember--" - -Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences: the day they had taken -all the snap-shots and Jeff had been photographed astride the calf; -and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne, lying sprawled in -the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a -covered lattice connecting the barn-studio with the house, so that -Jeff could get there on wet days--the lattice had been started, but -nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered -to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop. - -"And those mint juleps!" - -"And Jeff's note-book! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when -we'd get it out of his pocket and read aloud a page of material. And -how frantic he used to get?" - -"Wild! He was such a kid about his writing." - -They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said: - -"We were to have a place out here, too. Do you remember? We were to -buy the adjoining twenty acres. And the parties we were going to -have!" - -Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from -Roxanne. - -"Do you ever hear of her, Harry?" - -"Why--yes," he admitted placidly. "She's in Seattle. She's married -again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great deal -older than she is, I believe." - -"And she's behaving?" - -"Yes--that is, I've heard so. She has everything, you see. Nothing -much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time." - -"I see." - -Without effort he changed the subject. - -"Are you going to keep the house?" - -"I think so," she said, nodding. "I've lived here so long, Harry, it'd -seem terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course -that'd mean leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady." - -"Live in one?" - -"No. Keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady? -Anyway I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer -and two or three, if I can get them, in the winter. Of course I'll -have to have the house repainted and gone over inside." - -Harry considered. - -"Roxanne, why--naturally you know best what you can do, but it does -seem a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride." - -"Perhaps," she said, "that's why I don't mind remaining here as a -boarding-house lady." - -"I remember a certain batch of biscuits." - -"Oh, those biscuits," she cried. "Still, from all I heard about the -way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was _so_ -low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those -biscuits." - -"I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still in the library wall -where Jeff drove them." - -"Yes." - -It was getting very dark now, a crispness settled in the air; a little -gust of wind sent down a last spray of leaves. Roxanne shivered -slightly. - -"We'd better go in." - -He looked at his watch. - -"It's late. I've got to be leaving. I go East tomorrow." - -"Must you?" - -They lingered for a moment just below the stoop, watching a moon that -seemed full of snow float out of the distance where the lake lay. -Summer was gone and now Indian summer. The grass was cold and there -was no mist and no dew. After he left she would go in and light the -gas and close the shatters, and he would go down the path and on to -the village. To these two life had come quickly and gone, leaving not -bitterness, but pity; not disillusion, but only pain. There was -already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the -gathered kindness in the other's eyes. - - - - -MR. ICKY - -THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT - - -_The Scene is the Exterior of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a -desperately Arcadian afternoon in August._ MR. ICKY, _quaintly -dressed in the costume of an Elizabethan peasant, is pottering and -doddering among the pots and dods. He is an old man, well past the -prime of life, no longer young, From the fact that there is a burr in -his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrongside -out, we surmise that he is either above or below the ordinary -superficialities of life._ - -_Near him on the grass lies _PETER_, a little boy. -_PETER_, of course, has his chin on his palm like the pictures -of the young Sir Walter Raleigh. He has a complete set of features, -including serious, sombre, even funereal, gray eyes--and radiates that -alluring air of never having eaten food. This air can best be radiated -during the afterglow of a beef dinner. Be is looking at _MR. -ICKY_, fascinated._ - -_Silence. . . . The song of birds._ - -PETER: Often at night I sit at my window and regard the stars. -Sometimes I think they're my stars.... (_Gravely_) I think I -shall be a star some day.... - -ME. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) Yes, yes ... yes.... - -PETER: I know them all: Venus, Mars, Neptune, Gloria Swanson. - -MR. ICKY: I don't take no stock in astronomy.... I've been thinking o' -Lunnon, laddie. And calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for to -be a typewriter.... (_He sighs._) - -PETER: I liked Ulsa, Mr. Icky; she was so plump, so round, so buxom. - -MR. ICKY: Not worth the paper she was padded with, laddie. (_He -stumbles over a pile of pots and dods._) - -PETER: How is your asthma, Mr. Icky? - -MR. ICKY: Worse, thank God!...(_Gloomily.)_ I'm a hundred years -old... I'm getting brittle. - -PETER: I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty -arson. - -MR. ICKY: Yes... yes.... You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty I -reformed once--in prison. - -PETER: You went wrong again? - -MR. ICKY: Worse than that. The week before my term expired they -insisted on transferring to me the glands of a healthy young prisoner -they were executing. - -PETER: And it renovated you? - -MR. ICKY: Renovated me! It put the Old Nick back into me! This young -criminal was evidently a suburban burglar and a kleptomaniac. What was -a little playful arson in comparison! - -PETER: (_Awed_) How ghastly! Science is the bunk. - -MR. ICKY: (_Sighing_) I got him pretty well subdued now. 'Tisn't -every one who has to tire out two sets o' glands in his lifetime. I -wouldn't take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan -asylum. - -PETER: (_Considering_) I shouldn't think you'd object to a nice -quiet old clergyman's set. - -MR. ICKY: Clergymen haven't got glands--they have souls. - -(_There is a low, sonorous honking off stage to indicate that a -large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity. Then a young -man handsomely attired in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat -comes onto the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the -spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first -row of the balcony. This is_ RODNEY DIVINE.) - -DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky. - -(MR. ICKY _rises and stands tremulously between two dods._) - -MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon. - -DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her. - -(_He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel that hangs at -his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches -it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights._) - -DIVINE: I shall wait. - -(_He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an -occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among -themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks -by_ DIVINE _or a tumbling act, as desired._) - -DIVINE: It's very quiet here. - -MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet.... - -(_Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It -is _ULSA ICKY._ On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to -early Italian painting._) - -ULSA: (_In a coarse, worldly voice_) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did -what? - -MR. ICKY: (_Tremulously_) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (_They embrace -each other's torsos._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Hopefully_) You've come back to help with the -ploughing. - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) No, feyther; ploughing's such a beyther. I'd -reyther not. - -(_Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and -clean._) - -DIVINE: (_Conciliatingly_) See here, Ulsa. Let's come to an -understanding. - -(_He advances toward her with the graceful, even stride that made -him captain of the striding team at Cambridge._) - -ULSA: You still say it would be Jack? - -MR. ICKY: What does she mean? - -DIVINE: (_Kindly_) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It -couldn't be Frank. - -MR. ICKY: Frank who? - -ULSA: It _would_ be Frank! - -(_Some risqu joke can be introduced here._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting... - -DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement -that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You'd better marry me. - -ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn't let me in through the -servants' entrance of your house. - -DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn't! Never fear--you shall come in -through the mistress' entrance. - -ULSA: Sir! - -DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean? - -MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little -Ulsa?... - -DIVINE: I do. - -MR. ICKY: Your record is clean. - -DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world-- - -ULSA: And the worst by-laws. - -DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to -Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force-- - -MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?... - -DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections -every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a -converted tank. I have seats at the opera-- - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can't sleep except in a box. And I've heard -that you were cashiered from your club. - -MR. ICKY: A cashier? ... - -DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered. - -ULSA: What for? - -DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo bails one day for a -joke. - -MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape? - -DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair. After all what is brilliance? Merely -the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is. - -ME. ICKY; Be careful. ... I will-not marry my daughter to an epigram.... - -DIVINE: (_More gloomily_) I assure you I'm a mere platitude. I -often descend to the level of an innate idea. - -ULSA: (_Dully_) None of what you're saying matters. I can't marry -a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would-- - -DIVINE: (_Interrupting_) Nonsense! - -ULSA: (_Emphatically_) You're a fool! - -MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! ... One should not judge ... Charity, my girl. What -was it Nero said?--"With malice toward none, with charity toward -all--" - -PETER: That wasn't Nero. That was John Drinkwater. - -MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack? - - -DIVINE: (_Morosely_) Gotch. - -ULSA: Dempsey. - -DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in -a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that -Jack Dempsey would take one-- - -ULSA: (_Angrily_) Rot! He wouldn't have a-- - -DIVINE: (_Quickly_) You win. - -ULSA: Then I love you again. - -MR. ICKY: So I'm going to lose my little daughter... - -ULSA: You've still got a houseful of children, - -(CHARLES, ULSA'S _brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed -as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an -anchor is hanging from his neck._) - -CHARLES: (_Not seeing them_) I'm going to sea! I'm going to sea! - -(_His voice is triumphant._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Sadly_) You went to seed long ago. - -CHARLES: I've been reading "Conrad." - -PETER: (_Dreamily_) "Conrad," ah! "Two Years Before the Mast," by -Henry James. - -CHARLES: What? - -PETER: Walter Pater's version of "Robinson Crusoe." - -CHARLES: (_To his feyther_) I can't stay here and rot with you. I -want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. - -MR. ICKY: I will be here... when you come back.... - -CHARLES: (_Contemptuously_) Why, the worms are licking their -chops already when they hear your name. - -(_It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for -some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a -spirited saxophone number._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Mournfully_) These vales, these hills, these -McCormick harvesters--they mean nothing to my children. I understand. - -CHARLES: (_More gently_) Then you'll think of me kindly, feyther. -To understand is to forgive. - -MR. ICKY: No...no....We never forgive those we can understand....We -can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all.... - -CHARLES: (_Impatiently_) I'm so beastly sick of your human nature -line. And, anyway, I hate the hours around here. - -(_Several dozen more of _MR. ICKY'S_ children trip out of the -house, trip over the grass, and trip over the pots and dods. They are -muttering "We are going away," and "We are leaving you."_) - -MR. ICKY: (_His heart breaking_) They're all deserting me. I've -been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of -a Bismarck. - -(_There is a honking outside--probably _DIVINE'S_ chauffeur -growing impatient for his master._) - -MR. ICKY: (_In misery_) They do not love the soil! They have been -faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (_He picks up a handful of -soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts._) Oh, -Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke! - - _"No motion has she now, no force; - She does not hear or feel; - Roll'd round on earth's diurnal course - In some one's Oldsmobile."_ - -(_They all groan and shouting "Life" and "Jazz" move slowly toward -the wings._) - -CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I've been trying to turn my back to -the soil for ten years! - -ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who -wants to be a backbone? - -ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce of my country if I can -eat the salad! - -ALL: Life! Psychic Research! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: (_Struggling with himself_) I must be quaint. That's -all there is. It's not life that counts, it's the quaintness you bring -to it.... - -ALL: We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for -Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at -random. One always finds something that bears on the situation. - -(_He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random -begins to read._) - -"Ahab and Istemo and Anim, Goson and Olon and Gilo, eleven cities and -their villages. Arab, and Ruma, and Esaau--" - -CHARLES: (_Cruelly_) Buy ten more rings and try again. - -MR. ICKY: (_Trying again_) "How beautiful art thou my love, how -beautiful art thou! Thy eyes are dove's eyes, besides what is hid -within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats which come up from Mount -Galaad--Hm! Rather a coarse passage...." - -(_His children laugh at him rudely, shouting "Jazz!" and "All life -is primarily suggestive!"_) - -MR. ICKY: (_Despondently_) It won't work to-day. -(_Hopefully_) Maybe it's damp. (_He feels it_) Yes, it's -damp.... There was water in the dod.... It won't work. - -ALL: It's damp! It won't work! Jazz! - -ONE OF THE CHILDREN: Come, we must catch the six-thirty. - -(_Any other cue may be inserted here._) - -MR. ICKY: Good-by.... - -(_ They all go out._ MR. ICKY _is left alone. He sighs and -walking over to the cottage steps, lies down, and closes his eyes._) - -_Twilight has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as -never was on land or sea. There is no sound except a sheep-herder's -wife in the distance playing an aria from Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, -on a mouth-organ. The great white and gray moths swoop down and light -on the old man until he is completely covered by them. But he does not -stir._ - -_The curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse of -several minutes. A good comedy effect can be obtained by having -_MR. ICKY_ cling to the curtain and go up and down with it. -Fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this -point._ - -_Then _PETER_ appears, a look of almost imbecile sweetness on -his face. In his hand he clutches something and from time to time -glances at it in a transport of ecstasy. After a struggle with himself -he lays it on the old man's body and then quietly withdraws._ - -_The moths chatter among themselves and then scurry away in sudden -fright. And as night deepens there still sparkles there, small, white -and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Issacshire breeze, -_PETER'S_ gift of love--a moth-ball._ - -(_The play can end at this point or can go on indefinitely._) - - - - -JEMINA, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL - -This don't pretend to be "Literature." This is just a tale for -red-blooded folks who want a _story_ and not just a lot of -"psychological" stuff or "analysis." Boy, you'll love it! Read it -here, see it in the movies, play it on the phonograph, run it through -the sewing-machine. - - -A WILD THING - -It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all -sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the -mountains. - -Jemima Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family -still. - -She was a typical mountain girl. - -Her feet were bare. Her hands, large and powerful, hung down below her -knees. Her face showed the ravages of work. Although but sixteen, she -had for over a dozen years been supporting her aged pappy and mappy by -brewing mountain whiskey. From time to time she would pause in her -task, and, filling a dipper full of the pure, invigorating liquid, -would drain it off--then pursue her work with renewed vigor. - -She would place the rye in the vat, thresh it out with her feet and, -in twenty minutes, the completed product would be turned out. - -A sudden cry made her pause in the act of draining a dipper and look -up. - -"Hello," said a voice. It came from a man clad in hunting boots -reaching to his neck, who had emerged. - -"Can you tell me the way to the Tantrums' cabin?" - -"Are you uns from the settlements down thar?" - -She pointed her hand down to the bottom of the hill, where Louisville -lay. She had never been there; but once, before she was born, her -great-grandfather, old Gore Tantrum, had gone into the settlements in -the company of two marshals, and had never come back. So the Tantrums -from generation to generation, had learned to dread civilization. - -The man was amused. He laughed a light tinkling laugh, the laugh of a -Philadelphian. Something in the ring of it thrilled her. She drank off -another dipper of whiskey. - -"Where is Mr. Tantrum, little girl?" he asked, not without kindness. - -She raised her foot and pointed her big toe toward the woods. "Thar in -the cabing behind those thar pines. Old Tantrum air my old man." - -The man from the settlements thanked her and strode off. He was fairly -vibrant with youth and personality. As he walked along he whistled and -sang and turned handsprings and flapjacks, breathing in the fresh, -cool air of the mountains. - -The air around the still was like wine. - -Jemina Tantrum watched him entranced. No one like him had ever come -into her life before. - -She sat down on the grass and counted her toes. She counted eleven. -She had learned arithmetic in the mountain school. - - -A MOUNTAIN FEUD - -Ten years before a lady from the settlements had opened a school on -the mountain. Jemina had no money, but she had paid her way in -whiskey, bringing a pailful to school every morning and leaving it on -Miss Lafarge's desk. Miss Lafarge had died of delirium tremens after a -year's teaching, and so Jemina's education had stopped. - -Across the still stream, still another still was standing; It was that -of the Doldrums. The Doldrums and the Tantrums never exchanged calls. - -They hated each other. - -Fifty years before old Jem Doldrum and old Jem Tantrum had quarrelled -in the Tantrum cabin over a game of slapjack. Jem Doldrum had thrown -the king of hearts in Jem Tantrum's face, and old Tantrum, enraged, -had felled the old Doldrum with the nine of diamonds. Other Doldrums -and Tantrums had joined in and the little cabin was soon filled with -flying cards. Harstrum Doldrum, one of the younger Doldrums, lay -stretched on the floor writhing in agony, the ace of hearts crammed -down his throat. Jem Tantrum, standing in the doorway; ran through -suit after suit, his face alight with fiendish hatred. Old Mappy -Tantrum stood on the table wetting down the Doldrums with hot whiskey. -Old Heck Doldrum, having finally run out of trumps, was backed out of -the cabin, striking left and right with his tobacco pouch, and -gathering around him the rest of his clan. Then they mounted their -steers and galloped furiously home. - -That night old man Doldrum and his sons, vowing vengeance, had -returned, put a ticktock on the Tantrum window, stuck a pin in the -doorbell, and beaten a retreat. - -A week later the Tantrums had put Cod Liver Oil in the Doldrums' -still, and so, from year to year, the feud had continued, first one -family being entirely wiped out, then the other. - - -THE BIRTH OF LOVE - -Every day little Jemina worked the still on her side of the stream, -and Boscoe Doldrum worked the still on his side. - -Sometimes, with automatic inherited hatred, the feudists would throw -whiskey at each other, and Jemina would come home smelling like a -French table d'hte. - -But now Jemina was too thoughtful to look across the stream. - -How wonderful the stranger had been and how oddly he was dressed! In -her innocent way she had never believed that there were any civilized -settlements at all, and she had put the belief in them down to the -credulity of the mountain people. - -She turned to go up to the cabin, and, as she turned something struck -her in the neck. It was a sponge, thrown by Boscoe Doldrum--a sponge -soaked in whiskey from his still on the other side of the stream. - -"Hi, thar, Boscoe Doldrum," she shouted in her deep bass voice. - -"Yo! Jemina Tantrum. Gosh ding yo'!" he returned. - -She continued her way to the cabin. - -The stranger was talking to her father. Gold had been discovered on -the Tantrum land, and the stranger, Edgar Edison, was trying to buy -the land for a song. He was considering what song to offer. - -She sat upon her hands and watched him. - -He was wonderful. When he talked his lips moved. - -She sat upon the stove and watched him. - -Suddenly there came a blood-curdling scream. The Tantrums rushed to -the windows. - -It was the Doldrums. - -They had hitched their steers to trees and concealed themselves behind -the bushes and flowers, and soon a perfect rattle of stones and bricks -beat against the windows, bending them inward. - -"Father! father!" shrieked Jemina. - -Her father took down his slingshot from his slingshot rack on the wall -and ran his hand lovingly over the elastic band. He stepped to a -loophole. Old Mappy Tantrum stepped to the coalhole. - - -A MOUNTAIN BATTLE - -The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at the Doldrums, he -tried to escape from the house by crawling up the chimney. Then he -thought there might be a door under the bead, but Jemina told him -there was not. He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each -time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no doors there. -Furious with anger, he beat upon the door and hollered at the -Doldrums. They did not answer him, but kept up their fusillade of -bricks and stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew that just -as soon as they were able to affect an aperture they would pour in and -the fight would be over. - -Then old Heck Doldrum, foaming at the mouth and expectorating on the -ground, left and right, led the attack. - -The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not been without their -effect. A master shot had disabled one Doldrum, and another Doldrum, -shot almost incessantly through the abdomen, fought feebly on. - -Nearer and nearer they approached the house. - -"We must fly," shouted the stranger to Jemina. "I will sacrifice -myself and bear you away." - -"No," shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed. "You stay here and fit -on. I will bar Jemina away. I will bar Mappy away. I will bar myself -away." - -The man from the settlements, pale and trembling with anger, turned to -Ham Tantrum, who stood at the door throwing loophole after loophole at -the advancing Doldrums. - -"Will you cover the retreat?" - -But Ham said that he too had Tantrums to bear away, but that he would -leave himself here to help the stranger cover the retreat, if he could -think of a way of doing it. - -Soon smoke began to filter through the floor and ceiling. Shem Doldrum -had come up and touched a match to old Japhet Tantrum's breath as he -leaned from a loophole, and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides. - -The whiskey in the bathtub caught fire. The walls began to fall in. - -Jemina and the man from the settlements looked at each other. - -"Jemina," he whispered. - -"Stranger," she answered, - -"We will die together," he said. "If we had lived I would have taken -you to the city and married you. With your ability to hold liquor, -your social success would have been assured." - -She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes softly to -herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left leg was on fire. - -She was a human alcohol lamp. - -Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall fell on them and -blotted them out. - -"As One." - -When the Doldrums burst through the ring of flame, they found them -dead where they had fallen, their arms about each other. - -Old Jem Doldrum was moved. - -He took off his hat. - -He filled it with whiskey and drank it off. - -"They air dead," he said slowly, "they hankered after each other. The -fit is over now. We must not part them." - -So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they -made were as one. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Jazz Age, by F. 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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: Tales of the Jazz Age - -Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald - -Posting Date: July 17, 2010 [EBook #6695] -Release Date: October, 2004 -First Posted: January 14, 2003 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - - - - -Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team. This file was produced from -images generously made available by the Digital & Multimedia -Center, Michigan State University Libraries. - - - - - - - - - - -TALES FROM THE JAZZ AGE - - -BY - -F. SCOTT FITZGERALD - -1922 - - - - -A TABLE OF CONTENTS - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - -THE JELLY-BEAN - -This is a Southern story, with the scene laid in the small Lily of -Tarleton, Georgia. I have a profound affection for Tarleton, but -somehow whenever I write a story about it I receive letters from all -over the South denouncing me in no uncertain terms. "The Jelly-Bean," -published in "The Metropolitan," drew its full share of these -admonitory notes. - -It was written under strange circumstances shortly after my first -novel was published, and, moreover, it was the first story in which I -had a collaborator. For, finding that I was unable to manage the -crap-shooting episode, I turned it over to my wife, who, as a Southern -girl, was presumably an expert on the technique and terminology of -that great sectional pastime. - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - -I suppose that of all the stories I have ever written this one cost me -the least travail and perhaps gave me the most amusement. As to the -labor involved, it was written during one day in the city of New -Orleans, with the express purpose of buying a platinum and diamond -wrist watch which cost six hundred dollars. I began it at seven in the -morning and finished it at two o'clock the same night. It was -published in the "Saturday Evening Post" in 1920, and later included -in the O. Henry Memorial Collection for the same year. I like it least -of all the stories in this volume. - -My amusement was derived from the fact that the camel part of the -story is literally true; in fact, I have a standing engagement with -the gentleman involved to attend the next fancy-dress party to which -we are mutually invited, attired as the latter part of the camel--this -as a sort of atonement for being his historian. - - -MAY DAY. - -This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the "Smart -Set" in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the -spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great -impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general -hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my -story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a -pattern--a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New -York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the -younger generation. - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK. - -"And do you write for any other magazines?" inquired the young lady. - -"Oh, yes," I assured her. "I've had some stories and plays in the -'Smart Set,' for instance----" - -The young lady shivered. - -"The 'Smart Set'!" she exclaimed. "How can you? Why, they publish -stuff about girls in blue bathtubs, and silly things like that." - -And I had the magnificent joy of telling her that she was referring to -"Porcelain and Pink," which had appeared there several months before. - - -FANTASIES - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ. - -These next stories are written in what, were I of imposing stature, I -should call my "second manner." "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," -which appeared last summer in the "Smart Set," was designed utterly -for my own amusement. I was in that familiar mood characterized by a -perfect craving for luxury, and the story began as an attempt to feed -that craving on imaginary foods. - -One well-known critic has been pleased to like this extravaganza -better than anything I have written. Personally I prefer "The Offshore -Pirate." But, to tamper slightly with Lincoln: If you like this sort -of thing, this, possibly, is the sort of thing you'll like. - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. - -This story was inspired by a remark of Mark Twain's to the effect that -it was a pity that the best part of life came at the beginning and the -worst part at the end. By trying the experiment upon only one man in a -perfectly normal world I have scarcely given his idea a fair trial. -Several weeks after completing it, I discovered an almost identical -plot in Samuel Butler's "Note-books." - -The story was published in "Collier's" last summer and provoked this -startling letter from an anonymous admirer in Cincinnati: - -"Sir-- - -I have read the story Benjamin Button in Colliers and I wish to say -that as a short story writer you would make a good lunatic I have seen -many peices of cheese in my life but of all the peices of cheese I -have ever seen you are the biggest peice. I hate to waste a peice of -stationary on you but I will." - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE. - -Written almost six years ago, this story is a product of undergraduate -days at Princeton. Considerably revised, it was published in the -"Smart Set" in 1921. At the time of its conception I had but one -idea--to be a poet--and the fact that I was interested in the ring of -every phrase, that I dreaded the obvious in prose if not in plot, -shows throughout. Probably the peculiar affection I feel for it -depends more upon its age than upon any intrinsic merit. - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - -When this was written I had just completed the first draft of my -second novel, and a natural reaction made me revel in a story wherein -none of the characters need be taken seriously. And I'm afraid that I -was somewhat carried away by the feeling that there was no ordered -scheme to which I must conform. After due consideration, however, I -have decided to let it stand as it is, although the reader may find -himself somewhat puzzled at the time element. I had best say that -however the years may have dealt with Merlin Grainger, I myself was -thinking always in the present. It was published in the -"Metropolitan." - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS. - -Of this story I can say that it came to me in an irresistible form, -crying to be written. It will be accused perhaps of being a mere piece -of sentimentality, but, as I saw it, it was a great deal more. If, -therefore, it lacks the ring of sincerity, or even, of tragedy, the -fault rests not with the theme but with my handling of it. - -It appeared in the "Chicago Tribune," and later obtained, I believe, -the quadruple gold laurel leaf or some such encomium from one of the -anthologists who at present swarm among us. The gentleman I refer to -runs as a rule to stark melodramas with a volcano or the ghost of John -Paul Jones in the role of Nemesis, melodramas carefully disguised by -early paragraphs in Jamesian manner which hint dark and subtle -complexities to follow. On this order: - -"The case of Shaw McPhee, curiously enough, had no hearing on the -almost incredible attitude of Martin Sulo. This is parenthetical and, -to at least three observers, whose names for the present I must -conceal, it seems improbable, etc., etc., etc.," until the poor rat of -fiction is at last forced out into the open and the melodrama begins. - - -MR. ICKY - -This has the distinction of being the only magazine piece ever written -in a New York hotel. The business was done in a bedroom in the -Knickerbocker, and shortly afterward that memorable hostelry closed -its doors forever. - -When a fitting period of mourning had elapsed it was published in the -"Smart Set." - - -JEMINA. - -Written, like "Tarquin of Cheapside," while I was at Princeton, this -sketch was published years later in "Vanity Fair." For its technique I -must apologize to Mr. Stephen Leacock. - -I have laughed over it a great deal, especially when I first wrote it, -but I can laugh over it no longer. Still, as other people tell me it -is amusing, I include it here. It seems to me worth preserving a few -years--at least until the ennui of changing fashions suppresses me, my -books, and it together. - -With due apologies for this impossible Table of Contents, I tender -these tales of the Jazz Age into the hands of those who read as they -run and run as they read. - - - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - - -THE JELLY-BEAN. - - -Jim Powell was a Jelly-bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing -character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that -point. He was a bred-in-the-bone, dyed-in-the-wool, ninety-nine -three-quarters per cent Jelly-bean and he grew lazily all during -Jelly-bean season, which is every season, down in the land of the -Jelly-beans well below the Mason-Dixon line. - -Now if you call a Memphis man a Jelly-bean he will quite possibly pull -a long sinewy rope from his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient -telegraph-pole. If you Call a New Orleans man a Jelly-bean he will -probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras -ball. The particular Jelly-bean patch which produced the protagonist -of this history lies somewhere between the two--a little city of forty -thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern -Georgia occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something -about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone -else has forgotten long ago. - -Jim was a Jelly-bean. I write that again because it has such a -pleasant sound--rather like the beginning of a fairy story--as if Jim -were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of him with a round, -appetizing face and all sort of leaves and vegetables growing out of -his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from stooping -over pool-tables, and he was what might have been known in the -indiscriminating North as a corner loafer. "Jelly-bean" is the name -throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life -conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular--I am -idling, I have idled, I will idle. - -Jim was born in a white house on a green corner, It had four -weather-beaten pillars in front and a great amount of lattice-work in -the rear that made a cheerful criss-cross background for a flowery -sun-drenched lawn. Originally the dwellers in the white house had -owned the ground next door and next door to that and next door to -that, but this had been so long ago that even Jim's father, scarcely -remembered it. He had, in fact, thought it a matter of so little -moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he -neglected even to tell little Jim, who was five years old and -miserably frightened. The white house became a boarding-house run by a -tight-lipped lady from Macon, whom Jim called Aunt Mamie and detested -with all his soul. - -He became fifteen, went to high school, wore his hair in black snarls, -and was afraid of girls. He hated his home where four women and one -old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about -what lots the Powell place had originally included and what sorts of -flowers would be out next. Sometimes the parents of little girls in -town, remembering Jim's mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark -eyes and hair, invited him to parties, but parties made him shy and he -much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in Tilly's Garage, -rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. -For pocket money, he picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that -he stopped going to parties. At his third party little Marjorie Haight -had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a -boy who brought the groceries sometimes. So instead of the two-step -and polka, Jim had learned to throw, any number he desired on the dice -and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred -in the surrounding country during the past fifty years. - -He became eighteen. The war broke out and he enlisted as a gob and -polished brass in the Charleston Navy-yard for a year. Then, by way of -variety, he went North and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navy-yard -for a year. - -When the war was over he came home, He was twenty-one, has trousers -were too short and too tight. His buttoned shoes were long and narrow. -His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink marvellously -scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very -good old cloth, long exposed to the sun. - -In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down -along the cottonfields and over the sultry town, he was a vague figure -leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim -above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently -on a problem that had held his attention for an hour. The Jelly-bean had -been invited to a party. - -Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark -Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in school. But, while Jim's social -aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had -alternately fallen in and out of love, gone to college, taken to -drink, given it up, and, in short, become one of the best beaux of the -town. Nevertheless Clark and Jim had retained a friendship that, -though casual, was perfectly definite. That afternoon Clark's ancient -Ford had slowed up beside Jim, who was on the sidewalk and, out of a -clear sky, Clark invited him to a party at the country club. The -impulse that made him do this was no stranger than the impulse which -made Jim accept. The latter was probably an unconscious ennui, a -half-frightened sense of adventure. And now Jim was soberly thinking -it over. - -He began to sing, drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the -sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in time to the low throaty tune: - - "One smile from Home in Jelly-bean town, - Lives Jeanne, the Jelly-bean Queen. - She loves her dice and treats 'em nice; - No dice would treat her mean." - -He broke off and agitated the sidewalk to a bumpy gallop. - -"Daggone!" he muttered, half aloud. They would all be there--the old -crowd, the crowd to which, by right of the white house, sold long -since, and the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantel, Jim -should have belonged. But that crowd had grown up together into a -tight little set as gradually as the girls' dresses had lengthened -inch by inch, as definitely as the boys' trousers had dropped suddenly -to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppy -loves Jim was an outsider--a running mate of poor whites. Most of the -men knew him, condescendingly; he tipped his hat to three or four -girls. That was all. - -When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he -walked through the hot, pleasantly pungent town to Jackson Street. The -stores were closing and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as -if borne on the dreamy revolution of a slow merry-go-round. A -street-fair farther down a brilliant alley of varicolored booths -contributed a blend of music to the night--an oriental dance on a -calliope, a melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful -rendition of "Back Home in Tennessee" on a hand-organ. - -The Jelly-bean stopped in a store and bought a collar. Then he -sauntered along toward Soda Sam's, where he found the usual three or -four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies -running back and forth with sundaes and lemonades. - -"Hello, Jim." - -It was a voice at his elbow--Joe Ewing sitting in an automobile with -Marylyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a strange man were in the back seat. - -The Jelly-bean tipped his hat quickly. - -"Hi Ben--" then, after an almost imperceptible pause--"How y' all?" - -Passing, he ambled on toward the garage where he had a room up-stairs. -His "How y'all" had been said to Nancy Lamar, to whom he had not -spoken in fifteen years. - -Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and -blue-black hair inherited from her mother who had been born in -Budapest. Jim passed her often on the street, walking small-boy -fashion with her hands in her pockets and he knew that with her -inseparable Sally Carrol Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts -from Atlanta to New Orleans. - -For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed -and as he reached his door began to sing softly to himself: - - "Her Jelly Roll can twist your soul, - Her eyes are big and brown, - She's the Queen of the Queens of the Jelly-beans-- - My Jeanne of Jelly-bean Town." - - -II - -At nine-thirty, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started -for the Country Club in Clark's Ford. "Jim," asked Clark casually, as -they rattled through the jasmine-scented night, "how do you keep -alive?" - -The Jelly-bean paused, considered. - -"Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him -some with the cars in the afternoon an' he gives it to me free. -Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a little thataway. I -get fed up doin' that regular though." - -"That all?" - -"Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the day--Saturdays -usually--and then there's one main source of revenue I don't generally -mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'm about the champion crap-shooter -of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now because once I get the -feel of a pair of dice they just roll for me." - -Clark grinned appreciatively, - -"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish -you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar some day and take all her money away from -her. She will roll 'em with the boys and she loses more than her daddy -can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last -month to pay a debt." - -The Jelly-bean was noncommittal. - -"The white house on Elm Street still belong to you?" - -Jim shook his head. - -"Sold. Got a pretty good price, seein' it wasn't in a good part of -town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into Liberty bonds. But Aunt -Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to -keep her up at Great Farms Sanitarium. - -"Hm." - -"I got an old uncle up-state an' I reckin I kin go up there if ever I -get sure enough pore. Nice farm, but not enough niggers around to work -it. He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take -much to it. Too doggone lonesome--" He broke off suddenly. "Clark, I -want to tell you I'm much obliged to you for askin' me out, but I'd be -a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here an' let me walk -back into town." - -"Shucks!" Clark grunted. "Do you good to step out. You don't have to -dance--just get out there on the floor and shake." - -"Hold on," exclaimed. Jim uneasily, "Don't you go leadin' me up to any -girls and leavin' me there so I'll have to dance with 'em." - -Clark laughed. - -"'Cause," continued Jim desperately, "without you swear you won't do -that I'm agoin' to get out right here an' my good legs goin' carry me -back to Jackson street." - -They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was -to view the spectacle from a secluded settee in the corner where Clark -would join him whenever he wasn't dancing. - -So ten o'clock found the Jelly-bean with his legs crossed and his arms -conservatively folded, trying to look casually at home and politely -uninterested in the dancers. At heart he was torn between overwhelming -self-consciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on -around him. He saw the girls emerge one by one from the dressing-room, -stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over -their powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance -around to take in the room and, simultaneously, the room's reaction to -their entrance--and then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in -the sober arms of their waiting escorts. Sally Carrol Hopper, blonde -and lazy-eyed, appeared clad in her favorite pink and blinking like an -awakened rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the -girls he had seen loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled -and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights, were -miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and -gold, fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried. - -He had been there half an hour, totally uncheered by Clark's jovial -visits which were each one accompanied by a "Hello, old boy, how you -making out?" and a slap at his knee. A dozen males had spoken to him -or stopped for a moment beside him, but he knew that they were each -one surprised at finding him there and fancied that one or two were -even slightly resentful. But at half past ten his embarrassment -suddenly left him and a pull of breathless interest took him -completely out of himself--Nancy Lamar had come out of the -dressing-room. - -She was dressed in yellow organdie, a costume of a hundred cool -corners, with three tiers of ruffles and a big bow in back until she -shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent lustre. -The Jelly-bean's eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat. For -she stood beside the door until her partner hurried up. Jim recognized -him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that -afternoon. He saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low -voice, and laugh. The man laughed too and Jim experienced the quick -pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the -pair, a shaft of beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment -since. The Jelly-bean felt suddenly like a weed in a shadow. - -A minute later Clark approached him, bright-eyed and glowing. - -"Hi, old man" he cried with some lack of originality. "How you making -out?" - -Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected. - -"You come along with me," commanded Clark. "I've got something that'll -put an edge on the evening." - -Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the -locker-room where Clark produced a flask of nameless yellow liquid. - -"Good old corn." - -Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as "good old corn" -needed some disguise beyond seltzer. - -"Say, boy," exclaimed Clark breathlessly, "doesn't Nancy Lamar look -beautiful?" - -Jim nodded. - -"Mighty beautiful," he agreed. - -"She's all dolled up to a fare-you-well to-night," continued Clark. -"Notice that fellow she's with?" - -"Big fella? White pants?" - -"Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes -the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her. Been chasing, -after her all year. - -"She's a wild baby," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does -everybody. But she sure does do crazy stunts. She usually gets out -alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or -another she's done." - -"That so?" Jim passed over his glass. "That's good corn." - -"Not so bad. Oh, she's a wild one. Shoot craps, say, boy! And she do -like her high-balls. Promised I'd give her one later on." - -"She in love with this--Merritt?" - -"Damned if I know. Seems like all the best girls around here marry -fellas and go off somewhere." - -He poured himself one more drink and carefully corked the bottle. - -"Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just -stick this corn right on your hip as long as you're not dancing. If a -man notices I've had a drink he'll come up and ask me and before I -know it it's all gone and somebody else is having my good time." - -So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become -the private property of an individual in white trousers--and all -because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his -neighbor. As they descended the stairs Jim found the idea inexplicably -depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a vague and -romantic yearning. A picture of her began to form in his -imagination--Nancy walking boylike and debonnaire along the street, -taking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruit-dealer, charging a -dope on a mythical account, at Soda Sam's, assembling a convoy of -beaux and then driving off in triumphal state for an afternoon of -splashing and singing. - -The Jelly-bean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark -between the moon on the lawn and the single lighted door of the -ballroom. There he found a chair and, lighting a cigarette, drifted -into the thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a -reverie made sensuous by the night and by the hot smell of damp powder -puffs, tucked in the fronts of low dresses and distilling a thousand -rich scents, to float out through the open door. The music itself, -blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a languorous -overtone to the scraping of many shoes and slippers. - -Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was -obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come out of the dressing-room -and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a -low-breathed "doggone" and then she turned and saw him. It was Nancy -Lamar. - -Jim rose to his feet. - -"Howdy?" - -"Hello--" she paused, hesitated and then approached. "Oh, it's--Jim -Powell." - -He bowed slightly, tried to think of a casual remark. - -"Do you suppose," she began quickly, "I mean--do you know anything -about gum?" - -"What?" "I've got gum on my shoe. Some utter ass left his or her gum -on the floor and of course I stepped in it." - -Jim blushed, inappropriately. - -"Do you know how to get it off?" she demanded petulantly. "I've tried -a knife. I've tried every damn thing in the dressing-room. I've tried -soap and water--and even perfume and I've ruined my powder-puff trying -to make it stick to that." - -Jim considered the question in some agitation. - -"Why--I think maybe gasolene--" - -The words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and -pulled him at a run off the low veranda, over a flower bed and at a -gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first -hole of the golf course. - -"Turn on the gasolene," she commanded breathlessly. - -"What?" - -"For the gum of course. I've got to get it off. I can't dance with gum -on." - -Obediently Jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a -view to obtaining the desired solvent. Had she demanded a cylinder he -would have done his best to wrench one out. - -"Here," he said after a moment's search. "'Here's one that's easy. Got -a handkerchief?" - -"It's up-stairs wet. I used it for the soap and water." - -Jim laboriously explored his pockets. - -"Don't believe I got one either." - -"Doggone it! Well, we can turn it on and let it run on the ground." - -He turned the spout; a dripping began. - -"More!" - -He turned it on fuller. The dripping became a flow and formed an oily -pool that glistened brightly, reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on -its quivering bosom. - -"Ah," she sighed contentedly, "let it all out. The only thing to do is -to wade in it." - -In desperation he turned on the tap full and the pool suddenly widened -sending tiny rivers and trickles in all directions. - -"That's fine. That's something like." - -Raising her skirts she stepped gracefully in. - -"I know this'll take it off," she murmured. - -Jim smiled. - -"There's lots more cars." - -She stepped daintily out of the gasolene and began scraping her -slippers, side and bottom, on the running-board of the automobile. The -jelly-bean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive -laughter and after a second she joined in. - -"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" she asked as they walked -back toward the veranda. - -"Yes." - -"You know where he is now?" - -"Out dancin', I reckin." - -"The deuce. He promised me a highball." - -"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right -here in my pocket." - -She smiled at him radiantly. - -"I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale though," he added. - -"Not me. Just the bottle." - -"Sure enough?" - -She laughed scornfully. - -"Try me. I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down." - -She perched herself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of -the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork she held the flask -to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated. - -"Like it?" - -She shook her head breathlessly. - -"No, but I like the way it makes me feel. I think most people are that -way." - -Jim agreed. - -"My daddy liked it too well. It got him." - -"American men," said Nancy gravely, "don't know how to drink." - -"What?" Jim was startled. - -"In fact," she went on carelessly, "they don't know how to do anything -very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in -England." - -"In England?" - -"Yes. It's the one regret of my life that I wasn't." - -"Do you like it over there?" "Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in -person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the -army, Oxford and Cambridge men--you know, that's like Sewanee and -University of Georgia are here--and of course I've read a lot of -English novels." - -Jim was interested, amazed. - -"D' you ever hear of Lady Diana Manner?" she asked earnestly. - -No, Jim had not. - -"Well, she's what I'd like to be. Dark, you know, like me, and wild as -sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral -or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it -afterwards." - -Jim nodded politely. He was out of his depths. - -"Pass the bottle," suggested Nancy. "I'm going to take another little -one. A little drink wouldn't hurt a baby. - -"You see," she continued, again breathless after a draught. "People -over there have style, Nobody has style here. I mean the boys here -aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. -Don't you know?" - -"I suppose so--I mean I suppose not," murmured Jim. - -"And I'd like to do 'em an' all. I'm really the only girl in town that -has style." - -She stretched, out her arms and yawned pleasantly. - -"Pretty evening." - -"Sure is," agreed Jim. - -"Like to have boat" she suggested dreamily. "Like to sail out on a -silver lake, say the Thames, for instance. Have champagne and caviare -sandwiches along. Have about eight people. And one of the men would -jump overboard to amuse the party, and get drowned like a man did with -Lady Diana Manners once." - -"Did he do it to please her?" - -"Didn't mean drown himself to please -her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh." - -"I reckin they just died laughin' when he drowned." - -"Oh, I suppose they laughed a little," she admitted. "I imagine she -did, anyway. She's pretty hard, I guess--like I am." - -"You hard?" - -"Like nails." She yawned again and added, "Give me a little more from -that bottle." - -Jim hesitated but she held out her hand defiantly, "Don't treat me -like a girl;" she warned him. "I'm not like any girl _you_ ever -saw," She considered. "Still, perhaps you're right. You got--you got -old head on young shoulders." - -She jumped to her feet and moved toward the door. The Jelly-bean rose -also. - -"Good-bye," she said politely, "good-bye. Thanks, Jelly-bean." - -Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch. - - - -III - -At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the -women's dressing-room and, each one pairing with a coated beau like -dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with -sleepy happy laughter--through the door into the dark where autos -backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered -around the water-cooler. - -Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at -eleven; then Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered -into the soft-drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was -deserted except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two -boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was -about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark -looked up. - -"Hi, Jim" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I -guess there's not much left, but there's one all around." - -Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling -and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim's eye and winked at him -humorously. - -They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited -for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned -his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the -two boys at the next table. - -"Bring them over here," suggested Clark. - -Joe looked around. - -"We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules." - -"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up -and down, like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out -of his car." - -There was a general laugh. - -"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park -when she's around." - -"O Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you!" - -Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't -seen his silly little flivver in two weeks." - -Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of -uncertain age standing in the doorway. - -Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment. - -"Won't you join us Mr. Taylor?" - -"Thanks." - -Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I -guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got -funny with my car." - -His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim -wondered what he had heard from the doorway--tried to remember what -had been said. - -"I'm right to-night," Nancy sang out, "and my four bits is in the -ring." - -"Faded!" snapped Taylor suddenly. - -"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed -to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They -had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely -discouraged a series of rather pointed advances. - -"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." -Nancy was _cooing_ to the dice. She rattled them with a brave -underhand flourish, and rolled them out on the table. - -"Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up." - -Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it -personal, and after each success Jim watched triumph flutter across -her face. She was doubling with each throw--such luck could scarcely -last. "Better go easy," he cautioned her timidly. - -"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and -she called her number. - -"Little Ada, this time we're going South." - -Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and -half-hysterical, but her luck was holding. - -She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming -with his fingers on the table but he was in to stay. - -Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them -avidly. He shot in silence, and in the hush of excitement the clatter -of one pass after another on the table was the only sound. - -Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour passed. -Back and forth it went. Taylor had been at it again--and again and -again. They were even at last--Nancy lost her ultimate five dollars. - -"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll -shoot it all?" Her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as -she reached to the money. - -Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing. Taylor -shot again. He had Nancy's check. - -"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll do--money -everywhere as a matter of fact." - -Jim understood--the "good old corn" he had given her--the "good old -corn" she had taken since. He wished he dared interfere--a girl of -that age and position would hardly have two bank accounts. When the -clock struck two he contained himself no longer. - -"May I--can't you let me roll 'em for you?" he suggested, his low, -lazy voice a little strained. - -Suddenly sleepy and listless, Nancy flung the dice down before him. - -"All right--old boy! As Lady Diana Manners says, 'Shoot 'em, -Jelly-bean'--My luck's gone." - -"Mr. Taylor," said Jim, carelessly, "we'll shoot for one of those -there checks against the cash." - -Half an hour later Nancy swayed forward and clapped him on the back. - -"Stole my luck, you did." She was nodding her head sagely. - -Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them -into confetti and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing -and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "Ladies--that's you Marylyn. I -want to tell the world that Mr. Jim Powell, who is a well-known -Jelly-bean of this city, is an exception to the great rule--'lucky in -dice--unlucky in love.' He's lucky in dice, and as matter of fact I--I -_love_ him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, famous dark-haired -beauty often featured in the _Herald_ as one the most popular -members of younger set as other girls are often featured in this -particular case; Wish to announce--wish to announce, anyway, -Gentlemen--" She tipped suddenly. Clark caught her and restored her -balance. - -"My error," she laughed, "she--stoops to--stoops to--anyways--We'll -drink to Jelly-bean ... Mr. Jim Powell, King of the Jelly-beans." - -And a few minutes later as Jim waited hat in hand for Clark in the -darkness of that same corner of the porch where she had come searching -for gasolene, she appeared suddenly beside him. - -"Jelly-bean," she said, "are you here, Jelly-bean? I think--" and her -slight unsteadiness seemed part of an enchanted dream--"I think you -deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jelly-bean." - -For an instant her arms were around his neck--her lips were pressed to -his. - -"I'm a wild part of the world, Jelly-bean, but you did me a good -turn." - -Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricket-loud lawn. Jim saw -Merritt come out the front door and say something to her angrily--saw -her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. -Marylyn and Joe followed, singing a drowsy song about a Jazz baby. - -Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "All pretty lit, I guess," -he yawned. "Merritt's in a mean mood. He's certainly off Nancy." - -Over east along the golf course a faint rug of gray spread itself -across the feet of the night. The party in the car began to chant a -chorus as the engine warmed up. - -"Good-night everybody," called Clark. - -"Good-night, Clark." - -"Good-night." - -There was a pause, and then a soft, happy voice added, - -"Good-night, Jelly-bean." - -The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across -the way took up a solitary mournful crow, and behind them, a last -negro waiter turned out the porch light, Jim and Clark strolled over -toward the Ford, their shoes crunching raucously on the gravel drive. - -"Oh boy!" sighed Clark softly, "how you can set those dice!" - -It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin -cheeks--or to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar shame. - - - -IV - -Over Tilly's garage a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and -snorting down-stairs and the singing of the negro washers as they -turned the hose on the cars outside. It was a cheerless square of a -room, punctuated with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a -dozen books--Joe Miller's "Slow Train thru Arkansas," "Lucille," in an -old edition very much annotated in an old-fashioned hand; "The Eyes of -the World," by Harold Bell Wright, and an ancient prayer-book of the -Church of England with the name Alice Powell and the date 1831 written -on the fly-leaf. - -The East, gray when Jelly-bean entered the garage, became a rich and -vivid blue as he turned on his solitary electric light. He snapped it -out again, and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and -stared into the deepening morning. With the awakening of his emotions, -his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter -grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging -him in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare -room. And with his perception of this wall all that had been the -romance of his existence, the casualness, the light-hearted -improvidence, the miraculous open-handedness of life faded out. The -Jelly-bean strolling up Jackson Street humming a lazy song, known at -every shop and street stand, cropful of easy greeting and local wit, -sad sometimes for only the sake of sadness and the flight of -time--that Jelly-bean was suddenly vanished. The very name was a -reproach, a triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt -must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn would have -awakened not jealousy but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering -herself. And on his part the Jelly-bean had used for her a dingy -subterfuge learned from the garage. He had been her moral laundry; the -stains were his. - -As the gray became blue, brightened and filled the room, he crossed to -his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely. - -"I love her," he cried aloud, "God!" - -As he said this something gave way within him like a lump melting in -his throat. The air cleared and became radiant with dawn, and turning -over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow. - -In the sunshine of three o'clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along -Jackson Street was hailed by the Jelly-bean, who stood on the curb -with his fingers in his vest pockets. - -"Hi!" called Clark, bringing his Ford to an astonishing stop -alongside. "Just get up?" - -The Jelly-bean shook his head. - -"Never did go to bed. Felt sorta restless, so I took a long walk this -morning out in the country. Just got into town this minute." - -"Should think you _would_ feel restless. I been feeling thataway -all day--" - -"I'm thinkin' of leavin' town" continued the Jelly-bean, absorbed by -his own thoughts. "Been thinkin' of goin' up on the farm, and takin' a -little that work off Uncle Dun. Reckin I been bummin' too long." - -Clark was silent and the Jelly-bean continued: - -"I reckin maybe after Aunt Mamie dies I could sink that money of mine -in the farm and make somethin' out of it. All my people originally -came from that part up there. Had a big place." - -Clark looked at him curiously. - -"That's funny," he said. "This--this sort of affected me the same -way." - -The Jelly-bean hesitated. - -"I don't know," he began slowly, "somethin' about--about that girl -last night talkin' about a lady named Diana Manners--an English lady, -sorta got me thinkin'!" He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark, -"I had a family once," he said defiantly. - -Clark nodded. - -"I know." - -"And I'm the last of 'em," continued the Jelly-bean his voice rising -slightly, "and I ain't worth shucks. Name they call me by means -jelly--weak and wobbly like. People who weren't nothin' when my folks -was a lot turn up their noses when they pass me on the street." - -Again Clark was silent. - -"So I'm through, I'm goin' to-day. And when I come back to this town -it's going to be like a gentleman." - -Clark took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp brow. - -"Reckon you're not the only one it shook up," he admitted gloomily. -"All this thing of girls going round like they do is going to stop -right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it thataway." - -"Do you mean," demanded Jim in surprise, "that all that's leaked out?" - -"Leaked out? How on earth could they keep it secret. It'll be -announced in the papers to-night. Doctor Lamar's got to save his name -somehow." - -Jim put his hands on the sides of the car and tightened his long -fingers on the metal. - -"Do you mean Taylor investigated those checks?" - -It was Clark's turn to be surprised. - -"Haven't you heard what happened?" - -Jim's startled eyes were answer enough. - -"Why," announced Clark dramatically, "those four got another bottle of -corn, got tight and decided to shock the town--so Nancy and that fella -Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning." - -A tiny indentation appeared in the metal under the Jelly-bean's -fingers. - -"Married?" - -"Sure enough. Nancy sobered up and rushed back into town, crying and -frightened to death--claimed it'd all been a mistake. First Doctor -Lamar went wild and was going to kill Merritt, but finally they got it -patched up some way, and Nancy and Merritt went to Savannah on the -two-thirty train." - -Jim closed his eyes and with an effort overcame a sudden sickness. - -"It's too bad," said Clark philosophically. "I don't mean the -wedding--reckon that's all right, though I don't guess Nancy cared a -darn about him. But it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her -family that way." - -The Jelly-bean let go the car and turned away. Again something was -going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change. - -"Where you going?" asked Clark. - -The Jelly-bean turned and looked dully back over his shoulder. - -"Got to go," he muttered. "Been up too long; feelin' right sick." - -"Oh." - - * * * * * - -The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust -seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth again as a world-old joke -forever played on an eternity of afternoons. But at half past four a -first layer of quiet fell and the shades lengthened under the awnings -and heavy foliaged trees. In this heat nothing mattered. All life was -weather, a waiting through the hot where events had no significance -for the cool that was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a -tired forehead. Down in Georgia there is a feeling--perhaps -inarticulate--that this is the greatest wisdom of the South--so after -a while the Jelly-bean turned into a poolhall on Jackson Street where -he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old -jokes--the ones he knew. - - - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - - -The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above -title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup -and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything, -to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story Is the -exception. It has to do with a material, visible and large-as-life -camel's back. - -Starting from the neck we shall work toward the tail. I want you to -meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twenty-eight, lawyer, native of Toledo. -Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle. -You have met him before--in Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, -Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker Brothers, New York, -pause on their semi-annual trip through the West to clothe him; -Montmorency & Co. dispatch a young man post-haste every three months -to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his -shoes. He has a domestic roadster now, will have a French roadster if -he lives long enough, and doubtless a Chinese tank if it comes into -fashion. He looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his -sunset-colored chest with liniment and goes East every other year to -his class reunion. - -I want you to meet his Love. Her name is Betty Medill, and she would -take well in the movies. Her father gives her three hundred a month to -dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five -colors. I shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Medill. Though he is -to all appearances flesh and blood, he is, strange to say, commonly -known in Toledo as the Aluminum Man. But when he sits in his club -window with two or three Iron Men, and the White Pine Man, and the -Brass Man, they look very much as you and I do, only more so, if you -know what I mean. - -Now during the Christmas holidays of 1919 there took place in Toledo, -counting only the people with the italicized _the_, forty-one -dinner parties, sixteen dances, six luncheons, male and female, twelve -teas, four stag dinners, two weddings, and thirteen bridge parties. It -was the cumulative effect of all this that moved Perry Parkhurst on -the twenty-ninth day of December to a decision. - -This Medill girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him. She was -having such a good time that she hated to take such a definite step. -Meanwhile, their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as -if any day it might break off of its own weight. A little man named -Warburton, who knew it all, persuaded Perry to superman her, to get a -marriage license and go up to the Medill house and tell her she'd have -to marry him at once or call it off forever. So he presented himself, -his heart, his license, and his ultimatum, and within five minutes -they were in the midst of a violent quarrel, a burst of sporadic open -fighting such as occurs near the end of all long wars and engagements. -It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people who -are in love pull up sharp, look at each other coolly and think it's -all been a mistake. Afterward they usually kiss wholesomely and assure -the other person it was all their fault. Say it all was my fault! Say -it was! I want to hear you say it! - -But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in -a measure, stalling it off, so that they might the more voluptuously -and sentimentally enjoy it when it came, they were permanently -interrupted by a twenty-minute phone call for Betty from a garrulous -aunt. At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst, urged on by -pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, -picked up his light brown soft hat, and stalked out the door. - -"It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into -first. "It's all over--if I have to choke you for an hour, damn you!". -The last to the car, which had been standing some time and was quite -cold. - -He drove downtown--that is, he got into a snow rut that led him -downtown. He sat slouched down very low in his seat, much too -dispirited to care where he went. - -In front of the Clarendon Hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a -bad man named Baily, who had big teeth and lived at the hotel and had -never been in love. - -"Perry," said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him -at the curb, "I've got six quarts of the doggonedest still champagne -you ever tasted. A third of it's yours, Perry, if you'll come -up-stairs and help Martin Macy and me drink it." - -"Baily," said Perry tensely, "I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink -every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me." - -"Shut up, you nut!" said the bad man gently. "They don't put wood -alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff that proves the world is more -than six thousand years old. It's so ancient that the cork is -petrified. You have to pull it with a stone drill." - -"Take me up-stairs," said Perry moodily. "If that cork sees my heart -it'll fall out from pure mortification." - -The room up-stairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little -girls eating apples and sitting in swings and talking to dogs. The -other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper -devoted to ladies in pink tights. - -"When you have to go into the highways and byways----" said the pink -man, looking reproachfully at Baily and Perry. - -"Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age -champagne?" - -"What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a -party." - -Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. - -Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six -handsome bottles. - -"Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe -you'd like to have us open all the windows." - -"Give me champagne," said Perry. - -"Going to the Townsends' circus ball to-night?" - -"Am not!" - -"'Vited?" - -"Uh-huh." - -"Why not go?" - -"Oh, I'm sick of parties," exclaimed Perry. "I'm sick of 'em. I've -been to so many that I'm sick of 'em." - -"Maybe you're going to the Howard Tates' party?" - -"No, I tell you; I'm sick of 'em." - -"Well," said Macy consolingly, "the Tates' is just for college kids -anyways." - -"I tell you----" - -"I thought you'd be going to one of 'em anyways. I see by the papers -you haven't missed a one this Christmas." - -"Hm," grunted Perry morosely. - -He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his -mind--that side of his life was closed, closed. Now when a man says -"closed, closed" like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has -double-closed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other -classical thought, about how cowardly suicide is. A noble thought that -one--warm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if -suicide were not so cowardly! - -An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to -the young man in the liniment advertisement. He looked like a rough -draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singing--an impromptu song of -Baily's improvisation: - - _"One Lump Perry, the parlor snake, - Famous through the city for the way he drinks his tea; - Plays with it, toys with it - Makes no noise with it, - Balanced on a napkin on his well-trained knee--"_ - -"Trouble is," said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Baily's -comb and was tying an orange tie round it to get the effect of Julius -Caesar, "that you fellas can't sing worth a damn. Soon's I leave the -air and start singing tenor you start singin' tenor too." - -"'M a natural tenor," said Macy gravely. "Voice lacks cultivation, -tha's all. Gotta natural voice, m'aunt used say. Naturally good -singer." - -"Singers, singers, all good singers," remarked Baily, who was at the -telephone. "No, not the cabaret; I want night egg. I mean some -dog-gone clerk 'at's got food--food! I want----" - -"Julius Caesar," announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. "Man -of iron will and stern 'termination." - -"Shut up!" yelled Baily. "Say, iss Mr. Baily Sen' up enormous supper. -Use y'own judgment. Right away." - -He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then -with his lips closed and an expression of solemn intensity in his eyes -went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open. - -"Lookit!" he commanded. In his hands he held a truncated garment of -pink gingham. - -"Pants," he exclaimed gravely. "Lookit!" - -This was a pink blouse, a red tie, and a Buster Brown collar. - -"Lookit!" he repeated. "Costume for the Townsends' circus ball. I'm -li'l' boy carries water for the elephants." - -Perry was impressed in spite of himself. - -"I'm going to be Julius Caesar," he announced after a moment of -concentration. - -"Thought you weren't going!" said Macy. - -"Me? Sure I'm goin', Never miss a party. Good for the nerves--like -celery." - -"Caesar!" scoffed Baily. "Can't be Caesar! He is not about a circus. -Caesar's Shakespeare. Go as a clown." - -Perry shook his head. - -"Nope; Caesar," - -"Caesar?" - -"Sure. Chariot." - -Light dawned on Baily. - -"That's right. Good idea." - -Perry looked round the room searchingly. - -"You lend me a bathrobe and this tie," he said finally. Baily -considered. - -"No good." - -"Sure, tha's all I need. Caesar was a savage. They can't kick if I -come as Caesar, if he was a savage." - -"No," said Baily, shaking his head slowly. "Get a costume over at a -costumer's. Over at Nolak's." - -"Closed up." - -"Find out." - -After a puzzling five minutes at the phone a small, weary voice -managed to convince Perry that it was Mr. Nolak speaking, and that -they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. -Thus assured, Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his -third of the last bottle of champagne. At eight-fifteen the man in the -tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to -start his roadster. - -"Froze up," said Perry wisely. "The cold froze it. The cold air." - -"Froze, eh?" - -"Yes. Cold air froze it." - -"Can't start it?" - -"Nope. Let it stand here till summer. One those hot ole August days'll -thaw it out awright." - -"Goin' let it stand?" - -"Sure. Let 'er stand. Take a hot thief to steal it. Gemme taxi." - -The man in the tall hat summoned a taxi. - -"Where to, mister?" - -"Go to Nolak's--costume fella." - - -II - -Mrs. Nolak was short and ineffectual looking, and on the cessation of -the world war had belonged for a while to one of the new -nationalities. Owing to unsettled European conditions she had never -since been quite sure what she was. The shop in which she and her -husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and peopled -with suits of armor and Chinese mandarins, and enormous papier-mache -birds suspended from the ceiling. In a vague background many rows of -masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases full -of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers, and -paints, and crape hair, and wigs of all colors. - -When Perry ambled into the shop Mrs. Nolak was folding up the last -troubles of a strenuous day, so she thought, in a drawer full of pink -silk stockings. - -"Something for you?" she queried pessimistically. "Want costume of -Julius Hur, the charioteer." - -Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented -long ago. Was it for the Townsends' circus ball? - -It was. - -"Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's -really circus." - -This was an obstacle. - -"Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. "If you've got a piece -of canvas I could go's a tent." - -"Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware store is where -you'd have to go to. We have some very nice Confederate soldiers." - -"No. No soldiers." - -"And I have a very handsome king." - -He shook his head. - -"Several of the gentlemen" she continued hopefully, "are wearing -stovepipe hats and swallow-tail coats and going as ringmasters--but -we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a -mustache." - -"Want somep'n 'stinctive." - -"Something--let's see. Well, we have a lion's head, and a goose, and a -camel--" - -"Camel?" The idea seized Perry's imagination, gripped it fiercely. - -"Yes, but It needs two people." - -"Camel, That's the idea. Lemme see it." - -The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first -glance he appeared to consist entirely of a very gaunt, cadaverous -head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to -possess a dark brown, unwholesome-looking body made of thick, cottony -cloth. - -"You see it takes two people," explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel -in frank admiration. "If you have a friend he could be part of it. You -see there's sorta pants for two people. One pair is for the fella in -front, and the other pair for the fella in back. The fella in front -does the lookin' out through these here eyes, an' the fella in back -he's just gotta stoop over an' folla the front fella round." - -"Put it on," commanded Perry. - -Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabby-cat face inside the camel's head -and turned it from side to side ferociously. - -Perry was fascinated. - -"What noise does a camel make?" - -"What?" asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "Oh, -what noise? Why, he sorta brays." - -"Lemme see it in a mirror." - -Before a wide mirror Perry tried on the head and turned from side to -side appraisingly. In the dim light the effect was distinctly -pleasing. The camel's face was a study in pessimism, decorated with -numerous abrasions, and it must be admitted that his coat was in that -state of general negligence peculiar to camels--in fact, he needed to -be cleaned and pressed--but distinctive he certainly was. He was -majestic. He would have attracted attention in any gathering, if only -by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking round -his shadowy eyes. - -"You see you have to have two people," said Mrs. Nolak again. - -Perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about -him, tying the hind legs as a girdle round his waist. The effect on -the whole was bad. It was even irreverent--like one of those mediaeval -pictures of a monk changed into a beast by the ministrations of Satan. -At the very best the ensemble resembled a humpbacked cow sitting on -her haunches among blankets. - -"Don't look like anything at all," objected Perry gloomily. - -"No," said Mrs. Nolak; "you see you got to have two people." - -A solution flashed upon Perry. - -"You got a date to-night?" - -"Oh, I couldn't possibly----" - -"Oh, come on," said Perry encouragingly. "Sure you can! Here! Be good -sport, and climb into these hind legs." - -With difficulty he located them, and extended their yawning depths -ingratiatingly. But Mrs. Nolak seemed loath. She backed perversely -away. - -"Oh, no----" - -"C'mon! You can be the front if you want to. Or we'll flip a coin." - -"Make it worth your while." - -Mrs. Nolak set her lips firmly together. - -"Now you just stop!" she said with no coyness implied. "None of the -gentlemen ever acted up this way before. My husband----" - -"You got a husband?" demanded Perry. "Where is he?" - -"He's home." - -"Wha's telephone number?" - -After considerable parley he obtained the telephone number pertaining -to the Nolak penates and got into communication with that small, weary -voice he had heard once before that day. But Mr. Nolak, though taken -off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of -logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He refused firmly, but with -dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a -camel. - -Having rung off, or rather having been rung off on, Perry sat down on -a three-legged stool to think it over. He named over to himself those -friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty -Medill's name hazily and sorrowfully occurred to him. He had a -sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love affair was over, but -she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to -ask--to help him keep up his end of social obligation for one short -night. And if she insisted, she could be the front part of the camel -and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind -even turned to rosy-colored dreams of a tender reconciliation inside -the camel--there hidden away from all the world.... - -"Now you'd better decide right off." - -The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and -roused him to action. He went to the phone and called up the Medill -house. Miss Betty was out; had gone out to dinner. - -Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into -the store. He was a dilapidated individual with a cold in his head and -a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down low -on his head, and his chin was pulled down low on his chest, his coat -hung down to his shoes, he looked run-down, down at the heels, -and--Salvation Army to the contrary--down and out. He said that he was -the taxicab-driver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon -Hotel. He had been instructed to wait outside, but he had waited some -time, and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone -out the back way with purpose to defraud him--gentlemen sometimes -did--so he had come in. He sank down onto the three-legged stool. - -"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. - -"I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep -my job." - -"It's a very good party." - -"'S a very good job." - -"Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See--it's pretty!" He held -the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. - -"Huh!" - -Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth. - -"See!" he cried enthusiastically, holding up a selection of folds. -"This is your part. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is -to walk--and sit down occasionally. You do all the sitting down. Think -of it. I'm on my feet all the time and _you_ can sit down some of -the time. The only time _I_ can sit down is when we're lying -down, and you can sit down when--oh, any time. See?" - -"What's 'at thing?" demanded the individual dubiously. "A shroud?" - -"Not at all," said Perry indignantly. "It's a camel." - -"Huh?" - -Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the -land of grunts and assumed a practical tinge. Perry and the -taxi-driver tried on the camel in front of the mirror. - -"You can't see it," explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the -eyeholes, "but honestly, ole man, you look sim'ly great! Honestly!" - -A grunt from the hump acknowledged this somewhat dubious compliment. - -"Honestly, you look great!" repeated Perry enthusiastically. "Move -round a little." - -The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge cat-camel -hunching his back preparatory to a spring. - -"No; move sideways." - -The camel's hips went neatly out of joint; a hula dancer would have -writhed in envy. - -"Good, isn't it?" demanded Perry, turning to Mrs. Nolak for approval. - -"It looks lovely," agreed Mrs. Nolak. - -"We'll take it," said Perry. - -The bundle was stowed under Perry's arm and they left the shop. - -"Go to the party!" he commanded as he took his seat in the back. - -"What party?" - -"Fanzy-dress party." - -"Where'bouts is it?" - -This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names -of all those who had given parties during the holidays danced -confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking -out the window he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already -faded out, a little black smudge far down the snowy street. - -"Drive uptown," directed Perry with fine confidence. "If you see a -party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we get there." - -He fell into a hazy daydream and his thoughts wandered again to -Betty--he imagined vaguely that they had had a disagreement because -she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was -just slipping off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the -taxi-driver opening the door and shaking him by the arm. - -"Here we are, maybe." - -Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a -spreading gray stone house, from which issued the low drummy whine of -expensive jazz. He recognized the Howard Tate house. - -"Sure," he said emphatically; "'at's it! Tate's party to-night. Sure, -everybody's goin'." - -"Say," said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, -"you sure these people ain't gonna romp on me for comin' here?" - -Perry drew himself up with dignity. - -"'F anybody says anything to you, just tell 'em you're part of my -costume." - -The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to -reassure the individual. - -"All right," he said reluctantly. - -Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling -the camel. - -"Let's go," he commanded. - -Several minutes later a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting -clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump, -might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate -residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and -heading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom. The -beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an uncertain -lockstep and a stampede--but can best be described by the word -"halting." The camel had a halting gait--and as he walked he -alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina. - - - -III - -The Howard Tates are, as every one who lives in Toledo knows, the most -formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before -she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that -conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American -aristocracy. The Tates have reached the stage where they talk about -pigs and farms and look at you icy-eyed if you are not amused. They -have begun to prefer retainers rather than friends as dinner guests, -spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and, having lost all sense of -competition, are in process of growing quite dull. - -The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all -ages were represented, the dancers were mostly from school and -college--the younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball -up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside tie -ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes, and beaming -whenever she caught her bye. Beside her were two middle-aged -sycophants, who were saying what a perfectly exquisite child Millicent -was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the -skirt and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself -with an "Oof!" into her mother's arms. - -"Why, Emily, what's the trouble?" - -"Mamma," said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble, "there's something out on -the stairs." - -"What?" - -"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog, -mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog." - -"What do you mean, Emily?" - -The sycophants waved their heads sympathetically. - -"Mamma, it looks like a--like a camel." - -Mrs. Tate laughed. - -"You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all." - -"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mamma--big. I was going -down-stairs to see if there were any more people, and this dog or -something, he was coming up-stairs. Kinda funny, mamma, like he was -lame. And then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped -at the top of the landing, and I ran." - -Mrs. Tate's laugh faded. - -"The child must have seen something," she said. - -The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen something--and -suddenly all three women took an instinctive step away from the door -as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside. - -And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark brown form rounded -the corner, and they saw what was apparently a huge beast looking down -at them hungrily. - -"Oof!" cried Mrs. Tate. - -"O-o-oh!" cried the ladies in a chorus. - -The camel suddenly humped his back, and the gasps turned to shrieks. - -"Oh--look!" - -"What is it?" - -The dancing stopped, bat the dancers hurrying over got quite a -different impression of the invader; in fact, the young people -immediately suspected that it was a stunt, a hired entertainer come to -amuse the party. The boys in long trousers looked at it rather -disdainfully, and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets, -feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls -uttered little shouts of glee. - -"It's a camel!" - -"Well, if he isn't the funniest!" - -The camel stood there uncertainly, swaying slightly from side to aide, -and seeming to take in the room in a careful, appraising glance; then -as if he had come to an abrupt decision, he turned and ambled swiftly -out the door. - -Mr. Howard Tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor, -and was standing chatting with a young man in the hall. Suddenly they -heard the noise of shouting up-stairs, and almost immediately a -succession of bumping sounds, followed by the precipitous appearance -at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast that seemed to be -going somewhere in a great hurry. - -"Now what the devil!" said Mr. Tate, starting. - -The beast picked itself up not without dignity and, affecting an air -of extreme nonchalance, as if he had just remembered an important -engagement, started at a mixed gait toward the front door. In fact, -his front legs began casually to run. - -"See here now," said Mr. Tate sternly. "Here! Grab it, Butterfield! -Grab it!" - -The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling -arms, and, realizing that further locomotion was impossible, the front -end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some -agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring -down-stairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything from an ingenious -burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man: - -"Hold him! Lead him in here; we'll soon see." - -The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after -locking the door, took a revolver from a table drawer and instructed -the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and -returned the revolver to its hiding-place. - -"Well, Perry Parkhurst!" he exclaimed in amazement. - -"Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate," said Perry sheepishly. "Hope I didn't -scare you." - -"Well--you gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him. -"You're bound for the Townsends' circus ball." - -"That's the general idea." - -"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst." Then turning to -Perry; "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days." - -"I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry." - -"Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a -clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while." He turned to -Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us." - -The young man demurred. He was going to bed. - -"Have a drink, Perry?" suggested Mr. Tate. - -"Thanks, I will." - -"And, say," continued Tate quickly, "I'd forgotten all about -your--friend here." He indicated the rear part of the camel. "I didn't -mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out." - -"It's not a friend," explained Perry hurriedly. "I just rented him." - -"Does he drink?" - -"Do you?" demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously round. - -There was a faint sound of assent. - -"Sure he does!" said Mr. Tate heartily. "A really efficient camel -ought to be able to drink enough so it'd last him three days." - -"Tell you," said Perry anxiously, "he isn't exactly dressed up enough -to come out. If you give me the bottle I can hand it back to him and -he can take his inside." - -From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound -inspired by this suggestion. When a butler had appeared with bottles, -glasses, and siphon one of the bottles was handed back; thereafter the -silent partner could be heard imbibing long potations at frequent -intervals. - -Thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd -better be starting. He donned his clown's costume; Perry replaced the -camel's head, arid side by side they traversed on foot the single -block between the Tate house and the Tallyho Club. - -The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up -inside the ballroom and round the walls had been built rows of booths -representing the various attractions of a circus side show, but these -were now vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing -medley of youth and color--downs, bearded ladies, acrobats, bareback -riders, ringmasters, tattooed men, and charioteers. The Townsends had -determined to assure their party of success, so a great quantity of -liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their house and was -now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall completely round -the ballroom, with pointing arrows alongside and signs which -instructed the uninitiated to "Follow the green line!" The green line -led down to the bar, where waited pure punch and wicked punch and -plain dark-green bottles. - -On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and -under it the slogan: "Now follow this!" - -But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented, -there, the entrance of the camel created something of a stir, and -Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd -attempting to penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the -wide doorway eying the dancers with his hungry, melancholy gaze. - -And then Perry saw Betty standing in front of a booth, talking to a -comic policeman. She was dressed in the costume of an Egyptian -snake-charmer: her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass -rings, the effect crowned with a glittering Oriental tiara. Her fair -face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arms and the half -moon of her back writhed painted serpents with single eyes of venomous -green. Her feet were in sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees, -so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim serpents -painted just above her bare ankles. Wound about her neck was a -glittering cobra. Altogether a charming costume--one that caused the -more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her when she -passed, and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about -"shouldn't be allowed" and "perfectly disgraceful." - -But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only -her face, radiant, animated, and glowing with excitement, and her arms -and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the -outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination -exercised a sobering effect on him. With a growing clarity the events -of the day came back--rage rose within him, and with a half-formed -intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her--or -rather he elongated slightly, for he had neglected to issue the -preparatory command necessary to locomotion. - -But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him -bitterly and sardonically, decided to reward him in full for the -amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the -snake-charmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man -beside her and say, "Who's that? That camel?" - -"Darned if I know." - -But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary -to hazard an opinion: - -"It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it's probably Warren -Butterfield, the architect from New York, who's visiting the Tates." - -Something stirred in Betty Medill--that age-old interest of the -provincial girl in the visiting man. - -"Oh," she said casually after a slight pause. - -At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within -a few feet of the camel. With the informal audacity that was the -key-note of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's -nose. - -"Hello, old camel." - -The camel stirred uneasily. - -"You 'fraid of me?" said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. -"Don't be. You see I'm a snake-charmer, but I'm pretty good at camels -too." - -The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about -beauty and the beast. - -Mrs. Townsend approached the group. - -"Well, Mr. Butterfield," she said helpfully, "I wouldn't have -recognised you." - -Perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask. - -"And who is this with you?" she inquired. - -"Oh," said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite -unrecognizable, "he isn't a fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He's just part of -my costume." - -Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty, - -"So," he thought, "this is how much she cares! On the very day of our -final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man--an absolute -stranger." - -On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his -head suggestively toward the hall, making it clear that he desired her -to leave her partner and accompany him. - -"By-by, Rus," she called to her partner. "This old camel's got me. -Where we going, Prince of Beasts?" - -The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the -direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs. - -There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of -confusion which included gruff orders and sounds of a heated dispute -going on in his interior, placed himself beside her--his hind legs -stretching out uncomfortably across two steps. - -"Well, old egg," said Betty cheerfully, "how do you like our happy -party?" - -The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head -ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his hoofs. - -"This is the first time that I ever had a tete-a-tete with a man's -valet 'round"--she pointed to the hind legs--"or whatever that is." - -"Oh," mumbled Perry, "he's deaf and blind." - -"I should think you'd feel rather handicapped--you can't very well -toddle, even if you want to." - -The camel hang his head lugubriously. - -"I wish you'd say something," continued Betty sweetly. "Say you like -me, camel. Say you think I'm beautiful. Say you'd like to belong to a -pretty snake-charmer." - -The camel would. - -"Will you dance with me, camel?" - -The camel would try. - -Betty devoted half an hour to the camel. She devoted at least half an -hour to all visiting men. It was usually sufficient. When she -approached a new man the current debutantes were accustomed to scatter -right and left like a close column deploying before a machine-gun. And -so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique privilege of seeing his -love as others saw her. He was flirted with violently! - - -IV - -This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a -general ingress to the ballroom; the cotillion was beginning. Betty -and the camel joined the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his -shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption of him. - -When they entered the couples were already seating themselves at -tables round the walls, and Mrs. Townsend, resplendent as a super -bareback rider with rather too rotund calves, was standing in the -centre with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to -the band every one rose and began to dance. - -"Isn't it just slick!" sighed Betty. "Do you think you can possibly -dance?" - -Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly exuberant. After all, -he was here incognito talking to his love--he could wink -patronizingly at the world. - -So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that is stretching -the word far beyond the wildest dreams of the jazziest terpsichorean. -He suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and -pull him here and there over the floor while he hung his huge head -docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy motions with his -feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by -hopping first on one foot and then on the other. Never being sure -whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by -going through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So -the spectacle was frequently presented of the front part of the camel -standing at ease and the rear keeping up a constant energetic motion -calculated to rouse a sympathetic perspiration in any soft-hearted -observer. - -He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered -with straw who announced jovially that she was a bale of hay and coyly -begged him not to eat her. - -"I'd like to; you're so sweet," said the camel gallantly. - -Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men up!" he lumbered -ferociously for Betty with the cardboard wienerwurst or the photograph -of the bearded lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes he -reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and -resulted in intense interior arguments. - -"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl, fiercely between his clenched -teeth, "get a little pep! I could have gotten her that time if you'd -picked your feet up." - -"Well, gimme a little warnin'!" - -"I did, darn you." - -"I can't see a dog-gone thing in here." - -"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging a load of -sand round to walk with you." - -"Maybe you wanta try back hare." - -"You shut up! If these people found you in this room they'd give you -the worst beating you ever had. They'd take your taxi license away -from you!" - -Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous -threat, but it seemed to have a soporific influence on his companion, -for he gave out an "aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence. - -The ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and waved his hand for -silence. - -"Prizes!" he cried. "Gather round!" - -"Yea! Prizes!" - -Self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who -had mustered the nerve to come as a bearded lady trembled with -excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The -man who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him -skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously when any one told -him he was sure to get it. - -"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced the ringmaster -jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had -by all. We will now bestow honor where honor is due by bestowing the -prizes. Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prices. Now, fellow -performers, the first prize is for that lady who has displayed this -evening the most striking, becoming"--at this point the bearded lady -sighed resignedly--"and original costume." Here the bale of hay -pricked up her ears. "Now I am sure that the decision which has been -agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present. The first prize -goes to Miss Betty Medill, the charming Egyptian snake-charmer." There -was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Medill, -blushing beautifully through her olive paint, was passed up to receive -her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a -huge bouquet of orchids. - -"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the other prize is for -that man who has the most amusing and original costume. This prize -goes without dispute to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is -visiting here but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry--in -short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his hungry -look and his brilliant dancing throughout the evening." - -He ceased and there was a violent clapping, and yeaing, for it was a -popular choice. The prize, a large box of cigars, was put aside for -the camel, as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person. - -"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will wind up the cotillion -with the marriage of Mirth to Folly! - -"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful snake-charmer and the -noble camel in front!" - -Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm round the -camel's neck. Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little -girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men -of Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all -of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color -round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under -bizarre wigs and barbaric paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding -march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a delirious blend from -the trombones and saxophones--and the march began. - -"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. -"Aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong -to the nice snake-charmer ever afterward?" - -The camel's front legs pranced, expressing excessive joy. - -"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried voices out of the -revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?" - -The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tally-ho Club for many -years, appeared rashly through a half-opened pantry door. - -"Oh, Jumbo!" - -"Get old Jumbo. He's the fella!" - -"Come on, Jumbo. How 'bout marrying us a couple?" - -"Yea!" - -Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron, and -escorted to a raised dais at the head of the ball. There his collar -was removed and replaced back side forward with ecclesiastical effect. -The parade separated into two lines, leaving an aisle for the bride -and groom. - -"Lawdy, man," roared Jumbo, "Ah got ole Bible 'n' ev'ythin', sho -nuff." - -He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket. - -"Yea! Jumbo's got a Bible!" - -"Razor, too, I'll bet!" - -Together the snake-charmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle -and stopped in front of Jumbo. - -"Where's yo license, camel?" - -A man near by prodded Perry. - -"Give him a piece of paper. Anything'll do." - -Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and -pushed it out through the camel's mouth. Holding it upside down Jumbo -pretended to scan it earnestly. - -"Dis yeah's a special camel's license," he said. "Get you ring ready, -camel." - -Inside the camel Perry turned round and addressed his worse half. - -"Gimme a ring, for Heaven's sake!" - -"I ain't got none," protested a weary voice. - -"You have. I saw it." - -"I ain't goin' to take it offen my hand." - -"If you don't I'll kill you." - -There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass -inserted into his hand. - -Again he was nudged from the outside. - -"Speak up!" - -"I do!" cried Perry quickly. - -He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this -burlesque the sound thrilled him. - -Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat -and was slipping it on her finger, muttering ancient and historic -words after Jumbo. He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His -one idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for -Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A dignified young man, -Perry--and this might injure his infant law practice. - -"Embrace the bride!" - -"Unmask, camel, and kiss her!" - -Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly -and began to strike the card-board muzzle. He felt his self-control -giving way, he longed to surround her with his arms and declare his -identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot away--when -suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a curious -hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo -had given vent to a huge "Hello!" in such a startled voice that all -eyes were bent on him. - -"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage -license, which he had been holding upside down, produced spectacles, -and was studying it agonizingly. - -"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence his words were heard -plainly by every one in the room, "this yeah's a sho-nuff marriage -permit." - -"What?" - -"Huh?" - -"Say it again, Jumbo!" - -"Sure you can read?" - -Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood burned to fire in his -veins as he realized the break he had made. - -"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a sho-nuff license, and the -pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis yeah young lady, Miz Betty Medill, -and th' other's Mistah Perry Pa'khurst." - -There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out as all eyes fell -on the camel. Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes -giving out sparks of fury. - -"Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?" - -Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. -He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment, his cardboard face still -hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo. - -"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty -serious mattah. Outside mah duties at this club ah happens to be a -sho-nuff minister in the Firs' Cullud Baptis' Church. It done look to -me as though y'all is gone an' got married." - - -V - -The scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the -Tallyho Club. Stout matrons fainted, one hundred per cent Americans -swore, wild-eyed debutantes babbled in lightning groups instantly -formed and instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent -yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic ballroom. Feverish -youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or some one, -and the Baptis' preacheh was besieged by a tempestuous covey of -clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making threats, demanding -precedents, ordering the bonds annulled, and especially trying to -ferret out any hint of prearrangement in what had occurred. - -In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. -Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to comfort her; they were -exchanging "all my fault's" volubly and voluminously. Outside on a -snow-covered walk Mr. Cyrus Medill, the Aluminum Man, was being paced -slowly up and down between two brawny charioteers, giving vent now to -a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let -him get at Jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild -man of Borneo, and the most exacting stage-manager would have -acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite -impossible. - -Meanwhile the two principals held the real centre of the stage. Betty -Medill--or was it Betty Parkhurst?--storming furiously, was surrounded -by the plainer girls--the prettier ones were too busy talking about -her to pay much attention to her--and over on the other side of the -hall stood the camel, still intact except for his headpiece, which -dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in -making protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry, puzzled men. -Every few minutes, just as he had apparently proved his case, some one -would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would -begin again. - -A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second best belle of Toledo, -changed the gist of the situation by a remark she made to Betty. - -"Well," she said maliciously, "it'll all blow over, dear. The courts -will annul it without question." - -Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes, her lips shut -tight together, and she looked stonily at Marion. Then she rose and, -scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the -room to Perry, who stared at her in terror. Again silence crept down -upon the room. - -"Will you have the decency to grant me five minutes' conversation--or -wasn't that included in your plans?" - -He nodded, his mouth unable to form words. - -Indicating coldly that he was to follow her she walked out into the -hall with her chin uptilted and headed for the privacy of one of the -little card-rooms. - -Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the -failure of his hind legs to function. - -"You stay here!" he commanded savagely. - -"I can't," whined a voice from the hump, "unless you get out first and -let me get out." - -Perry hesitated, but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the -curious crowd he muttered a command and the camel moved carefully from -the room on its four legs. - -Betty was waiting for him. - -"Well," she began furiously, "you see what you've done! You and that -crazy license! I told you you shouldn't have gotten it!" - -"My dear girl, I--" - -"Don't say 'dear girl' to me! Save that for your real wife if you ever -get one after this disgraceful performance. And don't try to pretend -it wasn't all arranged. You know you gave that colored waiter money! -You know you did! Do you mean to say you didn't try to marry me?" - -"No--of course--" - -"Yes, you'd better admit it! You tried it, and now what are you going -to do? Do you know my father's nearly crazy? It'll serve you right if -he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold steel in -you. Even if this wed--this _thing_ can be annulled it'll hang -over me all the rest of my life!" - -Perry could not resist quoting softly: "'Oh, camel, wouldn't you like -to belong to the pretty snake-charmer for all your--" - -"Shut-up!" cried Betty. - -There was a pause. - -"Betty," said Perry finally, "there's only one thing to do that will -really get us out clear. That's for you to marry me." - -"Marry you!" - -"Yes. Really it's the only--" - -"You shut up! I wouldn't marry you if--if--" - -"I know. If I were the last man on earth. But if you care anything -about your reputation--" - -"Reputation!" she cried. "You're a nice one to think about my -reputation _now_. Why didn't you think about my reputation before -you hired that horrible Jumbo to--to--" - -Perry tossed up his hands hopelessly. - -"Very well. I'll do anything you want. Lord knows I renounce all -claims!" - -"But," said a new voice, "I don't." - -Perry and Betty started, and she put her hand to her heart. - -"For Heaven's sake, what was that?" - -"It's me," said the camel's back. - -In a minute Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a lax, limp -object, his clothes hanging on him damply, his hand clenched tightly -on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them. - -"Oh," cried Betty, "you brought that object in here to frighten me! -You told me he was deaf--that awful person!" - -The camel's back sat down on a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. - -"Don't talk 'at way about me, lady. I ain't no person. I'm your -husband." - -"Husband!" - -The cry was wrung simultaneously from Betty and Perry. - -"Why, sure. I'm as much your husband as that gink is. The smoke didn't -marry you to the camel's front. He married you to the whole camel. -Why, that's my ring you got on your finger!" - -With a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it -passionately at the floor. - -"What's all this?" demanded Perry dazedly. - -"Jes' that you better fix me an' fix me right. If you don't I'm -a-gonna have the same claim you got to bein' married to her!" - -"That's bigamy," said Perry, turning gravely to Betty. - -Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance -on which he risked his fortunes. He rose and looked first at Betty, -where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the -individual who swayed from side to side on his chair, uncertainly, -menacingly. - -"Very well," said Perry slowly to the individual, "you can have her. -Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as far as I'm concerned our -marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my -rights to have you as my wife, and give you to--to the man whose ring -you wear--your lawful husband." - -There was a pause and four horror-stricken eyes were turned on him, - -"Good-by, Betty," he said brokenly. "Don't forget me in your new-found -happiness. I'm going to leave for the Far West on the morning train. -Think of me kindly, Betty." - -With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest -as his hand touched the door-knob. - -"Good-by," he repeated. He turned the door-knob. - -But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated -themselves violently toward him. - -"Oh, Perry, don't leave me! Perry, Perry, take me with you!" - -Her tears flowed damply on his neck. Calmly he folded his arms about -her. - -"I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a -minister at this hour and have it done over again I'll go West with -you." - -Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part -of the camel--and they exchanged a particularly subtle, esoteric sort -of wink that only true camels can understand. - - - - -MAY DAY - - -There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the -conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with -thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring -days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the -strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the brasses, while -merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding -to the windows, turned their white-bunched faces gravely upon the -passing battalions. - -Never had there been such splendor in the great city, for the -victorious war had brought plenty in its train, and the merchants had -flocked thither from the South and West with their households to taste -of all the luscious feasts and witness the lavish entertainments -prepared--and to buy for their women furs against the next winter and -bags of golden mesh and varicolored slippers of silk and silver and -rose satin and cloth of gold. - -So gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by -the scribes and poets of the conquering people that more and more -spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of -excitement, and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their -trinkets and slippers until they sent up a mighty cry for more -trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter -what was demanded of them. Some even of them flung up their hands -helplessly, shouting: - -"Alas! I have no more slippers! and alas! I have no more trinkets! May -heaven help me for I know not what I shall do!" - -But no one listened to their great outcry, for the throngs were far -too busy--day by day, the foot-soldiers trod jauntily the highway and -all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave, sound -of tooth and pink of cheek, and the young women of the land were -virgins and comely both of face and of figure. - -So during all this time there were many adventures that happened in -the great city, and, of these, several--or perhaps one--are here set -down. - -I - -At nine o'clock on the morning of the first of May, 1919, a young man -spoke to the room clerk at the Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip -Dean were registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr. -Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He -was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above -with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of -ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which -colored his face like a low, incessant fever. - -Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone -at the side. - -After a second his connection was made; a sleepy voice hello'd from -somewhere above. - -"Mr. Dean?"--this very eagerly--"it's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon -Sterrett. I'm down-stairs. I heard you were in New York and I had a -hunch you'd be here." - -The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, -old boy! Well, he certainly was surprised and tickled! Would Gordy -come right up, for Pete's sake! - -A few minutes later Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened -his door and the two young men greeted each other with a -half-embarrassed exuberance. They were both about twenty-four, Yale -graduates of the year before the war; but there the resemblance -stopped abruptly. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged under his thin -pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He -smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. - -"I was going to look you up," he cried enthusiastically. "I'm taking a -couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a sec I'll be right with you. -Going to take a shower." - -As he vanished into the bathroom his visitor's dark eyes roved -nervously around the room, resting for a moment on a great English -travelling bag in the corner and on a family of thick silk shirts -littered on the chairs amid impressive neckties and soft woollen -socks. - -Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute -examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow, with a pale blue -stripe--and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared -involuntarily at his own shirt-cuffs--they were ragged and linty at -the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held -his coat-sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they -were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself -with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded -and thumb-creased--it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes -of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three -years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections -at college for being the best-dressed man in his class. - -Dean emerged from the bathroom polishing his body. - -"Saw an old friend of yours last night," he remarked. -"Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my -neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year." - -Gordon started. - -"Edith Bradin? That whom you mean?" - -"'At's the one. Damn good looking. She's still sort of a pretty -doll--you know what I mean: as if you touched her she'd smear." - -He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled -faintly, exposing a section of teeth. - -"She must be twenty-three anyway," he continued. - -"Twenty-two last month," said Gordon absently. - -"What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Psi -dance. Did you know we're having a Yale Gamma Psi dance to-night at -Delmonico's? You better come up, Gordy. Half of New Haven'll probably -be there. I can get you an invitation." - -Draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear, Dean lit a cigarette -and sat down by the open window, inspecting his calves and knees under -the morning sunshine which poured into the room. - -"Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about what you've -been doing and what you're doing now and everything." - -Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and -spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his -face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic. - -"What's the matter?" asked Dean quickly. - -"Oh, God!" - -"What's the matter?" - -"Every God damn thing in the world," he said miserably, "I've -absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in." - -"Huh?" - -"I'm all in." His voice was shaking. - -Dean scrutinized him more closely with appraising blue eyes. - -"You certainly look all shot." - -"I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything." He paused. "I'd -better start at the beginning--or will it bore you?" - -"Not at all; go -on." There was, however, a hesitant note in Dean's voice. This trip -East had been planned for a holiday--to find Gordon Sterrett in -trouble exasperated him a little. - -"Go on," he repeated, and then added half under his breath, "Get it -over with." - -"Well," began Gordon unsteadily, "I got back from France in February, -went home to Harrisburg for a month, and then came down to New York to -get a job. I got one--with an export company. They fired me -yesterday." - -"Fired you?" - -"I'm coming to that, Phil. I want to tell you frankly. You're about -the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I -just tell you frankly, will you, Phil?" - -Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew -perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he was being unfairly saddled with -responsibility; he was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though -never surprised at finding Gordon Sterrett in mild difficulty, there -was something in this present misery that repelled him and hardened -him, even though it excited his curiosity. - -"Go on." - -"It's a girl." - -"Hm." Dean resolved that nothing was going to spoil his trip. If -Gordon was going to be depressing, then he'd have to see less of -Gordon. - -"Her name is Jewel Hudson," went on the distressed voice from the bed. -"She used to be 'pure,' I guess, up to about a year ago. Lived here -in New York--poor family. Her people are dead now and she lives with -an old aunt. You see it was just about the time I met her that -everybody began to come back from France in droves--and all I did was -to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with 'em. That's the -way it started, Phil, just from being glad to see everybody and having -them glad to see me." - -"You ought to've had more sense." - -"I know," Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. "I'm on my own -now, you know, and Phil, I can't stand being poor. Then came this darn -girl. She sort of fell in love with me for a while and, though I never -intended to get so involved, I'd always seem to run into her -somewhere. You can imagine the sort of work I was doing for those -exporting people--of course, I always intended to draw; do -illustrating for magazines; there's a pile of money in it." - -"Why didn't you? You've got to buckle down if you want to make good," -suggested Dean with cold formalism. - -"I tried, a little, but my stuff's crude. I've got talent, Phil; I can -draw--but I just don't know how. I ought to go to art school and I -can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just -as I was down to about my last dollar this girl began bothering me. -She wants some money; claims she can make trouble for me if she -doesn't get it." - -"Can she?" - -"I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job--she kept calling -up the office all the time, and that was sort of the last straw down -there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's -got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her." - -There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched -by his side. - -"I'm all in," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'm half crazy, -Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming East, I think I'd have killed -myself. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars." - -Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly -quiet--and the curious uncertainty playing between the two became taut -and strained. - -After a second Gordon continued: - -"I've bled the family until I'm ashamed to ask for another nickel." - -Still Dean made no answer. - -"Jewel says she's got to have two hundred dollars." - -"Tell her where she can go." - -"Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I -wrote her. Unfortunately she's not at all the flabby sort of person -you'd expect." - -Dean made an expression of distaste. - -"I can't stand that sort of woman. You ought to have kept away." - -"I know," admitted Gordon wearily. - -"You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money -you've got to work and stay away from women." - -"That's easy for you to say," began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. -"You've got all the money in the world." - -"I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I -spend. Just because I have a little leeway I have to be extra careful -not to abuse it." - -He raised the blind and let in a further flood of sunshine. - -"I'm no prig, Lord knows," he went on deliberately. "I like -pleasure--and I like a lot of it on a vacation like this, but -you're--you're in awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way -before. You seem to be sort of bankrupt--morally as well as -financially." - -"Don't they usually go together?" - -Dean shook his head impatiently. - -"There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand. It's a sort -of evil." - -"It's an air of worry and poverty and sleepless nights," said Gordon, -rather defiantly. - -"I don't know." - -"Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But, my God, Phil, a -week's rest and a new suit and some ready money and I'd be like--like -I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak, and you know it. But half the -time I haven't had the money to buy decent drawing materials--and I -can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in. With a little -ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started." - -"How do I know you wouldn't use it on some other woman?" - -"Why rub it in?" said Gordon, quietly. - -"I'm not rubbing it in. I hate to see you this way." - -"Will you lend me the money, Phil?" - -"I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money and it'll be darn -inconvenient for me." - -"It'll be hell for me if you can't--I know I'm whining, and it's all -my own fault but--that doesn't change it." - -"When could you pay it back?" - -This was encouraging. Gordon considered. It was probably wisest to be -frank. - -"Of course, I could promise to send it back next month, but--I'd -better say three months. Just as soon as I start to sell drawings." - -"How do I know you'll sell any drawings?" - -A new hardness in Dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over -Gordon. Was it possible that he wouldn't get the money? - -"I supposed you had a little confidence in me." - -"I did have--but when I see you like this I begin to wonder." - -"Do you suppose if I wasn't at the end of my rope I'd come to you like -this? Do you think I'm enjoying it?" He broke off and bit his lip, -feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice. After -all, he was the suppliant. - -"You seem to manage it pretty easily," said Dean angrily. "You put me -in the position where, if I don't lend it to you, I'm a sucker--oh, -yes, you do. And let me tell you it's no easy thing for me to get hold -of three hundred dollars. My income isn't so big but that a slice like -that won't play the deuce with it." - -He left his chair and began to dress, choosing his clothes carefully. -Gordon stretched out his arms and clenched the edges of the bed, -fighting back a desire to cry out. His head was splitting and -whirring, his mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in -his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular counts like a slow -dripping from a roof. - -Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece -of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette -case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and -settled the case in his vest pocket. - -"Had breakfast?" he demanded. - -"No; I don't eat it any more." - -"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money -later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to have a good time. - -"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added -with an implied reproof: "You've given up your job. You've got nothing -else to do." - -"I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money," said Gordon pointedly. - -"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in -glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money." - -He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to -Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an -added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever. -For an instant before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that -instant each found something that made him lower his own glance -quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated -each other. - - -II - -Fifth Avenue and Forty-fourth Street swarmed with the noon crowd. The -wealthy, happy sun glittered in transient gold through the thick -windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and -strings of pearls in gray velvet cases; upon gaudy feather fans of -many colors; upon the laces and silks of expensive dresses; upon the -bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate show -rooms of interior decorators. - -Working-girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these -windows, choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display -which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the -bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their -engagement rings, and their wedding rings and their platinum wrist -watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera -cloaks; meanwhile digesting the sandwiches and sundaes they had eaten -for lunch. - -All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great -fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from -Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and -finding the great city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they -were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the -weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley Dean and Gordon -wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity -at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had -been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and -dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to -Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless. - -In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who -greeted the visiting Dean vociferously. Sitting in a semicircle of -lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around. - -Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched -together _en masse_, warmed with liquor as the afternoon began. -They were all going to the Gamma Psi dance that night--it promised to -be the best party since the war. - -"Edith Bradin's coming," said some one to Gordon. "Didn't she used to -be an old flame of yours? Aren't you both from Harrisburg?" - -"Yes." He tried to change the subject. "I see her brother -occasionally. He's sort of a socialistic nut. Runs a paper or -something here in New York." - -"Not like his gay sister, eh?" continued his eager informant. "Well, -she's coming to-night--with a junior named Peter Himmel." - -Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock--he had promised to -have some money for her. Several times he glanced nervously at his -wrist watch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he -was going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as -they left the Club another of the party joined them, to Gordon's great -dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the -evening's party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers' he chose a dozen -neckties, selecting each one after long consultations with the other -man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back? And wasn't it a shame -that Rivers couldn't get any more Welsh Margotson collars? There never -was a collar like the "Covington." - -Gordon was in something of a panic. He wanted the money immediately. -And he was now inspired also with a vague idea of attending the Gamma -Psi dance. He wanted to see Edith--Edith whom he hadn't met since one -romantic night at the Harrisburg Country Club just before he went to -France. The affair had died, drowned in the turmoil of the war and -quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture -of her, poignant, debonnaire, immersed in her own inconsequential -chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and brought a hundred memories -with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college -with a sort of detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to -draw her--around his room had been a dozen sketches of her--playing -golf, swimming--he could draw her pert, arresting profile with his -eyes shut. - -They left Rivers' at five-thirty and parsed for a moment on the -sidewalk. - -"Well," said Dean genially, "I'm all set now. Think I'll go back to -the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and massage." - -"Good enough," said the other man, "I think I'll join you." - -Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty he -restrained himself from turning to the man and snarling out, "Go on -away, damn you!" In despair he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken -to him, was keeping him along in order to avoid a dispute about the -money. - -They went into the Biltmore--a Biltmore alive with girls--mostly from -the West and South, the stellar debutantes of many cities gathered for -the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon -they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last -appeal, was about to come out with he knew not what, when Dean -suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm led -him aside. - -"Gordy," he said quickly, "I've thought the whole thing over carefully -and I've decided that I can't lend you that money. I'd like to oblige -you, but I don't feel I ought to--it'd put a crimp in me for a month." - -Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed -how much those upper teeth projected. - -"I'm--mighty sorry, Gordon," continued Dean, "but that's the way it -is." - -He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventy-five -dollars in bills. - -"Here," he said, holding them out, "here's seventy-five; that makes -eighty all together. That's all the actual cash I have with me, -besides what I'll actually spend on the trip." - -Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it -were a tongs he was holding, and clenched it again on the money. - -"I'll see you at the dance," continued Dean. "I've got to get along to -the barber shop." - -"So-long," said Gordon in a strained and husky voice. - -"So-long." - -Dean, began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly -and disappeared. - -But Gordon stood there, his handsome face awry with distress, the roll -of bills clenched tightly in his hand. Then, blinded by sudden tears, -he stumbled clumsily down the Biltmore steps. - - -III - -About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a -cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, -devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without -even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; -they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a -strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from -their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They -were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the -shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New -Jersey, landed three days before. - -The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his -veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran -blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long, -chinless face, the dull, watery eyes, and high cheek-bones, without -finding suggestion of either ancestral worth or native resourcefulness. - -His companion was swart and bandy-legged, with rat-eyes and a -much-broken hooked nose. His defiant air was obviously a pretense, a -weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of -physical bluff and physical menace, in which he had always lived. His -name was Gus Rose. - -Leaving the cafe they sauntered down Sixth Avenue, wielding toothpicks -with great gusto and complete detachment. - -"Where to?" asked Rose, in a tone which implied that he would not be -surprised if Key suggested the South Sea Islands. - -"What you say we see if we can getta holda some liquor?" Prohibition -was not yet. The ginger in the suggestion was caused by the law -forbidding the selling of liquor to soldiers. - -Rose agreed enthusiastically. - -"I got an idea," continued Key, after a moment's thought, "I got a -brother somewhere." - -"In New York?" - -"Yeah. He's an old fella." He meant that he was an elder brother. -"He's a waiter in a hash joint." - -"Maybe he can get us some." - -"I'll say he can!" - -"B'lieve me, I'm goin' to get this darn uniform off me to-morra. Never -get me in it again, neither. I'm goin' to get me some regular -clothes." - -"Say, maybe I'm not." - -As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this -intention can be taken largely as a pleasant game of words, harmless -and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they -reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personages high in -biblical circles, adding such further emphasis as "Oh, boy!" "You -know!" and "I'll say so!" repeated many times over. - -The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended -nasal comment extended through the years upon the institution--army, -business, or poorhouse--which kept them alive, and toward their -immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning the -institution had been the "government" and the immediate superior had -been the "Cap'n"--from these two they had glided out and were now in -the vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next -bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and somewhat ill at ease. -This they hid by pretending an elaborate relief at being out of the -army, and by assuring each other that military discipline should never -again rule their stubborn, liberty-loving wills. Yet, as a matter of -fact, they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this -new-found and unquestionable freedom. - -Suddenly Key increased his gait. Rose, looking up and following his -glance, discovered a crowd that was collecting fifty yards down the -street. Key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd; -Rose thereupon also chuckled and his short bandy legs twinkled beside -the long, awkward strides of his companion. - -Reaching the outskirts of the crowd they immediately became an -indistinguishable part of it. It was composed of ragged civilians -somewhat the worse for liquor, and of soldiers representing many -divisions and many stages of sobriety, all clustered around a -gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving his -arms and delivering an excited but succinct harangue. Key and Rose, -having wedged themselves into the approximate parquet, scrutinized him -with acute suspicion, as his words penetrated their common -consciousness. - -"--What have you got outa the war?" he was crying fiercely. "Look -arounja, look arounja! Are you rich? Have you got a lot of money -offered you?--no; you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs; -you're lucky if you came back an' find your wife ain't gone off with -some other fella that had the money to buy himself out of the war! -That's when you're lucky! Who got anything out of it except J. P. -Morgan an' John D. Rockerfeller?" - -At this point the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile -impact of a fist upon the point of his bearded chin and he toppled -backward to a sprawl on the pavement. - -"God damn Bolsheviki!" cried the big soldier-blacksmith, who had -delivered the blow. There was a rumble of approval, the crowd closed -in nearer. - -The Jew staggered to his feet, and immediately went down again before -a half-dozen reaching-in fists. This time he stayed down, breathing -heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and -without. - -There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found -themselves flowing with the jumbled crowd down Sixth Avenue under the -leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier -who had summarily ended the oration. The crowd had marvellously -swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of more non-committal -citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support -by intermittent huzzas. - -"Where we goin'?" yelled Key to the man nearest him - -His neighbor pointed up to the leader in the slouch hat. - -"That guy knows where there's a lot of 'em! We're goin' to show 'em!" - -"We're goin' to show 'em!" whispered Key delightedly to Rose, who -repeated the phrase rapturously to a man on the other side. - -Down Sixth Avenue swept the procession, joined here and there by -soldiers and marines, and now and then by civilians, who came up with -the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves, as -if presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed Sporting and -Amusement Club. - -Then the procession swerved down a cross street and headed for Fifth -Avenue and the word filtered here and there that they were bound for a -Red meeting at Tolliver Hall. - -"Where is it?" - -The question went up the line and a moment later the answer floated -hack. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth Street. There was a bunch of -other sojers who was goin' to break it up and was down there now! - -But Tenth Street had a faraway sound and at the word a general groan -went up and a score of the procession dropped out. Among these were -Rose and Key, who slowed down to a saunter and let the more -enthusiastic sweep on by. - -"I'd rather get some liquor," said Key as they halted and made their -way to the sidewalk amid cries of "Shell hole!" and "Quitters!" - -"Does your brother work around here?" asked Rose, assuming the air of -one passing from the superficial to the eternal. - -"He oughta," replied Key. "I ain't seen him for a coupla years. I been -out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he don't work at night anyhow. It's -right along here. He can get us some o'right if he ain't gone." - -They found the place after a few minutes' patrol of the street--a -shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth Avenue and Broadway. Here -Key went inside to inquire for his brother George, while Rose waited -on the sidewalk. - -"He ain't here no more," said Key emerging. "He's a waiter up to -Delmonico's." - -Rose nodded wisely, as if he'd expected as much. One should not be -surprised at a capable man changing jobs occasionally. He knew a -waiter once--there ensued a long conversation as they waited as to -whether waiters made more in actual wages than in tips--it was decided -that it depended on the social tone of the joint wherein the waiter -labored. After having given each other vivid pictures of millionaires -dining at Delmonico's and throwing away fifty-dollar bills after their -first quart of champagne, both men thought privately of becoming -waiters. In fact, Key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask -his brother to get him a job. - -"A waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellas leave in -bottles," suggested Rose with some relish, and then added as an -afterthought, "Oh, boy!" - -By the time they reached Delmonico's it was half past ten, and they -were surprised to see a stream of taxis driving up to the door one -after the other and emitting marvelous, hatless young ladies, each one -attended by a stiff young gentleman in evening clothes. - -"It's a party," said Rose with some awe. "Maybe we better not go in. -He'll be busy." - -"No, he won't. He'll be o'right." - -After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the -least elaborate door and, indecision falling upon them immediately, -stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small -dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps -and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them and both -started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a -comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through -another door on the other side. - -There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers -mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them -suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if -prepared at any moment to turn and flee. - -"Say," began Key, "say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here." - -"His name is Key," annotated Rose. - -Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was up-stairs, he thought. There was a -big dance going on in the main ballroom. He'd tell him. - -Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the -utmost suspicion; his first and most natural thought being that he was -going to be asked for money. - -George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his -brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were not dull, they were alert and -twinkling, and his manner was suave, in-door, and faintly superior. -They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. -He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol -had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol. - -"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been -disposed of, "we want to get some booze, and they won't sell us none. -Can you get us some?" - -George considered. - -"Sure. Maybe I can. It may be half an hour, though." - -"All right," agreed Carrol, "we'll wait." - -At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed -to his feet by the indignant George. - -"Hey! Watch out, you! Can't sit down here! This room's all set for a -twelve o'clock banquet." - -"I ain't goin' to hurt it," said Rose resentfully. "I been through the -delouser." - -"Never mind," said George sternly, "if the head waiter seen me here -talkin' he'd romp all over me." - -"Oh." - -The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; -they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a -suggestion. - -"I tell you," said George, after a pause, "I got a place you can wait; -you just come here with me." - -They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a -pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room -chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, -and illuminated by a single dim electric light. There he left them, -after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour -with a quart of whiskey. - -"George is makin' money, I bet," said Key gloomily as he seated -himself on an inverted pail. "I bet he's making fifty dollars a week." - -Rose nodded his head and spat. - -"I bet he is, too." - -"What'd he say the dance was of?" - -"A lot of college fellas. Yale College." - -They, both nodded solemnly at each other. - -"Wonder where that crowda sojers is now?" - -"I don't know. I know that's too damn long to walk for me." - -"Me too. You don't catch me walkin' that far." - -Ten minutes later restlessness seized them. - -"I'm goin' to see what's out here," said Rose, stepping cautiously -toward the other door. - -It was a swinging door of green baize and he pushed it open a cautious -inch. - -"See anything?" - -For answer Rose drew in his breath sharply. - -"Doggone! Here's some liquor I'll say!" - -"Liquor?" - -Key joined Rose at the door, and looked eagerly. - -"I'll tell the world that's liquor," he said, after a moment of -concentrated gazing. - -It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in--and in it -was prepared a radiant feast of spirits. There were long walls of -alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, -brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention -an array of syphons and two great empty punch bowls. The room was as -yet uninhabited. - -"It's for this dance they're just starting," whispered Key; "hear the -violins playin'? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind havin' a dance." - -They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual -comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out. - -"I'd like to get my hands on a coupla those bottles," said Rose -emphatically. - -"Me too." - -"Do you suppose we'd get seen?" - -Key considered. - -"Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin' 'em. They got 'em all -laid out now, and they know how many of them there are." - -They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting -his hands on a bottle now and tucking it under his coat before anyone -came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. He was afraid he -might get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the -bottles were opened it'd be all right to take one, and everybody'd -think it was one of the college fellas. - -While they were still engaged in argument George Key hurried through -the room and, barely grunting at them, disappeared by way of the green -baize door. A minute later they heard several corks pop, and then the -sound of cracking ice and splashing liquid. George was mixing the -punch. - -The soldiers exchanged delighted grins. - -"Oh, boy!" whispered Rose. - -George reappeared. - -"Just keep low, boys," he said quickly. "Ill have your stuff for you -in five minutes." - -He disappeared through the door by which he had come. - -As soon as his footsteps receded down the stairs, Rose, after a -cautious look, darted into the room of delights and reappeared with a -bottle in his hand. - -"Here's what I say," he said, as they sat radiantly digesting their -first drink. "We'll wait till he comes up, and we'll ask him if we -can't just stay here and drink what he brings us--see. We'll tell him -we haven't got any place to drink it--see. Then we can sneak in there -whenever there ain't nobody in that there room and tuck a bottle under -our coats. We'll have enough to last us a coupla days--see?" - -"Sure," agreed Rose enthusiastically. "Oh, boy! And if we want to we -can sell it to sojers any time we want to." - -They were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea. Then Key -reached up and unhooked the collar of his O. D. coat. - -"It's hot in here, ain't it?" - -Rose agreed earnestly. - -"Hot as hell." - - -IV - -She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressing-room and -crossed the intervening parlor of politeness that opened onto the -hall--angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, -the merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had -occurred on this particular night. She had no quarrel with herself. -She had acted with that correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity -which she always employed. She had succinctly and deftly snubbed him. - -It had happened when their taxi was leaving the Biltmore--hadn't gone -half a block. He had lifted his right arm awkwardly--she was on his -right side--and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson -fur-trimmed opera cloak she wore. This in itself had been a mistake. -It was inevitably more graceful for a young man attempting to embrace -a young lady of whose acquiescence he was not certain, to first put -his far arm around her. It avoided that awkward movement of raising -the near arm. - -His second _faux pas_ was unconscious. She had spent the -afternoon at the hairdresser's; the idea of any calamity overtaking -her hair was extremely repugnant--yet as Peter made his unfortunate -attempt the point of his elbow had just faintly brushed it. That was -his second _faux pas_. Two were quite enough. - -He had begun to murmur. At the first murmur she had decided that he -was nothing but a college boy--Edith was twenty-two, and anyhow, this -dance, first of its kind since the war, was reminding her, with the -accelerating rhythm of its associations, of something else--of another -dance and another man, a man for whom her feelings had been little -more than a sad-eyed, adolescent mooniness. Edith Bradin was falling -in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett. - -So she came out of the dressing-room at Delmonico's and stood for a -second in the doorway looking over the shoulders of a black dress in -front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified -black moths around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left -drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to and fro of many -scented young beauties--rich perfumes and the fragile memory-laden -dust of fragrant powders. This odor drifting out acquired the tang of -cigarette smoke in the hall, and then settled sensuously down the -stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Psi dance was to be -held. It was an odor she knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly -sweet--the odor of a fashionable dance. - -She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were -powdered to a creamy white. She knew they looked very soft and would -gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them -to-night. The hairdressing had been a success; her reddish mass of -hair was piled and crushed and creased to an arrogant marvel of mobile -curves. Her lips were finely made of deep carmine; the irises of her -eyes were delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a -complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty, flowing -in an even line from a complex coiffure to two small slim feet. - -She thought of what she would say to-night at this revel, faintly -prestiged already by the sounds of high and low laughter and slippered -footsteps, and movements of couples up and down the stairs. She would -talk the language she had talked for many years--her line--made up of -the current expressions, bits of journalese and college slang strung -together into an intrinsic whole, careless, faintly provocative, -delicately sentimental. She stalled faintly as she heard a girl -sitting on the stairs near her say: "You don't know the half of it, -dearie!" - -And as she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes -she drew in a deep breath of pleasure. She dropped her arms to her -side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered -and suggested her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much -nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms. - -"I smell sweet," she said to herself simply, and then came another -thought "I'm made for love." - -She liked the sound of this and thought it again; then inevitable -succession came her new-born riot of dreams about Gordon. The twist of -her imagination which, two months before, had disclosed to her her -unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up -to this dance, this hour. - -For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slow-thinking girl. There -was a streak in her of that same desire to ponder, of that adolescent -idealism that had turned her brother socialist and pacifist. Henry -Bradin had left Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economies, -and had come to New York to pour the latest cures for incurable evils -into the columns of a radical weekly newspaper. - -Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon -Sterrett. There was a quality of weakness in Gordon that she wanted to -take care of; there was a helplessness in him that she wanted to -protect. And she wanted someone she had known a long while, someone -who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired; she wanted to -get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as -many memories, and this weariness, she had decided that next time she -saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed. She would say -something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her -evening. All evenings were her evenings. - -Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a -hurt look and an air of strained formality who presented himself -before her and bowed unusually low. It was the man she had come with, -Peter Himmel. He was tall and humorous, with horned-rimmed glasses and -an air of attractive whimsicality. She suddenly rather disliked -him--probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her. - -"Well," she began, "are you still furious at me?" - -"Not at all." - -She stepped forward and took his arm. - -"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I snapped out that -way. I'm in a bum humor to-night for some strange reason. I'm sorry." - -"S'all right," he mumbled, "don't mention it." - -He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his -late failure? - -"It was a mistake," she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. -"We'll both forget it." For this he hated her. - -A few minutes later they drifted out on the floor while the dozen -swaying, sighing members of the specially hired jazz orchestra -informed the crowded ballroom that "if a saxophone and me are left -alone why then two is com-pan-ee!" - -A man with a mustache cut in. - -"Hello," he began reprovingly. "You don't remember me." - -"I can't just think of your name," she said lightly--"and I know you -so well." - -"I met you up at--" His voice trailed disconsolately off as a man with -very fair hair cut in. Edith murmured a conventional "Thanks, -loads--cut in later," to the _inconnu_. - -The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She -placed him as one of the numerous Jims of her acquaintance--last name -a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in -dancing and found as they started that she was right. - -"Going to be here long?" he breathed confidentially. - -She leaned back and looked up at him. - -"Couple of weeks." - -"Where are you?" - -"Biltmore. Call me up some day." - -"I mean it," he assured her. "I will. We'll go to tea." - -"So do I--Do." - -A dark man cut in with intense formality. - -"You don't remember me, do you?" he said gravely. - -"I should say I do. Your name's Harlan." - -"No-ope. Barlow." - -"Well, I knew there were two syllables anyway. You're the boy that -played the ukulele so well up at Howard Marshall's house party. - -"I played--but not--" - -A man with prominent teeth cut in. Edith inhaled a slight cloud of -whiskey. She liked men to have had something to drink; they were so -much more cheerful, and appreciative and complimentary--much easier to -talk to. - -"My name's Dean, Philip Dean," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember -me, I know, but you used to come up to New Haven with a fellow I -roomed with senior year, Gordon Sterrett." - -Edith looked up quickly. - -"Yes, I went up with him twice--to the Pump and Slipper and the Junior -prom." - -"You've seen him, of course," said Dean carelessly. "He's here -to-night. I saw him just a minute ago." - -Edith started. Yet she had felt quite sure he would be here. - -"Why, no, I haven't--" - -A fat man with red hair cut in. - -"Hello, Edith," he began. - -"Why--hello there--" - -She slipped, stumbled lightly. - -"I'm sorry, dear," she murmured mechanically. - -She had seen Gordon--Gordon very white and listless, leaning against -the side of a doorway, smoking, and looking into the ballroom. Edith -could see that his face was thin and wan--that the hand he raised to -his lips with a cigarette, was trembling. They were dancing quite -close to him now. - -"--They invite so darn many extra fellas that you--" the short man was -saying. - -"Hello, Gordon," called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart -was pounding wildly. - -His large dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her -direction. Her partner turned her away--she heard his voice -bleating---- - -"--but half the stags get lit and leave before long, so--" Then a low -tone at her side. - -"May I, please?" - -She was dancing suddenly with Gordon; one of his arms was around her; -she felt it tighten spasmodically; felt his hand on her back with the -fingers spread. Her hand holding the little lace handkerchief was -crushed in his. - -"Why Gordon," she began breathlessly. - -"Hello, Edith." - -She slipped again--was tossed forward by her recovery until her face -touched the black cloth of his dinner coat. She loved him--she knew -she loved him--then for a minute there was silence while a strange -feeling of uneasiness crept over her. Something was wrong. - -Of a sudden her heart wrenched, and turned over as she realized what -it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a little drunk, and miserably -tired. - -"Oh--" she cried involuntarily. - -His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were -blood-streaked and rolling uncontrollably. - -"Gordon," she murmured, "we'll sit down; I want to sit down." - -They were nearly in mid-floor, but she had seen two men start toward -her from opposite sides of the room, so she halted, seized Gordon's -limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, -her face a little pale under her rouge, her eyes trembling with tears. - -She found a place high up on the soft-carpeted stairs, and he sat down -heavily beside her. - -"Well," he began, staring at her unsteadily, "I certainly am glad to -see you, Edith." - -She looked at him without answering. The effect of this on her was -immeasurable. For years she had seen men in various stages of -intoxication, from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs, and her -feelings had varied from amusement to disgust, but here for the first -time she was seized with a new feeling--an unutterable horror. - -"Gordon," she said accusingly and almost crying, "you look like the -devil." - -He nodded, "I've had trouble, Edith." - -"Trouble?" - -"All sorts of trouble. Don't you say anything to the family, but I'm -all gone to pieces. I'm a mess, Edith." - -His lower lip was sagging. He seemed scarcely to see her. - -"Can't you--can't you," she hesitated, "can't you tell me about it, -Gordon? You know I'm always interested in you." - -She bit her lip--she had intended to say something stronger, but found -at the end that she couldn't bring it out. - -Gordon shook his head dully. "I can't tell you. You're a good woman. I -can't tell a good woman the story." - -"Rot," she said, defiantly. "I think it's a perfect insult to call any -one a good woman in that way. It's a slam. You've been drinking, -Gordon." - -"Thanks." He inclined his head gravely. "Thanks for the information." - -"Why do you drink?" - -"Because I'm so damn miserable." - -"Do you think drinking's going to make it any better?" - -"What you doing--trying to reform me?" - -"No; I'm trying to help you, Gordon. Can't you tell me about it?" - -"I'm in an awful mess. Best thing you can do is to pretend not to know -me." - -"Why, Gordon?" - -"I'm sorry I cut in on you--its unfair to you. You're pure woman--and -all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get some one else to dance with -you." - -He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down -beside her on the stairs. - -"Here, Gordon. You're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting -like a--like a crazy man--" - -"I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. -There's something left me. It doesn't matter." - -"It does, tell me." - -"Just that. I was always queer--little bit different from other boys. -All right in college, but now it's all wrong. Things have been -snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress, and -it's about to come off when a few more hooks go. I'm very gradually -going loony." - -He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away -from him. - -"What _is_ the matter?" - -"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a -dream to me--this Delmonico's--" - -As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light -and gay and careless--a great lethargy and discouragement had come -over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising -boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void. - -"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. -Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith. Don't know why I'm telling -you this." - -She nodded absently. - -"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He -laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've become a damn beggar, a -leech on my friends. I'm a failure. I'm poor as hell." - -Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her -first possible cue to rise. - -Suddenly Gordon's eyes filled with tears. - -"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong -effort at self-control, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know -there's one person left who's interested in me." - -He reached out and patted her hand, and involuntarily she drew it -away. - -"It's mighty fine of you," he repeated. - -"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always -glad to see an old friend--but I'm sorry to see you like this, -Gordon." - -There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary -eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her -face quite expressionless. - -"Shall we dance?" she suggested, coolly. - ---Love is fragile--she was thinking--but perhaps the pieces are saved, -the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new -love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next -lover. - - -V - -Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being -snubbed; having been snubbed, he was hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed -of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery -terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and -explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental -correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He -searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this -attitude in the matter of a simple kiss. - -Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the mustache he went -out into the hall and, making up a sentence, said it over to himself -several times. Considerably deleted, this was it: - -"Well, if any girl ever led a man on and then jolted him, she did--and -she has no kick coming if I go out and get beautifully boiled." - -So he walked through the supper room into a small room adjoining it, -which he had located earlier in the evening. It was a room in which -there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He -took a seat beside the table which held the bottles. - -At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the -turbidity of events, sank into a vague background before which -glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves, -things lay quietly on their shelves; the troubles of the day arranged -themselves in trim formation and at his curt wish of dismissal, -marched off and disappeared. And with the departure of worry came -brilliant, permeating symbolism. Edith became a flighty, negligible -girl, not to be worried over; rather to be laughed at. She fitted like -a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him. He -himself became in a measure symbolic, a type of the continent -bacchanal, the brilliant dreamer at play. - -Then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his -imagination yielded to the warm glow and he lapsed into a state -similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this -point that he noticed that a green baize door near him was open about -two inches, and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were watching -him intently. - -"Hm," murmured Peter calmly. - -The green door closed--and then opened again--a bare half inch this -time. - -"Peek-a-boo," murmured Peter. - -The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of -tense intermittent whispers. - -"One guy." - -"What's he doin'?" - -"He's sittin' lookin'." - -"He better beat it off. We gotta get another li'l' bottle." - -Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness. - -"Now this," he thought, "is most remarkable." - -He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a -mystery. Affecting an elaborate carelessness he arose and waited -around the table--then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door, -precipitating Private Rose into the room. - -Peter bowed. - -"How do you do?" he said. - -Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for -fight, flight, or compromise. - -"How do you do?" repeated Peter politely. - -"I'm o'right." - -"Can I offer you a drink?" - -Private Rose looked at him searchingly, suspecting possible sarcasm. - -"O'right," he said finally. - -Peter indicated a chair. - -"Sit down." - -"I got a friend," said Rose, "I got a friend in there." He pointed to -the green door. - -"By all means let's have him in." - -Peter crossed over, opened the door and welcomed in Private Key, very -suspicious and uncertain and guilty. Chairs were found and the three -took their seats around the punch bowl. Peter gave them each a -highball and offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted -both with some diffidence. - -"Now," continued Peter easily, "may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to -lounge away your leisure hours in a room which is chiefly furnished, -as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race -has progressed to the stage where seventeen thousand chairs are -manufactured on every day except Sunday--" he paused. Rose and Key -regarded him vacantly. "Will you tell me," went on Peter, "why you -choose to rest yourselves on articles, intended for the transportation -of water from one place to another?" - -At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation. - -"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a -building beautifully hung with enormous candelabra, you prefer to -spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?" - -Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed -uproariously; they found it was impossible to look at each other -without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man--they were -laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was -either raving drunk or raving crazy. - -"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and -preparing another. - -They laughed again. - -"Na-ah." - -"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of -the university known as the Sheffield Scientific School." - -"Na-ah." - -"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to -preserve your incognito in this--this paradise of violet blue, as the -newspapers say." - -"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody." - -"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses, "very -interestin'. Had a date with a scrublady, eh?" - -They both denied this indignantly. - -"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A -scrublady's as good as any lady in the world." - -"Kipling says 'Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'" - -"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose. - -"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got -a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn girl I ever saw. Refused -to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure -I want to kiss you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger -generation comin' to?" - -"Say tha's hard luck," said Key--"that's awful hard luck." - -"Oh, boy!" said Rose. - -"Have another?" said Peter. - -"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but -it was too far away." - -"A fight?--tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. -"Fight 'em all! I was in the army." - -"This was with a Bolshevik fella." - -"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! -Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!" - -"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. - -"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americans! -Have another." - -They had another. - - -VI - -At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special -orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its members, seating -themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of -providing music for the Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a -famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for his feat of -standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played -the latest jazz on his flute. During his performance the lights were -extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another -roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic -colors over the massed dancers. - -Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only -with debutantes, a state equivalent to the glow of a noble soul after -several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her -music; her partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the -colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it seemed as if days -had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary -subjects with many men. She had been kissed once and made love to six -times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates had danced -with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her -own entourage--that is, half a dozen gallants had singled her out or -were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty; -they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession. - -Several times she had seen Gordon--he had been sitting a long time on -the stairway with his palm to his head, his dull eyes fixed at an -infinite spark on the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and -quite drunk--but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All -that seemed long ago; her mind was passive now, her senses were lulled -to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in -hazy sentimental banter. - -But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral -indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her, sublimely and happily -drunk. She gasped and looked up at him. - -"Why, _Peter_!" - -"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith." - -"Why, Peter, you're a _peach_, you are! Don't you think it's a -bum way of doing--when you're with me?" - -Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish -sentimentality varied with a silly spasmodic smile. - -"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?" - -"You tell it well." - -"I love you--and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly. - -His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful -girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful eyes, like stars above. He wanted -to 'pologize--firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for -drinking--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was -mad at him---- - -The red-fat man cut in, and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly. - -"Did you bring any one?" she asked. - -No. The red-fat man was a stag. - -"Well, would you mind--would it be an awful bother for you to--to take -me home to-night?" (this extreme diffidence was a charming affectation -on Edith's part--she knew that the red-fat man would immediately -dissolve into a paroxysm of delight). - -"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn -glad to." - -"Thanks _loads_! You're awfully sweet." - -She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said -"half-past one" to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her -brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his -newspaper until after one-thirty every evening. - -Edith turned suddenly to her current partner. - -"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?" - -"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course." - -"I mean, what cross street?" - -"Why--let's see--it's on Forty-fourth Street." - -This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the -street and just around the corner, and it occurred to her immediately -that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on -him, a shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him -up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith revelled in doing--an -unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her -imagination--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. - -"My hair is just about to tumble entirely down," she said pleasantly -to her partner; "would you mind if I go and fix it?" - -"Not at all." - -"You're a peach." - -A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted -down a side-stairs, her cheeks glowing with excitement at her little -adventure. She ran by a couple who stood at the door--a weak-chinned -waiter and an over-rouged young lady, in hot dispute--and opening the -outer door stepped into the warm May night. - -VII - -The over-rouged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter -glance--then turned again to the weak-chinned waiter and took up her -argument. - -"You better go up and tell him I'm here," she said defiantly, "or I'll -go up myself." - -"No, you don't!" said George sternly. - -The girl smiled sardonically. - -"Oh, I don't, don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college -fellas and more of 'em know me, and are glad to take me out on a -party, than you ever saw in your whole life." - -"Maybe so--" - -"Maybe so," she interrupted. "Oh, it's all right for any of 'em like -that one that just ran out--God knows where _she_ went--it's all -right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like--but -when I want to see a friend they have some cheap, ham-slinging, -bring-me-a-doughnut waiter to stand here and keep me out." - -"See here," said the elder Key indignantly, "I can't lose my job. -Maybe this fella you're talkin' about doesn't want to see you." - -"Oh, he wants to see me all right." - -"Anyways, how could I find him in all that crowd?" - -"Oh, he'll be there," she asserted confidently. "You just ask anybody -for Gordon Sterrett and they'll point him out to you. They all know -each other, those fellas." - -She produced a mesh bag, and taking out a dollar bill handed it to -George. - -"Here," she said, "here's a bribe. You find him and give him my -message. You tell him if he isn't here in five minutes I'm coming up." - -George shook his head pessimistically, considered the question for a -moment, wavered violently, and then withdrew. - -In less than the allotted time Gordon came down-stairs. He was drunker -than he had been earlier in the evening and in a different way. The -liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust. He was heavy and -lurching--almost incoherent when he talked. - -"'Lo, Jewel," he said thickly. "Came right away, Jewel, I couldn't get -that money. Tried my best." - -"Money nothing!" she snapped. "You haven't been near me for ten days. -What's the matter?" - -He shook his head slowly. - -"Been very low, Jewel. Been sick." - -"Why didn't you tell me if you were sick. I don't care about the money -that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began -neglecting me." - -Again he shook his head. - -"Haven't been neglecting you. Not at all." - -"Haven't! You haven't been near me for three weeks, unless you been so -drunk you didn't know what you were doing." - -"Been sick. Jewel," he repeated, turning his eyes upon her wearily. - -"You're well enough to come and play with your society friends here -all right. You told me you'd meet me for dinner, and you said you'd -have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up." - -"I couldn't get any money." - -"Haven't I just been saying that doesn't matter? I wanted to see -_you_, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your somebody else." - -He denied this bitterly. - -"Then get your hat and come along," she suggested. Gordon -hesitated--and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms -around his neck. - -"Come on with me, Gordon," she said in a half whisper. "We'll go over -to Devineries' and have a drink, and then we can go up to my -apartment." - -"I can't, Jewel,----" - -"You can," she said intensely. - -"I'm sick as a dog!" - -"Well, then, you oughtn't to stay here and dance." - -With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, -Gordon hesitated; then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him -with soft, pulpy lips. - -"All right," he said heavily. "I'll get my hat." - - -VII - -When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night she found the -Avenue deserted. The windows of the big shops were dark; over their -doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs -of the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward Forty-second Street -she saw a commingled blur of lights from the all-night restaurants. -Over on Sixth Avenue the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the -street between the glimmering parallels of light at the station and -streaked along into the crisp dark. But at Forty-fourth Street it was -very quiet. - -Pulling her cloak close about her Edith darted across the Avenue. She -started nervously as a solitary man passed her and said in a hoarse -whisper--"Where bound, kiddo?" She was reminded of a night in her -childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a -dog had howled at her from a mystery-big back yard. - -In a minute she had reached her destination, a two-story, -comparatively old building on Forty-fourth, in the upper window of -which she thankfully detected a wisp of light. It was bright enough -outside for her to make out the sign beside the window--the _New -York Trumpet_. She stepped inside a dark hall and after a second -saw the stairs in the corner. - -Then she was in a long, low room furnished with many desks and hung on -all sides with file copies of newspapers. There were only two -occupants. They were sitting at different ends of the room, each -wearing a green eye-shade and writing by a solitary desk light. - -For a moment she stood uncertainly in the doorway, and then both men -turned around simultaneously and she recognized her brother. - -"Why, Edith!" He rose quickly and approached her in surprise, removing -his eye-shade. He was tall, lean, and dark, with black, piercing eyes -under very thick glasses. They were far-away eyes that seemed always -fixed just over the head of the person to whom he was talking. - -He put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek. - -"What is it?" he repeated in some alarm. - -"I was at a dance across at Delmonico's, Henry," she said excitedly, -"and I couldn't resist tearing over to see you." - -"I'm glad you did." His alertness gave way quickly to a habitual -vagueness. "You oughtn't to be out alone at night though, ought you?" - -The man at the other end of the room had been looking at them -curiously, but at Henry's beckoning gesture he approached. He was -loosely fat with little twinkling eyes, and, having removed his collar -and tie, he gave the impression of a Middle-Western farmer on a Sunday -afternoon. - -"This is my sister," said Henry. "She dropped in to see me." - -"How do you do?" said the fat man, smiling. "My name's Bartholomew, -Miss Bradin. I know your brother has forgotten it long ago." - -Edith laughed politely. - -"Well," he continued, "not exactly gorgeous quarters we have here, are -they?" - -Edith looked around the room. - -"They seem very nice," she replied. "Where do you keep the bombs?" - -"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good--the -bombs. Did you hear her, Henry? She wants to know where we keep the -bombs. Say, that's pretty good." - -Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over -the edge. Her brother took a seat beside her. - -"Well," he asked, absent-mindedly, "how do you like New York this -trip?" - -"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday. -Can't you come to luncheon to-morrow?" - -He thought a moment. - -"I'm especially busy," he objected, "and I hate women in groups." - -"All right," she agreed, unruffled. "Let's you and me have luncheon -together." - -"Very well." - -"I'll call for you at twelve." - -Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but -apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some -parting pleasantry. - -"Well"--he began awkwardly. - -They both turned to him. - -"Well, we--we had an exciting time earlier in the evening." - -The two men exchanged glances. - -"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat -encouraged. "We had a regular vaudeville." - -"Did you really?" - -"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in -the street and began to yell at the sign." - -"Why?" she demanded. - -"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl. -They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd -probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up." - -"Yes," said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith, "you should have been -here." - -He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he -turned abruptly and went back to his desk. - -"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of -her brother. "I mean do they attack you violently and all that?" - -Henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned. - -"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of -us are throw-backs; the soldiers don't know what they want, or what -they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies, -and they seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be -against us. There've been riots all over the city to-night. It's May -Day, you see." - -"Was the disturbance here pretty serious?" - -"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twenty-five of them stopped in -the street about nine o'clock, and began to bellow at the moon." - -"Oh"--She changed the subject. "You're glad to see me, Henry?" - -"Why, sure." - -"You don't seem to be." - -"I am." - -"I suppose you think I'm a--a waster. Sort of the World's Worst -Butterfly." - -Henry laughed. - -"Not at all. Have a good time while you're young. Why? Do I seem like -the priggish and earnest youth?" - -"No--" she paused,"--but somehow I began thinking how absolutely -different the party I'm on is from--from all your purposes. It seems -sort of--of incongruous, doesn't it?--me being at a party like that, -and you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party -impossible ever any more, if your ideas work." - -"I don't think of it that way. You're young, and you're acting just as -you were brought up to act. Go ahead--have a good time?" - -Her feet, which had been idly swinging, stopped and her voice dropped -a note. - -"I wish you'd--you'd come back to Harrisburg and have a good time. Do -you feel sure that you're on the right track----" - -"You're wearing beautiful stockings," he interrupted. "What on earth -are they?" - -"They're embroidered," she replied, glancing down; "Aren't they -cunning?" She raised her skirts and uncovered slim, silk-sheathed -calves. "Or do you disapprove of silk stockings?" - -He seemed slightly exasperated, bent his dark eyes on her piercingly. - -"Are you trying to make me out as criticizing you in any way, Edith?" - -"Not at all----" - -She paused. Bartholomew had uttered a grunt. She turned and saw that -he had left his desk and was standing at the window. - -"What is it?" demanded Henry. - -"People," said Bartholomew, and then after an instant: "Whole jam of -them. They're coming from Sixth Avenue." - -"People?" - -The fat man pressed his nose to the pane. - -"Soldiers, by God!" he said emphatically. "I had an idea they'd come -back." - -Edith jumped to her feet, and running over joined Bartholomew at the -window. - -"There's a lot of them!" she cried excitedly. "Come here, Henry!" - -Henry readjusted his shade, but kept his seat. - -"Hadn't we better turn out the lights?" suggested Bartholomew. - -"No. They'll go away in a minute." - -"They're not," said Edith, peering from the window. "They're not even -thinking of going away. There's more of them coming. Look--there's a -whole crowd turning the corner of Sixth Avenue." - -By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp she could see -that the sidewalk was crowded with men. They were mostly in uniform, -some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an -incoherent clamor and shouting. - -Henry rose, and going to the window exposed himself as a long -silhouette against the office lights. Immediately the shouting became -a steady yell, and a rattling fusillade of small missiles, corners of -tobacco plugs, cigarette-boxes, and even pennies beat against the -window. The sounds of the racket now began floating up the stairs as -the folding doors revolved. - -"They're coming up!" cried Bartholomew. - -Edith turned anxiously to Henry. - -"They're coming up, Henry." - -From down-stairs in the lower hall their cries were now quite audible. - -"--God Damn Socialists!" - -"Pro-Germans! Boche-lovers!" - -"Second floor, front! Come on!" - -"We'll get the sons--" - -The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the -clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, -that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had -seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then -the door opened and an overflow of men were forced into the room--not -the leaders, but simply those who happened to be in front. - -"Hello, Bo!" - -"Up late, ain't you!" - -"You an' your girl. Damn _you_!" - -She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the -front, where they wobbled fatuously--one of them was short and dark, -the other was tall and weak of chin. - -Henry stepped forward and raised his hand. - -"Friends!" he said. - -The clamor faded into a momentary stillness, punctuated with -mutterings. - -"Friends!" he repeated, his far-away eyes fixed over the heads of the -crowd, "you're injuring no one but yourselves by breaking in here -to-night. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you -in all fairness--" - -"Pipe down!" - -"I'll say you do!" - -"Say, who's your lady friend, buddy?" - -A man in civilian clothes, who had been pawing over a table, suddenly -held up a newspaper. - -"Here it is!" he shouted, "They wanted the Germans to win the war!" - -A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in and of a sudden the -room was full of men all closing around the pale little group at the -back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in -front. The short dark one had disappeared. - -She edged slightly backward, stood close to the open window, through -which came a clear breath of cool night air. - -Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging -forward, glimpsed the fat man swinging a chair over his -head--instantly the lights went out and she felt the push of warm -bodies under rough cloth, and her ears were full of shouting and -trampling and hard breathing. - -A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, -and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window -with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of -the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on -the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall -soldier with tie weak chin. - -Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged -blindly toward the thickest of the scuffling. She heard grunts, -curses, the muffled impact of fists. - -"Henry!" she called frantically, "Henry!" - -Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other -figures in the room. She heard a voice, deep, bullying, authoritative; -she saw yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. -The cries became more scattered. The scuffling increased and then -stopped. - -Suddenly the lights were on and the room was full of policemen, -clubbing left and right. The deep voice boomed out: - -"Here now! Here now! Here now!" - -And then: - -"Quiet down and get out! Here now!" - -The room seemed to empty like a wash-bowl. A policeman fast-grappled -in the corner released his hold on his soldier antagonist and started -him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith -perceived now that it came from a bull-necked police captain standing -near the door. - -"Here now! This is no way! One of your own sojers got shoved out of -the back window an' killed hisself!" - -"Henry!" called Edith, "Henry!" - -She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her; -she brushed between two others; fought, shrieked, and beat her way to -a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk. - -"Henry," she cried passionately, "what's the matter? What's the -matter? Did they hurt you?" - -His eyes were shut. He groaned and then looking up said disgustedly-- - -"They broke my leg. My God, the fools!" - -"Here now!" called the police captain. "Here now! Here now!" - - -IX - -"Childs', Fifty-ninth Street," at eight o'clock of any morning differs -from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the -degree of polish on the frying-pans. You will see there a crowd of -poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes, trying to look -straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor -people. But Childs', Fifty-ninth, four hours earlier is quite unlike -any Childs' restaurant from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine. -Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus -girls, college boys, debutantes, rakes, _filles de joie_--a not -unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway, and even of Fifth -Avenue. - -In the early morning of May the second it was unusually full. Over the -marble-topped tables were bent the excited faces of flappers whose -fathers owned individual villages. They were eating buckwheat cakes -and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto, an accomplishment that it -would have been utterly impossible for them to repeat in the same -place four hours later. - -Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Psi dance at Delmonico's -except for several chorus girls from a midnight revue who sat at a -side table and wished they'd taken off a little more make-up after the -show. Here and there a drab, mouse-like figure, desperately out of -place, watched the butterflies with a weary, puzzled curiosity. But -the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, -and celebration was still in the air. - -Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab -figures. How he had got himself from Forty-fourth Street to -Fifty-ninth Street after the riot was only a hazy half-memory. He had -seen the body of Carrol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and -then he had started up town with two or three soldiers. Somewhere -between Forty-fourth Street and Fifty-ninth Street the other soldiers -had met some women and disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus -Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of Childs' to minister to his -craving for coffee and doughnuts. He walked in and sat down. - -All around him floated airy, inconsequential chatter and high-pitched -laughter. At first he failed to understand, but after a puzzled five -minutes he realized that this was the aftermath of some gay party. -Here and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally -and familiarly between the tables, shaking hands indiscriminately and -pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters, -bearing cakes and eggs aloft, swore at him silently, and bumped him -out of the way. To Rose, seated at the most inconspicuous and least -crowded table, the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and -riotous pleasure. - -He became gradually aware, after a few moments, that the couple seated -diagonally across from him with their backs to the crowd, were not the -least interesting pair in the room. The man was drunk. He wore a -dinner coat with a dishevelled tie and shirt swollen by spillings of -water and wine. His eyes, dim and blood-shot, roved unnaturally from -side to side. His breath came short between his lips. - -"He's been on a spree!" thought Rose. - -The woman was almost if not quite sober. She was pretty, with dark -eyes and feverish high color, and she kept her active eyes fixed on -her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she -would lean and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by -inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish and repellent -wink. - -Rose scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes until the woman gave him -a quick, resentful look; then he shifted his gaze to two of the most -conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted -circuit of the tables. To his surprise he recognized in one of them -the young man by whom he had been so ludicrously entertained at -Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague -sentimentality, not unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen -thirty-five feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoa-nut. - -"He was a darn good guy," thought Rose mournfully. "He was a darn good -guy, o'right. That was awful hard luck about him." - -The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table -and the next, addressing friends and strangers alike with jovial -familiarity. Suddenly Rose saw the fair-haired one with the prominent -teeth stop, look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then -begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to side. - -The man with the blood-shot eyes looked up. - -"Gordy," said the promenader with the prominent teeth, "Gordy." - -"Hello," said the man with the stained shirt thickly. - -Prominent teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair, giving -the woman a glance of aloof condemnation. - -"What'd I tell you Gordy?" - -Gordon stirred in his seat. - -"Go to hell!" he said. - -Dean continued to stand there shaking his finger. The woman began to -get angry. - -"You go way!" she cried fiercely. "You're drunk, that's what you are!" - -"So's he," suggested Dean, staying the motion of his finger and -pointing it at Gordon. - -Peter Himmel ambled up, owlish now and oratorically inclined. - -"Here now," he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute -between children. "Wha's all trouble?" - -"You take your friend away," said Jewel tartly. "He's bothering us." - -"What's at?" - -"You heard me!" she said shrilly. "I said to take your drunken friend -away." - -Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a -waiter came hurrying up. - -"You gotta be more quiet!" - -"That fella's drunk," she cried. "He's insulting us." - -"Ah-ha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned -to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends. Been tryin' help him, haven't I, -Gordy?" - -Gordy looked up. - -"Help me? Hell, no!" - -Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm assisted him to his -feet. - -"Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half -whisper. "Let's us get out of here. This fella's got a mean drunk on." - -Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the -door. Jewel turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their -flight. - -"I know all about _you_!" she said fiercely. "Nice friend, you -are, I'll say. He told me about you." - -Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through -the curious crowd, paid their check, and went out. - -"You'll have to sit down," said the waiter to Peter after they had -gone. - -"What's 'at? Sit down?" - -"Yes--or get out." - -Peter turned to Dean. - -"Come on," he suggested. "Let's beat up this waiter." - -"All right." - -They advanced toward him, their faces grown stern. The waiter -retreated. - -Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and -picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a -languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by. - -"Hey! Ease up!" - -"Put him out!" - -"Sit down, Peter!" - -"Cut out that stuff!" - -Peter laughed and bowed. - -"Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will -lend me some more hash and a tall hat we will go on with the act." - -The bouncer bustled up. - -"You've gotta get out!" he said to Peter. - -"Hell, no!" - -"He's my friend!" put in Dean indignantly. - -A crowd of waiters were gathering. "Put him out!" - -"Better go, Peter." - -There was a short, struggle and the two were edged and pushed toward -the door. - -"I got a hat and a coat here!" cried Peter. - -"Well, go get 'em and be spry about it!" - -The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air -of extreme cunning, rushed immediately around to the other table, -where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the -exasperated waiters. - -"Think I just better wait a l'il longer," he announced. - -The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and four -another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another -struggle took place before the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he -was finally pinioned after overturning a sugar-bowl and several cups -of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk, where Peter -attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at -policemen. - -But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another -phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary -"Oh-h-h!" from every person in the restaurant. - -The great plate-glass front had turned to a deep blue, the color of a -Maxfield Parrish moonlight--a blue that seemed to press close upon the -pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in -Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouetting the great -statue of the immortal Christopher, and mingling in a curious and -uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside. - - -X - -Mr. In and Mr. Out are not listed by the census-taker. You will search -for them in vain through the social register or the births, marriages, -and deaths, or the grocer's credit list. Oblivion has swallowed them -and the testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy, -and inadmissible in a court of law. Yet I have it upon the best -authority that for a brief space Mr. In and Mr. Out lived, breathed, -answered to their names and radiated vivid personalities of their own. - -During the brief span of their lives they walked in their native -garments down the great highway of a great nation; were laughed at, -sworn at, chased, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no -more. - -They were already taking form dimly, when a taxi cab with the top open -breezed down Broadway in the faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car -sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out discussing with amazement the blue -light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of -Christopher Columbus, discussing with bewilderment the old, gray faces -of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown -bits of paper on a gray lake. They were agreed on all things, from the -absurdity of the bouncer in Childs' to the absurdity of the business -of life. They were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the -morning had awakened in their glowing souls. Indeed, so fresh and -vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt it should be -expressed by loud cries. - -"Ye-ow-ow!" hooted Peter, making a megaphone with his hands--and Dean -joined in with a call that, though equally significant and symbolic, -derived its resonance from its very inarticulateness. - -"Yo-ho! Yea! Yoho! Yo-buba!" - -Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; -Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a -yell of, "Look where you're aimin'!" in a pained and grieved voice. At -Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a -very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: - -"Some party, boys!" - -At Forty-ninth Street Peter turned to Dean. "Beautiful morning," he -said gravely, squinting up his owlish eyes. - -"Probably is." - -"Go get some breakfast, hey?" - -Dean agreed--with additions. - -"Breakfast and liquor." - -"Breakfast and liquor," repeated Peter, and they looked at each other, -nodding. "That's logical." - -Then they both burst into loud laughter. - -"Breakfast and liquor! Oh, gosh!" - -"No such thing," announced Peter. - -"Don't serve it? Ne'mind. We force 'em serve it Bring pressure bear." - -"Bring logic bear." - -The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed along a cross street, and -stopped in front of a heavy tomb-like building in Fifth Avenue. - -"What's idea?" - -The taxi-driver informed them that this was Delmonico's. - -This was somewhat puzzling. They were forced to devote several minutes -to intense concentration, for if such an order had been given there -must have been a reason for it. - -"Somep'm 'bouta coat," suggested the taxi-man. - -That was it. Peter's overcoat and hat. He had left them at -Delmonico's. Having decided this, they disembarked from the taxi and -strolled toward the entrance arm in arm. - -"Hey!" said the taxi-driver. - -"Huh?" - -"You better pay me." - -They shook their heads in shocked negation. - -"Later, not now--we give orders, you wait." - -The taxi-driver objected; he wanted his money now. With the scornful -condescension of men exercising tremendous self-control they paid him. - -Inside Peter groped in vain through a dim, deserted check-room in -search of his coat and derby. - -"Gone, I guess. Somebody stole it." - -"Some Sheff student." - -"All probability." - -"Never mind," said Dean, nobly. "I'll leave mine here too--then we'll -both be dressed the same." - -He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his -roving glance was caught and held magnetically by two large squares of -cardboard tacked to the two coat-room doors. The one on the left-hand -door bore the word "In" in big black letters, and the one on the -right-hand door flaunted the equally emphatic word "Out." - -"Look!" he exclaimed happily-- - -Peter's eyes followed his pointing finger. - -"What?" - -"Look at the signs. Let's take 'em." - -"Good idea." - -"Probably pair very rare an' valuable signs. Probably come in handy." - -Peter removed the left-hand sign from the door and endeavored to -conceal it about his person. The sign being of considerable -proportions, this was a matter of some difficulty. An idea flung -itself at him, and with an air of dignified mystery he turned his -back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around, and stretching -out his arms displayed himself to the admiring Dean. He had inserted -the sign in his vest, completely covering his shirt front. In effect, -the word "In" had been painted upon his shirt in large black letters. - -"Yoho!" cheered Dean. "Mister In." - -He inserted his own sign in like manner. - -"Mister Out!" he announced triumphantly. "Mr. In meet Mr. Out." - -They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they -rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth. - -"Yoho!" - -"We probably get a flock of breakfast." - -"We'll go--go to the Commodore." - -Arm in arm they sallied out the door, and turning east in Forty-fourth -Street set out for the Commodore. - -As they came out a short dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had -been wandering listlessly along the sidewalk, turned to look at them. - -He started over as though to address them, but as they immediately -bent on him glances of withering unrecognition, he waited until they -had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about -forty paces, chuckling to himself and saying, "Oh, boy!" over and over -under his breath, in delighted, anticipatory tones. - -Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning -their future plans. - -"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and -indivisible." - -"We want both 'em!" - -"Both 'em!" - -It was quite light now, and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on -the pair. Obviously they were engaged in a discussion, which afforded -each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter -would seize upon them so violently that, still with their arms -interlocked, they would bend nearly double. - -Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the -sleepy-eyed doorman, navigated the revolving door with some -difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but -startled lobby to the dining-room, where a puzzled waiter showed them -an obscure table in a corner. They studied the bill of fare -helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles. - -"Don't see any liquor here," said Peter reproachfully. - -The waiter became audible but unintelligible. - -"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems -to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon bill of -fare." - -"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the -waiter--"Bring us--bring us--" he scanned the bill of fare anxiously. -"Bring us a quart of champagne and a--a--probably ham sandwich." - -The waiter looked doubtful. - -"Bring it!" roared Mr. In and Mr. Out in chorus. - -The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during -which they were subjected without their knowledge to a careful -scrutiny by the head-waiter. Then the champagne arrived, and at the -sight of it Mr. In and Mr. Out became jubilant. - -"Imagine their objecting to us having, champagne for breakfast--jus' -imagine." - -They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, -but the feat was too much for them. It was impossible for their joint -imaginations to conjure up a world where any one might object any one -else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an -enormous _pop_ and their glasses immediately foamed with pale -yellow froth. - -"Here's health, Mr. In." - -"Here's same to you, Mr. Out." - -The waiter withdrew; the minutes passed; the champagne became low in -the bottle. - -"It's--it's mortifying," said Dean suddenly. - -"Wha's mortifying?" - -"The idea their objecting us having champagne breakfast." - -"Mortifying?" Peter considered. "Yes, tha's word--mortifying." - -Again they collapsed into laughter, howled, swayed, rocked back and -forth in their chairs, repeating the word "mortifying" over and over -to each other--each repetition seeming to make it only more -brilliantly absurd. - -After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another quart. Their -anxious waiter consulted his immediate superior, and this discreet -person gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be -served. Their check was brought. - -Five minutes later, arm in arm, they left the Commodore and made their -way through a curious, staring crowd along Forty-second Street, and up -Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they -rose to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast and -standing unnaturally erect. - -Once in the dining-room they repeated their performance. They were -torn between intermittent convulsive laughter and sudden spasmodic -discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their -dispositions. Their watches told them that it was now nine o'clock, -and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a memorable party, -something that they would remember always. They lingered over the -second bottle. Either of them had only to mention the word -"mortifying" to send them both into riotous gasps. The dining-room was -whirring and shifting now; a curious lightness permeated and rarefied -the heavy air. - -They paid their check and walked out into the lobby. - -It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved for the -thousandth time that morning, and admitted into the lobby a very pale -young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a -much-rumpled evening dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, -obviously not an appropriate escort. - -At the top of the stairs this couple encountered Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -"Edith," began Mr. In, stepping toward her hilariously and making a -sweeping bow, "darling, good morning." - -The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her -permission to throw this man summarily out of the way. - -"'Scuse familiarity," added Peter, as an afterthought. "Edith, -good-morning." - -He seized Dean's elbow and impelled him into the foreground. - -"Meet Mr. In, Edith, my bes' frien'. Inseparable. Mr. In and Mr. Out." - -Mr. Out advanced and bowed; in fact, he advanced so far and bowed so -low that he tipped slightly forward and only kept his balance by -placing a hand lightly on Edith's shoulder. - -"I'm Mr. Out, Edith," he mumbled pleasantly. "S'misterin Misterout." - -"'Smisterinanout," said Peter proudly. - -But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite -speck in the gallery above her. She nodded slightly to the stout man, -who advanced bull-like and with a sturdy brisk gesture pushed Mr. In -and Mr. Out to either side. Through this alley he and Edith walked. - -But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again--stopped and pointed to a -short, dark soldier who was eying the crowd in general, and the -tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular, with a sort of puzzled, -spell-bound awe. - -"There," cried Edith. "See there!" - -Her voice rose, became somewhat shrill. Her pointing finger shook -slightly. - -"There's the soldier who broke my brother's leg." - -There were a dozen exclamations; a man in a cutaway coat left his -place near the desk and advanced alertly; the stout person made a sort -of lightning-like spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the -lobby closed around the little group and blotted them from the sight -of Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -But to Mr. In and Mr. Out this event was merely a particolored -iridescent segment of a whirring, spinning world. - -They heard loud voices; they saw the stout man spring; the picture -suddenly blurred. - -Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. - -"What floor, please?" said the elevator man. - -"Any floor," said Mr. In. - -"Top floor," said Mr. Out. - -"This is the top floor," said the elevator man. - -"Have another floor put on," said Mr. Out. - -"Higher," said Mr. In. - -"Heaven," said Mr. Out. - - -XI - -In a bedroom of a small hotel just off Sixth Avenue Gordon Sterrett -awoke with a pain in the back of his head and a sick throbbing in all -his veins. He looked at the dusky gray shadows in the corners of the -room and at a raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where -it had long been in use. He saw clothes, dishevelled, rumpled clothes -on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The -windows were tight shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thrown a -dust-filled beam across the sill--a beam broken by the head of the -wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet--comatose, -drugged, his eyes wide, his mind clicking wildly like an unoiled -machine. - -It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with -the dust on it and the rip on the large leather chair that he had the -sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds -after that before that he realized that he was irrevocably married to -Jewel Hudson. - -He went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting -goods store. Then he took a took a taxi to the room where he had been -living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table -that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just -behind the temple. - - - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK - - -_A room in the down-stairs of a summer cottage. High around the wall -runs an art frieze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and -a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet -and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his -feet and so on. In one place on the frieze there is an overlapping--here -we have half a fisherman with half a pile of nets at his foot, -crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. -The frieze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could -continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects -in the room--a blue porcelain bath-tub. It has character, this -bath-tub. It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small with a -high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump; discouraged, -however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its -environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. But it grumpily refuses -to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs--which brings us -neatly to the second object in the room:_ - -_It is a girl--clearly an appendage to the bath-tub, only her head and -throat--beautiful girls have throats instead of necks--and a -suggestion of shoulder appearing above the side. For the first ten -minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she -really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether -it is being cheated and she is dressed._ - -_The girl's name is_ JULIE MARVIS. _From the proud way she sits -up in the bath-tub we deduce that she is not very tall and that she -carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper tip rolls a little -and reminds you of an Easter Bunny, She is within whispering distance -of twenty years old._ - -_One thing more--above and to the right of the bath-tub is a window. -It is narrow and has a wide sill; it lets in much sunshine, but -effectually prevents any one who looks in from seeing the bath-tub. -You begin to suspect the plot?_ - -_We open, conventionally enough, with a song, but, as the startled -gasp of the audience quite drowns out the first half, we will give -only the last of it:_ - -JULIE: (_In an airy sophrano--enthusiastico_) - - When Caesar did the Chicago - He was a graceful child, - Those sacred chickens - Just raised the dickens - The Vestal Virgins went wild. - Whenever the Nervii got nervy - He gave them an awful razz - They shook is their shoes - With the Consular blues - The Imperial Roman Jazz - -(_During the wild applause that follows_ JULIE _modestly moves -her arms and makes waves on the surface of the water--at least we -suppose she does. Then the door on the left opens and_ LOIS MARVIS -_enters, dressed but carrying garments and towels._ LOIS _is a -year older than_ JULIE _and is nearly her double in face and -voice, but in her clothes and expression are the marks of the -conservative. Yes, you've guessed it. Mistaken identity is the old -rusty pivot upon which the plot turns._) - -LOIS: (_Starting_) Oh, 'scuse me. I didn't know you were here. - -JULIE: Oh, hello. I'm giving a little concert-- - -LOIS: (_Interrupting_) Why didn't you lock the door? - -JULIE: Didn't I? - -LOIS: Of course you didn't. Do you think I just walked through it? - -JULIE: I thought you picked the lock, dearest. - -LOIS: You're _so_ careless. - -JULIE: No. I'm happy as a garbage-man's dog and I'm giving a little -concert. - -LOIS: (_Severely_) Grow up! - -JULIE: (_Waving a pink arm around the room_) The walls reflect -the sound, you see. That's why there's something very beautiful about -singing in a bath-tub. It gives an effect of surpassing loveliness. -Can I render you a selection? - -LOIS: I wish you'd hurry out of the tub. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head thoughtfully_) Can't be hurried. This -is my kingdom at present, Godliness. - -LOIS: Why the mellow name? - -JULIE: Because you're next to Cleanliness. Don't throw anything -please! - -LOIS: How long will you be? - -JULIE: (_After some consideration_) Not less than fifteen nor -more than twenty-five minutes. - -LOIS: As a favor to me will you make it ten? - -JULIE: (_Reminiscing_) Oh, Godliness, do you remember a day in -the chill of last January when one Julie, famous for her Easter-rabbit -smile, was going out and there was scarcely any hot water and young -Julie had just filled the tub for her own little self when the wicked -sister came and did bathe herself therein, forcing the young Julie to -perform her ablutions with cold cream--which is expensive and a darn -lot of troubles? - -LOIS: (_Impatiently_) Then you won't hurry? - -JULIE: Why should I? - -LOIS: I've got a date. - -JULIE: Here at the house? - -LOIS: None of your business. - -(_JULIE shrugs the visible tips of her shoulders and stirs the water -into ripples._) - -JULIE: So be it. - -LOIS: Oh, for Heaven's sake, yes! I have a date here, at the house--in -a way. - -JULIE: In a way? - -LOIS: He isn't coming in. He's calling for me and we're walking. - -JULIE: (_Raising her eyebrows_) Oh, the plot clears. It's that -literary Mr. Calkins. I thought you promised mother you wouldn't -invite him in. - -LOIS: (_Desperately_) She's so idiotic. She detests him because -he's just got a divorce. Of course she's had more expedience than I -have, but-- - -JULIE: (_Wisely_) Don't let her kid you! Experience is the -biggest gold brick in the world. All older people have it for sale. - -LOIS: I like him. We talk literature. - -JULIE: Oh, so that's why I've noticed all these weighty, books around -the house lately. - -LOIS: He lends them to me. - -JULIE: Well, you've got to play his game. When in Rome do as the -Romans would like to do. But I'm through with books. I'm all educated. - -LOIS: You're very inconsistent--last summer you read every day. - -JULIE: If I were consistent I'd still be living on warm milk out of a -bottle. - -LOIS: Yes, and probably my bottle. But I like Mr. Calkins. - -JULIE: I never met him. - -LOIS: Well, will you hurry up? - -JULIE: Yes. (_After a pause_) I wait till the water gets tepid -and then I let in more hot. - -LOIS: (_Sarcastically_) How interesting! - -JULIE: 'Member when we used to play "soapo"? - -LOIS: Yes--and ten years old. I'm really quite surprised that you -don't play it still. - -JULIE: I do. I'm going to in a minute. - -LOIS: Silly game. - -JULIE: (_Warmly_) No, it isn't. It's good for the nerves. I'll -bet you've forgotten how to play it. - -LOIS: (_Defiantly_) No, I haven't. You--you get the tub all full -of soapsuds and then you get up on the edge and slide down. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head scornfully_) Huh! That's only part of -it. You've got to slide down without touching your hand or feet-- - -LOIS:(_Impatiently_) Oh, Lord! What do I care? I wish we'd either -stop coming here in the summer or else get a house with two bath-tubs. - -JULIE: You can buy yourself a little tin one, or use the hose---- - -LOIS: Oh, shut up! - -JULIE: (_Irrelevantly_) Leave the towel. - -LOIS: What? - -JULIE: Leave the towel when you go. - -LOIS: This towel? - -JULIE: (_Sweetly_) Yes, I forgot my towel. - -LOIS: (_Looking around for the first time_) Why, you idiot! You -haven't even a kimono. - -JULIE: (_Also looking around_) Why, so I haven't. - -LOIS: (_Suspicion growing on her_) How did you get here? - -JULIE: (_Laughing_) I guess I--I guess I whisked here. You know--a -white form whisking down the stairs and-- - -LOIS: (_Scandalized_) Why, you little wretch. Haven't you any -pride or self-respect? - -JULIE: Lots of both. I think that proves it. I looked very well. I -really am rather cute in my natural state. - -LOIS: Well, you-- - -JULIE: (_Thinking aloud_) I wish people didn't wear any clothes. -I guess I ought to have been a pagan or a native or something. - -LOIS: You're a-- - -JULIE: I dreamt last night that one Sunday in church a small boy -brought in a magnet that attracted cloth. He attracted the clothes -right off of everybody; put them in an awful state; people were crying -and shrieking and carrying on as if they'd just discovered their skins -for the first time. Only _I_ didn't care. So I just laughed. I -had to pass the collection plate because nobody else would. - -LOIS: (_Who has turned a deaf ear to this speech_) Do you mean to -tell me that if I hadn't come you'd have run back to your -room--un--unclothed? - -JULIE: _Au naturel_ is so much nicer. - -LOIS: Suppose there had been some one in the living-room. - -JULIE: There never has been yet. - -LOIS: Yet! Good grief! How long-- - -JULIE: Besides, I usually have a towel. - -LOIS: (_Completely overcome_) Golly! You ought to be spanked. I -hope, you get caught. I hope there's a dozen ministers in the -living-room when you come out--and their wives, and their daughters. - -JULIE: There wouldn't be room for them in the living-room, answered -Clean Kate of the Laundry District. - -LOIS: All right. You've made your own--bath-tub; you can lie in it. - -(_LOIS starts determinedly for the door._) - -JULIE: (_In alarm_) Hey! Hey! I don't care about the k'mono, but -I want the towel. I can't dry myself on a piece of soap and a wet -wash-rag. - -LOIS: (_Obstinately_). I won't humor such a creature. You'll have -to dry yourself the best way you can. You can roll on the floor like -the animals do that don't wear any clothes. - -JULIE: (_Complacent again_) All right. Get out! - -LOIS: (_Haughtily_) Huh! - -(JULIE _turns on the cold water and with her finger directs a -parabolic stream at LOIS. LOIS retires quickly, slamming the door -after her. JULIE laughs and turns off the water_) - -JULIE: (Singing) - - When the Arrow-collar man - Meets the D'jer-kiss girl - On the smokeless Sante Fe - Her Pebeco smile - Her Lucile style - De dum da-de-dum one day-- - -(_She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps, -but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for -a moment--then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a -telephone_) - -JULIE: Hello! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_) -Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do -you want? (_No answer_) I believe you're a ghost. Are you? (_No -answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on -the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to -the spigot_) If you're the plumber that's a mean trick. Turn it on -for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don't argue! I want -water--water! _Water_! - -(_A young man's head appears in the window--a head decorated with a -slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they -can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean, -they decide him to speak_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted? - -JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water's no good for fits. - -JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits! - -THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping - -JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not! - -THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go -out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody -will gossip? - -JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It'd be more than -gossip--it'd be a regular scandal. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you're going it a little strong. Your family -might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are -suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old -women. Come on. - -JULIE: You don't know what you ask. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us? - -JULIE: A crowd? There'd be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving -New York hourly. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning? - -JULIE: Why? - -THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls. - -JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or -tapestry or panelling or something. - -JULIE: There's not even any furniture in here. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house! - -JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It's so nice talking to you like -this--when you're merely a voice. I'm rather glad I can't see you. - -JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing? - -JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess -it's a sort of pinkish white. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you? - -JULIE: Very. It's--it's old. I've had it for a long while. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes. - -JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear -it. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I'll bet it's divine. Is it in -style? - -JULIE: Quite. It's very simple, standard model. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut -my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And -I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand -there, water stretching on both sides of you-- - -(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young -man blinks_) - -YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it? - -JULIE: Yes. You're--you're very poetic, aren't you? - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when -I am stirred. - -JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon-- - -THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day -the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was "Evangeline." - -JULIE: That's a fib. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say "Evangeline"? I meant "The Skeleton in -Armor." - -JULIE: I'm a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one -verse: - - Parker and Davis - Sittin' on a fence - Tryne to make a dollar - Outa fif-teen cents. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature? - -JULIE: If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way -with people. I usually like 'em not too ancient or complicated or -depressing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I've read enormously. You told me last night -that you were very fond of Walter Scott. - -JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let's see. Yes, I've read "Ivanhoe" -and "The Last of the Mohicans." - -THE YOUNG MAN: That's by Cooper. - -JULIE: (_Angrily_) "Ivanhoe" is? You're crazy! I guess I know. I -read it. THE YOUNG MAN: "The Last of the Mohicans" is by Cooper. - -JULIE: What do I care! I like O. Henry. I don't see how he ever wrote -those stories. Most of them he wrote in prison. "The Ballad of Reading -Gaol" he made up in prison. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Biting his lip_) Literature--literature! How -much it has meant to me! - -JULIE: Well, as Gaby Deslys said to Mr. Bergson, with my looks and -your brains there's nothing we couldn't do. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Laughing_) You certainly are hard to keep up -with. One day you're awfully pleasant and the next you're in a mood. -If I didn't understand your temperament so well-- - -JULIE: (_Impatiently_) Oh, you're one of these amateur -character-readers, are you? Size people up in five minutes and then -look wise whenever they're mentioned. I hate that sort of thing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I don't boast of sizing you up. You're most mysterious, -I'll admit. - -JULIE: There's only two mysterious people in history. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Who are they? - -JULIE: The Man with the Iron Mask and the fella who says "ug uh-glug -uh-glug uh-glug" when the line is busy. - -THE YOUNG MAN: You _are_ mysterious, I love you. You're -beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that's the rarest known -combination. - -JULIE: You're a historian. Tell me if there are any bath-tubs in -history. I think they've been frightfully neglected. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Bath-tubs! Let's see. Well, Agamemnon was stabbed in -his bath-tub. And Charlotte Corday stabbed Marat in his bath-tub. - -JULIE: (_Sighing_) Way back there! Nothing new besides the sun, -is there? Why only yesterday I picked up a musical-comedy score that -mast have been at least twenty years old; and there on the cover it -said "The Shimmies of Normandy," but shimmie was spelt the old way, -with a "C." - -THE YOUNG MAN: I loathe these modern dances. Oh, Lois, I wish I could -see you. Come to the window. - -(_There is a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the flow -starts from the open taps. Julie turns them off quickly_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Puzzled_) What on earth was that? - -JULIE: (_Ingeniously_) I heard something, too. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Sounded like running water. - -JULIE: Didn't it? Strange like it. As a matter of fact I was filling -the gold-fish bowl. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Still puzzled_) What was that banging noise? - -JULIE: One of the fish snapping his golden jaws. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_With sudden resolution_) Lois, I love you. I am -not a mundane man but I am a forger-- - -JULIE: (_Interested at once_) Oh, how fascinating. - -THE YOUNG MAN:--a forger ahead. Lois, I want you. - -JULIE: (_Skeptically_) Huh! What you really want is for the world -to come to attention and stand there till you give "Rest!" - -THE YOUNG MAN: Lois I--Lois I-- - -(_He stops as Lois opens the door, comes in, and bangs it behind -her. She looks peevishly at _JULIE _and then suddenly catches -sight of the young man in the window_) - -LOIS: (_In horror_) Mr. Calkins! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Surprised_) Why I thought you said you were -wearing pinkish white! - -(_After one despairing stare _LOIS_ shrieks, throws up her -hands in surrender, and sinks to the floor._) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_In great alarm_) Good Lord! She's fainted! I'll -be right in. - -(JULIE'S _eyes light on the towel which has slipped from_ LOIS'S -_inert hand._) - -JULIE: In that case I'll be right out. - -(_She puts her hands on the side of the tub to lift herself out and -a murmur, half gasp, half sigh, ripples from the audience. - -A Belasco midnight comes quickly down and blots out the stage._) - -CURTAIN. - - - - -_FANTASIES_ - - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ - -1 - -John T. Unger came from a family that had been well known in Hades--a -small town on the Mississippi River--for several generations. John's -father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated -contest; Mrs. Unger was known "from hot-box to hot-bed," as the local -phrase went, for her political addresses; and young John T. Unger, who -had just turned sixteen, had danced all the latest dances from New -York before he put on long trousers. And now, for a certain time, he -was to be away from home. That respect for a New England education -which is the bane of all provincial places, which drains them yearly -of their most promising young men, had seized upon his parents. -Nothing would suit them but that he should go to St. Midas's School -near Boston--Hades was too small to hold their darling and gifted son. - -Now in Hades--as you know if you ever have been there--the names of -the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean very -little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that, -though they make a show of keeping up-to-date in dress and manners and -literature, they depend to a great extent on hearsay, and a function -that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed -by a Chicago beef-princess as "perhaps a little tacky." - -John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with maternal -fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric fans, and -Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocket-book stuffed with -money. - -"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be sure, -boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning." - -"I know," answered John huskily. - -"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued his -father proudly, "and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an -Unger--from Hades." - -So the old man and the young shook hands, and John walked away with -tears streaming from his eyes. Ten minutes later he had passed outside -the city limits and he stopped to glance back for the last time. Over -the gates the old-fashioned Victorian motto seemed strangely -attractive to him. His father had tried time and time again to have it -changed to something with a little more push and verve about it, such -as "Hades--Your Opportunity," or else a plain "Welcome" sign set over -a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights. The old motto was a -little depressing, Mr. Unger had thought--but now .... - -So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his -destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the -sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty. - - * * * * * - -St. Midas's School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce -motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one, except -John T. Unger, had ever arrived there save in a Rolls-Pierce and -probably no one ever will again. St. Midas's is the most expensive and -the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the world. - -John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the -boys were money-kings, and John spent his summer visiting at -fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he -visited, their fathers struck him as being much of a piece, and in his -boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness. When he told -them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down -there?" and John would muster a faint smile and answer, "It certainly -is." His response would have been heartier had they not all made this -joke--at best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you down there?" -which he hated just as much. - -In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy -named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The new-comer was -pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well dressed even for St. -Midas's, but for some reason he kept aloof from the other boys. The -only person with whom he was intimate was John T. Unger, but even to -John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his -family. That he was wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such -deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised rich -confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the -summer at his home "in the West." He accepted, without hesitation. - -It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the -first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating lunch -in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of several -of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and made an -abrupt remark. - -"My father," he said, "is by far the richest man in the world." - -"Oh," said John politely. He could think of no answer to make to this -confidence. He considered "That's very nice," but it sounded hollow -and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since it would -seem to question Percy's statement. And such an astounding statement -could scarcely be questioned. - -"By far the richest," repeated Percy. - -"I was reading in the _World Almanac_," began John, "that there -was one man in America with an income of over five million a years and -four men with incomes of over three million a year, and--" - -"Oh, they're nothing." Percy's mouth was a half-moon of scorn. -"Catch-penny capitalists, financial small-fry, petty merchants and -money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done -it." - -"But how does he--" - -"Why haven't they put down _his_ income-tax? Because he doesn't -pay any. At least he pays a little one--but he doesn't pay any on his -_real_ income." - -"He must be very rich," said John simply, "I'm glad. I like very rich -people. - -"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of -passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I visited the -Schnlitzer-Murphys last Easter. Vivian Schnlitzer-Murphy had rubies as -big as hen's eggs, and sapphires that were like globes with lights -inside them--" - -"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I wouldn't -want any one at school to know about it, but I've got quite a -collection myself. I used to collect them instead of stamps." - -"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The Schnlitzer-Murphys had -diamonds as big as walnuts--" - -"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a -low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My father has a diamond bigger -than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - - -II - -The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise -from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned sky. An -immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish, minute, -dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the -village of Fish, twelve sombre and inexplicable souls who sucked a -lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious -populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, -these twelve men of Fish, like some species developed by an early whim -of nature, which on second thought had abandoned them to struggle and -extermination. - -Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of -moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men of -Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of -the seven o'clock train, the Transcontinental Express from Chicago. -Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through some -inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and when -this occurred a figure or so would disembark, mount into a buggy that -always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off toward the bruised -sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon -had become a sort of cult among the men of Fish. To observe, that was -all; there remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion -which would make them wonder or speculate, else a religion might have -grown up around these mysterious visitations. But the men of Fish were -beyond all religion--the barest and most savage tenets of even -Christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rock--so there was -no altar, no priest, no sacrifice; only each night at seven the silent -concourse by the shanty depot, a congregation who lifted up a prayer -of dim, anaemic wonder. - -On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified any -one, they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist, had -ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or -inhuman) deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Washington -and John T. Unger disembarked, hurried past the spellbound, the agape, -the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into a buggy -which had obviously appeared from nowhere, and drove away. - -After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the -silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body somewhere -ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned upon -them a luminous disc which regarded them like a malignant eye out of -the unfathomable night. As they came closer, John saw that it was the -tail-light of an immense automobile, larger and more magnificent than -any he had ever seen. Its body was of gleaming metal richer than -nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the wheels were -studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellow--John -did not dare to guess whether they were glass or jewel. - -Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pictures -of royal processions in London, were standing at attention beside the -car and, as the two young men dismounted from the buggy, they were -greeted in some language which the guest could not understand, but -which seemed to be an extreme form of the Southern negro's dialect. - -"Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to the -ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we had to bring you this far in -that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train -or those God-forsaken fellas in Fish to see this automobile." - -"Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its interior. -John saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute and -exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries, and -set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats in -which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled -duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colours of the ends of ostrich -feathers. - -"What a car!" cried John again, in amazement. - -"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for a -station wagon." - -By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the -break between the two mountains. - -"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the -clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to be like anything you -ever saw before." - -If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared -to be astonished indeed. The simple piety prevalent in Hades has the -earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its -creed--had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his -parents would have turned away in horror at the blasphemy. - -They had now reached and were entering the break between the two -mountains and almost immediately the way became much rougher. - -"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch," -said Percy, trying to peer out of the window. He spoke a few words -into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a -searchlight and swept the hillsides with an immense beam. - -"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an -hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew the -way. You notice we're going uphill now." - -They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car was -crossing a high rise, where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon newly -risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures -took shape out of the dark beside it--these were negroes also. Again -the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recognisable dialect; -then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from -overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jewelled -wheels. At a resounding "Hey-yah!" John felt the car being lifted -slowly from the ground--up and up--clear of the tallest rocks on both -sides--then higher, until he could see a wavy, moonlit valley -stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks -that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rock--and -then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around. - -It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-blade of -stone, projecting perpendicularly into the air. In a moment they were -going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon -the smooth earth. - -"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's only -five miles from here, and our own road--tapestry brick--all the way. -This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father -says." - -"Are we in Canada?" - -"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But you are -now on the only five square miles of land in the country that's never -been surveyed." - -"Why hasn't it? Did they forget it?" - -"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The -first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the State -survey; the second time he had the official maps of the United States -tinkered with--that held them for fifteen years. The last time was -harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the -strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set -of surveying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow -for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones -that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what -looked like a village up on its banks--so that they'd see it, and -think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one -thing my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the -world that could be used to find us out." - -"What's that?" - -Percy sank his voice to a whisper. - -"Aeroplanes," he breathed. "We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft guns -and we've arranged it so far--but there've been a few deaths and a -great many prisoners. Not that we mind _that_, you know, father -and I, but it upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the -chance that some time we won't be able to arrange it." - -Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green moon's -heaven, were passing the green moon like precious Eastern stuffs -paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to John that -it was day, and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in -the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine circulars, with -their messages of hope for despairing, rock-bound hamlets. It seemed -to him that he could see them look down out of the clouds and -stare--and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place -whither he was bound--What then? Were they induced to land by some -insidious device to be immured far from patent medicines and from -tracts until the judgment day--or, should they fail to fall into the -trap, did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp round of a splitting -shell bring them drooping to earth--and "upset" Percy's mother and -sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued -silently from his parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden -here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre Croesus? What terrible and -golden mystery?... - -The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and, outside the Montana -night was bright as day the tapestry brick of the road was smooth to -the tread of the great tyres as they rounded a still, moonlit lake; -they passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and -cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn, and John's -exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn "We're -home." - -Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite chateau rose from the -borders of the lake, climbed in marble radiance half the height of an -adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in -translucent feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of -pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the sloping parapets, -the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs -and hectagons and triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of -the intersecting planes of star-shine and blue shade, all trembled on -John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the -tallest, the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights -at the top made a sort of floating fairyland--and as John gazed up in -warm enchantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in -a rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever beard before. Then -in a moment the car stepped before wide, high marble steps around -which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At the top of -the steps two great doors swung silently open and amber light flooded -out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady -with black, high-piled hair, who held out her arms toward them. - -"Mother," Percy was saying, "this is my friend, John Unger, from -Hades." - -Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many colours, -of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love, and of -the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces. There -was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-hued cordial from a -crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was a girl with a flowery -face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There -was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the -pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic conception -of the ultimate prison--ceiling, floor, and all, it was lined with an -unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every size and shape, until, -lit with tail violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a -whiteness that could be compared only with itself, beyond human wish, -or dream. - -Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes the -floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from lighting -below, patterns of barbaric clashing colours, of pastel delicacy, of -sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some -mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal -he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and -growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of -every texture and colour or along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken -as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct -before the age of man .... - -Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinner--where -each plate was of two almost imperceptible layers of solid diamond -between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a -shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, -drifted down through far corridors--his chair, feathered and curved -insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he -drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question -that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that clasped his body -added to the illusion of sleep--jewels, fabrics, wines, and metals -blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist .... - -"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough -for me down there." - -He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement, without -resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an iced dessert -that was pink as a dream .... He fell asleep. - -When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great -quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination that was too -faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was standing -over him. - -"You fell asleep at dinner," Percy was saying. "I nearly did, too--it -was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school. -Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping." - -"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percy--before you go, -I want to apologise." - -"For what?" - -"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the -Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - -Percy smiled. - -"I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know." - -"What mountain?" - -"The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big, for a mountain. -But except about fifty feet of sod and gravel on top it's solid -diamond. _One_ diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you -listening? Say----" - -But John T. Unger had again fallen asleep. - - -III - -Morning. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at the -same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panels of one wall -had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half open to -the day. A large negro in a white uniform stood beside his bed. - -"Good-evening," muttered John, summoning his brains from the wild -places. - -"Good-morning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't get -up--I'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton your pyjamas--there. -Thank you, sir." - -John lay quietly as his pyjamas were removed--he was amused and -delighted; he expected to be lifted like a child by this black -Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened; -instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side--he began to roll, -startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached -the wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a -fleecy incline he plumped gently into water the same temperature as -his body. - -He looked about him. The runway or rollway on which he had arrived had -folded gently back into place. He had been projected into another -chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the -level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and -the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue aquarium, and -gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he could see fish -swimming among amber lights and even gliding without curiosity past -his outstretched toes, which were separated from them only by the -thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight came down through -sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it. - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -IV - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without food he -began to grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was forced to -pursue a squirrel, and, in the course of the pursuit, he noticed that -it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it vanished -into its hole--for Providence did not intend that this squirrel should -alleviate his hunger--it dropped its burden. Sitting down to consider -the situation Fitz-Norman's eye was caught by a gleam in the grass -beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his appetite and -gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel, which had refused -with annoying persistence to become food, had made him a present of a -large and perfect diamond. - -Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all -the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole digging -furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered -a rhinestone mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever seen even -a small diamond before, they believed him, without question. When the -magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him, he found himself in -a quandary. The mountain was _a_ diamond--it was literally -nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle bags full of -glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul. There he -managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones--when he tried a -larger one a storekeeper fainted and Fitz-Norman was arrested as a -public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for New -York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received in -exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did not -dare to produce any exceptional gems--in fact, he left New York just -in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in jewellery circles, -not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the -city from mysterious sources. Wild rumours became current that a -diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on the Jersey -coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excursion trains, -packed with men carrying picks and shovels, began to leave New York -hourly, bound for various neighbouring El Dorados. But by that time -young Fitz-Norman was on his way back to Montana. - -By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the -mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the -diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any -regular computation, however, for it was _one solid diamond_--and -if it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the -market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual -arithmetical progression, there would not be enough gold in the world -to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do with a diamond -that size? - -It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest man -that ever lived--and yet was he worth anything at all? If his secret -should transpire there was no telling to what measures the Government -might resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well as in -jewels. They might take over the claim immediately and institute a -monopoly. - -There was no alternative--he must market his mountain in secret. He -sent South for his younger brother and put him in charge of his -coloured following, darkies who had never realised that slavery was -abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he -had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reorganised the -shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched -battle. The negroes believed him implicitly. They passed a vote -declaring it a good thing and held revival services immediately. - -Fitz-Norman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred -thousand dollars and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all -sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk, and six months after -his departure from Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure -lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller, announcing -that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St. Petersburg for -two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered, living from lodging -to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or four -times during the whole fortnight. - -On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he -was allowed to leave for India. Before he left, however, the Court -Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum of -fifteen million dollars--under four different aliases. - -He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two -years. He had visited the capitals of twenty-two countries and talked -with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan, and a -sultan. At that time Fitz-Norman estimated his own wealth at one -billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the disclosure -of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public -eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough -fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it from the -days of the first Babylonian Empire. - -From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman -Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of -course--he evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he -had a single son, and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate -complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of -drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times -endangered their safety. But very few other murders stained these happy -years of progress and expansion. - -Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few -million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk, -which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, -marked as bric-a-brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington, followed -this policy on an even more tensive scale. The minerals were converted -into the rarest of all elements--radium--so that the equivalent of a -billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no bigger than -a cigar box. - -When Fitz-Norman had been dead three years his son, Braddock, decided -that the business had gone far enough. The amount of wealth that he -and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact -computation. He kept a note-book in cipher in which he set down the -approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand banks he -patronised, and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he -did a very simple thing--he sealed up the mine. - -He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all -the Washingtons yet to be born in unparalleled luxury for generations. -His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the -possible panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced with -all the property-holders in the world to utter poverty. - -This was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the -story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning after his -arrival. - - -V - -After breakfast, John found his way out the great marble entrance, and -looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from the -diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still -gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine -sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of elms -made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough -masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark-blue -green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file patter -out from one clump about a half-mile away and disappear with awkward -gaiety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would not -have been surprised to see a goat-foot piping his way among the trees -or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin and flying yellow hair -between the greenest of the green leaves. - -In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing -faintly the sleep of two silky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and -set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no -particular direction. - -He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity -as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, -but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly -imagined future--flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only -prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young -dream. - -John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air -with heavy scent, and struck off across a park toward a patch of moss -under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted to see -whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an -adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass. She -was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. - -She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, -and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound -up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she -came. She was younger than John--not more than sixteen. - -"Hallo," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine." - -She was much more than that to John already. He advanced toward her, -scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes. - -"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, "Oh, -but you've missed a great deal!"... "You met my sister, Jasmine, last -night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her soft voice, and -her eye continued, "and when I'm sick I'm sweet--and when I'm well." - -"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes, "and -I'm not so slow myself"--"How do you do?" said his voice. "I hope -you're better this morning."--"You darling," added his eyes -tremulously. - -John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her -suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of which -he failed to determine. - -He was critical about women. A single defect--a thick ankle, a hoarse -voice, a glass eye--was enough to make him utterly indifferent. And -here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to -him the incarnation of physical perfection. - -"Are you from the East?" asked Kismine with charming interest. - -"No," answered John simply. "I'm from Hades." - -Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant -comment to make upon it, for she did not discuss it further. - -"I'm going East to school this fall" she said. "D'you think I'll like -it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's. It's very strict, but you -see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in our -New York house, because father heard that the girls had to go walking -two by two." - -"Your father wants you to be proud," observed John. - -"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity. "None of us has -ever been punished. Father said we never should be. Once when my -sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just -got up and limped away. - -"Mother was--well, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when she -heard that you were from--from where you _are_ from, you know. -She said that when she was a young girl--but then, you see, she's a -Spaniard and old-fashioned." - -"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the fact -that he was somewhat hurt by this remark. It seemed an unkind allusion -to his provincialism. - -"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next summer -Jasmine is going to Newport. She's coming out in London a year from -this fall. She'll be presented at court." - -"Do you know," began John hesitantly, "you're much more sophisticated -than I thought you were when I first saw you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think of -being. I think that sophisticated young people are _terribly_ -common, don't you? I'm not all, really. If you say I am, I'm going to -cry." - -She was so distressed that her lip was trembling. John was impelled to -protest: - -"I didn't mean that; I only said it to tease you." - -"Because I wouldn't mind if I _were_," she persisted, "but I'm -not. I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke, or drink, or read -anything except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry. -I dress _very_ simply--in fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think -sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me. I believe that -girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way." - -"I do, too," said John, heartily, - -Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a still-born tear -dripped from the comer of one blue eye. - -"I like you," she whispered intimately. "Are you going to spend all -your time with Percy while you're here, or will you be nice to me? -Just think--I'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in love -with me in all my life. I've never been allowed even to _see_ -boys alone--except Percy. I came all the way out here into this grove -hoping to run into you, where the family wouldn't be around." - -Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught at -dancing school in Hades. - -"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with mother -at eleven. You haven't asked me to kiss you once. I thought boys -always did that nowadays." - -John drew himself up proudly. - -"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that sort -of thing--in Hades." - -Side by side they walked back toward the house. - - -6 - -John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight. The -elder man was about forty, with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent -eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses--the -best horses. He carried a plain walking-stick of gray birch with a -single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing John around. - -"The slaves' quarters are there." His walking-stick indicated a -cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful Gothic along the -side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from -the business of life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time -they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one of their -rooms with a tile bath." - -"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they -used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy told me that -once he--" - -"The opinions of Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy are of little importance, I -should imagine," interrupted Braddock Washington coldly. "My slaves -did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe every -day, and they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sulphuric -acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite another reason. -Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for certain -races--except as a beverage." - -John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement. -Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable. - -"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North -with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that -they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect -has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them -up to speak English--my secretary and two or three of the house -servants. - -"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the -velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you see--no fairway, no rough, -no hazards." - -He smiled pleasantly at John. - -"Many men in the cage, father?" asked Percy suddenly. - -Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary curse. - -"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darkly--and then added -after a moment, "We've had difficulties." - -"Mother was telling me," exclaimed Percy, "that Italian teacher--" - -"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of course -there's a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he fell -somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's -always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be -believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men looking for him in -different towns around here." - -"And no luck?" - -"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent they'd each killed a man -answering to that description, but of course it was probably only the -reward they were after--" - -He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the -circumference of a merry-go-round, and covered by a strong iron -grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane -down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. -Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below. - -"Come on down to Hell!" - -"Hallo, kiddo, how's the air up there?" - -"Hey! Throw us a rope!" - -"Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches?" - -"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show you -a quick disappearance scene." - -"Paste him one for me, will you?" - -It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell -from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices -that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited -type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the -grass, and the scene below sprang into light. - -"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to -discover El Dorado," he remarked. - -Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like -the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of -polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two -dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their -upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with -cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the -exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a -well-fed, healthy lot. - -Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat -down. - -"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially. - -A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too -dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock -Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had -died away he spoke again. - -"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?" - -From here and there among them a remark floated up. - -"We decided to stay here for love!" - -"Bring us up there and we'll find us a way!" - -Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said: - -"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here, I wish to heaven -I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that -you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be -glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to -digging tunnels--yes, I know about the new one you've started--you -won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with -all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the type who -worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have taken up -aviation." - -A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to call -his captor's attention to what he was about to say. - -"Let me ask you a few questions!" he cried. "You pretend to be a -fair-minded man." - -"How absurd. How could a man of _my_ position be fair-minded -toward you? You might as well speak of a Spaniard being fair-minded -toward a piece of steak." - -At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen fell, but the -tall man continued: - -"All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a -humanitarian and you're not fair-minded, but you're human--at least -you say you are--and you ought to be able to put yourself in our place -for long enough to think how--how--how--" - -"How what?" demanded Washington, coldly. - -"--how unnecessary--" - -"Not to me." - -"Well--how cruel--" - -"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where self-preservation is -involved. You've been soldiers; you know that. Try another." - -"Well, then, how stupid." - -"There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think of -an alternative. I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly -executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives, sweethearts, -children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge -your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives. -If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have all -of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside of my -preserves. But that's as far as my ideas go." - -"How about trusting us not to peach on you?" cried some one. - -"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington, with -an expression of scorn. "I did take out one man to teach my daughter -Italian. Last week he got away." - -A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats and -a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog-danced and cheered and -yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal -spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they -could, and slid back to the bottom upon the natural cushions of their -bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined-- - - "_Oh, we'll hang the kaiser - On a sour apple-tree_--" - -Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was -over. - -"You see," he remarked, when he could gain a modicum of attention. "I -bear you no ill-will. I like to see you enjoying yourselves. That's -why I didn't tell you the whole story at once. The man--what was his -name? Critchtichiello?--was shot by some of my agents in fourteen -different places." - -Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of -rejoicing subsided immediately. - -"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried to -run away. Do you expect me to take chances with any of you after an -experience like that?" - -Again a series of ejaculations went up. - -"Sure!" - -"Would your daughter like to learn Chinese?" - -"Hey, I can speak Italian! My mother was a wop." - -"Maybe she'd like t'learna speak N'Yawk!" - -"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot -of things better than Italian." - -"I know some Irish songs--and I could hammer brass once't." - -Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the -button in the grass so that the picture below went out instantly, and -there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the -black teeth of the grating. - -"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away without -givin' us your blessing?" - -But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already strolling on -toward the ninth hole of the golf course, as though the pit and its -contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had -triumphed with ease. - - -7 - -July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket -nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love. He -did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend -_Pro deo et patria et St. Mida_) which he had given her rested on -a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her part -was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her -simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John's jewel box. - -Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they -spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she gave him such a -look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward him--then -hesitated. - -"Did you say 'Kismine'?" she asked softly, "or--" - -She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunderstood. - -Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour -it seemed to make little difference. - -The afternoon drifted away. That night, when a last breath of music -drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake, happily -dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be -married as soon as possible. - - -8 - -Every day Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting or fishing -in the deep forests or played golf around the somnolent course--games -which John diplomatically allowed his host to win--or swam in the -mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Washington a somewhat -exacting personality--utterly uninterested in any ideas or opinions -except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times. -She was apparently indifferent to her two daughters, and entirely -absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she held interminable -conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner. - -Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearance--except -that she was somewhat bow-legged, and terminated in large hands and -feet--but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favourite books -had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John -learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never recovered from the shock -and disappointment caused her by the termination of the World War, -just as she was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had -even pined away for a time, and Braddock Washington had taken steps to -promote a new war in the Balkans--but she had seen a photograph of -some wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole -proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed to have inherited the -arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A -chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pattern through their -every idea. - -John was enchanted by the wonders of the chateau and the valley. -Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped a -landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a -French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his -entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply them -with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work -out some ideas of their own. But one by one they had shown their -uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewailing his -separation, from the boulevards in spring--he made some vague remarks -about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that was of any -practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make the -whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects--a state of -things that the Washingtons would soon have grown tired of. And as for -the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought only in terms -of convention. They must make this like this and that like that. - -But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done with -them--they all went mad early one morning after spending the night in -a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain, and -were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at Westport, -Connecticut. - -"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful -reception rooms and halls, and approaches and bathrooms--?" - -"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a -moving-picture fella. He was the only man we found who was used to -playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his -napkin in his collar and couldn't read or write." - -As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon go -back to school. He and Kismine had decided to elope the following -June. - -"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but of -course I could never get father's permission to marry you at all. Next -to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be -married in America at present--they always have to send out bulletins -to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants, when -what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and some used -lace worn once by the Empress Eugenie." - -"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the -Schnlitzer-Murphys, the eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, married a man -whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what a -tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk--and -then she ended up by saying that 'Thank God, I have four good maids -anyhow, and that helps a little.'" - -"It's absurd," commented Kismine--"Think of the millions and millions -of people in the world, labourers and all, who get along with only two -maids." - -One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's changed the -face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state of terror. - -They were in their favourite grove, and between kisses John was -indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added -poignancy to their relations. - -"Sometimes I think we'll never marry," he said sadly. "You're too -wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other -girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale -hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her -half-million." - -"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," remarked -Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been contented with her. She was a -friend of my sister's. She visited here." - -"Oh, then you've had other guests?" exclaimed John in surprise. - -Kismine seemed to regret her words. - -"Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, "we've had a few." - -"But aren't you--wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside?" - -"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered, "Let's talk about -something pleasanter." - -But John's curiosity was aroused. - -"Something pleasanter!" he demanded. "What's unpleasant about that? -Weren't they nice girls?" - -To his great surprise Kismine began to weep. - -"Yes--th--that's the--the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite attached to -some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting them anyway. I -couldn't under_stand_ it." - -A dark suspicion was born in John's heart. - -"Do you mean that they _told_, and your father had -them--removed?" - -"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no chances--and -Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had _such_ a good -time!" - -She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief. - -Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there -open-mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many -sparrows perched upon his spinal column. - -"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming suddenly -and drying her dark blue eyes. - -"Do you mean to say that your father had them _murdered_ before -they left?" - -She nodded. - -"In August usually--or early in September. It's only natural for us to -get all the pleasure out of them that we can first." - -"How abominable! How--why, I must be going crazy! Did you really admit -that--" - -"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very -well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual -reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine -and me, because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that -way we avoided any farewell scene-" - -"So you murdered them! Uh!" cried John. - -"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were -asleep--and their families were always told that they died of scarlet -fever in Butte." - -"But--I fail to understand why you kept on inviting them!" - -"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did. And -they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest presents -toward the last. I shall probably have visitors too--I'll harden up to -it. We can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of -enjoying life while we have it. Think of how lonesome it'd be out here -if we never had _any_ one. Why, father and mother have sacrificed -some of their best friends just as we have." - -"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make love -to you and pretending to return it, and talking about marriage, all -the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here -alive--" - -"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first. You -were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days might as -well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, -and--and I'm honestly sorry you're going to--going to be put -away--though I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss another -girl." - -"Oh, you would, would you?" cried John ferociously. - -"Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun -with a man whom she knows she can never marry. Oh, why did I tell you? -I've probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we were really -enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things -sort of depressing for you." - -"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've heard -about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and decency than -to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much better than a -corpse, I don't want to have any more to with you!" - -"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a corpse! -I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse!" - -"I said nothing of the sort!" - -"You did! You said I kissed a corpse!" - -"I didn't!" - -Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both -subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the path -in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted -displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his -good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them. - -"Who kissed a corpse?" he demanded in obvious disapproval. - -"Nobody," answered Kismine quickly. "We were just joking." - -"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly. "Kismine, -you ought to be--to be reading or playing golf with your sister. Go -read! Go play golf! Don't let me find you here when I come back!" - -Then he bowed at John and went up the path. - -"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've -spoiled it all. We can never meet any more. He won't let me meet you. -He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love." - -"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his mind at -rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going to stay -around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains, if I -have to gnaw a passage through them, and on my way East." They had -both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put -her arm through his. - -"I'm going, too." - -"You must be crazy--" - -"Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently. - -"You most certainly are not. You--" - -"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father and talk it -over with him." - -Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile. - -"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affection, -"we'll go together." - -His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She was -his--she would go with him to share his dangers. He put his arms about -her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him; she had saved -him, in fact. - -Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the chateau. -They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them together -they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were -unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of -peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into the -turquoise and sable card-room and pounded on the back by one of the -under-butlers, which Percy considered a great joke. - - -9 - -Long after midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, he sat suddenly -upright, staring into the veils of somnolence that draped the room. -Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open windows, he -had heard a faint far-away sound that died upon a bed of wind before -identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy dreams. But the -sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the -room--the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper, he could not -tell; a hard lump gathered in the pit of his stomach, and his whole -body ached in the moment that he strained agonisingly to hear. Then -one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure -standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and blocked in upon -the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem -distorted, like a reflection seen in a dirty pane of glass. - -With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the button -by his bedside, and the next moment he was sitting in the green sunken -bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the -cold water which half filled it. - -He sprang out, and, his wet pyjamas scattering a heavy trickle of -water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led out on -to the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. -A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the -magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty. For -a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendour massed about -him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the -solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing. Then -simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sitting-room -swung open, precipitating three naked negroes into the hall--and, as -John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another door slid back -in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John saw Braddock -Washington standing in the lighted lift, wearing a fur coat and a pair -of riding boots which reached to his knees and displayed, above, the -glow of his rose-colored pyjamas. - -On the instant the three negroes--John had never seen any of them -before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the -professional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and -turned expectantly to the man in the lift, who burst out with an -imperious command: - -"Get in here! All three of you! Quick as hell!" - -Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage, the -oblong of light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut, and John -was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against an ivory -stair. - -It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, something -which, for the moment at least, had postponed his own petty disaster. -What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the aviators forced -aside the iron bars of the grating? Or had the men of Fish stumbled -blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak, joyless eyes upon the -gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint whir of air as the -lift whizzed up again, and then, a moment later, as it descended. It -was probable that Percy was hurrying to his father's assistance, and -it occurred to John that this was his opportunity to join Kismine and -plan an immediate escape. He waited until the lift had been silent for -several minutes; shivering a little with the night cool that whipped -in through his wet pyjamas, he returned to his room and dressed -himself quickly. Then he mounted a long flight of stairs and turned -down the corridor carpeted with Russian sable which led to Kismine's -suite. - -The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted. -Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near the window Of the room in a -listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward -him. - -"Oh, it's you!" she whispered, crossing the room to him. "Did you hear -them?" - -"I heard your father's slaves in my--" - -"No," she interrupted excitedly. "Aeroplanes!" - -"Aeroplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me." - -"There're at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead against -the moon. The guard back by the cliff fired his rifle and that's what -roused father. We're going to open on them right away." - -"Are they here on purpose?" - -"Yes--it's that Italian who got away--" - -Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks -tumbled in through the open window. Kismine uttered a little cry, took -a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to -one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was in -darkness--she had blown out the fuse. - -"Come on!" she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden, and -watch it from there!" - -Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their way -out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she pressed -the button that shot them upward he put his arms around her in the -darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. -A minute later they had stepped out upon the star-white platform. -Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of -cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-winged bodies in a -constant circling course. From here and there in the valley flashes of -fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kismine -clapped her hands with pleasure, which, a moment later, turned to -dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal, began to release -their bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep -reverberate sound and lurid light. - -Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the -points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was -almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a -park of rose bushes. - -"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this -attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard -shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead--" - -"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her. -"You'll have to talk louder!" - -"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they -begin to shell the chateau!" - -Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a -geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments -of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake. - -"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at -pre-war prices. So few Americans have any respect for property." - -John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the -aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only two of -the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the -garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much longer. - -"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you -realise that those aviators will kill you without question if they -find you?" - -She consented reluctantly. - -"We'll have to wake Jasmine!" she said, as they hurried toward the -lift. Then she added in a sort of childish delight: "We'll be poor, -won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly -free. Free and poor! What fun!" She stopped and raised her lips to him -in a delighted kiss. - -"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People have -found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of the -two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel -box into your pockets." - -Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they -descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last time -through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a -moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the -flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on the other side of the -lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the -attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their -thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance shot -might annihilate its Ethiopian crew. - -John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply -to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound like a -garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily wooded spot -half-way up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe -the wild night in the valley--finally to make an escape, when it -should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully. - - -10 - -It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The -obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning -against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm -around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle -among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. -Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging -sound, and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though -the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling -closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the -beleaguered possessed no further resources they would land and the -dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over. - -With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of -the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in -the grass. The chateau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light -as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of -Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. -Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound -asleep. - -It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the -path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence -until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-point -he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of -human origin, and the dew was cold; he knew that the dawn would break -soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the -mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way to the -steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread -itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he -slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life -just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head -gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded; this is what he -saw: - -Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against -the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came up out of -the east, lending a gold green colour to the earth, it brought the -solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day. - -While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in -some inscrutable contemplation; then he signalled to the two negroes -who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As -they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck -through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled -diamond--and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air -like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its -weight for a moment--then their rippling muscles caught and hardened -under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again -motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens. - -After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms -in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd to -hear--but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain -and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The -figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an -inextinguishable pride. - -"You--out there--!" he cried in a trembling voice. - -"You--there----!" He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held -attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his -eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain, but -the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking -flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a -moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed--there was something in -the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer. - -"Oh, you above there!" - -The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn -supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous -condescension. - -"You there--" Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing -one into the other .... John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase -here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off -again--now strong and argumentative, now coloured with a slow, puzzled -impatience, Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single -listener, and as realisation crept over him a spray of quick blood -rushed through his arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe -to God! - -That was it--there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves -was some advance sample, a promise of more to follow. - -That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his -sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten -sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of -Christ. For a while his discourse took the farm of reminding God of -this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men--great -churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and -gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of -children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and -goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been -offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of -alleviation from the Divine wrath--and now he, Braddock Washington, -Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of -splendour and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as princes before -him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride. - -He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, -the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many -more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the -whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger -than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many years. It would be -set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped -with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be -hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of iridescent, -decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any -worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer--and on this altar there -would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor any victim -He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most -powerful man alive. - -In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be -absurdly easy--only that matters should be as they were yesterday at -this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the -heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes--and then -close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and -well. - -There was no one else with whom he had ever needed: to treat or -bargain. - -He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His -price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said: He -must have His price. And the price would be rare--no cathedral whose -building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand -workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid. - -He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to -specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it -would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it -or leave it. - -As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and -uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to catch the -slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His -hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his -head high to the heavens like a prophet of old--magnificently mad. - -Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a -curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as though -the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden -murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets, a sighing like -the rustle of a great silken robe--for a time the whole of nature -round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the -trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of -dull, menacing thunder. - -That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The -dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent -hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The -leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bough -was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the -bribe. - -For another moment John, watched the triumph of the day. Then, -turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another -flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from -the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth. - -John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the -clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. -Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a -question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no -time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing a -moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the -tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind -them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of the -peacocks far away and the pleasant of morning. - -When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and -entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At the -highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested -upon the mountainside they had just left--oppressed by some dark sense -of tragic impendency. - -Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly descending -the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes, who -carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the -sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them--John could see that -they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon whose arm she leaned. The -aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in -front of the chateau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the -diamond mountain in skirmishing formation. - -But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was -engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of -rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a -trap-door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, -the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two -negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the -sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all. - -Kismine clutched John's arm. - -"Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they going to -do?" - -"It must be some underground way of escape--" - -A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence. - -"Don't you see?" sobbed Kismine hysterically. "The mountain is wired!" - -Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before -their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a -dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as -light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow -continued, and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared, -revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying -off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the -aviators there was left neither blood nor bone--they were consumed as -completely as the five souls who had gone inside. - -Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the chateau literally -threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as it rose, -and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay -projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire--what -smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few -minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great -featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no -more sound and the three people were alone in the valley. - - -9 - -At sunset John and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had -marked the boundaries of the Washington's dominion, and looking back -found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They sat down to -finish the food which Jasmine had brought with her in a basket. - -"There!" she said, as she spread the table-cloth and put the -sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look tempting? I always -think that food tastes better outdoors." - -"With that remark," remarked Kismine, "Jasmine enters the middle -class." - -"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what -jewels you brought along. If you made a good selection we three ought -to live comfortably all the rest of our lives." - -Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls -of glittering stones before him. "Not so bad," cried John -enthusiastically. "They aren't very big, but-Hallo!" His expression -changed as he held one of them up to the declining sun. "Why, these -aren't diamonds! There's something the matter! - -"By golly!" exclaimed Kismine, with a startled look. "What an idiot I -am!" - -"Why, these are rhinestones!" cried John. - -"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer. They -belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine. I got her to give -them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything but -precious stones before." - -"And this is what you brought?" - -"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I -like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds." - -"Very well," said John gloomily. "We'll have to live in Hades. And you -will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong drawer. -Unfortunately, your father's bank-books were consumed with him." - -"Well, what's the matter with Hades?" - -"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as -not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they say down there." - -Jasmine spoke up. - -"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own -handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and support you both." - -"Do they have washwomen in Hades?" asked Kismine innocently. - -"Of course," answered John. "It's just like anywhere else." - -"I thought--perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes." - -John laughed. - -"Just try it!" he suggested. "They'll run you out before you're half -started." - -"Will father be there?" she asked. - -John turned to her in astonishment. - -"Your father is dead," he replied sombrely. "Why should he go to -Hades? You have it confused with another place that was abolished long -ago." - -After supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their blankets -for the night. - -"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars. "How -strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless fiancee! - -"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before. I -always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some -one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, -all my youth." - -"It _was_ a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a -dream, a form of chemical madness." - -"How pleasant then to be insane!" - -"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any -rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a -form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only -diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of -disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing -of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the -night's full of chill and you'll get pneumonia. His was a great sin -who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours." - -So wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep. - - - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON - -I - - -As long ago as 1860 it was the proper thing to be born at home. At -present, so I am told, the high gods of medicine have decreed that the -first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of -a hospital, preferably a fashionable one. So young Mr. and Mrs. Roger -Button were fifty years ahead of style when they decided, one day in -the summer of 1860, that their first baby should be born in a -hospital. Whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the -astonishing history I am about to set down will never be known. - -I shall tell you what occurred, and let you judge for yourself. - -The Roger Buttons held an enviable position, both social and -financial, in ante-bellum Baltimore. They were related to the This -Family and the That Family, which, as every Southerner knew, entitled -them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated -the Confederacy. This was their first experience with the charming old -custom of having babies--Mr. Button was naturally nervous. He hoped it -would be a boy so that he could be sent to Yale College in -Connecticut, at which institution Mr. Button himself had been known -for four years by the somewhat obvious nickname of "Cuff." - -On the September morning consecrated to the enormous event he arose -nervously at six o'clock dressed himself, adjusted an impeccable -stock, and hurried forth through the streets of Baltimore to the -hospital, to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in -new life upon its bosom. - -When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private -Hospital for Ladies and Gentlemen he saw Doctor Keene, the family -physician, descending the front steps, rubbing his hands together with -a washing movement--as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten -ethics of their profession. - -Mr. Roger Button, the president of Roger Button & Co., Wholesale -Hardware, began to run toward Doctor Keene with much less dignity than -was expected from a Southern gentleman of that picturesque period. -"Doctor Keene!" he called. "Oh, Doctor Keene!" - -The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious -expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face as Mr. Button drew -near. - -"What happened?" demanded Mr. Button, as he came up in a gasping rush. -"What was it? How is she? A boy? Who is it? What--" - -"Talk sense!" said Doctor Keene sharply, He appeared somewhat -irritated. - -"Is the child born?" begged Mr. Button. - -Doctor Keene frowned. "Why, yes, I suppose so--after a fashion." Again -he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button. - -"Is my wife all right?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it a boy or a girl?" - -"Here now!" cried Doctor Keene in a perfect passion of irritation, -"I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous!" He snapped the -last word out in almost one syllable, then he turned away muttering: -"Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation? -One more would ruin me--ruin anybody." - -"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Button appalled. "Triplets?" - -"No, not triplets!" answered the doctor cuttingly. "What's more, you -can go and see for yourself. And get another doctor. I brought you -into the world, young man, and I've been physician to your family for -forty years, but I'm through with you! I don't want to see you or any -of your relatives ever again! Good-bye!" - -Then he turned sharply, and without another word climbed into his -phaeton, which was waiting at the curbstone, and drove severely away. - -Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from -head to foot. What horrible mishap had occurred? He had suddenly lost -all desire to go into the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and -Gentlemen--it was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later, -he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door. - -A nurse was sitting behind a desk in the opaque gloom of the hall. -Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her. - -"Good-morning," she remarked, looking up at him pleasantly. - -"Good-morning. I--I am Mr. Button." - -At this a look of utter terror spread itself over girl's face. She -rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall, restraining -herself only with the most apparent difficulty. - -"I want to see my child," said Mr. Button. - -The nurse gave a little scream. "Oh--of course!" she cried -hysterically. "Upstairs. Right upstairs. Go--_up!_" - -She pointed the direction, and Mr. Button, bathed in cool -perspiration, turned falteringly, and began to mount to the second -floor. In the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached -him, basin in hand. "I'm Mr. Button," he managed to articulate. "I -want to see my----" - -Clank! The basin clattered to the floor and rolled in the direction of -the stairs. Clank! Clank! It began a methodical descent as if sharing in -the general terror which this gentleman provoked. - -"I want to see my child!" Mr. Button almost shrieked. He was on the -verge of collapse. - -Clank! The basin reached the first floor. The nurse regained control -of herself, and threw Mr. Button a look of hearty contempt. - -"All _right_, Mr. Button," she agreed in a hushed voice. "Very -_well!_ But if you _knew_ what a state it's put us all in this -morning! It's perfectly outrageous! The hospital will never have -a ghost of a reputation after----" - -"Hurry!" he cried hoarsely. "I can't stand this!" - -"Come this way, then, Mr. Button." - -He dragged himself after her. At the end of a long hall they reached a -room from which proceeded a variety of howls--indeed, a room which, in -later parlance, would have been known as the "crying-room." They -entered. - -"Well," gasped Mr. Button, "which is mine?" - -"There!" said the nurse. - -Mr. Button's eyes followed her pointing finger, and this is what he -saw. Wrapped in a voluminous white blanket, and partly crammed into -one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently about seventy years -of age. His sparse hair was almost white, and from his chin dripped a -long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth, fanned -by the breeze coming in at the window. He looked up at Mr. Button with -dim, faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled question. - -"Am I mad?" thundered Mr. Button, his terror resolving into rage. "Is -this some ghastly hospital joke? - -"It doesn't seem like a joke to us," replied the nurse severely. "And -I don't know whether you're mad or not--but that is most certainly -your child." - -The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button's forehead. He closed -his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no -mistake--he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten--a _baby_ -of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the -crib in which it was reposing. - -The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and -then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice. "Are you my -father?" he demanded. - -Mr. Button and the nurse started violently. - -"Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd -get me out of this place--or, at least, get them to put a comfortable -rocker in here." - -"Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you?" burst out Mr. -Button frantically. - -"I can't tell you _exactly_ who I am," replied the querulous -whine, "because I've only been born a few hours--but my last name is -certainly Button." - -"You lie! You're an impostor!" - -The old man turned wearily to the nurse. "Nice way to welcome a -new-born child," he complained in a weak voice. "Tell him he's wrong, -why don't you?" - -"You're wrong. Mr. Button," said the nurse severely. "This is your -child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you -to take him home with you as soon as possible-some time to-day." - -"Home?" repeated Mr. Button incredulously. - -"Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know?" - -"I'm right glad of it," whined the old man. "This is a fine place to -keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling, I -haven't been able to get a wink of sleep. I asked for something to -eat"--here his voice rose to a shrill note of protest--"and they -brought me a bottle of milk!" - -Mr. Button, sank down upon a chair near his son and concealed his face -in his hands. "My heavens!" he murmured, in an ecstasy of horror. -"What will people say? What must I do?" - -"You'll have to take him home," insisted the nurse--"immediately!" - -A grotesque picture formed itself with dreadful clarity before the -eyes of the tortured man--a picture of himself walking through the -crowded streets of the city with this appalling apparition stalking by -his side. - -"I can't. I can't," he moaned. - -People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He -would have to introduce this--this septuagenarian: "This is my son, -born early this morning." And then the old man would gather his -blanket around him and they would plod on, past the bustling stores, -the slave market--for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately -that his son was black--past the luxurious houses of the residential -district, past the home for the aged.... - -"Come! Pull yourself together," commanded the nurse. - -"See here," the old man announced suddenly, "if you think I'm going to -walk home in this blanket, you're entirely mistaken." - -"Babies always have blankets." - -With a malicious crackle the old man held up a small white swaddling -garment. "Look!" he quavered. "_This_ is what they had ready for -me." - -"Babies always wear those," said the nurse primly. - -"Well," said the old man, "this baby's not going to wear anything in -about two minutes. This blanket itches. They might at least have given -me a sheet." - -"Keep it on! Keep it on!" said Mr. Button hurriedly. He turned to the -nurse. "What'll I do?" - -"Go down town and buy your son some clothes." - -Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the hall: "And a -cane, father. I want to have a cane." - -Mr. Button banged the outer door savagely.... - - -2 - - -"Good-morning," Mr. Button said nervously, to the clerk in the -Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. "I want to buy some clothes for my -child." - -"How old is your child, sir?" - -"About six hours," answered Mr. Button, without due consideration. - -"Babies' supply department in the rear." - -"Why, I don't think--I'm not sure that's what I want. It's--he's an -unusually large-size child. Exceptionally--ah large." - -"They have the largest child's sizes." - -"Where is the boys' department?" inquired Mr. Button, shifting his -ground desperately. He felt that the clerk must surely scent his -shameful secret. - -"Right here." - -"Well----" He hesitated. The notion of dressing his son in men's -clothes was repugnant to him. If, say, he could only find a very large -boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white -hair brown, and thus manage to conceal the worst, and to retain -something of his own self-respect--not to mention his position in -Baltimore society. - -But a frantic inspection of the boys' department revealed no suits to -fit the new-born Button. He blamed the store, of course--in such -cases it is the thing to blame the store. - -"How old did you say that boy of yours was?" demanded the clerk -curiously. - -"He's--sixteen." - -"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six _hours_. You'll -find the youths' department in the next aisle." - -Mr. Button turned miserably away. Then he stopped, brightened, and -pointed his finger toward a dressed dummy in the window display. -"There!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that suit, out there on the dummy." - -The clerk stared. "Why," he protested, "that's not a child's suit. At -least it _is_, but it's for fancy dress. You could wear it -yourself!" - -"Wrap it up," insisted his customer nervously. "That's what I want." - -The astonished clerk obeyed. - -Back at the hospital Mr. Button entered the nursery and almost threw -the package at his son. "Here's your clothes," he snapped out. - -The old man untied the package and viewed the contents with a -quizzical eye. - -"They look sort of funny to me," he complained, "I don't want to be -made a monkey of--" - -"You've made a monkey of me!" retorted Mr. Button fiercely. "Never you -mind how funny you look. Put them on--or I'll--or I'll _spank_ -you." He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling -nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say. - -"All right, father"--this with a grotesque simulation of filial -respect--"you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say." - -As before, the sound of the word "father" caused Mr. Button to start -violently. - -"And hurry." - -"I'm hurrying, father." - -When his son was dressed Mr. Button regarded him with depression. The -costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse -with a wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish -beard, drooping almost to the waist. The effect was not good. - -"Wait!" - -Mr. Button seized a hospital shears and with three quick snaps -amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement -the ensemble fell far short of perfection. The remaining brush of -scraggly hair, the watery eyes, the ancient teeth, seemed oddly out of -tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was -obdurate--he held out his hand. "Come along!" he said sternly. - -His son took the hand trustingly. "What are you going to call me, -dad?" he quavered as they walked from the nursery--"just 'baby' for a -while? till you think of a better name?" - -Mr. Button grunted. "I don't know," he answered harshly. "I think -we'll call you Methuselah." - - -3 - -Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his hair cut -short and then dyed to a sparse unnatural black, had had his face -shaved so close that it glistened, and had been attired in small-boy -clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for -Button to ignore the fact that his son was a poor excuse for a first -family baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button--for it was by -this name they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious -Methuselah--was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not -conceal this, nor did the clipping and dyeing of his eyebrows disguise -the fact that the eyes under--were faded and watery and tired. In -fact, the baby-nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house -after one look, in a state of considerable indignation. - -But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a -baby, and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if -Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether, -but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter, -and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a -rattle and, giving it to Benjamin, insisted in no uncertain terms that -he should "play with it," whereupon the old man took it with--a weary -expression and could be heard jingling it obediently at intervals -throughout the day. - -There can be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him, and that he -found other and more soothing amusements when he was left alone. For -instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week -he had smoked more cigars than ever before--a phenomenon, which was -explained a few days later when, entering the nursery unexpectedly, he -found the room full of faint blue haze and Benjamin, with a guilty -expression on his face, trying to conceal the butt of a dark Havana. -This, of course, called for a severe spanking, but Mr. Button found -that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his -son that he would "stunt his growth." - -Nevertheless he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead -soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals -made of cotton, and, to perfect the illusion which he was -creating--for himself at least--he passionately demanded of the clerk -in the toy-store whether "the paint would come oft the pink duck if -the baby put it in his mouth." But, despite all his father's efforts, -Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs -and return to the nursery with a volume of the Encyclopedia -Britannica, over which he would pore through an afternoon, while his -cotton cows and his Noah's ark were left neglected on the floor. -Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail. - -The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, prodigious. What the -mishap would have cost the Buttons and their kinsfolk socially cannot -be determined, for the outbreak of the Civil War drew the city's -attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite -racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents--and -finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby -resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of -decay common to all men of seventy, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs. -Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was -furiously insulted. - -Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. Several -small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a stiff-jointed -afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles--he even -managed, quite accidentally, to break a kitchen window with a stone -from a sling shot, a feat which secretly delighted his father. - -Thereafter Benjamin contrived to break something every day, but he did -these things only because they were expected of him, and because he -was by nature obliging. - -When his grandfather's initial antagonism wore off, Benjamin and that -gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would -sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and, -like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of -the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than -in his parents'--they seemed always somewhat in awe of him and, -despite the dictatorial authority they exercised over him, frequently -addressed him as "Mr." - -He was as puzzled as any one else at the apparently advanced age of -his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal, -but found that no such case had been previously recorded. At his -father's urging he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and -frequently he joined in the milder games--football shook him up too -much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would -refuse to knit. - -When he was five he was sent to kindergarten, where he initiated into -the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving coloured -maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to -drowse off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both -irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief she -complained to his parents, and he was removed from the school. The -Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young. - -By the time he was twelve years old his parents had grown used to him. -Indeed, so strong is the force of custom that they no longer felt that -he was different from any other child--except when some curious -anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his -twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made, or -thought he made, an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him, -or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to -iron-gray under its concealing dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his -face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier and firmer, with -even a touch of ruddy winter colour? He could not tell. He knew that -he no longer stooped, and that his physical condition had improved -since the early days of his life. - -"Can it be----?" he thought to himself, or, rather, scarcely dared to -think. - -He went to his father. "I am grown," he announced determinedly. "I -want to put on long trousers." - -His father hesitated. "Well," he said finally, "I don't know. Fourteen -is the age for putting on long trousers--and you are only twelve." - -"But you'll have to admit," protested Benjamin, "that I'm big for my -age." - -His father looked at him with illusory speculation. "Oh, I'm not so -sure of that," he said. "I was as big as you when I was twelve." - -This was not true-it was all part of Roger Button's silent agreement -with himself to believe in his son's normality. - -Finally a compromise was reached. Benjamin was to continue to dye his -hair. He was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own -age. He was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street. -In return for these concessions he was allowed his first suit of long -trousers.... - - -4 - -Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first -year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of -normal ungrowth. When Benjamin was eighteen he was erect as a man of -fifty; he had more hair and it was of a dark gray; his step was firm, -his voice had lost its cracked quaver and descended to a healthy -baritone. So his father sent him up to Connecticut to take -examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his -examination and became a member of the freshman class. - -On the third day following his matriculation he received a -notification from Mr. Hart, the college registrar, to call at his -office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror, -decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but -an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye -bottle was not there. Then he remembered--he had emptied it the day -before and thrown it away. - -He was in a dilemma. He was due at the registrar's in five minutes. -There seemed to be no help for it--he must go as he was. He did. - -"Good-morning," said the registrar politely. "You've come to inquire -about your son." - -"Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button----" began Benjamin, but -Mr. Hart cut him off. - -"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here -any minute." - -"That's me!" burst out Benjamin. "I'm a freshman." - -"What!" - -"I'm a freshman." - -"Surely you're joking." - -"Not at all." - -The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. "Why, I have -Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen." - -"That's my age," asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly. - -The registrar eyed him wearily. "Now surely, Mr. Button, you don't -expect me to believe that." - -Benjamin smiled wearily. "I am eighteen," he repeated. - -The registrar pointed sternly to the door. "Get out," he said. "Get -out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic." - -"I am eighteen." - -Mr. Hart opened the door. "The idea!" he shouted. "A man of your age -trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well, -I'll give you eighteen minutes to get out of town." - -Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room, and half a dozen -undergraduates, who were waiting in the hall, followed him curiously -with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced -the infuriated registrar, who was still standing in the door-way, and -repeated in a firm voice: "I am eighteen years old." - -To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates, -Benjamin walked away. - -But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy walk to -the railroad station he found that he was being followed by a group, -then by a swarm, and finally by a dense mass of undergraduates. The -word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance -examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of -eighteen. A fever of excitement permeated the college. Men ran hatless -out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined -the mob, professors' wives with bonnets awry and bustles out of -position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a -continual succession of remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of -Benjamin Button. - -"He must be the wandering Jew!" - -"He ought to go to prep school at his age!" - -"Look at the infant prodigy!" - -"He thought this was the old men's home." - -"Go up to Harvard!" - -Benjamin increased his gait, and soon he was running. He would show -them! He _would_ go to Harvard, and then they would regret these -ill-considered taunts! - -Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the -window. "You'll regret this!" he shouted. - -"Ha-ha!" the undergraduates laughed. "Ha-ha-ha!" It was the biggest -mistake that Yale College had ever made.... - - -5 - -In 1880 Benjamin Button was twenty years old, and he signalised his -birthday by going to work for his father in Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware. It was in that same year that he began "going out -socially"--that is, his father insisted on taking him to several -fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son -were more and more companionable--in fact, since Benjamin had ceased -to dye his hair (which was still grayish) they appeared about the same -age, and could have passed for brothers. - -One night in August they got into the phaeton attired in their -full-dress suits and drove out to a dance at the Shevlins' country -house, situated just outside of Baltimore. It was a gorgeous evening. -A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless colour of platinum, -and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air -aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter. The open country, -carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent as in the -day. It was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty -of the sky--almost. - -"There's a great future in the dry-goods business," Roger Button was -saying. He was not a spiritual man--his aesthetic sense was -rudimentary. - -"Old fellows like me can't learn new tricks," he observed profoundly. -"It's you youngsters with energy and vitality that have the great -future before you." - -Far up the road the lights of the Shevlins' country house drifted into -view, and presently there was a sighing sound that crept persistently -toward them--it might have been the fine plaint of violins or the -rustle of the silver wheat under the moon. - -They pulled up behind a handsome brougham whose passengers were -disembarking at the door. A lady got out, then an elderly gentleman, -then another young lady, beautiful as sin. Benjamin started; an almost -chemical change seemed to dissolve and recompose the very elements of -his body. A rigour passed over him, blood rose into his cheeks, his -forehead, and there was a steady thumping in his ears. It was first -love. - -The girl was slender and frail, with hair that was ashen under the -moon and honey-coloured under the sputtering gas-lamps of the porch. -Over her shoulders was thrown a Spanish mantilla of softest yellow, -butterflied in black; her feet were glittering buttons at the hem of -her bustled dress. - -Roger Button leaned over to his son. "That," he said, "is young -Hildegarde Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief." - -Benjamin nodded coldly. "Pretty little thing," he said indifferently. -But when the negro boy had led the buggy away, he added: "Dad, you -might introduce me to her." - -They approached a group, of which Miss Moncrief was the centre. Reared -in the old tradition, she curtsied low before Benjamin. Yes, he might -have a dance. He thanked her and walked away--staggered away. - -The interval until the time for his turn should arrive dragged itself -out interminably. He stood close to the wall, silent, inscrutable, -watching with murderous eyes the young bloods of Baltimore as they -eddied around Hildegarde Moncrief, passionate admiration in their -faces. How obnoxious they seemed to Benjamin; how intolerably rosy! -Their curling brown whiskers aroused in him a feeling equivalent to -indigestion. - -But when his own time came, and he drifted with her out upon the -changing floor to the music of the latest waltz from Paris, his -jealousies and anxieties melted from him like a mantle of snow. Blind -with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning. - -"You and your brother got here just as we did, didn't you?" asked -Hildegarde, looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue -enamel. - -Benjamin hesitated. If she took him for his father's brother, would it -be best to enlighten her? He remembered his experience at Yale, so he -decided against it. It would be rude to contradict a lady; it would be -criminal to mar this exquisite occasion with the grotesque story of -his origin. Later, perhaps. So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy. - -"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so -idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and -how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to -appreciate women." - -Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he -choked back the impulse. "You're just the romantic age," she -continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too worldly-wise; thirty is apt to be -pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole -cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is -the mellow age. I love fifty." - -Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be -fifty. - -"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man -of fifty and be taken care of than many a man of thirty and take care -of _him_." - -For Benjamin the rest of the evening was bathed in a honey-coloured -mist. Hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that -they were marvellously in accord on all the questions of the day. She -was to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they -would discuss all these questions further. - -Going home in the phaeton just before the crack of dawn, when the -first bees were humming and the fading moon glimmered in the cool dew, -Benjamin knew vaguely that his father was discussing wholesale -hardware. - -".... And what do you think should merit our biggest attention after -hammers and nails?" the elder Button was saying. - -"Love," replied Benjamin absent-mindedly. - -"Lugs?" exclaimed Roger Button, "Why, I've just covered the question -of lugs." - -Benjamin regarded him with dazed eyes just as the eastern sky was -suddenly cracked with light, and an oriole yawned piercingly in the -quickening trees... - - -6 - -When, six months later, the engagement of Miss Hildegarde Moncrief to -Mr. Benjamin Button was made known (I say "made known," for General -Moncrief declared he would rather fall upon his sword than announce -it), the excitement in Baltimore society reached a feverish pitch. The -almost forgotten story of Benjamin's birth was remembered and sent out -upon the winds of scandal in picaresque and incredible forms. It was -said that Benjamin was really the father of Roger Button, that he was -his brother who had been in prison for forty years, that he was John -Wilkes Booth in disguise--and, finally, that he had two small conical -horns sprouting from his head. - -The Sunday supplements of the New York papers played up the case with -fascinating sketches which showed the head of Benjamin Button attached -to a fish, to a snake, and, finally, to a body of solid brass. He -became known, journalistically, as the Mystery Man of Maryland. But -the true story, as is usually the case, had a very small circulation. - -However, every one agreed with General Moncrief that it was "criminal" -for a lovely girl who could have married any beau in Baltimore to -throw herself into the arms of a man who was assuredly fifty. In vain -Mr. Roger Button published his son's birth certificate in large type in -the Baltimore _Blaze_. No one believed it. You had only to look -at Benjamin and see. - -On the part of the two people most concerned there was no wavering. So -many of the stories about her fiance were false that Hildegarde -refused stubbornly to believe even the true one. In vain General -Moncrief pointed out to her the high mortality among men of fifty--or, -at least, among men who looked fifty; in vain he told her of the -instability of the wholesale hardware business. Hildegarde had chosen -to marry for mellowness, and marry she did.... - - -7 - -In one particular, at least, the friends of Hildegarde Moncrief were -mistaken. The wholesale hardware business prospered amazingly. In the -fifteen years between Benjamin Button's marriage in 1880 and his -father's retirement in 1895, the family fortune was doubled--and this -was due largely to the younger member of the firm. - -Needless to say, Baltimore eventually received the couple to its -bosom. Even old General Moncrief became reconciled to his son-in-law -when Benjamin gave him the money to bring out his _History of the -Civil War_ in twenty volumes, which had been refused by nine -prominent publishers. - -In Benjamin himself fifteen years had wrought many changes. It seemed -to him that the blood flowed with new vigour through his veins. It -began to be a pleasure to rise in the morning, to walk with an active -step along the busy, sunny street, to work untiringly with his -shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. It was in 1890 that he -executed his famous business coup: he brought up the suggestion that -_all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped -are the property of the shippee_, a proposal which became a -statute, was approved by Chief Justice Fossile, and saved Roger Button -and Company, Wholesale Hardware, more than _six hundred nails every -year_. - -In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more -attracted by the gay side of life. It was typical of his growing -enthusiasm for pleasure that he was the first man in the city of -Baltimore to own and run an automobile. Meeting him on the street, his -contemporaries would stare enviously at the picture he made of health -and vitality. - -"He seems to grow younger every year," they would remark. And if old -Roger Button, now sixty-five years old, had failed at first to give a -proper welcome to his son he atoned at last by bestowing on him what -amounted to adulation. - -And here we come to an unpleasant subject which it will be well to -pass over as quickly as possible. There was only one thing that -worried Benjamin Button; his wife had ceased to attract him. - -At that time Hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five, with a son, -Roscoe, fourteen years old. In the early days of their marriage -Benjamin had worshipped her. But, as the years passed, her -honey-coloured hair became an unexciting brown, the blue enamel of her -eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery--moreover, and, most of all, -she had become too settled in her ways, too placid, too content, too -anaemic in her excitements, and too sober in her taste. As a bride it -been she who had "dragged" Benjamin to dances and dinners--now -conditions were reversed. She went out socially with him, but without -enthusiasm, devoured already by that eternal inertia which comes to -live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end. - -Benjamin's discontent waxed stronger. At the outbreak of the -Spanish-American War in 1898 his home had for him so little charm that -he decided to join the army. With his business influence he obtained a -commission as captain, and proved so adaptable to the work that he was -made a major, and finally a lieutenant-colonel just in time to -participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly -wounded, and received a medal. - -Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required -attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at -the station by a brass band and escorted to his house. - - -8 - -Hildegarde, waving a large silk flag, greeted him on the porch, and -even as he kissed her he felt with a sinking of the heart that these -three years had taken their toll. She was a woman of forty now, with a -faint skirmish line of gray hairs in her head. The sight depressed -him. - -Up in his room he saw his reflection in the familiar mirror--he went -closer and examined his own face with anxiety, comparing it after a -moment with a photograph of himself in uniform taken just before the -war. - -"Good Lord!" he said aloud. The process was continuing. There was no -doubt of it--he looked now like a man of thirty. Instead of being -delighted, he was uneasy--he was growing younger. He had hitherto -hoped that once he reached a bodily age equivalent to his age in -years, the grotesque phenomenon which had marked his birth would cease -to function. He shuddered. His destiny seemed to him awful, -incredible. - -When he came downstairs Hildegarde was waiting for him. She appeared -annoyed, and he wondered if she had at last discovered that there was -something amiss. It was with an effort to relieve the tension between -them that he broached the matter at dinner in what he considered a -delicate way. - -"Well," he remarked lightly, "everybody says I look younger than -ever." - -Hildegarde regarded him with scorn. She sniffed. "Do you think it's -anything to boast about?" - -"I'm not boasting," he asserted uncomfortably. She sniffed again. "The -idea," she said, and after a moment: "I should think you'd have enough -pride to stop it." - -"How can I?" he demanded. - -"I'm not going to argue with you," she retorted. "But there's a right -way of doing things and a wrong way. If you've made up your mind to be -different from everybody else, I don't suppose I can stop you, but I -really don't think it's very considerate." - -"But, Hildegarde, I can't help it." - -"You can too. You're simply stubborn. You think you don't want to be -like any one else. You always have been that way, and you always will -be. But just think how it would be if every one else looked at things -as you do--what would the world be like?" - -As this was an inane and unanswerable argument Benjamin made no reply, -and from that time on a chasm began to widen between them. He wondered -what possible fascination she had ever exercised over him. - -To add to the breach, he found, as the new century gathered headway, -that his thirst for gaiety grew stronger. Never a party of any kind in -the city of Baltimore but he was there, dancing with the prettiest of -the young married women, chatting with the most popular of the -debutantes, and finding their company charming, while his wife, a -dowager of evil omen, sat among the chaperons, now in haughty -disapproval, and now following him with solemn, puzzled, and -reproachful eyes. - -"Look!" people would remark. "What a pity! A young fellow that age -tied to a woman of forty-five. He must be twenty years younger than -his wife." They had forgotten--as people inevitably forget--that back -in 1880 their mammas and papas had also remarked about this same -ill-matched pair. - -Benjamin's growing unhappiness at home was compensated for by his many -new interests. He took up golf and made a great success of it. He went -in for dancing: in 1906 he was an expert at "The Boston," and in 1908 -he was considered proficient at the "Maxine," while in 1909 his -"Castle Walk" was the envy of every young man in town. - -His social activities, of course, interfered to some extent with his -business, but then he had worked hard at wholesale hardware for -twenty-five years and felt that he could soon hand it on to his son, -Roscoe, who had recently graduated from Harvard. - -He and his son were, in fact, often mistaken for each other. This -pleased Benjamin--he soon forgot the insidious fear which had come -over him on his return from the Spanish-American War, and grew to take -a naive pleasure in his appearance. There was only one fly in the -delicious ointment--he hated to appear in public with his wife. -Hildegarde was almost fifty, and the sight of her made him feel -absurd.... - - -9 - -One September day in 1910--a few years after Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware, had been handed over to young Roscoe Button--a -man, apparently about twenty years old, entered himself as a freshman -at Harvard University in Cambridge. He did not make the mistake of -announcing that he would never see fifty again, nor did he mention the -fact that his son had been graduated from the same institution ten -years before. - -He was admitted, and almost immediately attained a prominent position -in the class, partly because he seemed a little older than the other -freshmen, whose average age was about eighteen. - -But his success was largely due to the fact that in the football game -with Yale he played so brilliantly, with so much dash and with such a -cold, remorseless anger that he scored seven touchdowns and fourteen -field goals for Harvard, and caused one entire eleven of Yale men to -be carried singly from the field, unconscious. He was the most -celebrated man in college. - -Strange to say, in his third or junior year he was scarcely able to -"make" the team. The coaches said that he had lost weight, and it -seemed to the more observant among them that he was not quite as tall -as before. He made no touchdowns--indeed, he was retained on the team -chiefly in hope that his enormous reputation would bring terror and -disorganisation to the Yale team. - -In his senior year he did not make the team at all. He had grown so -slight and frail that one day he was taken by some sophomores for a -freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known -as something of a prodigy--a senior who was surely no more than -sixteen--and he was often shocked at the worldliness of some of his -classmates. His studies seemed harder to him--he felt that they were -too advanced. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the -famous preparatory school, at which so many of them had prepared for -college, and he determined after his graduation to enter himself at -St. Midas's, where the sheltered life among boys his own size would be -more congenial to him. - -Upon his graduation in 1914 he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard -diploma in his pocket. Hildegarde was now residing in Italy, so -Benjamin went to live with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed -in a general way there was obviously no heartiness in Roscoe's feeling -toward him--there was even perceptible a tendency on his son's part to -think that Benjamin, as he moped about the house in adolescent -mooniness, was somewhat in the way. Roscoe was married now and -prominent in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal to creep out in -connection with his family. - -Benjamin, no longer _persona grata_ with the debutantes and -younger college set, found himself left much done, except for the -companionship of three or four fifteen-year-old boys in the -neighbourhood. His idea of going to St. Midas's school recurred to -him. - -"Say," he said to Roscoe one day, "I've told you over and over that I -want to go to prep, school." - -"Well, go, then," replied Roscoe shortly. The matter was distasteful -to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion. - -"I can't go alone," said Benjamin helplessly. "You'll have to enter me -and take me up there." - -"I haven't got time," declared Roscoe abruptly. His eyes narrowed and -he looked uneasily at his father. "As a matter of fact," he added, -"you'd better not go on with this business much longer. You better -pull up short. You better--you better"--he paused and his face -crimsoned as he sought for words--"you better turn right around and -start back the other way. This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't -funny any longer. You--you behave yourself!" - -Benjamin looked at him, on the verge of tears. - -"And another thing," continued Roscoe, "when visitors are in the house -I want you to call me 'Uncle'--not 'Roscoe,' but 'Uncle,' do you -understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my -first name. Perhaps you'd better call me 'Uncle' _all_ the time, -so you'll get used to it." - -With a harsh look at his father, Roscoe turned away.... - - -10 - -At the termination of this interview, Benjamin wandered dismally -upstairs and stared at himself in the mirror. He had not shaved for -three months, but he could find nothing on his face but a faint white -down with which it seemed unnecessary to meddle. When he had first -come home from Harvard, Roscoe had approached him with the proposition -that he should wear eye-glasses and imitation whiskers glued to his -cheeks, and it had seemed for a moment that the farce of his early -years was to be repeated. But whiskers had itched and made him -ashamed. He wept and Roscoe had reluctantly relented. - -Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, _The Boy Scouts in Bimini -Bay_, and began to read. But he found himself thinking persistently -about the war. America had joined the Allied cause during the -preceding month, and Benjamin wanted to enlist, but, alas, sixteen was -the minimum age, and he did not look that old. His true age, which was -fifty-seven, would have disqualified him, anyway. - -There was a knock at his door, and the butler appeared with a letter -bearing a large official legend in the corner and addressed to Mr. -Benjamin Button. Benjamin tore it open eagerly, and read the enclosure -with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had -served in the Spanish-American War were being called back into service -with a higher rank, and it enclosed his commission as brigadier-general -in the United States army with orders to report immediately. - -Benjamin jumped to his feet fairly quivering with enthusiasm. This was -what he had wanted. He seized his cap, and ten minutes later he had -entered a large tailoring establishment on Charles Street, and asked -in his uncertain treble to be measured for a uniform. - -"Want to play soldier, sonny?" demanded a clerk casually. - -Benjamin flushed. "Say! Never mind what I want!" he retorted angrily. -"My name's Button and I live on Mt. Vernon Place, so you know I'm good -for it." - -"Well," admitted the clerk hesitantly, "if you're not, I guess your -daddy is, all right." - -Benjamin was measured, and a week later his uniform was completed. He -had difficulty in obtaining the proper general's insignia because the -dealer kept insisting to Benjamin that a nice V.W.C.A. badge would -look just as well and be much more fun to play with. - -Saying nothing to Roscoe, he left the house one night and proceeded by -train to Camp Mosby, in South Carolina, where he was to command an -infantry brigade. On a sultry April day he approached the entrance to -the camp, paid off the taxicab which had brought him from the station, -and turned to the sentry on guard. - -"Get some one to handle my luggage!" he said briskly. - -The sentry eyed him reproachfully. "Say," he remarked, "where you -goin' with the general's duds, sonny?" - -Benjamin, veteran of the Spanish-American War, whirled upon him with -fire in his eye, but with, alas, a changing treble voice. - -"Come to attention!" he tried to thunder; he paused for breath--then -suddenly he saw the sentry snap his heels together and bring his rifle -to the present. Benjamin concealed a smile of gratification, but when -he glanced around his smile faded. It was not he who had inspired -obedience, but an imposing artillery colonel who was approaching on -horseback. - -"Colonel!" called Benjamin shrilly. - -The colonel came up, drew rein, and looked coolly down at him with a -twinkle in his eyes. "Whose little boy are you?" he demanded kindly. - -"I'll soon darn well show you whose little boy I am!" retorted -Benjamin in a ferocious voice. "Get down off that horse!" - -The colonel roared with laughter. - -"You want him, eh, general?" - -"Here!" cried Benjamin desperately. "Read this." And he thrust his -commission toward the colonel. - -The colonel read it, his eyes popping from their sockets. - -"Where'd you get this?" he demanded, slipping the -document into his own pocket. - -"I got it from the Government, as you'll -soon find out!" - -"You come along with me," said the colonel with a -peculiar look. "We'll go up to headquarters and talk this over. Come -along." - -The colonel turned and began walking his horse in the -direction of headquarters. There was nothing for Benjamin to do but -follow with as much dignity as possible--meanwhile promising himself a -stern revenge. - -But this revenge did not materialise. Two days later, -however, his son Roscoe materialised from Baltimore, hot and cross -from a hasty trip, and escorted the weeping general, _sans_ -uniform, back to his home. - - -II - -In 1920 Roscoe Button's first child was born. During the attendant -festivities, however, no one thought it "the thing" to mention, that -the little grubby boy, apparently about ten years of age who played -around the house with lead soldiers and a miniature circus, was the -new baby's own grandfather. - -No one disliked the little boy whose fresh, cheerful face was crossed -with just a hint of sadness, but to Roscoe Button his presence was a -source of torment. In the idiom of his generation Roscoe did not -consider the matter "efficient." It seemed to him that his father, in -refusing to look sixty, had not behaved like a "red-blooded -he-man"--this was Roscoe's favourite expression--but in a curious and -perverse manner. Indeed, to think about the matter for as much as a -half an hour drove him to the edge of insanity. Roscoe believed that -"live wires" should keep young, but carrying it out on such a scale -was--was--was inefficient. And there Roscoe rested. - -Five years later Roscoe's little boy had grown old enough to play -childish games with little Benjamin under the supervision of the same -nurse. Roscoe took them both to kindergarten on the same day, and -Benjamin found that playing with little strips of coloured paper, -making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most -fascinating game in the world. Once he was bad and had to stand in the -corner--then he cried--but for the most part there were gay hours in -the cheerful room, with the sunlight coming in the windows and Miss -Bailey's kind hand resting for a moment now and then in his tousled -hair. - -Roscoe's son moved up into the first grade after a year, but Benjamin -stayed on in the kindergarten. He was very happy. Sometimes when other -tots talked about what they would do when they grew up a shadow would -cross his little face as if in a dim, childish way he realised that -those were things in which he was never to share. - -The days flowed on in monotonous content. He went back a third year to -the kindergarten, but he was too little now to understand what the -bright shining strips of paper were for. He cried because the other -boys were bigger than he, and he was afraid of them. The teacher -talked to him, but though he tried to understand he could not -understand at all. - -He was taken from the kindergarten. His nurse, Nana, in her starched -gingham dress, became the centre of his tiny world. On bright days -they walked in the park; Nana would point at a great gray monster and -say "elephant," and Benjamin would say it after her, and when he was -being undressed for bed that night he would say it over and over aloud -to her: "Elyphant, elyphant, elyphant." Sometimes Nana let him jump on -the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right it would -bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said "Ah" for a long time -while you jumped you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect. - -He loved to take a big cane from the hat-rack and go around hitting -chairs and tables with it and saying: "Fight, fight, fight." When -there were people there the old ladies would cluck at him, which -interested him, and the young ladies would try to kiss him, which he -submitted to with mild boredom. And when the long day was done at five -o'clock he would go upstairs with Nana and be fed on oatmeal and nice -soft mushy foods with a spoon. - -There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep; no token -came to him of his brave days at college, of the glittering years when -he flustered the hearts of many girls. There were only the white, safe -walls of his crib and Nana and a man who came to see him sometimes, -and a great big orange ball that Nana pointed at just before his -twilight bed hour and called "sun." When the sun went his eyes were -sleepy--there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him. - -The past--the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the -first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk -down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days -before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old -Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded -like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. -He did not remember. - -He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his -last feeding or how the days passed--there was only his crib and -Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was -hungry he cried--that was all. Through the noons and nights he -breathed and over him there were soft mumblings and murmurings that he -scarcely heard, and faintly differentiated smells, and light and -darkness. - -Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved -above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether -from his mind. - - - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE - - -Running footsteps--light, soft-soled shoes made of curious leathery -cloth brought from Ceylon setting the pace; thick flowing boots, two -pairs, dark blue and gilt, reflecting the moonlight in blunt gleams -and splotches, following a stone's throw behind. - -Soft Shoes flashes through a patch of moonlight, then darts into a -blind labyrinth of alleys and becomes only an intermittent scuffle -ahead somewhere in the enfolding darkness. In go Flowing Boots, with -short swords lurching and long plumes awry, finding a breath to curse -God and the black lanes of London. - -Soft Shoes leaps a shadowy gate and crackles through a hedgerow. -Flowing Boots leap the gate and crackles through the hedgerow--and -there, startlingly, is the watch ahead--two murderous pikemen of -ferocious cast of mouth acquired in Holland and the Spanish marches. - -But there is no cry for help. The pursued does not fall panting at the -feet of the watch, clutching a purse; neither do the pursuers raise a -hue and cry. Soft Shoes goes by in a rush of swift air. The watch -curse and hesitate, glance after the fugitive, and then spread their -pikes grimly across the road and wait for Flowing Boots. Darkness, -like a great hand, cuts off the even flow the moon. - -The hand moves off the moon whose pale caress finds again the eaves -and lintels, and the watch, wounded and tumbled in the dust. Up the -street one of Flowing Boots leaves a black trail of spots until he -binds himself, clumsily as he runs, with fine lace caught from his -throat. - -It was no affair for the watch: Satan was at large tonight and Satan -seemed to be he who appeared dimly in front, heel over gate, knee over -fence. Moreover, the adversary was obviously travelling near home or -at least in that section of London consecrated to his coarser whims, -for the street narrowed like a road in a picture and the houses bent -over further and further, cooping in natural ambushes suitable for -murder and its histrionic sister, sudden death. - -Down long and sinuous lanes twisted the hunted and the harriers, -always in and out of the moon in a perpetual queen's move over a -checker-board of glints and patches. Ahead, the quarry, minus his -leather jerkin now and half blinded by drips of sweat, had taken to -scanning his ground desperately on both sides. As a result he suddenly -slowed short, and retracing his steps a bit scooted up an alley so -dark that it seemed that here sun and moon had been in eclipse since -the last glacier slipped roaring over the earth. Two hundred yards -down he stopped and crammed himself into a niche in the wall where he -huddled and panted silently, a grotesque god without bulk or outline -in the gloom. - -Flowing Boots, two pairs, drew near, came up, went by, halted twenty -yards beyond him, and spoke in deep-lunged, scanty whispers: - -"I was attune to that scuffle; it stopped." - -"Within twenty paces." - -"He's hid." - -"Stay together now and we'll cut him up." - -The voice faded into a low crunch of a boot, nor did Soft Shoes wait -to hear more--he sprang in three leaps across the alley, where he -bounded up, flapped for a moment on the top of the wall like a huge -bird, and disappeared, gulped down by the hungry night at a mouthful. - - -II - - "He read at wine, he read in bed, - He read aloud, had he the breath, - His every thought was with the dead, - And so he read himself to death." - -Any visitor to the old James the First graveyard near Peat's Hill may -spell out this bit of doggerel, undoubtedly one of the worst recorded -of an Elizabethan, on the tomb of Wessel Caster. - -This death of his, says the antiquary, occurred when he was -thirty-seven, but as this story is concerned with the night of a -certain chase through darkness, we find him still alive, still -reading. His eyes were somewhat dim, his stomach somewhat obvious-he -was a mis-built man and indolent--oh, Heavens! But an era is an era, -and in the reign of Elizabeth, by the grace of Luther, Queen of -England, no man could help but catch the spirit of enthusiasm. Every -loft in Cheapside published its _Magnum Folium_ (or magazine)--of -its new blank verse; the Cheapside Players would produce anything on -sight as long as it "got away from those reactionary miracle plays," -and the English Bible had run through seven "very large" printings in, -as many months. - -So Wessel Caxter (who in his youth had gone to sea) was now a reader -of all on which he could lay his hands--he read manuscripts In holy -friendship; he dined rotten poets; he loitered about the shops where -the _Magna Folia_ were printed, and he listened tolerantly while -the young playwrights wrangled and bickered among them-selves, and -behind each other's backs made bitter and malicious charges of -plagiarism or anything else they could think of. - -To-night he had a book, a piece of work which, though inordinately -versed, contained, he thought, some rather excellent political satire. -"The Faerie Queene" by Edmund Spenser lay before him under the -tremulous candle-light. He had ploughed through a canto; he was -beginning another: - -THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS OR OF CHASTITY - - _It falls me here to write of Chastity. - The fayrest vertue, far above the rest_.... - -A sudden rush of feet on the stairs, a rusty swing-open of the thin -door, and a man thrust himself into the room, a man without a jerkin, -panting, sobbing, on the verge of collapse. - -"Wessel," words choked him, "stick me away somewhere, love of Our -Lady!" - -Caxter rose, carefully closing his book, and bolted the door in some -concern. - -"I'm pursued," cried out Soft Shoes. "I vow there's two short-witted -blades trying to make me into mincemeat and near succeeding. They saw -me hop the back wall!" - -"It would need," said Wessel, looking at him curiously, "several -battalions armed with blunderbusses, and two or three Armadas, to keep -you reasonably secure from the revenges of the world." - -Soft Shoes smiled with satisfaction. His sobbing gasps were giving way -to quick, precise breathing; his hunted air had faded to a faintly -perturbed irony. - -"I feel little surprise," continued Wessel. - -"They were two such dreary apes." - -"Making a total of three." - -"Only two unless you stick me away. Man, man, come alive, they'll be -on the stairs in a spark's age." - -Wessel took a dismantled pike-staff from the corner, and raising it to -the high ceiling, dislodged a rough trap-door opening into a garret -above. - -"There's no ladder." - -He moved a bench under the trap, upon which Soft Shoes mounted, -crouched, hesitated, crouched again, and then leaped amazingly upward. -He caught at the edge of the aperture and swung back and forth, for a -moment, shifting his hold; finally doubled up and disappeared into the -darkness above. There was a scurry, a migration of rats, as the -trap-door was replaced;... silence. - -Wessel returned to his reading-table, opened to the Legend of -Britomartis or of Chastity--and waited. Almost a minute later there -was a scramble on the stairs and an intolerable hammering at the door. -Wessel sighed and, picking up his candle, rose. - -"Who's there?" - -"Open the door!" - -"Who's there?" - -An aching blow frightened the frail wood, splintered it around the -edge. Wessel opened it a scarce three inches, and held the candle -high. His was to play the timorous, the super-respectable citizen, -disgracefully disturbed. - -"One small hour of the night for rest. Is that too much to ask from -every brawler and--" - -"Quiet, gossip! Have you seen a perspiring fellow?" - -The shadows of two gallants fell in immense wavering outlines over the -narrow stairs; by the light Wessel scrutinized them closely. -Gentlemen, they were, hastily but richly dressed--one of them wounded -severely in the hand, both radiating a sort of furious horror. Waving -aside Wessel's ready miscomprehension, they pushed by him into the -room and with their swords went through the business of poking -carefully into all suspected dark spots in the room, further extending -their search to Wessel's bedchamber. - -"Is he hid here?" demanded the wounded man fiercely. - -"Is who here?" - -"Any man but you." - -"Only two others that I know of." - -For a second Wessel feared that he had been too damned funny, for the -gallants made as though to prick him through. - -"I heard a man on the stairs," he said hastily, "full five minutes -ago, it was. He most certainly failed to come up." - -He went on to explain his absorption in "The Faerie Queene" but, for -the moment at least, his visitors, like the great saints, were -anaesthetic to culture. - -"What's been done?" inquired Wessel. - -"Violence!" said the man with the wounded hand. Wessel noticed that -his eyes were quite wild. "My own sister. Oh, Christ in heaven, give -us this man!" - -Wessel winced. - -"Who is the man?" - -"God's word! We know not even that. What's that trap up there?" he -added suddenly. - -"It's nailed down. It's not been used for years." He thought of the -pole in the corner and quailed in his belly, but the utter despair of -the two men dulled their astuteness. - -"It would take a ladder for any one not a tumbler," said the wounded -man listlessly. - -His companion broke into hysterical laughter. - -"A tumbler. Oh, a tumbler. Oh--" - -Wessel stared at them in wonder. - -"That appeals to my most tragic humor," cried the man, "that no -one--oh, no one--could get up there but a tumbler." - -The gallant with the wounded hand snapped his good fingers -impatiently. - -"We must go next door--and then on--" - -Helplessly they went as two walking under a dark and storm-swept sky. - -Wessel closed and bolted the door and stood a moment by it, frowning -in pity. - -A low-breathed "Ha!" made him look up. Soft Shoes had already raised -the trap and was looking down into the room, his rather elfish face -squeezed into a grimace, half of distaste, half of sardonic amusement. - -"They take off their heads with their helmets," he remarked in a -whisper, "but as for you and me, Wessel, we are two cunning men." - -"Now you be cursed," cried Wessel vehemently. "I knew you for a dog, -but when I hear even the half of a tale like this, I know you for such -a dirty cur that I am minded to club your skull." - -Soft Shoes stared at him, blinking. - -"At all events," he replied finally, "I find dignity impossible in -this position." - -With this he let his body through the trap, hung for an instant, and -dropped the seven feet to the floor. - -"There was a rat considered my ear with the air of a gourmet," he -continued, dusting his hands on his breeches. "I told him in the rat's -peculiar idiom that I was deadly poison, so he took himself off." - -"Let's hear of this night's lechery!" insisted Wessel angrily. - -Soft Shoes touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled the fingers -derisively at Wessel. - -"Street gamin!" muttered Wessel. - -"Have you any paper?" demanded Soft Shoes irrelevantly, and then -rudely added, "or can you write?" - -"Why should I give you paper?" - -"You wanted to hear of the night's entertainment. So you shall, an you -give me pen, ink, a sheaf of paper, and a room to myself." - -Wessel hesitated. - -"Get out!" he said finally. - -"As you will. Yet you have missed a most intriguing story." - -Wessel wavered--he was soft as taffy, that man--gave in. Soft Shoes -went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and -precisely closed the door. Wessel grunted and returned to "The Faerie -Queene"; so silence came once more upon the house. - - -III - -Three o'clock went into four. The room paled, the dark outside was -shot through with damp and chill, and Wessel, cupping his brain in his -hands, bent low over his table, tracing through the pattern of knights -and fairies and the harrowing distresses of many girls. There were -dragons chortling along the narrow street outside; when the sleepy -armorer's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clink and -clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching -cavalcade. - -A fog shut down at the first flare of dawn, and the room was grayish -yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and -pulled open the door. His guest turned on him a face pale as parchment -in which two distraught eyes burned like great red letters. He had -drawn a chair close to Wessel's _prie-dieu_ which he was using as -a desk; and on it was an amazing stack of closely written pages. With -a long sigh Wessel withdrew and returned to his siren, calling himself -fool for not claiming his bed here at dawn. - -The dump of boots outside, the croaking of old beldames from attic to -attic, the dull murmur of morning, unnerved him, and, dozing, he -slumped in his chair, his brain, overladen with sound and color, -working intolerably over the imagery that stacked it. In this restless -dream of his he was one of a thousand groaning bodies crushed near the -sun, a helpless bridge for the strong-eyed Apollo. The dream tore at -him, scraped along his mind like a ragged knife. When a hot hand -touched his shoulder, he awoke with what was nearly a scream to find -the fog thick in the room and his guest, a gray ghost of misty stuff, -beside him with a pile of paper in his hand. - -"It should be a most intriguing tale, I believe, though it requires -some going over. May I ask you to lock it away, and in God's name let -me sleep?" - -He waited for no answer, but thrust the pile at Wessel, and literally -poured himself like stuff from a suddenly inverted bottle upon a couch -in the corner, slept, with his breathing regular, but his brow -wrinkled in a curious and somewhat uncanny manner. - -Wessel yawned sleepily and, glancing at the scrawled, uncertain first -page, he began reading aloud very softly: - - _The Rape of Lucrece - - "From the besieged Ardea all in post, - Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, - Lust-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman host--"_ - - - - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - - -Merlin Grainger was employed by the Moonlight Quill Bookshop, which -you may have visited, just around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton on -Forty-seventh Street. The Moonlight Quill is, or rather was, a very -romantic little store, considered radical and admitted dark. It was -spotted interiorly with red and orange posters of breathless exotic -intent, and lit no less by the shiny reflecting bindings of special -editions than by the great squat lamp of crimson satin that, lighted -through all the day, swung overhead. It was truly a mellow bookshop. -The words "Moonlight Quill" were worked over the door in a sort of -serpentine embroidery. The windows seemed always full of something -that had passed the literary censors with little to spare; volumes -with covers of deep orange which offer their titles on little white -paper squares. And over all there was the smell of the musk, which the -clever, inscrutable Mr. Moonlight Quill ordered to be sprinkled -about-the smell half of a curiosity shop in Dickens' London and half -of a coffee-house on the warm shores of the Bosphorus. - -From nine until five-thirty Merlin Grainger asked bored old ladies in -black and young men with dark circles under their eyes if they "cared -for this fellow" or were interested in first editions. Did they buy -novels with Arabs on the cover, or books which gave Shakespeare's -newest sonnets as dictated psychically to Miss Sutton of South Dakota? -he sniffed. As a matter of fact, his own taste ran to these latter, -but as an employee at the Moonlight Quill he assumed for the working -day the attitude of a disillusioned connoisseur. - -After he had crawled over the window display to pull down the front -shade at five-thirty every afternoon, and said good-bye to the -mysterious Mr. Moonlight Quill and the lady clerk, Miss McCracken, and -the lady stenographer, Miss Masters, he went home to the girl, -Caroline. He did not eat supper with Caroline. It is unbelievable that -Caroline would have considered eating off his bureau with the collar -buttons dangerously near the cottage cheese, and the ends of Merlin's -necktie just missing his glass of milk--he had never asked her to eat -with him. He ate alone. He went into Braegdort's delicatessen on Sixth -Avenue and bought a box of crackers, a tube of anchovy paste, and some -oranges, or else a little jar of sausages and some potato salad and a -bottled soft drink, and with these in a brown package he went to his -room at Fifty-something West Fifty-eighth Street and ate his supper -and saw Caroline. - -Caroline was a very young and gay person who lived with some older -lady and was possibly nineteen. She was like a ghost in that she never -existed until evening. She sprang into life when the lights went on in -her apartment at about six, and she disappeared, at the latest, about -midnight. Her apartment was a nice one, in a nice building with a -white stone front, opposite the south side of Central Park. The back -of her apartment faced the single window of the single room occupied -by the single Mr. Grainger. - -He called her Caroline because there was a picture that looked like -her on the jacket of a book of that name down at the Moonlight Quill. - -Now, Merlin Grainger was a thin young man of twenty-five, with dark -hair and no mustache or beard or anything like that, but Caroline was -dazzling and light, with a shimmering morass of russet waves to take -the place of hair, and the sort of features that remind you of -kisses--the sort of features you thought belonged to your first love, -but know, when you come across an old picture, didn't. She dressed in -pink or blue usually, but of late she had sometimes put on a slender -black gown that was evidently her especial pride, for whenever she -wore it she would stand regarding a certain place on the wall, which -Merlin thought most be a mirror. She sat usually in the profile chair -near the window, but sometimes honored the _chaise longue_ by the -lamp, and often she leaned 'way back and smoked a cigarette with -posturings of her arms and hands that Merlin considered very graceful. - -At another time she had come to the window and stood in it -magnificently, and looked out because the moon had lost its way and -was dripping the strangest and most transforming brilliance into the -areaway between, turning the motif of ash-cans and clothes-lines into -a vivid impressionism of silver casks and gigantic gossamer cobwebs. -Merlin was sitting in plain sight, eating cottage cheese with sugar -and milk on it; and so quickly did he reach out for the window cord -that he tipped the cottage cheese into his lap with his free hand--and -the milk was cold and the sugar made spots on his trousers, and he was -sure that she had seen him after all. - -Sometimes there were callers--men in dinner coats, who stood and -bowed, hat in hand and coat on arm, as they talked to Caroline; then -bowed some more and followed her out of the light, obviously bound for -a play or for a dance. Other young men came and sat and smoked -cigarettes, and seemed trying to tell Caroline something--she sitting -either in the profile chair and watching them with eager intentness or -else in the _chaise longue_ by the lamp, looking very lovely and -youthfully inscrutable indeed. - -Merlin enjoyed these calls. Of some of the men he approved. Others won -only his grudging toleration, one or two he loathed--especially the -most frequent caller, a man with black hair and a black goatee and a -pitch-dark soul, who seemed to Merlin vaguely familiar, but whom he -was never quite able to recognize. - -Now, Merlin's whole life was not "bound up with this romance he had -constructed"; it was not "the happiest hour of his day." He never -arrived in time to rescue Caroline from "clutches"; nor did he even -marry her. A much stranger thing happened than any of these, and it is -this strange thing that will presently be set down here. It began one -October afternoon when she walked briskly into the mellow interior of -the Moonlight Quill. - -It was a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, -and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York -afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, whisking -along battered newspapers and pieces of things, and little lights were -pricking out all the windows--it was so desolate that one was sorry -for the tops of sky-scrapers lost up there in the dark green and gray -heaven, and felt that now surely the farce was to close, and presently -all the buildings would collapse like card houses, and pile up in a -dusty, sardonic heap upon all the millions who presumed to wind in and -out of them. - -At least these were the sort of musings that lay heavily upon the soul -of Merlin Grainger, as he stood by the window putting a dozen books -back in a row after a cyclonic visit by a lady with ermine trimmings. -He looked out of the window full of the most distressing thoughts--of -the early novels of H. G. Wells, of the boot of Genesis, of how Thomas -Edison had said that in thirty years there would be no dwelling-houses -upon the island, but only a vast and turbulent bazaar; and then he set -the last book right side up, turned--and Caroline walked coolly into -the shop. - -She was dressed in a jaunty but conventional walking costume--he -remembered this when he thought about it later. Her skirt was plaid, -pleated like a concertina; her jacket was a soft but brisk tan; her -shoes and spats were brown and her hat, small and trim, completed her -like the top of a very expensive and beautifully filled candy box. - -Merlin, breathless and startled, advanced nervously toward her. - -"Good-afternoon--" he said, and then stopped--why, he did not know, -except that it came to him that something very portentous in his life -was about to occur, and that it would need no furbishing but silence, -and the proper amount of expectant attention. And in that minute -before the thing began to happen he had the sense of a breathless -second hanging suspended in time: he saw through the glass partition -that bounded off the little office the malevolent conical head of his -employer, Mr. Moonlight Quill, bent over his correspondence. He saw -Miss McCracken and Miss Masters as two patches of hair drooping over -piles of paper; he saw the crimson lamp overhead, and noticed with a -touch of pleasure how really pleasant and romantic it made the -book-store seem. - -Then the thing happened, or rather it began to happen. Caroline picked -up a volume of poems lying loose upon a pile, fingered it absently -with her slender white hand, and suddenly, with an easy gesture, -tossed it upward toward the ceiling where it disappeared in the -crimson lamp and lodged there, seen through the illuminated silk as a -dark, bulging rectangle. This pleased her--she broke into young, -contagious laughter, in which Merlin found himself presently joining. - -"It stayed up!" she cried merrily. "It stayed up, didn't it?" To both -of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity. Their laughter -mingled, filled the bookshop, and Merlin was glad to find that her -voice was rich and full of sorcery. - -"Try another," he found himself suggesting--"try a red one." - -At this her laughter increased, and she had to rest her hands upon the -stack to steady herself. - -"Try another," she managed to articulate between spasms of mirth. "Oh, -golly, try another!" - -"Try two." - -"Yes, try two. Oh, I'll choke if I don't stop laughing. Here it goes." - -Suiting her action to the word, she picked up a red book and sent it -in a gentle hyperbola toward the ceiling, where it sank into the lamp -beside the first. It was a few minutes before either of them could do -more than rock back and forth in helpless glee; but then by mutual -agreement they took up the sport anew, this time in unison. Merlin -seized a large, specially bound French classic and whirled it upward. -Applauding his own accuracy, he took a best-seller in one hand and a -book on barnacles in the other, and waited breathlessly while she made -her shot. Then the business waxed fast and furious--sometimes they -alternated, and, watching, he found how supple she was in every -movement; sometimes one of them made shot after shot, picking up the -nearest book, sending it off, merely taking time to follow it with a -glance before reaching for another. Within three minutes they had -cleared a little place on the table, and the lamp of crimson satin was -so bulging with books that it was near breaking. - -"Silly game, basket-ball," she cried scornfully as a book left her -hand. "High-school girls play it in hideous bloomers." - -"Idiotic," he agreed. - -She paused in the act of tossing a book, and replaced it suddenly in -its position on the table. - -"I think we've got room to sit down now," she said gravely. - -They had; they had cleared an ample space for two. With a faint touch -of nervousness Merlin glanced toward Mr. Moonlight Quill's glass -partition, but the three heads were still bent earnestly over their -work, and it was evident that they had not seen what had gone on in -the shop. So when Caroline put her hands on the table and hoisted -herself up Merlin calmly imitated her, and they sat side by side -looking very earnestly at each other. - -"I had to see you," she began, with a rather pathetic expression in -her brown eyes. - -"I know." - -"It was that last time," she continued, her voice trembling a little, -though she tried to keep it steady. "I was frightened. I don't like -you to eat off the dresser. I'm so afraid you'll--you'll swallow a -collar button." - -"I did once--almost," he confessed reluctantly, "but it's not so easy, -you know. I mean you can swallow the flat part easy enough or else the -other part--that is, separately--but for a whole collar button you'd -have to have a specially made throat." He was astonishing himself by -the debonnaire appropriateness of his remarks. Words seemed for the -first time in his life to ran at him shrieking to be used, gathering -themselves into carefully arranged squads and platoons, and being -presented to him by punctilious adjutants of paragraphs. - -"That's what scared me," she said. "I knew you had to have a specially -made throat--and I knew, at least I felt sure, that you didn't have -one." - -He nodded frankly. - -"I haven't. It costs money to have one--more money unfortunately than -I possess." - -He felt no shame in saying this--rather a delight in making the -admission--he knew that nothing he could say or do would be beyond her -comprehension; least of all his poverty, and the practical -impossibility of ever extricating himself from it. - -Caroline looked down at her wrist watch, and with a little cry slid -from the table to her feet. - -"It's after five," she cried. "I didn't realize. I have to be at the -Ritz at five-thirty. Let's hurry and get this done. I've got a bet on -it." - -With one accord they set to work. Caroline began the matter by seizing -a book on insects and sending it whizzing, and finally crashing -through the glass partition that housed Mr. Moonlight Quill. The -proprietor glanced up with a wild look, brushed a few pieces of glass -from his desk, and went on with his letters. Miss McCracken gave no -sign of having heard--only Miss Masters started and gave a little -frightened scream before she bent to her task again. - -But to Merlin and Caroline it didn't matter. In a perfect orgy of -energy they were hurling book after book in all directions until -sometimes three or four were in the air at once, smashing against -shelves, cracking the glass of pictures on the walls, falling in -bruised and torn heaps upon the floor. It was fortunate that no -customers happened to come in, for it is certain they would never have -come in again--the noise was too tremendous, a noise of smashing and -ripping and tearing, mixed now and then with the tinkling of glass, -the quick breathing of the two throwers, and the intermittent -outbursts of laughter to which both of them periodically surrendered. - -At five-thirty Caroline tossed a last book at the lamp, and gave the -final impetus to the load it carried. The weakened silk tore and -dropped its cargo in one vast splattering of white and color to the -already littered floor. Then with a sigh of relief she turned to -Merlin and held out her hand. - -"Good-by," she said simply. - -"Are you going?" He knew she was. His question was simply a lingering -wile to detain her and extract for another moment that dazzling -essence of light he drew from her presence, to continue his enormous -satisfaction in her features, which were like kisses and, he thought, -like the features of a girl he had known back in 1910. For a minute he -pressed the softness of her hand--then she smiled and withdrew it and, -before he could spring to open the door, she had done it herself and -was gone out into the turbid and ominous twilight that brooded -narrowly over Forty-seventh Street. - -I would like to tell you how Merlin, having seen how beauty regards -the wisdom of the years, walked into the little partition of Mr. -Moonlight Quill and gave up his job then and there; thence issuing out -into the street a much finer and nobler and increasingly ironic man. -But the truth is much more commonplace. Merlin Grainger stood up and -surveyed the wreck of the bookshop, the ruined volumes, the torn silk -remnants of the once beautiful crimson lamp, the crystalline -sprinkling of broken glass which lay in iridescent dust over the whole -interior--and then he went to a corner where a broom was kept and -began cleaning up and rearranging and, as far as he was able, -restoring the shop to its former condition. He found that, though some -few of the books were uninjured, most of them had suffered in varying -extents. The backs were off some, the pages were torn from others, -still others were just slightly cracked in the front, which, as all -careless book returners know, makes a book unsalable, and therefore -second-hand. - -Nevertheless by six o'clock he had done much to repair the damage. He -had returned the books to their original places, swept the floor, and -put new lights in the sockets overhead. The red shade itself was -ruined beyond redemption, and Merlin thought in some trepidation that -the money to replace it might have to come out of his salary. At six, -therefore, having done the best he could, he crawled over the front -window display to pull down the blind. As he was treading delicately -back, he saw Mr. Moonlight Quill rise from his desk, put on his -overcoat and hat, and emerge into the shop. He nodded mysteriously at -Merlin and went toward the door. With his hand on the knob he paused, -turned around, and in a voice curiously compounded of ferocity and -uncertainty, he said: - -"If that girl comes in here again, you tell her to behave." - -With that he opened the door, drowning Merlin's meek "Yessir" in its -creak, and went out. - -Merlin stood there for a moment, deciding wisely not to worry about -what was for the present only a possible futurity, and then he went -into the back of the shop and invited Miss Masters to have supper with -him at Pulpat's French Restaurant, where one could still obtain red -wine at dinner, despite the Great Federal Government. Miss Masters -accepted. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly," she said. - -Merlin laughed inwardly as he compared her to Caroline, or rather as -he didn't compare her. There was no comparison. - - -II - -Mr. Moonlight Quill, mysterious, exotic, and oriental in temperament -was, nevertheless, a man of decision. And it was with decision that he -approached the problem of his wrecked shop. Unless he should make an -outlay equal to the original cost of his entire stock--a step which -for certain private reasons he did not wish to take--it would be -impossible for him to continue in business with the Moonlight Quill as -before. There was but one thing to do. He promptly turned his -establishment from an up-to-the-minute book-store into a second-hand -bookshop. The damaged books were marked down from twenty-five to fifty -per cent, the name over the door whose serpentine embroidery had once -shone so insolently bright, was allowed to grow dim and take on the -indescribably vague color of old paint, and, having a strong penchant -for ceremonial, the proprietor even went so far as to buy two -skull-caps of shoddy red felt, one for himself and one for his clerk, -Merlin Grainger. Moreover, he let his goatee grow until it resembled -the tail-feathers of an ancient sparrow and substituted for a once -dapper business suit a reverence-inspiring affair of shiny alpaca. - -In fact, within a year after Caroline's catastrophic visit to the -bookshop the only thing in it that preserved any semblance of being up -to date was Miss Masters. Miss McCracken had followed in the footsteps -of Mr. Moonlight Quill and become an intolerable dowd. - -For Merlin too, from a feeling compounded of loyalty and listlessness, -had let his exterior take on the semblance of a deserted garden. He -accepted the red felt skull-cap as a symbol of his decay. Always a -young man known, as a "pusher," he had been, since the day of his -graduation from the manual training department of a New York High -School, an inveterate brusher of clothes, hair, teeth, and even -eyebrows, and had learned the value of laying all his clean socks toe -upon toe and heel upon heel in a certain drawer of his bureau, which -would be known as the sock drawer. - -These things, he felt, had won him his place in the greatest splendor -of the Moonlight Quill. It was due to them that he was not still -making "chests useful for keeping things," as he was taught with -breathless practicality in High School, and selling them to whoever -had use of such chests--possibly undertakers. Nevertheless when the -progressive Moonlight Quill became the retrogressive Moonlight Quill -he preferred to sink with it, and so took to letting his suits gather -undisturbed the wispy burdens of the air and to throwing his socks -indiscriminately into the shirt drawer, the underwear drawer, and even -into no drawer at all. It was not uncommon in his new carelessness to -let many of his clean clothes go directly back to the laundry without -having ever been worn, a common eccentricity of impoverished -bachelors. And this in the face of his favorite magazines, which at -that time were fairly staggering with articles by successful authors -against the frightful impudence of the condemned poor, such as the -buying of wearable shirts and nice cuts of meat, and the fact that -they preferred good investments in personal jewelry to respectable -ones in four per cent saving-banks. - -It was indeed a strange state of affairs and a sorry one for many -worthy and God-fearing men. For the first time in the history of the -Republic almost any negro north of Georgia could change a one-dollar -bill. But as at that time the cent was rapidly approaching the -purchasing power of the Chinese ubu and was only a thing you got back -occasionally after paying for a soft drink, and could use merely in -getting your correct weight, this was perhaps not so strange a -phenomenon as it at first seems. It was too curious a state of things, -however, for Merlin Grainger to take the step that he did take--the -hazardous, almost involuntary step of proposing to Miss Masters. -Stranger still that she accepted him. - -It was at Pulpat's on Saturday night and over a $1.75 bottle of water -diluted with _vin ordinaire_ that the proposal occurred. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly, doesn't it you?" chattered Miss -Masters gaily. - -"Yes," answered Merlin absently; and then, after a long and pregnant -pause: "Miss Masters--Olive--I want to say something to you if you'll -listen to me." - -The tingliness of Miss Masters (who knew what was coming) increased -until it seemed that she would shortly be electrocuted by her own -nervous reactions. But her "Yes, Merlin," came without a sign or -flicker of interior disturbance. Merlin swallowed a stray bit of air -that he found in his mouth. - -"I have no fortune," he said with the manner of making an -announcement. "I have no fortune at all." - -Their eyes met, locked, became wistful, and dreamy and beautiful. - -"Olive," he told her, "I love you." - -"I love you too, Merlin," she answered simply. "Shall we have another -bottle of wine?" - -"Yes," he cried, his heart beating at a great rate. "Do you mean--" - -"To drink to our engagement," she interrupted bravely. "May it be a -short one!" - -"No!" he almost shouted, bringing his fist fiercely down upon the -table. "May it last forever!" - -"What?" - -"I mean--oh, I see what you mean. You're right. May it be a short -one." He laughed and added, "My error." - -After the wine arrived they discussed the matter thoroughly. - -"We'll have to take a small apartment at first," he said, "and I -believe, yes, by golly, I know there's a small one in the house where -I live, a big room and a sort of a dressing-room-kitchenette and the -use of a bath on the same floor." - -She clapped her hands happily, and he thought how pretty she was -really, that is, the upper part of her face--from the bridge of the -nose down she was somewhat out of true. She continued enthusiastically: - -"And as soon as we can afford it we'll take a real swell apartment, -with an elevator and a telephone girl." - -"And after that a place in the country--and a car." - -"I can't imagine nothing more fun. Can you?" - -Merlin fell silent a moment. He was thinking that he would have to -give up his room, the fourth floor rear. Yet it mattered very little -now. During the past year and a half--in fact, from the very date of -Caroline's visit to the Moonlight Quill--he had never seen her. For a -week after that visit her lights had failed to go on--darkness brooded -out into the areaway, seemed to grope blindly in at his expectant, -uncurtained window. Then the lights had appeared at last, and instead -of Caroline and her callers they stowed a stodgy family--a little man -with a bristly mustache and a full-bosomed woman who spent her -evenings patting her hips and rearranging bric-a-brac. After two days -of them Merlin had callously pulled down his shade. - -No, Merlin could think of nothing more fun than rising in the world -with Olive. There would be a cottage in a suburb, a cottage painted -blue, just one class below the sort of cottages that are of white -stucco with a green roof. In the grass around the cottage would be -rusty trowels and a broken green bench and a baby-carriage with a -wicker body that sagged to the left. And around the grass and the -baby-carriage and the cottage itself, around his whole world there -would be the arms of Olive, a little stouter, the arms of her -neo-Olivian period, when, as she walked, her cheeks would tremble up -and down ever so slightly from too much face-massaging. He could hear -her voice now, two spoons' length away: - -"I knew you were going to say this to-night, Merlin. I could see--" - -She could see. Ah--suddenly he wondered how much she could see. Could -she see that the girl who had come in with a party of three men and -sat down at the next table was Caroline? Ah, could she see that? Could -she see that the men brought with them liquor far more potent than -Pulpat's red ink condensed threefold?... - -Merlin stared breathlessly, half-hearing through an auditory ether -Olive's low, soft monologue, as like a persistent honey-bee she sucked -sweetness from her memorable hour. Merlin was listening to the -clinking of ice and the fine laughter of all four at some -pleasantry--and that laughter of Caroline's that he knew so well -stirred him, lifted him, called his heart imperiously over to her -table, whither it obediently went. He could see her quite plainly, and -he fancied that in the last year and a half she had changed, if ever -so slightly. Was it the light or were her cheeks a little thinner and -her eyes less fresh, if more liquid, than of old? Yet the shadows were -still purple in her russet hair; her mouth hinted yet of kisses, as -did the profile that came sometimes between his eyes and a row of -books, when it was twilight in the bookshop where the crimson lamp -presided no more. - -And she had been drinking. The threefold flush in her cheeks was -compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic--that he could tell. -She was making great amusement for the young man on her left and the -portly person on her right, and even for the old fellow opposite her, -for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly -reproachful cackles of another generation. Merlin caught the words of -a song she was intermittently singing-- - - _"Just snap your fingers at care, - Don't cross the bridge 'til you're there--"_ - -The portly person filled her glass with chill amber. A waiter after -several trips about the table, and many helpless glances at Caroline, -who was maintaining a cheerful, futile questionnaire as to the -succulence of this dish or that, managed to obtain the semblance of an -order and hurried away.... - -Olive was speaking to Merlin-- - -"When, then?" she asked, her voice faintly shaded with disappointment. -He realized that he had just answered no to some question she had -asked him. - -"Oh, sometime." - -"Don't you--care?" - -A rather pathetic poignancy in her question brought his eyes back to -her. - -"As soon as possible, dear," he replied with surprising tenderness. -"In two months--in June." - -"So soon?" Her delightful excitement quite took her breath away. - -"Oh, yes, I think we'd better say June. No use waiting." - -Olive began to pretend that two months was really too short a time for -her to make preparations. Wasn't he a bad boy! Wasn't he impatient, -though! Well, she'd show him he mustn't be too quick with _her_. -Indeed he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to -marry him at all. - -"June," he repeated sternly. - -Olive sighed and smiled and drank her coffee, her little finger lifted -high above the others in true refined fashion. A stray thought came to -Merlin that he would like to buy five rings and throw at it. - -"By gosh!" he exclaimed aloud. Soon he _would_ be putting rings -on one of her fingers. - -His eyes swung sharply to the right. The party of four had become so -riotous that the head-waiter had approached and spoken to them. -Caroline was arguing with this head-waiter in a raised voice, a voice -so clear and young that it seemed as though the whole restaurant would -listen--the whole restaurant except Olive Masters, self-absorbed in -her new secret. - -"How do you do?" Caroline was saying. "Probably the handsomest -head-waiter in captivity. Too much noise? Very unfortunate. -Something'll have to be done about it. Gerald"--she addressed the man -on her right--"the head-waiter says there's too much noise. Appeals to -us to have it stopped. What'll I say?" - -"Sh!" remonstrated Gerald, with laughter. "Sh!" and Merlin heard him -add in an undertone: "All the bourgeoisie will be aroused. This is -where the floorwalkers learn French." - -Caroline sat up straight in sudden alertness. - -"Where's a floorwalker?" she cried. "Show me a floorwalker." This -seemed to amuse the party, for they all, including Caroline, burst -into renewed laughter. The head-waiter, after a last conscientious but -despairing admonition, became Gallic with his shoulders and retired -into the background. - -Pulpat's, as every one knows, has the unvarying respectability of the -table d'hote. It is not a gay place in the conventional sense. One -comes, drinks the red wine, talks perhaps a little more and a little -louder than usual under the low, smoky ceilings, and then goes home. -It closes up at nine-thirty, tight as a drum; the policeman is paid -off and given an extra bottle of wine for the missis, the coat-room -girl hands her tips to the collector, and then darkness crushes the -little round tables out of sight and life. But excitement was prepared -for Pulpat's this evening--excitement of no mean variety. A girl with -russet, purple-shadowed hair mounted to her table-top and began to -dance thereon. - -"_Sacre nom de Dieu!_ Come down off there!" cried the -head-waiter. "Stop that music!" - -But the musicians were already playing so loud that they could pretend -not to hear his order; having once been young, they played louder and -gayer than ever, and Caroline danced with grace and vivacity, her -pink, filmy dress swirling about her, her agile arms playing in -supple, tenuous gestures along the smoky air. - -A group of Frenchmen at a table near by broke into cries of applause, -in which other parties joined--in a moment the room was full of -clapping and shouting; half the diners were on their feet, crowding -up, and on the outskirts the hastily summoned proprietor was giving -indistinct vocal evidences of his desire to put an end to this thing -as quickly as possible. - -"... Merlin!" cried Olive, awake, aroused at last; "she's such a -wicked girl! Let's get out--now!" - -The fascinated Merlin protested feebly that the check was not paid. - -"It's all right. Lay five dollars on the table. I despise that girl. I -can't _bear_ to look at her." She was on her feet now, tagging at -Merlin's arm. - -Helplessly, listlessly, and then with what amounted to downright -unwillingness, Merlin rose, followed Olive dumbly as she picked her -way through the delirious clamor, now approaching its height and -threatening to become a wild and memorable riot. Submissively he took -his coat and stumbled up half a dozen steps into the moist April air -outside, his ears still ringing with the sound of light feet on the -table and of laughter all about and over the little world of the cafe. -In silence they walked along toward Fifth Avenue and a bus. - -It was not until next day that she told him about the wedding--how she -had moved the date forward: it was much better that they should be -married on the first of May. - - -III - -And married they were, in a somewhat stuffy manner, under the -chandelier of the flat where Olive lived with her mother. After -marriage came elation, and then, gradually, the growth of weariness. -Responsibility descended upon Merlin, the responsibility of making his -thirty dollars a week and her twenty suffice to keep them respectably -fat and to hide with decent garments the evidence that they were. - -It was decided after several weeks of disastrous and well-nigh -humiliating experiments with restaurants that they would join the -great army of the delicatessen-fed, so he took up his old way of life -again, in that he stopped every evening at Braegdort's delicatessen -and bought potatoes in salad, ham in slices, and sometimes even -stuffed tomatoes in bursts of extravagance. - -Then he would trudge homeward, enter the dark hallway, and climb three -rickety flights of stairs covered by an ancient carpet of long -obliterated design. The hall had an ancient smell--of the vegetables -of 1880, of the furniture polish in vogue when "Adam-and Eve" Bryan -ran against William McKinley, of portieres an ounce heavier with dust, -from worn-out shoes, and lint from dresses turned long since into -patch-work quilts. This smell would pursue him up the stairs, -revivified and made poignant at each landing by the aura of -contemporary cooking, then, as he began the next flight, diminishing -into the odor of the dead routine of dead generations. - -Eventually would occur the door of his room, which slipped open with -indecent willingness and closed with almost a sniff upon his "Hello, -dear! Got a treat for you to-night." - -Olive, who always rode home on the bus to "get a morsel of air," would -be making the bed and hanging up things. At his call she would come up -to him and give him a quick kiss with wide-open eyes, while he held -her upright like a ladder, his hands on her two arms, as though she -were a thing without equilibrium, and would, once he relinquished -hold, fall stiffly backward to the floor. This is the kiss that comes -in with the second year of marriage, succeeding the bridegroom kiss -(which is rather stagey at best, say those who know about such things, -and apt to be copied from passionate movies). - -Then came supper, and after that they went out for a walk, up two -blocks and through Central Park, or sometimes to a moving picture, -which taught them patiently that they were the sort of people for whom -life was ordered, and that something very grand and brave and -beautiful would soon happen to them if they were docile and obedient -to their rightful superiors and kept away from pleasure. - -Such was their day for three years. Then change came into their lives: -Olive had a baby, and as a result Merlin had a new influx of material -resources. In the third week of Olive's confinement, after an hour of -nervous rehearsing, he went into the office of Mr. Moonlight Quill and -demanded an enormous increase in salary. - -"I've been here ten years," he said; "since I was nineteen. I've -always tried to do my best in the interests of the business." - -Mr. Moonlight Quill said that he would think it over. Next morning he -announced, to Merlin's great delight, that he was going to put into -effect a project long premeditated--he was going to retire from active -work in the bookshop, confining himself to periodic visits and leaving -Merlin as manager with a salary of fifty dollars a week and a -one-tenth interest in the business. When the old man finished, -Merlin's cheeks were glowing and his eyes full of tears. He seized his -employer's hand and shook it violently, saying over and over again: - -"It's very nice of you, sir. It's very white of you. It's very, very -nice of you." - -So after ten years of faithful work in the store he had won out at -last. Looking back, he saw his own progress toward this hill of -elation no longer as a sometimes sordid and always gray decade of -worry and failing enthusiasm and failing dreams, years when the -moonlight had grown duller in the areaway and the youth had faded out -of Olive's face, but as a glorious and triumphant climb over obstacles -which he had determinedly surmounted by unconquerable will-power. The -optimistic self-delusion that had kept him from misery was seen now in -the golden garments of stern resolution. Half a dozen times he had -taken steps to leave the Moonlight Quill and soar upward, but through -sheer faintheartedness he had stayed on. Strangely enough he now -thought that those were times when he had exerted tremendous -persistence and had "determined" to fight it out where he was. - -At any rate, let us not for this moment begrudge Merlin his new and -magnificent view of himself. He had arrived. At thirty he had reached -a post of importance. He left the shop that evening fairly radiant, -invested every penny in his pocket in the most tremendous feast that -Braegdort's delicatessen offered, and staggered homeward with the -great news and four gigantic paper bags. The fact that Olive was too -sick to eat, that he made himself faintly but unmistakably ill by a -struggle with four stuffed tomatoes, and that most of the food -deteriorated rapidly in an iceless ice-box: all next day did not mar -the occasion. For the first time since the week of his marriage Merlin -Grainger lived under a sky of unclouded tranquillity. - -The baby boy was christened Arthur, and life became dignified, -significant, and, at length, centered. Merlin and Olive resigned -themselves to a somewhat secondary place in their own cosmos; but what -they lost in personality they regained in a sort of primordial pride. -The country house did not come, but a month in an Asbury Park -boarding-house each summer filled the gap; and during Merlin's two -weeks' holiday this excursion assumed the air of a really merry -jaunt--especially when, with the baby asleep in a wide room opening -technically on the sea, Merlin strolled with Olive along the thronged -board-walk puffing at his cigar and trying to look like twenty -thousand a year. - -With some alarm at the slowing up of the days and the accelerating of -the years, Merlin became thirty-one, thirty-two--then almost with a -rush arrived at that age which, with all its washing and panning, can -only muster a bare handful of the precious stuff of youth: he became -thirty-five. And one day on Fifth Avenue he saw Caroline. - -It was Sunday, a radiant, flowerful Easter morning and the avenue was -a pageant of lilies and cutaways and happy April-colored bonnets. -Twelve o'clock: the great churches were letting out their people--St. -Simon's, St. Hilda's, the Church of the Epistles, opened their doors -like wide mouths until the people pouring forth surely resembled happy -laughter as they met and strolled and chattered, or else waved white -bouquets at waiting chauffeurs. - -In front of the Church of the Epistles stood its twelve vestrymen, -carrying out the time-honored custom of giving away Easter eggs full -of face-powder to the church-going debutantes of the year. Around them -delightedly danced the two thousand miraculously groomed children of -the very rich, correctly cute and curled, shining like sparkling -little jewels upon their mothers' fingers. Speaks the sentimentalist -for the children of the poor? Ah, but the children of the rich, -laundered, sweet-smelling, complexioned of the country, and, above -all, with soft, in-door voices. - -Little Arthur was five, child of the middle class. Undistinguished, -unnoticed, with a nose that forever marred what Grecian yearnings his -features might have had, he held tightly to his mother's warm, sticky -hand, and, with Merlin on his other side, moved, upon the home-coming -throng. At Fifty-third Street, where there were two churches, the -congestion was at its thickest, its richest. Their progress was of -necessity retarded to such an extent that even little Arthur had not -the slightest difficulty in keeping up. Then it was that Merlin -perceived an open landaulet of deepest crimson, with handsome nickel -trimmings, glide slowly up to the curb and come to a stop. In it sat -Caroline. - -She was dressed in black, a tight-fitting gown trimmed with lavender, -flowered at the waist with a corsage of orchids. Merlin started and -then gazed at her fearfully. For the first time in the eight years -since his marriage he was encountering the girl again. But a girl no -longer. Her figure was slim as ever--or perhaps not quite, for a -certain boyish swagger, a sort of insolent adolescence, had gone the -way of the first blooming of her cheeks. But she was beautiful; -dignity was there now, and the charming lines of a fortuitous -nine-and-twenty; and she sat in the car with such perfect -appropriateness and self-possession that it made him breathless to -watch her. - -Suddenly she smiled--the smile of old, bright as that very Easter and -its flowers, mellower than ever--yet somehow with not quite the -radiance and infinite promise of that first smile back there in the -bookshop nine years before. It was a steelier smile, disillusioned and -sad. - -But it was soft enough and smile enough to make a pair of young men in -cutaway coats hurry over, to pull their high hats off their wetted, -iridescent hair; to bring them, flustered and bowing, to the edge of -her landaulet, where her lavender gloves gently touched their gray -ones. And these two were presently joined by another, and then two -more, until there was a rapidly swelling crowd around the landaulet. -Merlin would hear a young man beside him say to his perhaps -well-favored companion: - -"If you'll just pardon me a moment, there's some one I _have_ to -speak to. Walk right ahead. I'll catch up." - -Within three minutes every inch of the landaulet, front, back, and -side, was occupied by a man--a man trying to construct a sentence -clever enough to find its way to Caroline through the stream of -conversation. Luckily for Merlin a portion of little Arthur's clothing -had chosen the opportunity to threaten a collapse, and Olive had -hurriedly rushed him over against a building for some extemporaneous -repair work, so Merlin was able to watch, unhindered, the salon in the -street. - -The crowd swelled. A row formed in back of the first, -two more behind that. In the midst, an orchid rising from a black -bouquet, sat Caroline enthroned in her obliterated car, nodding and -crying salutations and smiling with such true happiness that, of a -sudden, a new relay of gentlemen had left their wives and consorts and -were striding toward her. - -The crowd, now phalanx deep, began to be augmented by the merely -curious; men of all ages who could not possibly have known Caroline -jostled over and melted into the circle of ever-increasing diameter, -until the lady in lavender was the centre of a vast impromptu -auditorium. - -All about her were faces--clean-shaven, bewhiskered, old, young, -ageless, and now, here and there, a woman. The mass was rapidly -spreading to the opposite curb, and, as St. Anthony's around the -corner let out its box-holders, it overflowed to the sidewalk and -crushed up against the iron picket-fence of a millionaire across the -street. The motors speeding along the avenue were compelled to stop, -and in a jiffy were piled three, five, and six deep at the edge of the -crowd; auto-busses, top-heavy turtles of traffic, plunged into the -jam, their passengers crowding to the edges of the roofs in wild -excitement and peering down into the centre of the mass, which -presently could hardly be seen from the mass's edge. - -The crush had become terrific. No fashionable audience at a -Yale-Princeton football game, no damp mob at a world's series, could -be compared with the panoply that talked, stared, laughed, and honked -about the lady in black and lavender. It was stupendous; it was -terrible. A quarter mile down the block a half-frantic policeman -called his precinct; on the same corner a frightened civilian crashed -in the glass of a fire-alarm and sent in a wild paean for all the -fire-engines of the city; up in an apartment high in one of the tall -buildings a hysterical old maid telephoned in turn for the prohibition -enforcement agent; the special deputies on Bolshevism, and the -maternity ward of Bellevue Hospital. - -The noise increased. The first fire-engine arrived, filling the Sunday -air with smoke, clanging and crying a brazen, metallic message down -the high, resounding walls. In the notion that some terrible calamity -had overtaken the city, two excited deacons ordered special services -immediately and set tolling the great bells of St. Hilda's and St. -Anthony's, presently joined by the jealous gongs of St. Simon's and -the Church of the Epistles. Even far off in the Hudson and the East -River the sounds of the commotion were heard, and the ferry-boats and -tugs and ocean liners set up sirens and whistles that sailed in -melancholy cadence, now varied, now reiterated, across the whole -diagonal width of the city from Riverside Drive to the gray -water-fronts of the lower East Side.... - -In the centre of her landaulet sat the lady in black and lavender, -chatting pleasantly first with one, then with another of that -fortunate few in cutaways who had found their way to speaking distance -in the first rush. After a while she glanced around her and beside her -with a look of growing annoyance. - -She yawned and asked the man nearest her if he couldn't run in -somewhere and get her a glass of water. The man apologized in some -embarrassment. He could not have moved hand or foot. He could not have -scratched his own ear.... - -As the first blast of the river sirens keened along the air, Olive -fastened the last safety-pin in little Arthur's rompers and looked up. -Merlin saw her start, stiffen slowly like hardening stucco, and then -give a little gasp of surprise and disapproval. - -"That woman," she cried suddenly. "Oh!" - -She flashed a glance at Merlin that mingled reproach and pain, and -without another word gathered up little Arthur with one hand, grasped -her husband by the other, and darted amazingly in a winding, bumping -canter through the crowd. Somehow people gave way before her; somehow -she managed to-retain her grasp on her son and husband; somehow she -managed to emerge two blocks up, battered and dishevelled, into an -open space, and, without slowing up her pace, darted down a -side-street. Then at last, when uproar had died away into a dim and -distant clamor, did she come to a walk and set little Arthur upon his -feet. - -"And on Sunday, too! Hasn't she disgraced herself enough?" This was -her only comment. She said it to Arthur, as she seemed to address her -remarks to Arthur throughout the remainder of the day. For some -curious and esoteric reason she had never once looked at her husband -during the entire retreat. - - -IV - -The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the -passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they -are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted -first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing -and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds -of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the -certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and -women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from -life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad -amusements and curiosities of youth, to a line with less, when we peel -down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, -our friends to a few to whom we are anaesthetic; ending up at last in -a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, where the shells -now whistle abominably, now are but half-heard as, by turns frightened -and tired, we sit waiting for death. - -At forty, then, Merlin was no different from himself at thirty-five; a -larger paunch, a gray twinkling near his ears, a more certain lack of -vivacity in his walk. His forty-five differed from his forty by a like -margin, unless one mention a slight deafness in his left ear. But at -fifty-five the process had become a chemical change of immense -rapidity. Yearly he was more and more an "old man" to his -family--senile almost, so far as his wife was concerned. He was by -this time complete owner of the bookshop. The mysterious Mr. Moonlight -Quill, dead some five years and not survived by his wife, had deeded -the whole stock and store to him, and there he still spent his days, -conversant now by name with almost all that man has recorded for three -thousand years, a human catalogue, an authority upon tooling and -binding, upon folios and first editions, an accurate inventory of a -thousand authors whom he could never have understood and had certainly -never read. - -At sixty-five he distinctly doddered. He had assumed the melancholy -habits of the aged so often portrayed by the second old man in -standard Victorian comedies. He consumed vast warehouses of time -searching for mislaid spectacles. He "nagged" his wife and was nagged -in turn. He told the same jokes three or four times a year at the -family table, and gave his son weird, impossible directions as to his -conduct in life. Mentally and materially he was so entirely different -from the Merlin Grainger of twenty-five that it seemed incongruous -that he should bear the same name. - -He worked still In the bookshop with the assistance of a youth, whom, -of course, he considered very idle, indeed, and a new young woman, -Miss Gaffney. Miss McCracken, ancient and unvenerable as himself, -still kept the accounts. Young Arthur was gone into Wall Street to -sell bonds, as all the young men seemed to be doing in that day. This, -of course, was as it should be. Let old Merlin get what magic he could -from his books--the place of young King Arthur was in the -counting-house. - -One afternoon at four when he had slipped noiselessly up to the front -of the store on his soft-soled slippers, led by a newly formed habit, -of which, to be fair, he was rather ashamed, of spying upon the young -man clerk, he looked casually out of the front window, straining his -faded eyesight to reach the street. A limousine, large, portentous, -impressive, had drawn to the curb, and the chauffeur, after -dismounting and holding some sort of conversation with persons in the -interior of the car, turned about and advanced in a bewildered fashion -toward the entrance of the Moonlight Quill. He opened the door, -shuffled in, and, glancing uncertainly at the old man in the -skull-cap, addressed him in a thick, murky voice, as though his words -came through a fog. - -"Do you--do you sell additions?" - -Merlin nodded. - -"The arithmetic books are in the back of the store." - -The chauffeur took off his cap and scratched a close-cropped, fuzzy -head. - -"Oh, naw. This I want's a detecatif story." He jerked a thumb back -toward the limousine. "She seen it in the paper. Firs' addition." - -Merlin's interest quickened. Here was possibly a big sale. - -"Oh, editions. Yes, we've advertised some firsts, but-detective -stories, I-don't-believe-What was the title?" - -"I forget. About a crime." - -"About a crime. I have-well, I have 'The Crimes of the Borgias'-full -morocco, London 1769, beautifully--" - -"Naw," interrupted the chauffeur, "this was one fella did this crime. -She seen you had it for sale in the paper." He rejected several -possible titles with the air of connoisseur. - -"'Silver Bones,'" he announced suddenly out of a slight pause. - -"What?" demanded Merlin, suspecting that the stiffness of his sinews -were being commented on. - -"Silver Bones. That was the guy that done the crime." - -"Silver Bones?" - -"Silver Bones. Indian, maybe." - -Merlin, stroked his grizzly cheeks. "Gees, Mister," went on the -prospective purchaser, "if you wanna save me an awful bawln' out jes' -try an' think. The old lady goes wile if everything don't run smooth." - -But Merlin's musings on the subject of Silver Bones were as futile as -his obliging search through the shelves, and five minutes later a very -dejected charioteer wound his way back to his mistress. Through the -glass Merlin could see the visible symbols of a tremendous uproar -going on in the interior of the limousine. The chauffeur made wild, -appealing gestures of his innocence, evidently to no avail, for when -he turned around and climbed back into the driver's seat his -expression was not a little dejected. - -Then the door of the limousine opened and gave forth a pale and -slender young man of about twenty, dressed in the attenuation of -fashion and carrying a wisp of a cane. He entered the shop, walked -past Merlin, and proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it. -Merlin approached him. - -"Anything I can do for you, sir?" - -"Old boy," said the youth coolly, "there are seveereal things; You can -first let me smoke my ciggy in here out of sight of that old lady in -the limousine, who happens to be my grandmother. Her knowledge as to -whether I smoke it or not before my majority happens to be a matter of -five thousand dollars to me. The second thing is that you should look -up your first edition of the 'Crime of Sylvester Bonnard' that you -advertised in last Sunday's _Times_. My grandmother there happens -to want to take it off your hands." - -Detecatif story! Crime of somebody! Silver Bones! All was explained. -With a faint deprecatory chuckle, as if to say that he would have -enjoyed this had life put him in the habit of enjoying anything, -Merlin doddered away to the back of his shop where his treasures were -kept, to get this latest investment which he had picked up rather -cheaply at the sale of a big collection. - -When he returned with it the young man was drawing on his cigarette -and blowing out quantities of smoke with immense satisfaction. - -"My God!" he said, "She keeps me so close to her the entire day -running idiotic errands that this happens to be my first puff in six -hours. What's the world coming to, I ask you, when a feeble old lady -in the milk-toast era can dictate to a man as to his personal vices. I -happen to be unwilling to be so dictated to. Let's see the book." - -Merlin passed it to him tenderly and the young man, after opening it -with a carelessness that gave a momentary jump to the book-dealer's -heart, ran through the pages with his thumb. - -"No illustrations, eh?" he commented. "Well, old boy, what's it worth? -Speak up! We're willing to give you a fair price, though why I don't -know." - -"One hundred dollars," said Merlin with a frown. - -The young man gave a startled whistle. - -"Whew! Come on. You're not dealing with somebody from the cornbelt. I -happen to be a city-bred man and my grandmother happens to be a -city-bred woman, though I'll admit it'd take a special tax -appropriation to keep her in repair. We'll give you twenty-five -dollars, and let me tell you that's liberal. We've got books in our -attic, up in our attic with my old play-things, that were written -before the old boy that wrote this was born." - -Merlin stiffened, expressing a rigid and meticulous horror. - -"Did your grandmother give you twenty-five dollars to buy this with?" - -"She did not. She gave me fifty, but she expects change. I know that -old lady." - -"You tell her," said Merlin with dignity, "that she has missed a very -great bargain." - -"Give you forty," urged the young man. "Come on now--be reasonable and -don't try to hold us up----" - -Merlin had wheeled around with the precious volume under his arm and -was about to return it to its special drawer in his office when there -was a sudden interruption. With unheard-of magnificence the front door -burst rather than swung open, and admitted in the dark interior a -regal apparition in black silk and fur which bore rapidly down upon -him. The cigarette leaped from the fingers of the urban young man and -he gave breath to an inadvertent "Damn!"--but it was upon Merlin that -the entrance seemed to have the most remarkable and incongruous -effect--so strong an effect that the greatest treasure of his shop -slipped from his hand and joined the cigarette on the floor. Before -him stood Caroline. - -She was an old woman, an old woman remarkably preserved, unusually -handsome, unusually erect, but still an old woman. Her hair was a -soft, beautiful white, elaborately dressed and jewelled; her face, -faintly rouged a la grande dame, showed webs of wrinkles at the edges -of her eyes and two deeper lines in the form of stanchions connected -her nose with the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were dim, ill -natured, and querulous. - -But it was Caroline without a doubt: Caroline's features though in -decay; Caroline's figure, if brittle and stiff in movement; Caroline's -manner, unmistakably compounded of a delightful insolence and an -enviable self assurance; and, most of all, Caroline's voice, broken -and shaky, yet with a ring in it that still could and did make -chauffeurs want to drive laundry wagons and cause cigarettes to fall -from the fingers of urban grandsons. - -She stood and sniffed. Her eyes found the cigarette upon the floor. - -"What's that?" she cried. The words were not a question--they were an -entire litany of suspicion, accusation, confirmation, and decision. -She tarried over them scarcely an instant. "Stand up!" she said to her -grandson, "stand up and blow that nicotine out of your lungs!" - -The young man looked at her in trepidation. - -"Blow!" she commanded. - -He pursed his lips feebly and blew into the air. - -"Blow!" she repeated, more peremptorily than before. - -He blew again, helplessly, ridiculously. - -"Do you realize," she went on briskly, "that you've forfeited five -thousand dollars in five minutes?" - -Merlin momentarily expected the young man to fall pleading upon his -knees, but such is the nobility of human nature that he remained -standing--even blew again into the air, partly from nervousness, -partly, no doubt, with some vague hope of reingratiating himself. - -"Young ass!" cried Caroline. "Once more, just once more and you leave -college and go to work." - -This threat had such an overwhelming effect upon the young man that he -took on an even paler pallor than was natural to him. But Caroline was -not through. - -"Do you think I don't know what you and your brothers, yes, and your -asinine father too, think of me? Well, I do. You think I'm senile. You -think I'm soft. I'm not!" She struck herself with her-fist as though -to prove that she was a mass of muscle and sinew. "And I'll have more -brains left when you've got me laid out in the drawing-room some sunny -day than you and the rest of them were born with." - -"But Grandmother----" - -"Be quiet. You, a thin little stick of a boy, who if it weren't for my -money might have risen to be a journeyman barber out in the Bronx--Let -me see your hands. Ugh! The hands of a barber--_you_ presume to -be smart with _me_, who once had three counts and a bona-fide -duke, not to mention half a dozen papal titles pursue me from the city -of Rome to the city of New York." She paused, took breath. "Stand up! -Blow'!" - -The young man obediently blew. Simultaneously the door opened and an -excited gentleman of middle age who wore a coat and hat trimmed with -fur, and seemed, moreover, to be trimmed with the same sort of fur -himself on upper lip and chin, rushed into the store and up to -Caroline. - -"Found you at last," he cried. "Been looking for you all over town. -Tried your house on the 'phone and your secretary told me he thought -you'd gone to a bookshop called the Moonlight--" - -Caroline turned to him irritably. - -"Do I employ you for your reminiscences?" she snapped. "Are you my -tutor or my broker?" - -"Your broker," confessed the fur-trimmed man, taken somewhat aback. "I -beg your pardon. I came about that phonograph stock. I can sell for a -hundred and five." - -"Then do it." - -"Very well. I thought I'd better--" - -"Go sell it. I'm talking to my grandson." - -"Very well. I--" - -"Good-by." - -"Good-by, Madame." The fur-trimmed man made a slight bow and hurried -in some confusion from the shop. - -"As for you," said Caroline, turning to her grandson, "you stay just -where you are and be quiet." - -She turned to Merlin and included his entire length in a not -unfriendly survey. Then she smiled and he found himself smiling too. -In an instant they had both broken into a cracked but none the less -spontaneous chuckle. She seized his arm and hurried him to the other -side of the store. There they stopped, faced each other, and gave vent -to another long fit of senile glee. - -"It's the only way," she gasped in a sort of triumphant malignity. -"The only thing that keeps old folks like me happy is the sense that -they can make other people step around. To be old and rich and have -poor descendants is almost as much fun as to be young and beautiful -and have ugly sisters." - -"Oh, yes," chuckled Merlin. "I know. I envy you." - -She nodded, blinking. - -"The last time I was in here, forty years ago," she said, "you were a -young man very anxious to kick up your heels." - -"I was," he confessed. - -"My visit must have meant a good deal to you." - -"You have all along," he exclaimed. "I thought--I used to think at -first that you were a real person--human, I mean." - -She laughed. - -"Many men have thought me inhuman." - -"But now," continued Merlin excitedly, "I understand. Understanding is -allowed to us old people--after nothing much matters. I see now that -on a certain night when you danced upon a table-top you were nothing -but my romantic yearning for a beautiful and perverse woman." - -Her old eyes were far away, her voice no more than the echo of a -forgotten dream. - -"How I danced that night! I remember." - -"You were making an attempt at me. Olive's arms were closing about me -and you warned me to be free and keep my measure of youth and -irresponsibility. But it seemed like an effect gotten up at the last -moment. It came too late." - -"You are very old," she said inscrutably. "I did not realize." - -"Also I have not forgotten what you did to me when I was thirty-five. -You shook me with that traffic tie-up. It was a magnificent effort. -The beauty and power you radiated! You became personified even to my -wife, and she feared you. For weeks I wanted to slip out of the house -at dark and forget the stuffiness of life with music and cocktails and -a girl to make me young. But then--I no longer knew how." - -"And now you are so very old." - -With a sort of awe she moved back and away from him. - -"Yes, leave me!" he cried. "You are old also; the spirit withers with -the skin. Have you come here only to tell me something I had best -forget: that to be old and poor is perhaps more wretched than to be -old and rich; to remind me that _my_ son hurls my gray failure in -my face?" - -"Give me my book," she commanded harshly. "Be quick, old man!" - -Merlin looked at her once more and then patiently obeyed. He picked up -the book and handed it to her, shaking his head when she offered him a -bill. - -"Why go through the farce of paying me? Once you made me wreck these -very premises." - -"I did," she said in anger, "and I'm glad. Perhaps there had been -enough done to ruin _me_." - -She gave him a glance, half disdain, half ill-concealed uneasiness, -and with a brisk word to her urban grandson moved toward the door. - -Then she was gone--out of his shop--out of his life. The door clicked. -With a sigh he turned and walked brokenly back toward the glass -partition that enclosed the yellowed accounts of many years as well as -the mellowed, wrinkled Miss McCracken. - -Merlin regarded her parched, cobwebbed face with an odd sort of pity. -She, at any rate, had had less from life than he. No rebellious, -romantic spirit popping out unbidden had, in its memorable moments, -given her life a zest and a glory. - -Then Miss McGracken looked up and spoke to him: - -"Still a spunky old piece, isn't she?" - -Merlin started. - -"Who?" - -"Old Alicia Dare. Mrs. Thomas Allerdyce she is now, of course; has -been, these thirty years." - -"What? I don't understand you." Merlin sat down suddenly in his swivel -chair; his eyes were wide. - -"Why, surely, Mr. Grainger, you can't tell me that you've forgotten -her, when for ten years she was the most notorious character in New -York. Why, one time when she was the correspondent in the Throckmorton -divorce case she attracted so much attention on Fifth Avenue that -there was a traffic tie-up. Didn't you read about it in the papers." - -"I never used to read the papers." His ancient brain was whirring. - -"Well, you can't have forgotten the time she came in here and ruined -the business. Let me tell you I came near asking Mr. Moonlight Quill -for my salary, and clearing out." - -"Do you mean, that--that you _saw_ her?" - -"Saw her! How could I help it with the racket that went on. Heaven -knows Mr. Moonlight Quill didn't like it either but of course _he_ -didn't say anything. He was daffy about her and she could twist him -around her little finger. The second he opposed one of her whims she'd -threaten to tell his wife on him. Served him right. The idea of that -man falling for a pretty adventuress! Of course he was never rich -enough for _her_ even though the shop paid well in those days." - -"But when I saw her." stammered Merlin, "that is, when I -_thought_ saw her, she lived with her mother." - -"Mother, trash!". said Miss McCracken indignantly. "She had a woman -there she called 'Aunty', who was no more related to her than I am. -Oh, she was a bad one--but clever. Right after the Throckmorton -divorce case she married Thomas Allerdyce, and made herself secure for -life." - -"Who was she?" cried Merlin. "For God's sake what was she--a witch?" - -"Why, she was Alicia Dare, the dancer, of course. In those days you -couldn't pick up a paper without finding her picture." - -Merlin sat very quiet, his brain suddenly fatigued and stilled. He was -an old man now indeed, so old that it was impossible for him to dream -of ever having been young, so old that the glamour was gone out of the -world, passing not into the faces of children and into the persistent -comforts of warmth and life, but passing out of the range of sight and -feeling. He was never to smile again or to sit in a long reverie when -spring evenings wafted the cries of children in at his window until -gradually they became the friends of his boyhood out there, urging him -to come and play before the last dark came down. He was too old now -even for memories. - -That night he sat at supper with his wife and son, who had used him -for their blind purposes. Olive said: - -"Don't sit there like a death's-head. Say something." - -"Let him sit quiet," growled Arthur. "If you encourage him he'll tell -us a story we've heard a hundred times before." - -Merlin went up-stairs very quietly at nine o'clock. When he was in his -room and had closed the door tight he stood by it for a moment, his -thin limbs trembling. He knew now that he had always been a fool. - -"O Russet Witch!" - -But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many -temptations. There was nothing left but heaven, where he would meet -only those who, like him, had wasted earth. - - - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS - - -If you should look through the files of old magazines for the first -years of the present century you would find, sandwiched in between the -stories of Richard Harding Davis and Frank Norris and others long -since dead, the work of one Jeffrey Curtain: a novel or two, and -perhaps three or four dozen short stories. You could, if you were -interested, follow them along until, say, 1908, when they suddenly -disappeared. - -When you had read them all you would have been quite sure that here -were no masterpieces--here were passably amusing stories, a bit out of -date now, but doubtless the sort that would then have whiled away a -dreary half hour in a dental office. The man who did them was of good -intelligence, talented, glib, probably young. In the samples of his -work you found there would have been nothing to stir you to more than -a faint interest in the whims of life--no deep interior laughs, no -sense of futility or hint of tragedy. - -After reading them you would yawn and put the number back in the -files, and perhaps, if you were in some library reading-room, you -would decide that by way of variety you would look at a newspaper of -the period and see whether the Japs had taken Port Arthur. But if by -any chance the newspaper you had chosen was the right one and had -crackled open at the theatrical page, your eyes would have been -arrested and held, and for at least a minute you would have forgotten -Port Arthur as quickly as you forgot Chateau Thierry. For you would, -by this fortunate chance, be looking at the portrait of an exquisite -woman. - -Those were tie days of "Florodora" and of sextets, of pinched-in -waists and blown-out sleeves, of almost bustles and absolute ballet -skirts, but here, without doubt, disguised as she might be by the -unaccustomed stiffness and old fashion of her costume, was a butterfly -of butterflies. Here was the gayety of the period--the soft wine of -eyes, the songs that flurried hearts, the toasts and tie bouquets, the -dances and the dinners. Here was a Venus of the hansom, cab, the -Gibson girl in her glorious prime. Here was... - -...here was you. Find by looking at the name beneath, one Roxanne -Milbank, who had been chorus girl and understudy in "The Daisy Chain," -but who, by reason of an excellent performance when the star was -indisposed, had gained a leading part. - -You would look again--and wonder. Why you had never heard of her. Why -did her name not linger in popular songs and vaudeville jokes and -cigar bands, and the memory of that gay old uncle of yours along with -Lillian Russell and Stella Mayhew and Anna Held? Roxanne -Milbank-whither had she gone? What dark trap-door had opened suddenly -and swallowed her up? Her name was certainly not in last Sunday's -supplement on the list of actresses married to English noblemen. No -doubt she was dead--poor beautiful young lady--and quite forgotten. - -I am hoping too much. I am having you stumble on Jeffrey Curtains's -stories and Roxanne Milbank's picture. It would be incredible that you -should find a newspaper item six months later, a single item two -inches by four, which informed the public of the marriage, very -quietly, of Miss Roxanne Milbank, who had been on tour with "The Daisy -Chain," to Mr. Jeffrey Curtain, the popular author. "Mrs. Curtain," it -added dispassionately, "will retire from the stage." - -It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; -she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs -they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together. Yet had -Jeffrey Curtain kept at scrivening for twoscore years he could not -have put a quirk into one of his stories weirder than the quirk that -came into his own life. Had Roxanne Milbank played three dozen parts -and filled five thousand houses she could never have had a role with -more happiness and more despair than were in the fate prepared for -Roxanne Curtain. - -For a year they lived in hotels, travelled to California, to Alaska, -to Florida, to Mexico, loved and quarrelled gently, and gloried in the -golden triflings of his wit with her beauty--they were young and -gravely passionate; they demanded everything and then yielded -everything again in ecstasies of unselfishness and pride. She loved -the swift tones of his voice and his frantic, if unfounded jealousy. -He loved her dark radiance, the white irises of her eyes, the warm, -lustrous enthusiasm of her smile. - -"Don't you like her?" he would demand rather excitedly and shyly. -"Isn't she wonderful? Did you ever see--" - -"Yes," they would answer, grinning. "She's a wonder. You're lucky." - -The year passed. They tired of hotels. They bought an old house and -twenty acres near the town of Marlowe, half an hour from Chicago; -bought a little car, and moved out riotously with a pioneering -hallucination that would have confounded Balboa. - -"Your room will be here!" they cried in turn. - ---And then: - -"And my room here!" - -"And the nursery here when we have children." - -"And we'll build a sleeping porch--oh, next year." - -They moved out in April. In July Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry -Cromwell same to spend a week--they met him at the end of the long -lawn and hurried him proudly to the house. - -Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before -and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had -gathered from Jeffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as -Harry--Jeffrey had met her once and considered her--"shallow." But -Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparently happy, so -Jeffrey guessed that she was probably all right. - -"I'm making biscuits," chattered Roxanne gravely. "Can you wife make -biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know -how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can -make biscuits can surely do no----" - -"You'll have to come out here and live," said Jeffrey. "Get a place -out in the country like us, for you and Kitty." - -"You don't know Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her -theatres and vaudevilles." - -"Bring her out," repeated Jeffrey. "We'll have a colony. There's an -awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out!" - -They were at the porch steps now and Roxanne made a brisk gesture -toward a dilapidated structure on the right. - -"The garage," she announced. "It will also be Jeffrey's writing-room -within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I -will mix a cocktail." - -The two men ascended to the second floor--that is, they ascended -half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest's -suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed: - -"For God's sake, Harry, how do you like her?" - -"We will go up-stairs," answered his guest, "and we will shut the -door." - -Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library -Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of -biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose. - -"They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely. - -"Exquisite," murmured Harry. - -Roxanne beamed. - -"Taste one. I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all -and I can't bear to take them back until I find what they taste like." - -"Like manna, darling." - -Simultaneously the two men raised the biscuits to their lips, nibbled -tentatively. Simultaneously they tried to change the subject. But -Roxanne undeceived, set down the pan and seized a biscuit. After a -second her comment rang out with lugubrious finality: - -"Absolutely bum!" - -"Really----" - -"Why, I didn't notice----" - -Roxanne roared. - -"Oh, I'm useless," she cried laughing. "Turn me out, Jeffrey--I'm a -parasite; I'm no goal----" - -Jeffrey put his arm around her. - -"Darling, I'll eat your biscuits." - -"They're beautiful, anyway," insisted Roxanne. - -"They're-they're decorative," suggested Harry. - -Jeffrey took him up wildly. - -"That's the word. They're decorative; they're masterpieces. We'll use -them." - -He rushed to the kitchen and returned with a hammer and a handful of -nails. - -"We'll use them, by golly, Roxanne! We'll make a frieze out of them." - -"Don't!" wailed Roxanne. "Our beautiful house." - -"Never mind. We're going to have the library repapered in October. -Don't you remember?" - -"Well----" - -Bang! The first biscuit was impaled to the wall, where it quivered for -a moment like a live thing. - -Bang!... - -When Roxanne returned, with a second round of cocktails the biscuits -were in a perpendicular row, twelve of them, like a collection of -primitive spear-heads. - -"Roxanne," exclaimed Jeffrey, "you're an artist! Cook?--nonsense! You -shall illustrate my books!" - -During dinner the twilight faltered into dusk, and later it was a -starry dark outside, filled and permeated with the frail gorgeousness -of Roxanne's white dress and her tremulous, low laugh. - ---Such a little girl she is, thought Harry. Not as old as Kitty. - -He compared the two. Kitty--nervous without being sensitive, -temperamental without temperament, a woman who seemed to flit and -never light--and Roxanne, who was as young as spring night, and summed -up in her own adolescent laughter. - ---A good match for Jeffrey, he thought again. Two very young people, -the sort who'll stay very young until they suddenly find themselves -old. - -Harry thought these things between his constant thoughts about Kitty, -He was depressed about Kitty. It seemed to him that she was well -enough to come back to Chicago and bring his little son. He was -thinking vaguely of Kitty when he said good-night to his friend's wife -and his friend at the foot of the stairs. - -"You're our first real house guest," called Roxanne after him. "Aren't -you thrilled and proud?" - -When he was out of sight around the stair corner she turned to -Jeffrey, who was standing beside her resting his hand on the end of -the banister. - -"Are you tired, my dearest?" - -Jeffrey rubbed the centre of his forehead with his fingers. - -"A little. How did you know?" - -"Oh, how could I help knowing about you?" - -"It's a headache," he said moodily. "Splitting. I'll take some -aspirin." - -She reached over and snapped out the light, and with his arm tight -about her waist they walked up the stairs together. - - -II - -Harry's week passed. They drove about the dreaming lanes or idled in -cheerful inanity upon lake or lawn. In the evening Roxanne, sitting -inside, played to them while the ashes whitened on the glowing ends of -their cigars. Then came a telegram from Kitty saying that she wanted -Harry to come East and get her, so Roxanne and Jeffrey were left alone -in that privacy of which they never seemed to tire. - -"Alone" thrilled them again. They wandered about the house, each -feeling intimately the presence of the other; they sat on the same -side of the table like honeymooners; they were intensely absorbed, -intensely happy. - -The town of Marlowe, though a comparatively old settlement, had only -recently acquired a "society." Five or six years before, alarmed at -the smoky swelling of Chicago, two or three young married couples, -"bungalow people," had moved out; their friends had followed. The -Jeffrey Curtains found an already formed "set" prepared to welcome: -them; a country club, ballroom, and golf links yawned for them, and -there were bridge parties, and poker parties, and parties where they -drank beer, and parties where they drank nothing at all. - -It was at a poker party that they found themselves a week after -Harry's departure. There were two tables, and a good proportion of the -young wives were smoking and shouting their bets, and being very -daringly mannish for those days. - -Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation; she -wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice--beer gave -her a headache--and then passed from table to table, looking over -shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffrey and being pleasantly -unexcited and content. Jeffrey, with intense concentration, was -raising a pile of chips of all colors, and Roxanne knew by the -deepened wrinkle between his eyes that he was interested. She liked to -see him interested in small things. - -She crossed over quietly and sat down on the arm of his chair. - -She sat there five minutes, listening to the sharp intermittent -comments of the men and the chatter of the women, which rose from the -table like soft smoke--and yet scarcely hearing either. Then quite -innocently she reached out her hand, intending to place it on -Jeffrey's shoulder--as it touched him he started of a sudden, gave a -short grunt, and, sweeping back his arm furiously, caught her a -glancing blow on her elbow. - -There was a general gasp. Roxanne regained her balance, gave a little -cry, and rose quickly to her feet. It had been the greatest shock of -her life. This, from Jeffrey, the heart of kindness, of -consideration--this instinctively brutal gesture. - -The gasp became a silence. A dozen eyes were turned on Jeffrey, who -looked up as though seeing Roxanne for the first time. An expression -of bewilderment settled on his face. - -"Why--Roxanne----" he said haltingly. - -Into a dozen minds entered a quick suspicion, a rumor of scandal. -Could it be that behind the scenes with this couple, apparently so in -love, lurked some curious antipathy? Why else this streak of fire, -across such a cloudless heaven? - -"Jeffrey!"--Roxanne's voice was pleading--startled and horrified, she -yet knew that it was a mistake. Not once did it occur to her to blame -him or to resent it. Her word was a trembling supplication--"Tell me, -Jeffrey," it said, "tell Roxanne, your own Roxanne." - -"Why, Roxanne--" began Jeffrey again. The bewildered look changed to -pain. He was clearly as startled as she. "I didn't intend that," he -went on; "you startled me. You--I felt as if some one were attacking -me. I--how--why, how idiotic!" - -"Jeffrey!" Again the word was a prayer, incense offered up to a high -God through this new and unfathomable darkness. - -They were both on their feet, they were saying good-by, faltering, -apologizing, explaining. There was no attempt to pass it off easily. -That way lay sacrilege. Jeffrey had not been feeling well, they said. -He had become nervous. Back of both their minds was the unexplained -horror of that blow--the marvel that there had been for an instant -something between them--his anger and her fear--and now to both a -sorrow, momentary, no doubt, but to be bridged at once, at once, while -there was yet time. Was that swift water lashing under their feet--the -fierce glint of some uncharted chasm? - -Out in their car under the harvest moon he talked brokenly. It was -just--incomprehensible to him, he said. He had been thinking of the -poker game--absorbed--and the touch on his shoulder had seemed like an -attack. An attack! He clung to that word, flung it up as a shield. He -had hated what touched him. With the impact of his hand it had gone, -that--nervousness. That was all he knew. - -Both their eyes filled with tears and they whispered love there under -the broad night as the serene streets of Marlowe sped by. Later, when -they went to bed, they were quite calm. Jeffrey was to take a week off -all work--was simply to loll, and sleep, and go on long walks until -this nervousness left him. When they had decided this safety settled -down upon Roxanne. The pillows underhead became soft and friendly; the -bed on which they lay seemed wide, and white, and sturdy beneath the -radiance that streamed in at the window. - -Five days later, in the first cool of late afternoon, Jeffrey picked -up an oak chair and sent it crashing through his own front window. -Then he lay down on the couch like a child, weeping piteously and -begging to die. A blood clot the size of a marble had broken his -brain. - - -III - -There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one -has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue -and a new sun, that the quality of the life around has changed. It is -a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then -leading is a branch shoot of life and is related to life only as a -moving picture or a mirror--that the people, and streets, and houses -are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past. It was in such -a state that Roxanne found herself during the first months of -Jeffrey's illness. She slept only when she was utterly exhausted; she -awoke under a cloud. The long, sober-voiced consultations, the faint -aura of medicine in the halls, the sudden tiptoeing in a house that -had echoed to many cheerful footsteps, and, most of ail, Jeffrey's -white face amid the pillows of the bed they had shared--these things -subdued her and made her indelibly older. The doctors held out hope, -but that was all. A long rest, they said, and quiet. So responsibility -came to Roxanne. It was she who paid the bills, pored over his -bank-book, corresponded with his publishers. She was in the kitchen -constantly. She learned from the nurse how to prepare his meals and -after the first month took complete charge of the sick-room. She had -had to let the nurse go for reasons of economy. One of the two colored -girls left at the same time. Roxanne was realizing that they had been -living from short story to short story. - -The most frequent visitor was Harry Cromwell. He had been shocked and -depressed by the news, and though his wife was now living with him in -Chicago he found time to come out several times a month. Roxanne found -his sympathy welcome--there was some quality of suffering in the man, -some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. -Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with -Jeffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most -of all she needed and should have had. - -It was six months after Jeffrey's collapse and when the nightmare had -faded, leaving not the old world but a new one, grayer and colder, -that she wait to see Harry's wife. Finding herself in Chicago with an -extra hour before train time, she decided out of courtesy to call. - -As she stepped inside the door she had an immediate impression that -the apartment was very like some place she had seen before--and almost -instantly she remembered a round-the-corner bakery of her childhood, a -bakery full of rows and rows of pink frosted cakes--a stuffy pink, -pink as a food, pink triumphant, vulgar, and odious. - -And this apartment was like that. It was pink. It smelled pink! - -Mrs. Cromwell, attired in a wrapper of pink and black, opened the -door. Her hair was yellow, heightened, Roxanne imagined by a dash of -peroxide in the rinsing water every week. Her eyes were a thin waxen -blue--she was pretty and too consciously graceful. Her cordiality was -strident and intimate, hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that -it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice--never touching -nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. - -But to Roxanne these things were secondary; her eyes were caught and -held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean. -From its lowest hem up four inches it was sheerly dirty with the blue -dust of the floor; for the next three inches it was gray--then it -shaded off into its natural color, which, was--pink. It was dirty at -the sleeves, too, and at the collar--and when the woman turned to lead -the way into the parlor, Roxanne was sure that her neck was dirty. - -A one-sided rattle of conversation began. Mrs. Cromwell became -explicit about her likes and dislikes, her head, her stomach, her -teeth, her apartment--avoiding with a sort of insolent meticulousness -any inclusion of Roxanne with life, as if presuming that Roxanne, -having been dealt a blow, wished life to be carefully skirted. - -Roxanne smiled. That kimono! That neck! - -After five minutes a little boy toddled into the parlor--a dirty -little boy clad in dirty pink rompers. His face was smudgy--Roxanne -wanted to take him into her lap and wipe his nose; other parts in the -of his head needed attention, his tiny shoes were kicked out at the -toes. Unspeakable! - -"What a darling little boy!" exclaimed Roxanne, smiling radiantly. -"Come here to me." - -Mrs. Cromwell looked coldly at her son. - -"He will get dirty. Look at that face!" She held her head on one side -and regarded it critically. - -"Isn't he a _darling?_" repeated Roxanne. - -"Look at his rompers," frowned Mrs. Cromwell. - -"He needs a change, don't you, George?" - -George stared at her curiously. To his mind the word rompers -connotated a garment extraneously smeared, as this one. - -"I tried to make him look respectable this morning," complained Mrs. -Cromwell as one whose patience had been sorely tried, "and I found he -didn't have any more rompers--so rather than have him go round without -any I put him back in those--and his face--" - -"How many pairs has he?" Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious, "How -many feather fans have you?" she might have asked. - -"Oh,--" Mrs. Cromwell considered, wrinkling her pretty brow. "Five, I -think. Plenty, I know." - -"You can get them for fifty cents a pair." - -Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise--and the faintest superiority. -The price of rompers! - -"Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have plenty, but I haven't -had a minute all week to send the laundry out." Then, dismissing the -subject as irrelevant--"I must show you some things--" - -They rose and Roxanne followed her past an open bathroom door whose -garment-littered floor showed indeed that the laundry hadn't been sent -out for some time, into another room that was, so to speak, the -quintessence of pinkness. This was Mrs. Cromwell's room. - -Here the Hostess opened a closet door and displayed before' Roxanne's -eyes an amazing collection of lingerie. - -There were dozens of filmy marvels of lace and silk, all clean, -unruffled, seemingly not yet touched. On hangers beside them were -three new evening dresses. - -"I have some beautiful things," said Mrs. Cromwell, "but not much of a -chance to wear them. Harry doesn't care about going out." Spite crept -into her voice. "He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and -housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening." - -Roxanne smiled again. - -"You've got some beautiful clothes here." - -"Yes, I have. Let me show you----" - -"Beautiful," repeated Roxanne, interrupting, "but I'll have to run if -I'm going to catch my train." - -She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this -woman and shake her--shake her. She wanted her locked up somewhere and -set to scrubbing floors. - -"Beautiful," she repeated, "and I just came in for a moment." - -"Well, I'm sorry Harry isn't here." - -They moved toward the door. - -"--and, oh," said Roxanne with an effort--yet her voice was still -gentle and her lips were smiling--"I think it's Argile's where you can -get those rompers. Good-by." - -It was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to -Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six -months that her mind had been off Jeffrey. - - -IV - -A week later Harry appeared at Marlowe, arrived unexpectedly at five -o'clock, and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of -exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The -doctors were coming at five-thirty, bringing a celebrated nerve -specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed, -but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him. - -"What's the matter?" - -"Nothing, Roxanne," he denied. "I came to see how Jeff was doing. -Don't you bother about me." - -"Harry," insisted Roxanne, "there's something the matter." - -"Nothing," he repeated. "How's Jeff?" - -Anxiety darkened her face. - -"He's a little worse, Harry. Doctor Jewett has come on from New York. -They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try -and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original -blood clot." - -Harry rose. - -"Oh, I'm sorry," he said jerkily. "I didn't know you expected a -consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your -porch for an hour--" - -"Sit down," she commanded. - -Harry hesitated. - -"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped -him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet. -I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer." - -All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his -hands. - -"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried. -This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been getting my -breakfast down town--and--well, just after I went to the office she -left the house, went East to her mother's with George and a suitcase -full of lace underwear." - -"Harry!" - -"And I don't know--" - -There was a crunch on the gravel, a car turning into the drive. -Roxanne uttered a little cry. - -"It's Doctor Jewett." - -"Oh, I'll--" - -"You'll wait, won't you?" she interrupted abstractedly. He saw that -his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind. - -There was an embarrassing minute of vague, elided introductions and -then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the -stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa. - -For an hour he watched the sun creep up the patterned folds of the -chintz curtains. In the deep quiet a trapped wasp buzzing on the -inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From -time to time another buzzing drifted down from up-stairs, resembling -several more larger wasps caught on larger window-panes. He heard low -footfalls, the clink of bottles, the clamor of pouring water. - -What had he and Roxanne done that life should deal these crashing -blows to them? Up-stairs there was taking place a living inquest on -the soul of his friend; he was sitting here in a quiet room listening -to the plaint of a wasp, just as when he was a boy he had been -compelled by a strict aunt to sit hour-long on a chair and atone for -some misbehavior. But who had put him here? What ferocious aunt had -leaned out of the sky to make him atone for--what? - -About Kitty he felt a great hopelessness. She was too expensive--that -was the irremediable difficulty. Suddenly he hated her. He wanted to -throw her down and kick at her--to tell her she was a cheat and a -leech--that she was dirty. Moreover, she must give him his boy. - -He rose and began pacing up and down the room. Simultaneously he heard -some one begin walking along the hallway up-stairs in exact time with -him. He found himself wondering if they would walk in time until the -person reached the end of the hall. - -Kitty had gone to her mother. God help her, what a mother to go to! He -tried to imagine the meeting: the abused wife collapsing upon the -mother's breast. He could not. That Kitty was capable of any deep -grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as -something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of -course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider -this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped; a picture -flashed before him--of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he -could not see, of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was -surely: passion. - -"God!" he cried aloud. "God! God! God!" - -Then the pictures came thick and fast. The Kitty of this morning -faded; the soiled kimono rolled up and disappeared; the pouts, and -rages, and tears all were washed away. Again she was Kitty Carr--Kitty -Carr with yellow hair and great baby eyes. Ah, she had loved him, she -had loved him. - -After a while he perceived that something was amiss with him, -something that had nothing to do with Kitty or Jeff, something of a -different genre. Amazingly it burst on him at last; he was hungry. -Simple enough! He would go into the kitchen in a moment and ask the -colored cook for a sandwich. After that he must go back to the city. - -He paused at the wall, jerked at something round, and, fingering it -absently, put it to his mouth and tasted it as a baby tastes a bright -toy. His teeth closed on it--Ah! - -She'd left that damn kimono, that dirty pink kimono. She might have -had the decency to take it with her, he thought. It would hang in the -house like the corpse of their sick alliance. He would try to throw it -away, but he would never be able to bring himself to move it. It would -be like Kitty, soft and pliable, withal impervious. You couldn't move -Kitty; you couldn't reach Kitty. There was nothing there to reach. He -understood that perfectly--he had understood it all along. - -He reached to the wall for another biscuit and with an effort pulled -it out, nail and all. He carefully removed the nail from the centre, -wondering idly if he had eaten the nail with the first biscuit. -Preposterous! He would have remembered--it was a huge nail. He felt -his stomach. He must be very hungry. He considered--remembered--yesterday -he had had no dinner. It was the girl's day out and Kitty had -lain in her room eating chocolate drops. She had said she felt -"smothery" and couldn't bear having him near her. He had given -George a bath and put him to bed, and then lain down on the couch -intending to rest a minute before getting his own dinner. There -he had fallen asleep and awakened about eleven, to find that -there was nothing in the ice-box except a spoonful of potato salad. -This he had eaten, together with some chocolate drops that he found on -Kitty's bureau. This morning he had breakfasted hurriedly down town -before going to the office. But at noon, beginning to worry about -Kitty, he had decided to go home and take her out to lunch. After that -there had been the note on his pillow. The pile of lingerie in the -closet was gone--and she had left instructions for sending her trunk. - -He had never been so hungry, he thought. - -At five o'clock, when the visiting nurse tiptoed down-stairs, he was -sitting on the sofa staring at the carpet. - -"Mr. Cromwell?" - -"Yes?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Curtain won't be able to see you at dinner. She's not well -She told me to tell you that the cook will fix you something and that -there's a spare bedroom." - -"She's sick, you say?" - -"She's lying down in her room. The consultation is just over." - -"Did they--did they decide anything?" - -"Yes," said the nurse softly. "Doctor Jewett says there's no hope. Mr. -Curtain may live indefinitely, but he'll never see again or move again -or think. He'll just breathe." - -"Just breathe?" - -"Yes." - -For the first time the nurse noted that beside the writing-desk where -she remembered that she had seen a line of a dozen curious round -objects she had vaguely imagined to be some exotic form of decoration, -there was now only one. Where the others had been, there was now a -series of little nail-holes. - -Harry followed her glance dazedly and then rose to his feet. - -"I don't believe I'll stay. I believe there's a train." - -She nodded. Harry picked up his hat. - -"Good-by," she said pleasantly. - -"Good-by," he answered, as though talking to himself and, evidently -moved by some involuntary necessity, he paused on his way to the door -and she saw him pluck the last object from the wall and drop it into -his pocket. - -Then he opened the screen door and, descending the porch steps, passed -out of her sight. - - -V - -After a while the coat of clean white paint on the Jeffrey Curtain -house made a definite compromise with the suns of many Julys and -showed its good faith by turning gray. It scaled--huge peelings of -very brittle old paint leaned over backward like aged men practising -grotesque gymnastics and finally dropped to a moldy death in the -overgrown grass beneath. The paint on the front pillars became -streaky; the white ball was knocked off the left-hand door-post; the -green blinds darkened, then lost all pretense of color. - -It began to be a house that was avoided by the tender-minded--some -church bought a lot diagonally opposite for a graveyard, and this, -combined with "the place where Mrs. Curtain stays with that living -corpse," was enough to throw a ghostly aura over that quarter of the -road. Not that she was left alone. Men and women came to see her, met -her down town, where she went to do her marketing, brought her home in -their cars--and came in for a moment to talk and to rest, in the -glamour that still played in her smile. But men who did not know her -no longer followed her with admiring glances in the street; a -diaphanous veil had come down over her beauty, destroying its -vividness, yet bringing neither wrinkles nor fat. - -She acquired a character in the village--a group of little stories -were told of her: how when the country was frozen over one winter so -that no wagons nor automobiles could travel, she taught herself to -skate so that she could make quick time to the grocer and druggist, -and not leave Jeffrey alone for long. It was said that every night -since his paralysis she slept in a small bed beside his bed, holding -his hand. - -Jeffrey Curtain was spoken of as though he were already dead. As the -years dropped by those who had known him died or moved away--there -were but half a dozen of the old crowd who had drunk cocktails -together, called each other's wives by their first names, and thought -that Jeff was about the wittiest and most talented fellow that Marlowe -had ever known. How, to the casual visitor, he was merely the reason -that Mrs. Curtain excused herself sometimes and hurried upstairs; he -was a groan or a sharp cry borne to the silent parlor on the heavy air -of a Sunday afternoon. - -He could not move; he was stone blind, dumb and totally unconscious. -All day he lay in his bed, except for a shift to his wheel-chair every -morning while she straightened the room. His paralysis was creeping -slowly toward his heart. At first-for the first year--Roxanne had -received the faintest answering pressure sometimes when she held his -hand--then it had gone, ceased one evening and never come back, and -through two nights Roxanne lay wide-eyed, staring into the dark and -wondering what had gone, what fraction of his soul had taken flight, -what last grain of comprehension those shattered broken nerves still -carried to the brain. - -After that hope died. Had it not been for her unceasing care the last -spark would have gone long before. Every morning she shaved and bathed -him, shifted him with her own hands from bed to chair and back to bed. -She was in his room constantly, bearing medicine, straightening a -pillow, talking to him almost as one talks to a nearly human dog, -without hope of response or appreciation, but with the dim persuasion -of habit, a prayer when faith has gone. - -Not a few people, one celebrated nerve specialist among them, gave her -a plain impression that it was futile to exercise so much care, that -if Jeffrey had been conscious he would have wished to die, that if his -spirit were hovering in some wider air it would agree to no such -sacrifice from her, it would fret only for the prison of its body to -give it full release. - -"But you see," she replied, shaking her head gently, "when I married -Jeffrey it was--until I ceased to love him." - -"But," was protested, in effect, "you can't love that." - -"I can love what it once was. What else is there for me to do?" - -The specialist shrugged his shoulders and went away to say that Mrs. -Curtain was a remarkable woman and just about as sweet as an -angel--but, he added, it was a terrible pity. - -"There must be some man, or a dozen, just crazy to take care of -her...." - -Casually--there were. Here and there some one began in hope--and ended -in reverence. There was no love in the woman except, strangely enough, -for life, for the people in the world, from the tramp to whom she gave -food she could ill afford to the butcher who sold her a cheap cut of -steak across the meaty board. The other phase was sealed up somewhere -in that expressionless mummy who lay with his face turned ever toward -the light as mechanically as a compass needle and waited dumbly for -the last wave to wash over his heart. - -After eleven years he died in the middle of a May night, when the -scent of the syringa hung upon the window-sill and a breeze wafted in -the shrillings of the frogs and cicadas outside. Roxanne awoke at two, -and realized with a start she was alone in the house at last. - - -VI - -After that she sat on her weather-beaten porch through many -afternoons, gazing down across the fields that undulated in a slow -descent to the white and green town. She was wondering what she would -do with her life. She was thirty-six--handsome, strong, and free. The -years had eaten up Jeffrey's insurance; she had reluctantly parted -with the acres to right and left of her, and had even placed a small -mortgage on the house. - -With her husband's death had come a great physical restlessness. She -missed having to care for him in the morning, she missed her rush to -town, and the brief and therefore accentuated neighborly meetings in -the butcher's and grocer's; she missed the cooking for two, the -preparation of delicate liquid food for him. One day, consumed with -energy, she went out and spaded up the whole garden, a thing that had -not been done for years. - -And she was alone at night in the room that had seen the glory of her -marriage and then the pain. To meet Jeff again she went back in spirit -to that wonderful year, that intense, passionate absorption and -companionship, rather than looked forward to a problematical meeting -hereafter; she awoke often to lie and wish for that presence beside -her--inanimate yet breathing--still Jeff. - -One afternoon six months after his death she was sitting on the porch, -in a black dress which took away the faintest suggestion of plumpness -from her figure. It was Indian summer--golden brown all about her; a -hush broken by the sighing of leaves; westward a four o'clock sun -dripping streaks of red and yellow over a flaming sky. Most of the -birds had gone--only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the -cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent cheeping varied by -occasional fluttering sallies overhead. Roxanne moved her chair to -where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of -the afternoon. - -Harry Cromwell was coming out from Chicago to dinner. Since his -divorce over eight years before he had been a frequent visitor. They -had kept up what amounted to a tradition between them: when he arrived -they would go to look at Jeff; Harry would sit down on the edge of the -bed and in a hearty voice ask: - -"Well, Jeff, old man, how do you feel to-day?" - -Roxanne, standing beside, would look intently at Jeff, dreaming that -some shadowy recognition of this former friend had passed across that -broken mind--but the head, pale, carven, would only move slowly in its -sole gesture toward the light as if something behind the blind eyes -were groping for another light long since gone out. - -These visits stretched over eight years--at Easter, Christmas, -Thanksgiving, and on many a Sunday Harry had arrived, paid his call on -Jeff, and then talked for a long while with Roxanne on the porch. He -was devoted to her. He made no pretense of hiding, no attempt to -deepen, this relation. She was his best friend as the mass of flesh on -the bed there had been his best friend. She was peace, she was rest; -she was the past. Of his own tragedy she alone knew. - -He had been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he -worked had shifted him to the East and only a business trip had -brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written him to -come when he could--after a night in the city he had caught a train -out. - -They shook hands and he helped her move two rockers together. - -"How's George?" - -"He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school." - -"Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him." - -"Of course--" - -"You miss him horribly, Harry?" - -"Yes--I do miss him. He's a funny boy--" - -He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring -him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her -life--a child in dirty rompers. - -She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner--she had -four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She -put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they -continued their talk about George. - -"If I had a child--" she would say. - -Afterward, Harry having given her what slender advice he could about -investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to -recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court -had lain.... - -"Do you remember--" - -Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences: the day they had taken -all the snap-shots and Jeff had been photographed astride the calf; -and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne, lying sprawled in -the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a -covered lattice connecting the barn-studio with the house, so that -Jeff could get there on wet days--the lattice had been started, but -nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered -to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop. - -"And those mint juleps!" - -"And Jeff's note-book! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when -we'd get it out of his pocket and read aloud a page of material. And -how frantic he used to get?" - -"Wild! He was such a kid about his writing." - -They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said: - -"We were to have a place out here, too. Do you remember? We were to -buy the adjoining twenty acres. And the parties we were going to -have!" - -Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from -Roxanne. - -"Do you ever hear of her, Harry?" - -"Why--yes," he admitted placidly. "She's in Seattle. She's married -again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great deal -older than she is, I believe." - -"And she's behaving?" - -"Yes--that is, I've heard so. She has everything, you see. Nothing -much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time." - -"I see." - -Without effort he changed the subject. - -"Are you going to keep the house?" - -"I think so," she said, nodding. "I've lived here so long, Harry, it'd -seem terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course -that'd mean leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady." - -"Live in one?" - -"No. Keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady? -Anyway I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer -and two or three, if I can get them, in the winter. Of course I'll -have to have the house repainted and gone over inside." - -Harry considered. - -"Roxanne, why--naturally you know best what you can do, but it does -seem a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride." - -"Perhaps," she said, "that's why I don't mind remaining here as a -boarding-house lady." - -"I remember a certain batch of biscuits." - -"Oh, those biscuits," she cried. "Still, from all I heard about the -way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was _so_ -low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those -biscuits." - -"I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still in the library wall -where Jeff drove them." - -"Yes." - -It was getting very dark now, a crispness settled in the air; a little -gust of wind sent down a last spray of leaves. Roxanne shivered -slightly. - -"We'd better go in." - -He looked at his watch. - -"It's late. I've got to be leaving. I go East tomorrow." - -"Must you?" - -They lingered for a moment just below the stoop, watching a moon that -seemed full of snow float out of the distance where the lake lay. -Summer was gone and now Indian summer. The grass was cold and there -was no mist and no dew. After he left she would go in and light the -gas and close the shatters, and he would go down the path and on to -the village. To these two life had come quickly and gone, leaving not -bitterness, but pity; not disillusion, but only pain. There was -already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the -gathered kindness in the other's eyes. - - - - -MR. ICKY - -THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT - - -_The Scene is the Exterior of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a -desperately Arcadian afternoon in August._ MR. ICKY, _quaintly -dressed in the costume of an Elizabethan peasant, is pottering and -doddering among the pots and dods. He is an old man, well past the -prime of life, no longer young, From the fact that there is a burr in -his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrongside -out, we surmise that he is either above or below the ordinary -superficialities of life._ - -_Near him on the grass lies _PETER_, a little boy. -_PETER_, of course, has his chin on his palm like the pictures -of the young Sir Walter Raleigh. He has a complete set of features, -including serious, sombre, even funereal, gray eyes--and radiates that -alluring air of never having eaten food. This air can best be radiated -during the afterglow of a beef dinner. Be is looking at _MR. -ICKY_, fascinated._ - -_Silence. . . . The song of birds._ - -PETER: Often at night I sit at my window and regard the stars. -Sometimes I think they're my stars.... (_Gravely_) I think I -shall be a star some day.... - -ME. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) Yes, yes ... yes.... - -PETER: I know them all: Venus, Mars, Neptune, Gloria Swanson. - -MR. ICKY: I don't take no stock in astronomy.... I've been thinking o' -Lunnon, laddie. And calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for to -be a typewriter.... (_He sighs._) - -PETER: I liked Ulsa, Mr. Icky; she was so plump, so round, so buxom. - -MR. ICKY: Not worth the paper she was padded with, laddie. (_He -stumbles over a pile of pots and dods._) - -PETER: How is your asthma, Mr. Icky? - -MR. ICKY: Worse, thank God!...(_Gloomily.)_ I'm a hundred years -old... I'm getting brittle. - -PETER: I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty -arson. - -MR. ICKY: Yes... yes.... You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty I -reformed once--in prison. - -PETER: You went wrong again? - -MR. ICKY: Worse than that. The week before my term expired they -insisted on transferring to me the glands of a healthy young prisoner -they were executing. - -PETER: And it renovated you? - -MR. ICKY: Renovated me! It put the Old Nick back into me! This young -criminal was evidently a suburban burglar and a kleptomaniac. What was -a little playful arson in comparison! - -PETER: (_Awed_) How ghastly! Science is the bunk. - -MR. ICKY: (_Sighing_) I got him pretty well subdued now. 'Tisn't -every one who has to tire out two sets o' glands in his lifetime. I -wouldn't take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan -asylum. - -PETER: (_Considering_) I shouldn't think you'd object to a nice -quiet old clergyman's set. - -MR. ICKY: Clergymen haven't got glands--they have souls. - -(_There is a low, sonorous honking off stage to indicate that a -large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity. Then a young -man handsomely attired in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat -comes onto the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the -spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first -row of the balcony. This is_ RODNEY DIVINE.) - -DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky. - -(MR. ICKY _rises and stands tremulously between two dods._) - -MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon. - -DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her. - -(_He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel that hangs at -his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches -it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights._) - -DIVINE: I shall wait. - -(_He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an -occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among -themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks -by_ DIVINE _or a tumbling act, as desired._) - -DIVINE: It's very quiet here. - -MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet.... - -(_Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It -is _ULSA ICKY._ On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to -early Italian painting._) - -ULSA: (_In a coarse, worldly voice_) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did -what? - -MR. ICKY: (_Tremulously_) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (_They embrace -each other's torsos._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Hopefully_) You've come back to help with the -ploughing. - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) No, feyther; ploughing's such a beyther. I'd -reyther not. - -(_Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and -clean._) - -DIVINE: (_Conciliatingly_) See here, Ulsa. Let's come to an -understanding. - -(_He advances toward her with the graceful, even stride that made -him captain of the striding team at Cambridge._) - -ULSA: You still say it would be Jack? - -MR. ICKY: What does she mean? - -DIVINE: (_Kindly_) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It -couldn't be Frank. - -MR. ICKY: Frank who? - -ULSA: It _would_ be Frank! - -(_Some risque joke can be introduced here._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting... - -DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement -that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You'd better marry me. - -ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn't let me in through the -servants' entrance of your house. - -DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn't! Never fear--you shall come in -through the mistress' entrance. - -ULSA: Sir! - -DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean? - -MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little -Ulsa?... - -DIVINE: I do. - -MR. ICKY: Your record is clean. - -DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world-- - -ULSA: And the worst by-laws. - -DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to -Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force-- - -MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?... - -DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections -every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a -converted tank. I have seats at the opera-- - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can't sleep except in a box. And I've heard -that you were cashiered from your club. - -MR. ICKY: A cashier? ... - -DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered. - -ULSA: What for? - -DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo bails one day for a -joke. - -MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape? - -DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair. After all what is brilliance? Merely -the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is. - -ME. ICKY; Be careful. ... I will-not marry my daughter to an epigram.... - -DIVINE: (_More gloomily_) I assure you I'm a mere platitude. I -often descend to the level of an innate idea. - -ULSA: (_Dully_) None of what you're saying matters. I can't marry -a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would-- - -DIVINE: (_Interrupting_) Nonsense! - -ULSA: (_Emphatically_) You're a fool! - -MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! ... One should not judge ... Charity, my girl. What -was it Nero said?--"With malice toward none, with charity toward -all--" - -PETER: That wasn't Nero. That was John Drinkwater. - -MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack? - - -DIVINE: (_Morosely_) Gotch. - -ULSA: Dempsey. - -DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in -a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that -Jack Dempsey would take one-- - -ULSA: (_Angrily_) Rot! He wouldn't have a-- - -DIVINE: (_Quickly_) You win. - -ULSA: Then I love you again. - -MR. ICKY: So I'm going to lose my little daughter... - -ULSA: You've still got a houseful of children, - -(CHARLES, ULSA'S _brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed -as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an -anchor is hanging from his neck._) - -CHARLES: (_Not seeing them_) I'm going to sea! I'm going to sea! - -(_His voice is triumphant._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Sadly_) You went to seed long ago. - -CHARLES: I've been reading "Conrad." - -PETER: (_Dreamily_) "Conrad," ah! "Two Years Before the Mast," by -Henry James. - -CHARLES: What? - -PETER: Walter Pater's version of "Robinson Crusoe." - -CHARLES: (_To his feyther_) I can't stay here and rot with you. I -want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. - -MR. ICKY: I will be here... when you come back.... - -CHARLES: (_Contemptuously_) Why, the worms are licking their -chops already when they hear your name. - -(_It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for -some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a -spirited saxophone number._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Mournfully_) These vales, these hills, these -McCormick harvesters--they mean nothing to my children. I understand. - -CHARLES: (_More gently_) Then you'll think of me kindly, feyther. -To understand is to forgive. - -MR. ICKY: No...no....We never forgive those we can understand....We -can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all.... - -CHARLES: (_Impatiently_) I'm so beastly sick of your human nature -line. And, anyway, I hate the hours around here. - -(_Several dozen more of _MR. ICKY'S_ children trip out of the -house, trip over the grass, and trip over the pots and dods. They are -muttering "We are going away," and "We are leaving you."_) - -MR. ICKY: (_His heart breaking_) They're all deserting me. I've -been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of -a Bismarck. - -(_There is a honking outside--probably _DIVINE'S_ chauffeur -growing impatient for his master._) - -MR. ICKY: (_In misery_) They do not love the soil! They have been -faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (_He picks up a handful of -soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts._) Oh, -Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke! - - _"No motion has she now, no force; - She does not hear or feel; - Roll'd round on earth's diurnal course - In some one's Oldsmobile."_ - -(_They all groan and shouting "Life" and "Jazz" move slowly toward -the wings._) - -CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I've been trying to turn my back to -the soil for ten years! - -ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who -wants to be a backbone? - -ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce of my country if I can -eat the salad! - -ALL: Life! Psychic Research! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: (_Struggling with himself_) I must be quaint. That's -all there is. It's not life that counts, it's the quaintness you bring -to it.... - -ALL: We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for -Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at -random. One always finds something that bears on the situation. - -(_He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random -begins to read._) - -"Ahab and Istemo and Anim, Goson and Olon and Gilo, eleven cities and -their villages. Arab, and Ruma, and Esaau--" - -CHARLES: (_Cruelly_) Buy ten more rings and try again. - -MR. ICKY: (_Trying again_) "How beautiful art thou my love, how -beautiful art thou! Thy eyes are dove's eyes, besides what is hid -within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats which come up from Mount -Galaad--Hm! Rather a coarse passage...." - -(_His children laugh at him rudely, shouting "Jazz!" and "All life -is primarily suggestive!"_) - -MR. ICKY: (_Despondently_) It won't work to-day. -(_Hopefully_) Maybe it's damp. (_He feels it_) Yes, it's -damp.... There was water in the dod.... It won't work. - -ALL: It's damp! It won't work! Jazz! - -ONE OF THE CHILDREN: Come, we must catch the six-thirty. - -(_Any other cue may be inserted here._) - -MR. ICKY: Good-by.... - -(_ They all go out._ MR. ICKY _is left alone. He sighs and -walking over to the cottage steps, lies down, and closes his eyes._) - -_Twilight has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as -never was on land or sea. There is no sound except a sheep-herder's -wife in the distance playing an aria from Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, -on a mouth-organ. The great white and gray moths swoop down and light -on the old man until he is completely covered by them. But he does not -stir._ - -_The curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse of -several minutes. A good comedy effect can be obtained by having -_MR. ICKY_ cling to the curtain and go up and down with it. -Fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this -point._ - -_Then _PETER_ appears, a look of almost imbecile sweetness on -his face. In his hand he clutches something and from time to time -glances at it in a transport of ecstasy. After a struggle with himself -he lays it on the old man's body and then quietly withdraws._ - -_The moths chatter among themselves and then scurry away in sudden -fright. And as night deepens there still sparkles there, small, white -and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Issacshire breeze, -_PETER'S_ gift of love--a moth-ball._ - -(_The play can end at this point or can go on indefinitely._) - - - - -JEMINA, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL - -This don't pretend to be "Literature." This is just a tale for -red-blooded folks who want a _story_ and not just a lot of -"psychological" stuff or "analysis." Boy, you'll love it! Read it -here, see it in the movies, play it on the phonograph, run it through -the sewing-machine. - - -A WILD THING - -It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all -sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the -mountains. - -Jemima Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family -still. - -She was a typical mountain girl. - -Her feet were bare. Her hands, large and powerful, hung down below her -knees. Her face showed the ravages of work. Although but sixteen, she -had for over a dozen years been supporting her aged pappy and mappy by -brewing mountain whiskey. From time to time she would pause in her -task, and, filling a dipper full of the pure, invigorating liquid, -would drain it off--then pursue her work with renewed vigor. - -She would place the rye in the vat, thresh it out with her feet and, -in twenty minutes, the completed product would be turned out. - -A sudden cry made her pause in the act of draining a dipper and look -up. - -"Hello," said a voice. It came from a man clad in hunting boots -reaching to his neck, who had emerged. - -"Can you tell me the way to the Tantrums' cabin?" - -"Are you uns from the settlements down thar?" - -She pointed her hand down to the bottom of the hill, where Louisville -lay. She had never been there; but once, before she was born, her -great-grandfather, old Gore Tantrum, had gone into the settlements in -the company of two marshals, and had never come back. So the Tantrums -from generation to generation, had learned to dread civilization. - -The man was amused. He laughed a light tinkling laugh, the laugh of a -Philadelphian. Something in the ring of it thrilled her. She drank off -another dipper of whiskey. - -"Where is Mr. Tantrum, little girl?" he asked, not without kindness. - -She raised her foot and pointed her big toe toward the woods. "Thar in -the cabing behind those thar pines. Old Tantrum air my old man." - -The man from the settlements thanked her and strode off. He was fairly -vibrant with youth and personality. As he walked along he whistled and -sang and turned handsprings and flapjacks, breathing in the fresh, -cool air of the mountains. - -The air around the still was like wine. - -Jemina Tantrum watched him entranced. No one like him had ever come -into her life before. - -She sat down on the grass and counted her toes. She counted eleven. -She had learned arithmetic in the mountain school. - - -A MOUNTAIN FEUD - -Ten years before a lady from the settlements had opened a school on -the mountain. Jemina had no money, but she had paid her way in -whiskey, bringing a pailful to school every morning and leaving it on -Miss Lafarge's desk. Miss Lafarge had died of delirium tremens after a -year's teaching, and so Jemina's education had stopped. - -Across the still stream, still another still was standing; It was that -of the Doldrums. The Doldrums and the Tantrums never exchanged calls. - -They hated each other. - -Fifty years before old Jem Doldrum and old Jem Tantrum had quarrelled -in the Tantrum cabin over a game of slapjack. Jem Doldrum had thrown -the king of hearts in Jem Tantrum's face, and old Tantrum, enraged, -had felled the old Doldrum with the nine of diamonds. Other Doldrums -and Tantrums had joined in and the little cabin was soon filled with -flying cards. Harstrum Doldrum, one of the younger Doldrums, lay -stretched on the floor writhing in agony, the ace of hearts crammed -down his throat. Jem Tantrum, standing in the doorway; ran through -suit after suit, his face alight with fiendish hatred. Old Mappy -Tantrum stood on the table wetting down the Doldrums with hot whiskey. -Old Heck Doldrum, having finally run out of trumps, was backed out of -the cabin, striking left and right with his tobacco pouch, and -gathering around him the rest of his clan. Then they mounted their -steers and galloped furiously home. - -That night old man Doldrum and his sons, vowing vengeance, had -returned, put a ticktock on the Tantrum window, stuck a pin in the -doorbell, and beaten a retreat. - -A week later the Tantrums had put Cod Liver Oil in the Doldrums' -still, and so, from year to year, the feud had continued, first one -family being entirely wiped out, then the other. - - -THE BIRTH OF LOVE - -Every day little Jemina worked the still on her side of the stream, -and Boscoe Doldrum worked the still on his side. - -Sometimes, with automatic inherited hatred, the feudists would throw -whiskey at each other, and Jemina would come home smelling like a -French table d'hote. - -But now Jemina was too thoughtful to look across the stream. - -How wonderful the stranger had been and how oddly he was dressed! In -her innocent way she had never believed that there were any civilized -settlements at all, and she had put the belief in them down to the -credulity of the mountain people. - -She turned to go up to the cabin, and, as she turned something struck -her in the neck. It was a sponge, thrown by Boscoe Doldrum--a sponge -soaked in whiskey from his still on the other side of the stream. - -"Hi, thar, Boscoe Doldrum," she shouted in her deep bass voice. - -"Yo! Jemina Tantrum. Gosh ding yo'!" he returned. - -She continued her way to the cabin. - -The stranger was talking to her father. Gold had been discovered on -the Tantrum land, and the stranger, Edgar Edison, was trying to buy -the land for a song. He was considering what song to offer. - -She sat upon her hands and watched him. - -He was wonderful. When he talked his lips moved. - -She sat upon the stove and watched him. - -Suddenly there came a blood-curdling scream. The Tantrums rushed to -the windows. - -It was the Doldrums. - -They had hitched their steers to trees and concealed themselves behind -the bushes and flowers, and soon a perfect rattle of stones and bricks -beat against the windows, bending them inward. - -"Father! father!" shrieked Jemina. - -Her father took down his slingshot from his slingshot rack on the wall -and ran his hand lovingly over the elastic band. He stepped to a -loophole. Old Mappy Tantrum stepped to the coalhole. - - -A MOUNTAIN BATTLE - -The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at the Doldrums, he -tried to escape from the house by crawling up the chimney. Then he -thought there might be a door under the bead, but Jemina told him -there was not. He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each -time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no doors there. -Furious with anger, he beat upon the door and hollered at the -Doldrums. They did not answer him, but kept up their fusillade of -bricks and stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew that just -as soon as they were able to affect an aperture they would pour in and -the fight would be over. - -Then old Heck Doldrum, foaming at the mouth and expectorating on the -ground, left and right, led the attack. - -The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not been without their -effect. A master shot had disabled one Doldrum, and another Doldrum, -shot almost incessantly through the abdomen, fought feebly on. - -Nearer and nearer they approached the house. - -"We must fly," shouted the stranger to Jemina. "I will sacrifice -myself and bear you away." - -"No," shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed. "You stay here and fit -on. I will bar Jemina away. I will bar Mappy away. I will bar myself -away." - -The man from the settlements, pale and trembling with anger, turned to -Ham Tantrum, who stood at the door throwing loophole after loophole at -the advancing Doldrums. - -"Will you cover the retreat?" - -But Ham said that he too had Tantrums to bear away, but that he would -leave himself here to help the stranger cover the retreat, if he could -think of a way of doing it. - -Soon smoke began to filter through the floor and ceiling. Shem Doldrum -had come up and touched a match to old Japhet Tantrum's breath as he -leaned from a loophole, and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides. - -The whiskey in the bathtub caught fire. The walls began to fall in. - -Jemina and the man from the settlements looked at each other. - -"Jemina," he whispered. - -"Stranger," she answered, - -"We will die together," he said. "If we had lived I would have taken -you to the city and married you. With your ability to hold liquor, -your social success would have been assured." - -She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes softly to -herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left leg was on fire. - -She was a human alcohol lamp. - -Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall fell on them and -blotted them out. - -"As One." - -When the Doldrums burst through the ring of flame, they found them -dead where they had fallen, their arms about each other. - -Old Jem Doldrum was moved. - -He took off his hat. - -He filled it with whiskey and drank it off. - -"They air dead," he said slowly, "they hankered after each other. The -fit is over now. We must not part them." - -So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they -made were as one. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Jazz Age, by F. 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Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. 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: Tales of the Jazz Age - -Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald - -Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6695] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on January 14, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - - - - -Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team. This file was produced from images generously made -available by the Digital & Multimedia Center, Michigan State University -Libraries. - - - - - - -TALES FROM THE JAZZ AGE - - -BY - -F. SCOTT FITZGERALD - -1922 - - - - -A TABLE OF CONTENTS - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - -THE JELLY-BEAN - -This is a Southern story, with the scene laid in the small Lily of -Tarleton, Georgia. I have a profound affection for Tarleton, but -somehow whenever I write a story about it I receive letters from all -over the South denouncing me in no uncertain terms. "The Jelly-Bean," -published in "The Metropolitan," drew its full share of these -admonitory notes. - -It was written under strange circumstances shortly after my first -novel was published, and, moreover, it was the first story in which I -had a collaborator. For, finding that I was unable to manage the -crap-shooting episode, I turned it over to my wife, who, as a Southern -girl, was presumably an expert on the technique and terminology of -that great sectional pastime. - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - -I suppose that of all the stories I have ever written this one cost me -the least travail and perhaps gave me the most amusement. As to the -labor involved, it was written during one day in the city of New -Orleans, with the express purpose of buying a platinum and diamond -wrist watch which cost six hundred dollars. I began it at seven in the -morning and finished it at two o'clock the same night. It was -published in the "Saturday Evening Post" in 1920, and later included -in the O. Henry Memorial Collection for the same year. I like it least -of all the stories in this volume. - -My amusement was derived from the fact that the camel part of the -story is literally true; in fact, I have a standing engagement with -the gentleman involved to attend the next fancy-dress party to which -we are mutually invited, attired as the latter part of the camel--this -as a sort of atonement for being his historian. - - -MAY DAY. - -This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the "Smart -Set" in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the -spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great -impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general -hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my -story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a -pattern--a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New -York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the -younger generation. - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK. - -"And do you write for any other magazines?" inquired the young lady. - -"Oh, yes," I assured her. "I've had some stories and plays in the -'Smart Set,' for instance------" - -The young lady shivered. - -"The 'Smart Set'!" she exclaimed. "How can you? Why, they publish -stuff about girls in blue bathtubs, and silly things like that" - -And I had the magnificent joy of telling her that she was referring to -"Porcelain and Pink," which had appeared there several months before. - - -FANTASIES - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ. - -These next stories are written in what, were I of imposing stature, I -should call my "second manner." "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," -which appeared last summer in the "Smart Set," was designed utterly -for my own amusement. I was in that familiar mood characterized by a -perfect craving for luxury, and the story began as an attempt to feed -that craving on imaginary foods. - -One well-known critic has been pleased to like this extravaganza -better than anything I have written. Personally I prefer "The Offshore -Pirate." But, to tamper slightly with Lincoln: If you like this sort -of thing, this, possibly, is the sort of thing you'll like. - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. - -This story was inspired by a remark of Mark Twain's to the effect that -it was a pity that the best part of life came at the beginning and the -worst part at the end. By trying the experiment upon only one man in a -perfectly normal world I have scarcely given his idea a fair trial. -Several weeks after completing it, I discovered an almost identical -plot in Samuel Butler's "Note-books." - -The story was published in "Collier's" last summer and provoked this -startling letter from an anonymous admirer in Cincinnati: - -"Sir-- - -I have read the story Benjamin Button in Colliers and I wish to say -that as a short story writer you would make a good lunatic I have seen -many peices of cheese in my life but of all the peices of cheese I -have ever seen you are the biggest peice. I hate to waste a peice of -stationary on you but I will." - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE. - -Written almost six years ago, this story is a product of undergraduate -days at Princeton. Considerably revised, it was published in the -"Smart Set" in 1921. At the time of its conception I had but one -idea--to be a poet--and the fact that I was interested in the ring of -every phrase, that I dreaded the obvious in prose if not in plot, -shows throughout. Probably the peculiar affection I feel for it -depends more upon its age than upon any intrinsic merit. - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - -When this was written I had just completed the first draft of my -second novel, and a natural reaction made me revel in a story wherein -none of the characters need be taken seriously. And I'm afraid that I -was somewhat carried away by the feeling that there was no ordered -scheme to which I must conform. After due consideration, however, I -have decided to let it stand as it is, although the reader may find -himself somewhat puzzled at the time element. I had best say that -however the years may have dealt with Merlin Grainger, I myself was -thinking always in the present. It was published in the -"Metropolitan." - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS. - -Of this story I can say that it came to me in an irresistible form, -crying to be written. It will be accused perhaps of being a mere piece -of sentimentality, but, as I saw it, it was a great deal more. If, -therefore, it lacks the ring of sincerity, or even, of tragedy, the -fault rests not with the theme but with my handling of it. - -It appeared in the "Chicago Tribune," and later obtained, I believe, -the quadruple gold laurel leaf or some such encomium from one of the -anthologists who at present swarm among us. The gentleman I refer to -runs as a rule to stark melodramas with a volcano or the ghost of John -Paul Jones in the role of Nemesis, melodramas carefully disguised by -early paragraphs in Jamesian manner which hint dark and subtle -complexities to follow. On this order: - -"The case of Shaw McPhee, curiously enough, had no hearing on the -almost incredible attitude of Martin Sulo. This is parenthetical and, -to at least three observers, whose names for the present I must -conceal, it seems improbable, etc., etc., etc.," until the poor rat of -fiction is at last forced out into the open and the melodrama begins. - - -MR. ICKY - -This has the distinction of being the only magazine piece ever written -in a New York hotel. The business was done in a bedroom in the -Knickerbocker, and shortly afterward that memorable hostelry closed -its doors forever. - -When a fitting period of mourning had elapsed it was published in the -"Smart Set." - - -JEMINA. - -Written, like "Tarquin of Cheapside," while I was at Princeton, this -sketch was published years later in "Vanity Fair." For its technique I -must apologize to Mr. Stephen Leacock. - -I have laughed over it a great deal, especially when I first wrote it, -but I can laugh over it no longer. Still, as other people tell me it -is amusing, I include it here. It seems to me worth preserving a few -years--at least until the ennui of changing fashions suppresses me, my -books, and it together. - -With due apologies for this impossible Table of Contents, I tender -these tales of the Jazz Age into the hands of those who read as they -run and run as they read. - - - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - - -THE JELLY-BEAN. - - -Jim Powell was a Jelly-bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing -character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that -point. He was a bred-in-the-bone, dyed-in-the-wool, ninety-nine -three-quarters per cent Jelly-bean and he grew lazily all during -Jelly-bean season, which is every season, down in the land of the -Jelly-beans well below the Mason-Dixon line. - -Now if you call a Memphis man a Jelly-bean he will quite possibly pull -a long sinewy rope from his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient -telegraph-pole. If you Call a New Orleans man a Jelly-bean he will -probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras -ball. The particular Jelly-bean patch which produced the protagonist -of this history lies somewhere between the two--a little city of forty -thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern -Georgia occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something -about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone -else has forgotten long ago. - -Jim was a Jelly-bean. I write that again because it has such a -pleasant sound--rather like the beginning of a fairy story--as if Jim -were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of him with a round, -appetizing face and all sort of leaves and vegetables growing out of -his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from stooping -over pool-tables, and he was what might have been known in the -indiscriminating North as a corner loafer. "Jelly-bean" is the name -throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life -conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular--I am -idling, I have idled, I will idle. - -Jim was born in a white house on a green corner, It had four -weather-beaten pillars in front and a great amount of lattice-work in -the rear that made a cheerful criss-cross background for a flowery -sun-drenched lawn. Originally the dwellers in the white house had -owned the ground next door and next door to that and next door to -that, but this had been so long ago that even Jim's father, scarcely -remembered it. He had, in fact, thought it a matter of so little -moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he -neglected even to tell little Jim, who was five years old and -miserably frightened. The white house became a boarding-house run by a -tight-lipped lady from Macon, whom Jim called Aunt Mamie and detested -with all his soul. - -He became fifteen, went to high school, wore his hair in black snarls, -and was afraid of girls. He hated his home where four women and one -old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about -what lots the Powell place had originally included and what sorts of -flowers would be out next. Sometimes the parents of little girls in -town, remembering Jim's. mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark -eyes and hair, invited him to parties, but parties made him shy and he -much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in Tilly's Garage, -rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. -For pocket money, he picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that -he stopped going to parties. At his third party little Marjorie Haight -had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a -boy who brought the groceries sometimes. So instead of the two-step -and polka, Jim had learned to throw, any number he desired on the dice -and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred -in the surrounding country during the past fifty years. - -He became eighteen. The war broke out and he enlisted as a gob and -polished brass in the Charleston Navy-yard for a year. Then, by way of -variety, he went North and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navy-yard -for a year. - -When the war was over he came home, He was twenty-one, has trousers -were too short and too tight. His buttoned shoes were long and narrow. -His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink marvellously -scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very -good old cloth, long exposed to the sun. - -In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down -along the cottonfields and over the sultry town, he was a vague figure -leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim -above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently -on a problem that had held his attention for an. The Jelly-bean had -been invited to a party. - -Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark -Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in school. But, while Jim's social -aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had -alternately fallen in and out of love, gone to college, taken to -drink, given it up, and, in short, become one of the best beaux of the -town. Nevertheless Clark and Jim had retained a friendship that, -though casual, was perfectly definite. That afternoon Clark's ancient -Ford had slowed up beside Jim, who was on the sidewalk and, out of a -clear sky, Clark invited him to a party at the country club. The -impulse that made him do this was no stranger than the impulse which -made Jim accept. The latter was probably an unconscious ennui, a -half-frightened sense of adventure. And now Jim was soberly thinking -it over. - -He began to sing, drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the -sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in time to the low throaty tune: - - "One smile from Home in Jelly-bean town, - Lives Jeanne, the Jelly-bean Queen. - She loves her dice and treats 'em nice; - No dice would treat her mean." - -He broke off and agitated the sidewalk to a bumpy gallop. - -"Daggone!" he muttered, half aloud. They would all be there--the old -crowd, the crowd to which, by right of the white house, sold long -since, and the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantel, Jim -should have belonged. But that crowd had grown up together into a -tight little set as gradually as the girls' dresses had lengthened -inch by inch, as definitely as the boys' trousers had dropped suddenly -to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppy -loves Jim was an outsider--a running mate of poor whites. Most of the -men knew him, condescendingly; he tipped his hat to three or four -girls. That was all. - -When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he -walked through the hot, pleasantly pungent town to Jackson Street. The -stores were closing and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as -if borne on the dreamy revolution of a slow merry-go-round. A -street-fair farther down a brilliant alley of varicolored booths and -contributed a blend of music to the night--an oriental dance on a -calliope, a melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful -rendition of "Back Home in Tennessee" on a hand-organ. - -The Jelly-bean stopped in a store and bought a collar. Then he -sauntered along toward Soda Sam's, where he found the usual three or -four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies -running back and forth with sundaes and lemonades. - -"Hello, Jim." - -It was a voice at his elbow--Joe Ewing sitting in an automobile with -Marylyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a strange man were in the back seat. - -The Jelly-bean tipped his hat quickly. - -"Hi Ben--" then, after an almost imperceptible pause--"How y' all?" - -Passing, he ambled on toward the garage where he had a room up-stairs. -His "How y'all" had been said to Nancy Lamar, to whom he had not -spoken in fifteen years. - -Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and -blue-black hair inherited from her mother who had been born in -Budapest. Jim passed her often on the street, walking small-boy -fashion with her hands in her pockets and he knew that with her -inseparable Sally Carrol Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts -from Atlanta to New Orleans. - -For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed -and as he reached his door began to sing softly to himself: - - "Her Jelly Roll can twist your soul, - Her eyes are big and brown, - She's the Queen of the Queens of the Jelly-beans-- - My Jeanne of Jelly-bean Town." - - -II - -At nine-thirty, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started -for the Country Club in Clark's Ford. "Jim," asked Clark casually, as -they rattled through the jasmine-scented night, "how do you keep -alive?" - -The Jelly-bean paused, considered. - -"Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him -some with the cars in the afternoon an' he gives it to me free. -Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a little thataway. I -get fed up doin' that regular though." - -"That all?" - -"Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the day--Saturdays -usually--and then there's one main source of revenue I don't generally -mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'm about the champion crap-shooter -of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now because once I get the -feel of a pair of dice they just roll for me." - -Clark grinned appreciatively, - -"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish -you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar some day and take all her money away from -her. She will roll 'em with the boys and she loses more than her daddy -can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last -month to pay a debt." - -The Jelly-bean was noncommittal. - -"The white house on Elm Street still belong to you?" - -Jim shook his head. - -"Sold. Got a pretty good price, seein' it wasn't in a good part of -town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into Liberty bonds. But Aunt -Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to -keep her up at Great Farms Sanitarium. - -"Hm." - -"I got an old uncle up-state an' I reckin I kin go up there if ever I -get sure enough pore. Nice farm, but not enough niggers around to work -it. He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take -much to it. Too doggone lonesome--" He broke off suddenly. "Clark, I -want to tell you I'm much obliged to you for askin' me out, but I'd be -a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here an' let me walk -back into town." - -"Shucks!" Clark grunted. "Do you good to step out. You don't have to -dance--just get out there on the floor and shake." - -"Hold on," exclaimed. Jim uneasily, "Don't you go leadin' me up to any -girls and leavin' me there so I'll have to dance with 'em." - -Clark laughed. - -"'Cause," continued Jim desperately, "without you swear you won't do -that I'm agoin' to get out right here an' my good legs goin' carry me -back to Jackson street." - -They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was -to view the spectacle from a secluded settee in the corner where Clark -would join him whenever he wasn't dancing. - -So ten o'clock found the Jelly-bean with his legs crossed and his arms -conservatively folded, trying to look casually at home and politely -uninterested in the dancers. At heart he was torn between overwhelming -self-consciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on -around him. He saw the girls emerge one by one from the dressing-room, -stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over -their powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance -around to take in the room and, simultaneously, the room's reaction to -their entrance--and then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in -the sober arms of their waiting escorts. Sally Carrol Hopper, blonde -and lazy-eyed, appeared clad in her favorite pink and blinking like an -awakened rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the -girls he had seen loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled -and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights, were -miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and -gold, fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried. - -He had been there half an hour, totally uncheered by Clark's jovial -visits which were each one accompanied by a "Hello, old boy, how you -making out?" and a slap at his knee. A dozen males had spoken to him -or stopped for a moment beside him, but he knew that they were each -one surprised at finding him there and fancied that one or two were -even slightly resentful. But at half past ten his embarrassment -suddenly left him and a pull of breathless interest took him -completely out of himself--Nancy Lamar had come out of the -dressing-room. - -She was dressed in yellow organdie, a costume of a hundred cool -corners, with three tiers of ruffles and a big bow in back until she -shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent lustre. -The Jelly-bean's eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat. For -she stood beside the door until her partner hurried up. Jim recognized -him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that -afternoon. He saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low -voice, and laugh. The man laughed too and Jim experienced the quick -pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the -pair, a shaft of beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment -since. The Jelly-bean felt suddenly like a weed in a shadow. - -A minute later Clark approached him, bright-eyed and glowing. - -"Hi, old man" he cried with some lack of originality. "How you making -out?" - -Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected. - -"You come along with me," commanded Clark. "I've got something that'll -put an edge on the evening." - -Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the -locker-room where Clark produced a flask of nameless yellow liquid. - -"Good old corn." - -Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as "good old corn" -needed some disguise beyond seltzer. - -"Say, boy," exclaimed Clark breathlessly, "doesn't Nancy Lamar look -beautiful?" - -Jim nodded. - -"Mighty beautiful," he agreed. - -"She's all dolled up to a fare-you-well to-night," continued Clark. -"Notice that fellow she's with?" - -"Big fella? White pants?" - -"Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes -the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her. Been chasing, -after her all year. - -"She's a wild baby," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does -everybody. But she sure does do crazy stunts. She usually gets out -alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or -another she's done." - -"That so?" Jim passed over his glass. "That's good corn." - -"Not so bad. Oh, she's a wild one. Shoot craps, say, boy! And she do -like her high-balls. Promised I'd give her one later on." - -"She in love with this--Merritt?" - -"Damned if I know. Seems like all the best girls around here marry -fellas and go off somewhere." - -He poured himself one more drink and carefully corked the bottle. - -"Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just -stick this corn right on your hip as long as you're not dancing. If a -man notices I've had a drink he'll come up and ask me and before I -know it it's all gone and somebody else is having my good time." - -So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become -the private property of an individual in white trousers--and all -because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his -neighbor. As they descended the stairs Jim found the idea inexplicably -depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a vague and -romantic yearning. A picture of her began to form in his -imagination--Nancy walking boylike and debonnaire along the street, -taking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruit-dealer, charging a -dope on a mythical account, at Soda Sam's, assembling a convoy of -beaux and then driving off in triumphal state for an afternoon of -splashing and singing. - -The Jelly-bean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark -between the moon on the lawn and the single lighted door of the -ballroom. There he found a chair and, lighting a cigarette, drifted -into the thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a -reverie made sensuous by the night and by the hot smell of damp powder -puffs, tucked in the fronts of low dresses and distilling a thousand -rich scents, to float out through the open door. The music itself, -blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a languorous -overtone to the scraping of many shoes and slippers. - -Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was -obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come out of the dressing-room -and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a -low-breathed "doggone" and then she turned and saw him. It was Nancy -Lamar. - -Jim rose to his feet. - -"Howdy?" - -"Hello--" she paused, hesitated and then approached. "Oh, it's--Jim -Powell." - -He bowed slightly, tried to think of a casual remark. - -"Do you suppose," she began quickly, "I mean--do you know anything -about gum?" - -"What?" "I've got gum on my shoe. Some utter ass left his or her gum -on the floor and of course I stepped in it." - -Jim blushed, inappropriately. - -"Do you know how to get it off?" she demanded petulantly. "I've tried -a knife. I've tried every damn thing in the dressing-room. I've tried -soap and water--and even perfume and I've ruined my powder-puff trying -to make it stick to that." - -Jim considered the question in some agitation. - -"Why--I think maybe gasolene--" - -The words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and -pulled him at a run off the low veranda, over a flower bed and at a -gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first -hole of the golf course. - -"Turn on the gasolene," she commanded breathlessly. - -"What?" - -"For the gum of course. I've got to get it off. I can't dance with gum -on." - -Obediently Jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a -view to obtaining the desired solvent. Had she demanded a cylinder he -would have done his best to wrench one out. - -"Here," he said after a moment's search. "'Here's one that's easy. Got -a handkerchief?" - -"It's up-stairs wet. I used it for the soap and water." - -Jim laboriously explored his pockets. - -"Don't believe I got one either." - -"Doggone it! Well, we can turn it on and let it run on the ground." - -He turned the spout; a dripping began. - -"More!" - -He turned it on fuller. The dripping became a flow and formed an oily -pool that glistened brightly, reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on -its quivering bosom. - -"Ah," she sighed contentedly, "let it all out. The only thing to do is -to wade in it." - -In desperation he turned on the tap full and the pool suddenly widened -sending tiny rivers and trickles in all directions. - -"That's fine. That's something like." - -Raising her skirts she stepped gracefully in. - -"I know this'll take it off," she murmured. - -Jim smiled. - -"There's lots more cars." - -She stepped daintily out of the gasolene and began scraping her -slippers, side and bottom, on the running-board of the automobile. The -jelly-bean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive -laughter and after a second she joined in. - -"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" she asked as they walked -back toward the veranda. - -"Yes." - -"You know where he is now?" - -"Out dancin', I reckin." - -"The deuce. He promised me a highball." - -"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right -here in my pocket." - -She smiled at him radiantly. - -"I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale though," he added. - -"Not me. Just the bottle." - -"Sure enough?" - -She laughed scornfully. - -"Try me. I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down." - -She perched herself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of -the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork she held the flask -to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated. - -"Like it?" - -She shook her head breathlessly. - -"No, but I like the way it makes me feel. I think most people are that -way." - -Jim agreed. - -"My daddy liked it too well. It got him." - -"American men," said Nancy gravely, "don't know how to drink." - -"What?" Jim was startled. - -"In fact," she went on carelessly, "they don't know how to do anything -very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in -England." - -"In England?" - -"Yes. It's the one regret of my life that I wasn't." - -"Do you like it over there?" "Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in -person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the -army, Oxford and Cambridge men--you know, that's like Sewanee and -University of Georgia are here--and of course I've read a lot of -English novels." - -Jim was interested, amazed. - -"D' you ever hear of Lady Diana Manner?" she asked earnestly. - -No, Jim had not. - -"Well, she's what I'd like to be. Dark, you know, like me, and wild as -sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral -or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it -afterwards." - -Jim nodded politely. He was out of his depths. - -"Pass the bottle," suggested Nancy. "I'm going to take another little -one. A little drink wouldn't hurt a baby. - -"You see," she continued, again breathless after a draught. "People -over there have style, Nobody has style here. I mean the boys here -aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. -Don't you know?" - -"I suppose so--I mean I suppose not," murmured Jim. - -"And I'd like to do 'em an' all. I'm really the only girl in town that -has style." - -She stretched, out her arms and yawned pleasantly. - -"Pretty evening." - -"Sure is," agreed Jim. - -"Like to have boat" she suggested dreamily. "Like to sail out on a -silver lake, say the Thames, for instance. Have champagne and caviare -sandwiches along. Have about eight people. And one of the men would -jump overboard to amuse the party, and get drowned like a man did with -Lady Diana Manners once." - -"Did he do it to please her?" "Didn't mean drown himself to please -her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh," - -"I reckin they just died laughin' when he drowned." - -"Oh, I suppose they laughed a little," she admitted. "I imagine she -did, anyway. She's pretty hard, I guess--like I am." - -"You hard?" - -"Like nails." She yawned again and added, "Give me a little more from -that bottle." - -Jim hesitated but she held out her hand defiantly, "Don't treat me -like a girl;" she warned him. "I'm not like any girl _you_ ever -saw," She considered. "Still, perhaps you're right. You got--you got -old head on young shoulders." - -She jumped to her feet and moved toward the door. The Jelly-bean rose -also. - -"Good-bye," she said politely, "good-bye. Thanks, Jelly-bean." - -Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch. - - - -III - -At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the -women's dressing-room and, each one pairing with a coated beau like -dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with -sleepy happy laughter--through the door into the dark where autos -backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered -around the water-cooler. - -Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at -eleven; then Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered -into the soft-drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was -deserted except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two -boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was -about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark -looked up. - -"Hi, Jim" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I -guess there's not much left, but there's one all around." - -Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling -and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim's eye and winked at him -humorously. - -They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited -for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned -his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the -two boys at the next table. - -"Bring them over here," suggested Clark. - -Joe looked around. - -"We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules. - -"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up -and down, like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out -of his car." - -There was a general laugh. - -"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park -when she's around." - -"O Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you!" - -Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't -seen his silly little flivver in two weeks." - -Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of -uncertain age standing in the doorway. - -Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment. - -"Won't you join us Mr. Taylor?" - -"Thanks." - -Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I -guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got -funny with my car." - -His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim -wondered what he had heard from the doorway--tried to remember what -had been said. - -"I'm right to-night," Nancy sang out, "and my four bits is in the -ring." - -"Faded!" snapped Taylor suddenly. - -"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed -to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They -had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely -discouraged a series of rather pointed advances. - -"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." -Nancy was _cooing_ to the dice. She rattled them with a brave -underhand flourish, and rolled them out on the table. - -"Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up." - -Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it -personal, and after each success Jim watched triumph flutter across -her face. She was doubling with each throw--such luck could scarcely -last. "Better go easy," he cautioned her timidly. - -"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and -she called her number. - -"Little Ada, this time we're going South." - -Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and -half-hysterical, but her luck was holding. - -She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming -with his fingers on the table but he was in to stay. - -Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them -avidly. He shot in silence, and in the hush of excitement the clatter -of one pass after another on the table was the only sound. - -Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour passed. -Back and forth it went. Taylor had been at it again--and again and -again. They were even at last--Nancy lost her ultimate five dollars. - -"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll -shoot it all?" Her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as -she reached to the money. - -Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing. Taylor -shot again. He had Nancy's check. - -"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll do--money -everywhere as a matter of fact." - -Jim understood---the "good old corn" he had given her--the "good old -corn" she had taken since. He wished he dared interfere--a girl of -that age and position would hardly have two bank accounts. When the -clock struck two he contained himself no longer. - -"May I--can't you let me roll 'em for you?" he suggested, his low, -lazy voice a little strained. - -Suddenly sleepy and listless, Nancy flung the dice down before him. - -"All right--old boy! As Lady Diana Manners says, 'Shoot 'em, -Jelly-bean'--My luck's gone." - -"Mr. Taylor," said Jim, carelessly, "we'll shoot for one of those -there checks against the cash." - -Half an hour later Nancy swayed forward and clapped him on the back. - -"Stole my luck, you did." She was nodding her head sagely. - -Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them -into confetti and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing -and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "Ladies--that's you Marylyn. I -want to tell the world that Mr. Jim Powell, who is a well-known -Jelly-bean of this city, is an exception to the great rule--'lucky in -dice--unlucky in love.' He's lucky in dice, and as matter of fact I--I -_love_ him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, famous dark-haired -beauty often featured in the _Herald_ as one the most popular -members of younger set as other girls are often featured in this -particular case; Wish to announce--wish to announce, anyway, -Gentlemen--" She tipped suddenly. Clark caught her and restored her -balance. - -"My error," she laughed, "she--stoops to--stoops to--anyways--We'll -drink to Jelly-bean ... Mr. Jim Powell, King of the Jelly-beans." - -And a few minutes later as Jim waited hat in hand for Clark in the -darkness of that same corner of the porch where she had come searching -for gasolene, she appeared suddenly beside him. - -"Jelly-bean," she said, "are you here, Jelly-bean? I think--" and her -slight unsteadiness seemed part of an enchanted dream--"I think you -deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jelly-bean." - -For an instant her arms were around his neck--her lips were pressed to -his. - -"I'm a wild part of the world, Jelly-bean, but you did me a good -turn." - -Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricket-loud lawn. Jim saw -Merritt come out the front door and say something to her angrily--saw -her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. -Marylyn and Joe followed, singing a drowsy song about a Jazz baby. - -Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "All pretty lit, I guess," -he yawned. "Merritt's in a mean mood. He's certainly off Nancy." - -Over east along the golf course a faint rug of gray spread itself -across the feet of the night. The party in the car began to chant a -chorus as the engine warmed up. - -"Good-night everybody," called Clark. - -"Good-night, Clark." - -"Good-night." - -There was a pause, and then a soft, happy voice added, - -"Good-night, Jelly-bean." - -The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across -the way took up a solitary mournful crow, and behind them, a last -negro waiter turned out the porch light, Jim and Clark strolled over -toward the Ford, their, shoes crunching raucously on the gravel drive. - -"Oh boy!" sighed Clark softly, "how you can set those dice!" - -It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin -cheeks--or to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar shame. - - - -IV - -Over Tilly's garage a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and -snorting down-stairs and the singing of the negro washers as they -turned the hose on the cars outside. It was a cheerless square of a -room, punctuated with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a -dozen books--Joe Miller's "Slow Train thru Arkansas," "Lucille," in an -old edition very much annotated in an old-fashioned hand; "The Eyes of -the World," by Harold Bell Wright, and an ancient prayer-book of the -Church of England with the name Alice Powell and the date 1831 written -on the fly-leaf. - -The East, gray when Jelly-bean entered the garage, became a rich and -vivid blue as he turned on his solitary electric light. He snapped it -out again, and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and -stared into the deepening morning. With the awakening of his emotions, -his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter -grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging -him in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare -room. And with his perception of this wall all that had been the -romance of his existence, the casualness, the light-hearted -improvidence, the miraculous open-handedness of life faded out. The -Jelly-bean strolling up Jackson Street humming a lazy song, known at -every shop and street stand, cropful of easy greeting and local wit, -sad sometimes for only the sake of sadness and the flight of -time--that Jelly-bean was suddenly vanished. The very name was a -reproach, a triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt -must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn would have -awakened not jealousy but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering -herself. And on his part the Jelly-bean had used for her a dingy -subterfuge learned from the garage. He had been her moral laundry; the -stains were his. - -As the gray became blue, brightened and filled the room, he crossed to -his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely. - -"I love her," he cried aloud, "God!" - -As he said this something gave way within him like a lump melting in -his throat. The air cleared and became radiant with dawn, and turning -over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow. - -In the sunshine of three o'clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along -Jackson Street was hailed by the Jelly-bean, who stood on the curb -with his fingers in his vest pockets. - -"Hi!" called Clark, bringing his Ford to an astonishing stop -alongside. "Just get up?" - -The Jelly-bean shook his head. - -"Never did go to bed. Felt sorta restless, so I took a long walk this -morning out in the country. Just got into town this minute." - -"Should think you _would_ feel restless. I been feeling thataway -all day--" - -"I'm thinkin' of leavin' town" continued the Jelly-bean, absorbed by -his own thoughts. "Been thinkin' of goin' up on the farm, and takin' a -little that work off Uncle Dun. Reckin I been bummin' too long." - -Clark was silent and the Jelly-bean continued: - -"I reckin maybe after Aunt Mamie dies I could sink that money of mine -in the farm and make somethin' out of it. All my people originally -came from that part up there. Had a big place." - -Clark looked at him curiously. - -"That's funny," he said. "This--this sort of affected me the same -way." - -The Jelly-bean hesitated. - -"I don't know," he began slowly, "somethin' about--about that girl -last night talkin' about a lady named Diana Manners--an English lady, -sorta got me thinkin'!" He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark, -"I had a family once," he said defiantly. - -Clark nodded. - -"I know." - -"And I'm the last of 'em," continued the Jelly-bean his voice rising -slightly, "and I ain't worth shucks. Name they call me by means -jelly--weak and wobbly like. People who weren't nothin' when my folks -was a lot turn up their noses when they pass me on the street." - -Again Clark was silent. - -"So I'm through, I'm goin' to-day. And when I come back to this town -it's going to be like a gentleman." - -Clark took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp brow. - -"Reckon you're not the only one it shook up," he admitted gloomily. -"All this thing of girls going round like they do is going to stop -right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it thataway." - -"Do you mean," demanded Jim in surprise, "that all that's leaked out?" - -"Leaked out? How on earth could they keep it secret. It'll be -announced in the papers to-night. Doctor Lamar's got to save his name -somehow." - -Jim put his hands on the sides of the car and tightened his long -fingers on the metal. - -"Do you mean Taylor investigated those checks?" - -It was Clark's turn to be surprised. - -"Haven't you heard what happened?" - -Jim's startled eyes were answer enough. - -"Why," announced Clark dramatically, "those four got another bottle of -corn, got tight and decided to shock the town--so Nancy and that fella -Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning." - -A tiny indentation appeared in the metal under the Jelly-bean's -fingers. - -"Married?" - -"Sure enough. Nancy sobered up and rushed back into town, crying and -frightened to death--claimed it'd all been a mistake. First Doctor -Lamar went wild and was going to kill Merritt, but finally they got it -patched up some way, and Nancy and Merritt went to Savannah on the -two-thirty train." - -Jim closed his eyes and with an effort overcame a sudden sickness. - -"It's too bad," said Clark philosophically. "I don't mean the -wedding--reckon that's all right, though I don't guess Nancy cared a -darn about him. But it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her -family that way." - -The Jelly-bean let go the car and turned away. Again something was -going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change. - -"Where you going?" asked Clark. - -The Jelly-bean turned and looked dully back over his shoulder. - -"Got to go," he muttered. "Been up too long; feelin' right sick." - -"Oh." - - * * * * * - -The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust -seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth again as a world-old joke -forever played on an eternity of afternoons. But at half past four a -first layer of quiet fell and the shades lengthened under the awnings -and heavy foliaged trees. In this heat nothing mattered. All life was -weather, a waiting through the hot where events had no significance -for the cool that was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a -tired forehead. Down in Georgia there is a feeling--perhaps -inarticulate--that this is the greatest wisdom of the South--so after -a while the Jelly-bean turned into a poolhall on Jackson Street where -he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old -jokes--the ones he knew. - - - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - - -The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above -title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup -and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything, -to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story Is the -exception. It has to do with a material, visible and large-as-life -camel's back. - -Starting from the neck we shall work toward the tail. I want you to -meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twenty-eight, lawyer, native of Toledo. -Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle. -You have met him before--in Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, -Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker Brothers, New York, -pause on their semi-annual trip through the West to clothe him; -Montmorency & Co. dispatch a young man post-haste every three months -to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his -shoes. He has a domestic roadster now, will have a French roadster if -he lives long enough, and doubtless a Chinese tank if it comes into -fashion. He looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his -sunset-colored chest with liniment and goes East every other year to -his class reunion. - -I want you to meet his Love. Her name is Betty Medill, and she would -take well in the movies. Her father gives her three hundred a month to -dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five -colors. I shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Medill. Though he is -to all appearances flesh and blood, he is, strange to say, commonly -known in Toledo as the Aluminum Man. But when he sits in his club -window with two or three Iron Men, and the White Pine Man, and the -Brass Man, they look very much as you and I do, only more so, if you -know what I mean. - -Now during the Christmas holidays of 1919 there took place in Toledo, -counting only the people with the italicized _the_, forty-one -dinner parties, sixteen dances, six luncheons, male and female, twelve -teas, four stag dinners, two weddings, and thirteen bridge parties. It -was the cumulative effect of all this that moved Perry Parkhurst on -the twenty-ninth day of December to a decision. - -This Medill girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him. She was -having such a good time that she hated to take such a definite step. -Meanwhile, their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as -if any day it might break off of its own weight. A little man named -Warburton, who knew it all, persuaded Perry to superman her, to get a -marriage license and go up to the Medill house and tell her she'd have -to marry him at once or call it off forever. So he presented himself, -his heart, his license, and his ultimatum, and within five minutes -they were in the midst of a violent quarrel, a burst of sporadic open -fighting such as occurs near the end of all long wars and engagements. -It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people who -are in love pull up sharp, look at each other coolly and think it's -all been a mistake. Afterward they usually kiss wholesomely and assure -the other person it was all their fault. Say it all was my fault! Say -it was! I want to hear you say it! - -But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in -a measure, stalling it off, so that they might the more voluptuously -and sentimentally enjoy it when it came, they were permanently -interrupted by a twenty-minute phone call for Betty from a garrulous -aunt. At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst, urged on by -pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, -picked up his light brown soft hat, and stalked out the door, - -"It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into -first. "It's all over--if I have to choke you for an hour, damn you!". -The last to the car, which had been standing some time and was quite -cold. - -He drove downtown--that is, he got into a snow rut that led him -downtown. He sat slouched down very low in his seat, much too -dispirited to care where he went. - -In front of the Clarendon Hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a -bad man named Baily, who had big teeth and lived at the hotel and had -never been in love. - -"Perry," said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him -at the, curb, "I've got six quarts of the doggonedest still champagne -you ever tasted. A third of it's yours, Perry, if you'll come -up-stairs and help Martin Macy and me drink it." - -"Baily," said Perry tensely, "I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink -every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me." - -"Shut up, you nut!" said the bad man gently. "They don't put wood -alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff that proves the world is more -than six thousand years old. It's so ancient that the cork is -petrified. You have to pull it with a stone drill." - -"Take me up-stairs," said Perry moodily. "If that cork sees my heart -it'll fall out from pure mortification." - -The room up-stairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little -girls eating apples and sitting in swings and talking to dogs. The -other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper -devoted to ladies in pink tights. - -"When you have to go into the highways and byways----" said the pink -man, looking reproachfully at Baily and Perry. - -"Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age -champagne?" - -"What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a -party." - -Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. - -Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six -handsome bottles. - -"Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe -you'd like to have us open all the windows." - -"Give me champagne," said Perry. - -"Going to the Townsends' circus ball to-night?" - -"Am not!" - -"'Vited?" - -"Uh-huh." - -"Why not go?" - -"Oh, I'm sick of parties," exclaimed Perry. "I'm sick of 'em. I've -been to so many that I'm sick of 'em." - -"Maybe you're going to the Howard Tates' party?" - -"No, I tell you; I'm sick of 'em." - -"Well," said Macy consolingly, "the Tates' is just for college kids -anyways." - -"I tell you----" - -"I thought you'd be going to one of 'em anyways. I see by the papers -you haven't missed a one this Christmas." - -"Hm," grunted Perry morosely. - -He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his -mind--that side of his life was closed, closed. Now when a man says -"closed, closed" like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has -double-closed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other -classical thought, about how cowardly suicide is. A noble thought that -one---warm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if -suicide were not so cowardly! - -An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to -the young man in the liniment advertisement. He looked like a rough -draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singing--an impromptu song of -Baily's improvisation: - - _"One Lump Perry, the parlor snake, - Famous through the city for the way he drinks his tea; - Plays with it, toys with it - Makes no noise with it, - Balanced on a napkin on his well-trained knee--"_ - -"Trouble is," said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Baily's -comb and was tying an orange tie round it to get the effect of Julius -Caesar, "that you fellas can't sing worth a damn. Soon's I leave the -air and start singing tenor you start singin' tenor too," - -"'M a natural tenor," said Macy gravely. "Voice lacks cultivation, -tha's all. Gotta natural voice, m'aunt used say. Naturally good -singer." - -"Singers, singers, all good singers," remarked Baily, who was at the -telephone. "No, not the cabaret; I want night egg. I mean some -dog-gone clerk 'at's got food--food! I want----" - -"Julius Caesar," announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. "Man -of iron will and stern 'termination" - -"Shut up!" yelled Baily. "Say, iss Mr. Baily Sen' up enormous supper. -Use y'own judgment. Right away." - -He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then -with his lips closed and an expression of solemn intensity in his eyes -went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open. - -"Lookit!" he commanded. In his hands he held a truncated garment of -pink gingham. - -"Pants," he exclaimed gravely. "Lookit!" - -This was a pink blouse, a red tie, and a Buster Brown collar. - -"Lookit!" he repeated. "Costume for the Townsends' circus ball. I'm -li'l' boy carries water for the elephants." - -Perry was impressed in spite of himself. - -"I'm going to be Julius Caesar," he announced after a moment of -concentration. - -"Thought you weren't going!" said Macy. - -"Me? Sure I'm goin', Never miss a party. Good for the nerves--like -celery." - -"Caesar!" scoffed Baily. "Can't be Caesar! He is not about a circus. -Caesar's Shakespeare. Go as a clown." - -Perry shook his head. - -"Nope; Caesar," - -"Caesar?" - -"Sure. Chariot." - -Light dawned on Baily. - -"That's right. Good idea." - -Perry looked round the room searchingly. - -"You lend me a bathrobe and this tie," he said finally. Baily -considered. - -"No good." - -"Sure, tha's all I need. Caesar was a savage. They can't kick if I -come as Caesar, if he was a savage." - -"No," said Baily, shaking his head slowly. "Get a costume over at a -costumer's. Over at Nolak's." - -"Closed up." - -"Find out." - -After a puzzling five minutes at the phone a small, weary voice -managed to convince Perry that it was Mr. Nolak speaking, and that -they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. -Thus assured, Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his -third of the last bottle of champagne. At eight-fifteen the man in the -tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to -start his roadster. - -"Froze up," said Perry wisely. "The cold froze it. The cold air." - -"Froze, eh?" - -"Yes. Cold air froze it." - -"Can't start it?" - -"Nope. Let it stand here till summer. One those hot ole August days'll -thaw it out awright." - -"Goin' let it stand?" - -"Sure. Let 'er stand. Take a hot thief to steal it. Gemme taxi." - -The man in the tall hat summoned a taxi. - -"Where to, mister?" - -"Go to Nolak's--costume fella." - - -II - -Mrs. Nolak was short and ineffectual looking, and on the cessation of -the world war had belonged for a while to one of the new -nationalities. Owing to unsettled European conditions she had never -since been quite sure what she was. The shop in which she and her -husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and peopled -with suits of armor and Chinese mandarins, and enormous papier-mache -birds suspended from the ceiling. In a vague background many rows of -masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases full -of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers, and -paints, and crape hair, and wigs of all colors. - -When Perry ambled into the shop Mrs. Nolak was folding up the last -troubles of a strenuous day, so she thought, in a drawer full of pink -silk stockings. - -"Something for you?" she queried pessimistically. "Want costume of -Julius Hur, the charioteer." - -Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented -long ago. Was it for the Townsends' circus ball? - -It was. - -"Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's -really circus." - -This was an obstacle. - -"Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. "If you've got a, piece -of canvas I could go's a tent." - -"Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware store is where -you'd have to go to. We have some very nice Confederate soldiers." - -"No. No soldiers." - -"And I have a very handsome king." - -He shook his head. - -"Several of the gentlemen" she continued hopefully, "are wearing -stovepipe hats and swallow-tail coats and going as ringmasters--but -we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a -mustache." - -"Want somep'n 'stinctive." - -"Something--let's see. Well, we have a lion's head, and a goose, and a -camel--" - -"Camel?" The idea seized Perry's imagination, gripped it fiercely. - -"Yes, but It needs two people." - -"Camel, That's the idea. Lemme see it." - -The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first -glance he appeared to consist entirely of a very gaunt, cadaverous -head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to -possess a dark brown, unwholesome-looking body made of thick, cottony -cloth. - -"You see it takes two people," explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel -in frank admiration. "If you have a friend he could be part of it. You -see there's sorta pants for two people. One pair is for the fella in -front, and the other pair for the fella in back. The fella in front -does the lookin' out through these here eyes, an' the fella in back -he's just gotta stoop over an' folla the front fella round." - -"Put it on," commanded Perry. - -Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabby-cat face inside the camel's head -and turned it from side to side ferociously. - -Perry was fascinated. - -"What noise does a camel make?" - -"What?" asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "Oh, -what noise? Why, he sorta brays." - -"Lemme see it in a mirror." - -Before a wide mirror Perry tried on the head and turned from side to -side appraisingly. In the dim light the effect was distinctly -pleasing. The camel's face was a study in pessimism, decorated with -numerous abrasions, and it must be admitted that his coat was in that -state of general negligence peculiar to camels--in fact, he needed to -be cleaned and pressed--but distinctive he certainly was. He was -majestic. He would have attracted attention in any gathering, if only -by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking round -his shadowy eyes. - -"You see you have to have two people," said Mrs. Nolak again. - -Perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about -him, tying the hind legs as a girdle round his waist. The effect on -the whole was bad. It was even irreverent--like one of those mediaeval -pictures of a monk changed into a beast by the ministrations of Satan. -At the very best the ensemble resembled a humpbacked cow sitting on -her haunches among blankets. - -"Don't look like anything at all," objected Perry gloomily. - -"No," said Mrs. Nolak; "you see you got to have two people." - -A solution flashed upon Perry. - -"You got a date to-night?" - -"Oh, I couldn't possibly----" - -"Oh, come on," said Perry encouragingly. "Sure you can! Here! Be good -sport, and climb into these hind legs." - -With difficulty he located them, and extended their yawning depths -ingratiatingly. But Mrs. Nolak seemed loath. She backed perversely -away. - -"Oh, no----" - -"C'mon! You can be the front if you want to. Or we'll flip a coin." - -"Make it worth your while." - -Mrs. Nolak set her lips firmly together. - -"Now you just stop!" she said with no coyness implied. "None of the -gentlemen ever acted up this way before. My husband----" - -"You got a husband?" demanded Perry. "Where is he?" - -"He's home." - -"Wha's telephone number?" - -After considerable parley he obtained the telephone number pertaining -to the Nolak penates and got into communication with that small, weary -voice he had heard once before that day. But Mr. Nolak, though taken -off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of -logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He refused firmly, but with -dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a -camel. - -Having rung off, or rather having been rung off on, Perry sat down on -a three-legged stool to think it over. He named over to himself those -friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty -Medill's name hazily and sorrowfully occurred to him. He had a -sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love affair was over, but -she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to -ask--to help him keep up his end of social obligation for one short -night. And if she insisted, she could be the front part of the camel -and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind -even turned to rosy-colored dreams of a tender reconciliation inside -the camel--there hidden away from all the world.... - -"Now you'd better decide right off." - -The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and -roused him to action. He went to the phone and called up the Medill -house. Miss Betty was out; had gone out to dinner. - -Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into -the store. He was a dilapidated individual with a cold in his head and -a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down low -on his head, and his chin was pulled down low on his chest, his coat -hung down to his shoes, he looked run-down, down at the heels, -and--Salvation Army to the contrary--down and out. He said that he was -the taxicab-driver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon -Hotel. He had been instructed to wait outside, but he had waited some -time, and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone -out the back way with purpose to defraud him--gentlemen sometimes -did--so he had come in. He sank down onto the three-legged stool. - -"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. - -"I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep -my job." - -"It's a very good party." - -"'S a very good job." - -"Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See--it's pretty!" He held -the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. - -"Huh!" - -Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth. - -"See!" he cried enthusiastically, holding up a selection of folds. -"This is your part. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is -to walk--and sit down occasionally. You do all the sitting down. Think -of it. I'm on my feet all the time and _you_ can sit down some of -the time. The only time _I_ can sit down is when we're lying -down, and you can sit down when--oh, any time. See?" - -"What's 'at thing?" demanded the individual dubiously. "A shroud?" - -"Not at all," said Perry indignantly. "It's a camel." - -"Huh?" - -Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the -land of grunts and assumed a practical tinge. Perry and the -taxi-driver tried on the camel in front of the mirror. - -"You can't see it," explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the -eyeholes, "but honestly, ole man, you look sim'ly great! Honestly!" - -A grunt from the hump acknowledged this somewhat dubious compliment. - -"Honestly, you look great!" repeated Perry enthusiastically. "Move -round a little." - -The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge cat-camel -hunching his back preparatory to a spring. - -"No; move sideways." - -The camel's hips went neatly out of joint; a hula dancer would have -writhed in envy. - -"Good, isn't it?" demanded Perry, turning to Mrs. Nolak for approval. - -"It looks lovely," agreed Mrs. Nolak. - -"We'll take it," said Perry. - -The bundle was stowed under Perry's arm and they left the shop. - -"Go to the party!" he commanded as he took his seat in the back. - -"What party?" - -"Fanzy-dress party." - -"Where'bouts is it?" - -This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names -of all those who had given parties during the holidays danced -confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking -out the window he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already -faded out, a little black smudge far down the snowy street. - -"Drive uptown," directed Perry with fine confidence. "If you see a -party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we get there." - -He fell into a hazy daydream and his thoughts wandered again to -Betty--he imagined vaguely that they had had a disagreement because -she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was -just slipping off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the -taxi-driver opening the door and shaking him by the arm. - -"Here we are, maybe." - -Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a -spreading gray stone house, from which issued the low drummy whine of -expensive jazz. He recognized the Howard Tate house. - -"Sure," he said emphatically; "'at's it! Tate's party to-night. Sure, -everybody's goin'." - -"Say," said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, -"you sure these people ain't gonna romp on me for comin' here?" - -Perry drew himself up with dignity. - -"'F anybody says anything to you, just tell 'em you're part of my -costume." - -The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to -reassure the individual. - -"All right," he said reluctantly. - -Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling -the camel. - -"Let's go," he commanded. - -Several minutes later a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting -clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump, -might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate -residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and -heading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom. The -beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an uncertain -lockstep and a stampede--but can best be described by the word -"halting." The camel had a halting gait--and as he walked he -alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina. - - - -III - -The Howard Tates are, as every one who lives in Toledo knows, the most -formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before -she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that -conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American -aristocracy. The Tates have reached the stage where they talk about -pigs and farms and look at you icy-eyed if you are not amused. They -have begun to prefer retainers rather than friends as dinner guests, -spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and, having lost all sense of -competition, are in process of growing quite dull. - -The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all -ages were represented, the dancers were mostly from school and -college--the younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball -up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside tie -ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes, and beaming -whenever she caught her bye. Beside her were two middle-aged -sycophants, who were saying what a perfectly exquisite child Millicent -was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the -skirt and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself -with an "Oof!" into her mother's arms. - -"Why, Emily, what's the trouble?" - -"Mamma," said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble, "there's something out on -the stairs." - -"What?" - -"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog, -mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog." - -"What do you mean, Emily?" - -The sycophants waved their heads sympathetically. - -"Mamma, it looks like a--like a camel." - -Mrs. Tate laughed. - -"You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all." - -"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mamma--big. I was going -down-stairs to see if there were any more people, and this dog or -something, he was coming up-stairs. Kinda funny, mamma, like he was -lame. And then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped -at the top of the landing, and I ran." - -Mrs. Tate's laugh faded. - -"The child must have seen something," she said. - -The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen something--and -suddenly all three women took an instinctive step away from the door -as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside. - -And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark brown form rounded -the corner, and they saw what was apparently a huge beast looking down -at them hungrily. - -"Oof!" cried Mrs. Tate. - -"O-o-oh!" cried the ladies in a chorus. - -The camel suddenly humped his back, and the gasps turned to shrieks. - -"Oh--look!" - -"What is it?" - -The dancing stopped, bat the dancers hurrying over got quite a -different impression of the invader; in fact, the young people -immediately suspected that it was a stunt, a hired entertainer come to -amuse the party. The boys in long trousers looked at it rather -disdainfully, and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets, -feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls -uttered little shouts of glee. - -"It's a camel!" - -"Well, if he isn't the funniest!" - -The camel stood there uncertainly, swaying slightly from side to aide, -and seeming to take in the room in a careful, appraising glance; then -as if he had come to an abrupt decision, he turned and ambled swiftly -out the door. - -Mr. Howard Tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor, -and was standing chatting with a young man in the hall. Suddenly they -heard the noise of shouting up-stairs, and almost immediately a -succession of bumping sounds, followed by the precipitous appearance -at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast that seemed to be -going somewhere in a great hurry. - -"Now what the devil!" said Mr. Tate, starting. - -The beast picked itself up not without dignity and, affecting an air -of extreme nonchalance, as if he had just remembered an important -engagement, started at a mixed gait toward the front door. In fact, -his front legs began casually to run. - -"See here now," said Mr. Tate sternly. "Here! Grab it, Butterfield! -Grab it!" - -The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling -arms, and, realizing that further locomotion was impossible, the front -end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some -agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring -down-stairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything from an ingenious -burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man: - -"Hold him! Lead him in here; we'll soon see." - -The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after -locking the door, took a revolver from a table drawer and instructed -the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and -returned the revolver to its hiding-place. - -"Well, Perry Parkhurst!" he exclaimed in amazement. - -"Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate," said Perry sheepishly. "Hope I didn't -scare you." - -"Well--you gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him. -"You're bound for the Townsends' circus ball." - -"That's the general idea." - -"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst." Then turning to -Perry; "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days." - -"I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry." - -"Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a -clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while." He turned to -Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us." - -The young man demurred. He was going to bed. - -"Have a drink, Perry?" suggested Mr. Tate. - -"Thanks, I will." - -"And, say," continued Tate quickly, "I'd forgotten all about -your--friend here." He indicated the rear part of the camel. "I didn't -mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out." - -"It's not a friend," explained Perry hurriedly. "I just rented him." - -"Does he drink?" - -"Do you?" demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously round. - -There was a faint sound of assent. - -"Sure he does!" said Mr. Tate heartily. "A really efficient camel -ought to be able to drink enough so it'd last him three days." - -"Tell you," said Perry anxiously, "he isn't exactly dressed up enough -to come out. If you give me the bottle I can hand it back to him and -he can take his inside." - -From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound -inspired by this suggestion. When a butler had appeared with bottles, -glasses, and siphon one of the bottles was handed back; thereafter the -silent partner could be heard imbibing long potations at frequent -intervals. - -Thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd -better be starting. He donned his clown's costume; Perry replaced the -camel's head, arid side by side they traversed on foot the single -block between the Tate house and the Tallyho Club. - -The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up -inside the ballroom and round the walls had been built rows of booths -representing the various attractions of a circus side show, but these -were now vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing -medley of youth and color--downs, bearded ladies, acrobats, bareback -riders, ringmasters, tattooed men, and charioteers. The Townsends had -determined to assure their party of success, so a great quantity of -liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their house and was -now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall completely round -the ballroom, with pointing arrows alongside and signs which -instructed the uninitiated to "Follow the green line!" The green line -led down to the bar, where waited pure punch and wicked punch and -plain dark-green bottles. - -On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and -under it the slogan: "Now follow this!" - -But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented, -there, the entrance of the camel created something of a stir, and -Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd -attempting to penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the -wide doorway eying the dancers with his hungry, melancholy gaze. - -And then Perry saw Betty standing in front of a booth, talking to a -comic policeman. She was dressed in the costume of an Egyptian -snake-charmer: her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass -rings, the effect crowned with a glittering Oriental tiara. Her fair -face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arms and the half -moon of her back writhed painted serpents with single eyes of venomous -green. Her feet were in sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees, -so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim serpents -painted just above her bare ankles. Wound about her neck was a -glittering cobra. Altogether a charming costume--one that caused the -more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her when she -passed, and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about -"shouldn't be allowed" and "perfectly disgraceful." - -But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only -her face, radiant, animated, and glowing with excitement, and her arms -and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the -outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination -exercised a sobering effect on him. With a growing clarity the events -of the day came back--rage rose within him, and with a half-formed -intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her--or -rather he elongated slightly, for he had neglected to issue the -preparatory command necessary to locomotion. - -But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him -bitterly and sardonically, decided to reward him in full for the -amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the -snake-charmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man -beside her and say, "Who's that? That camel?" - -"Darned if I know." - -But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary -to hazard an opinion: - -"It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it's probably Warren -Butterfield, the architect from New York, who's visiting the Tates." - -Something stirred in Betty Medill--that age-old interest of the -provincial girl in the visiting man. - -"Oh," she said casually after a slight pause. - -At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within -a few feet of the camel. With the informal audacity that was the -key-note of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's -nose. - -"Hello, old camel." - -The camel stirred uneasily. - -"You 'fraid of me?" said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. -"Don't be. You see I'm a snake-charmer, but I'm pretty good at camels -too." - -The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about -beauty and the beast. - -Mrs. Townsend approached the group. - -"Well, Mr. Butterfield," she said helpfully, "I wouldn't have -recognised you." - -Perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask. - -"And who is this with you?" she inquired. - -"Oh," said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite -unrecognizable, "he isn't a fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He's just part of -my costume." - -Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty, - -"So," he thought, "this is how much she cares! On the very day of our -final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man--an absolute -stranger." - -On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his -head suggestively toward the hall, making it clear that he desired her -to leave her partner and accompany him. - -"By-by, Rus," she called to her partner. "This old camel's got me. -Where we going, Prince of Beasts?" - -The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the -direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs. - -There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of -confusion which included gruff orders and sounds of a heated dispute -going on in his interior, placed himself beside her--his hind legs -stretching out uncomfortably across two steps. - -"Well, old egg," said Betty cheerfully, "how do you like our happy -party?" - -The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head -ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his hoofs. - -"This is the first time that I ever had a tete-a-tete with a man's -valet 'round"--she pointed to the hind legs--"or whatever that is." - -"Oh," mumbled Perry, "he's deaf and blind." - -"I should think you'd feel rather handicapped--you can't very well -toddle, even if you want to." - -The camel hang his head lugubriously. - -"I wish you'd say something," continued Betty sweetly. "Say you like -me, camel. Say you think I'm beautiful. Say you'd like to belong to a -pretty snake-charmer." - -The camel would. - -"Will you dance with me, camel?" - -The camel would try. - -Betty devoted half an hour to the camel. She devoted at least half an -hour to all visiting men. It was usually sufficient. When she -approached a new man the current debutantes were accustomed to scatter -right and left like a close column deploying before a machine-gun. And -so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique privilege of seeing his -love as others saw her. He was flirted with violently! - - -IV - -This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a -general ingress to the ballroom; the cotillion was beginning. Betty -and the camel joined the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his -shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption of him. - -When they entered the couples were already seating themselves at -tables round the walls, and Mrs. Townsend, resplendent as a super -bareback rider with rather too rotund calves, was standing in the -centre with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to -the band every one rose and began to dance. - -"Isn't it just slick!" sighed Betty. "Do you think you can possibly -dance?" - -Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly exuberant. After all, -he was here incognito talking to his love---he could wink -patronizingly at the world. - -So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that is stretching -the word far beyond the wildest dreams of the jazziest terpsichorean. -He suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and -pull him here and there over the floor while he hung his huge head -docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy motions with his -feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by -hopping first on one foot and then on the other. Never being sure -whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by -going through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So -the spectacle was frequently presented of the front part of the camel -standing at ease and the rear keeping up a constant energetic motion -calculated to rouse a sympathetic perspiration in any soft-hearted -observer. - -He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered -with straw who announced jovially that she was a bale of hay and coyly -begged him not to eat her. - -"I'd like to; you're so sweet," said the camel gallantly. - -Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men up!" he lumbered -ferociously for Betty with the cardboard wienerwurst or the photograph -of the bearded lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes he -reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and -resulted in intense interior arguments. - -"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl, fiercely between his clenched -teeth, "get a little pep! I could have gotten her that time if you'd -picked your feet up." - -"Well, gimme a little warnin'!" - -"I did, darn you." - -"I can't see a dog-gone thing in here." - -"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging a load of -sand round to walk with you." - -"Maybe you wanta try back hare." - -"You shut up! If these people found you in this room they'd give you -the worst beating you ever had. They'd take your taxi license away -from you!" - -Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous -threat, but it seemed to have a soporific influence on his companion, -for he gave out an "aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence. - -The ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and waved his hand for -silence. - -"Prizes!" he cried. "Gather round!" - -"Yea! Prizes!" - -Self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who -had mustered the nerve to come as a bearded lady trembled with -excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The -man who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him -skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously when any one told -him he was sure to get it. - -"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced the ringmaster -jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had -by all. We will now bestow honor where honor is due by bestowing the -prizes. Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prices. Now, fellow -performers, the first prize is for that lady who has displayed this -evening the most striking, becoming"--at this point the bearded lady -sighed resignedly--"and original costume." Here the bale of hay -pricked up her ears. "Now I am sure that the decision which has been -agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present. The first prize -goes to Miss Betty Medill, the charming Egyptian snake-charmer." There -was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Medill, -blushing beautifully through her olive paint, was passed up to receive -her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a -huge bouquet of orchids. - -"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the other prize is for -that man who has the most amusing and original costume. This prize -goes without dispute to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is -visiting here but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry--in -short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his hungry -look and his brilliant dancing throughout the evening." - -He ceased and there was a violent clapping, and yeaing, for it was a -popular choice. The prize, a large box of cigars, was put aside for -the camel, as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person. - -"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will wind up the cotillion -with the marriage of Mirth to Folly! - -"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful snake-charmer and the -noble camel in front!" - -Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm round the -camel's neck. Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little -girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men -of Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all -of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color -round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under -bizarre wigs and barbaric paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding -march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a delirious blend from -the trombones and saxophones--and the march began. - -"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. -"Aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong -to the nice snake-charmer ever afterward?" - -The camel's front legs pranced, expressing excessive joy. - -"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried voices out of the -revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?" - -The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tally-ho Club for many -years, appeared rashly through a half-opened pantry door. - -"Oh, Jumbo!" - -"Get old Jumbo. He's the fella!" - -"Come on, Jumbo. How 'bout marrying us a couple?" - -"Yea!" - -Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron, and -escorted to a raised dais at the head of the ball. There his collar -was removed and replaced back side forward with ecclesiastical effect. -The parade separated into two lines, leaving an aisle for the bride -and groom. - -"Lawdy, man," roared Jumbo, "Ah got ole Bible 'n' ev'ythin', sho -nuff." - -He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket. - -"Yea! Jumbo's got a Bible!" - -"Razor, too, I'll bet!" - -Together the snake-charmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle -and stopped in front of Jumbo. - -"Where's yo license, camel?" - -A man near by prodded Perry. - -"Give him a piece of paper. Anything'll do." - -Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and -pushed it out through the camel's mouth. Holding it upside down Jumbo -pretended to scan it earnestly. - -"Dis yeah's a special camel's license," he said. "Get you ring ready, -camel." - -Inside the camel Perry turned round and addressed his worse half. - -"Gimme a ring, for Heaven's sake!" - -"I ain't got none," protested a weary voice. - -"You have. I saw it." - -"I ain't goin' to take it offen my hand." - -"If you don't I'll kill you." - -There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass -inserted into his hand. - -Again he was nudged from the outside. - -"Speak up!" - -"I do!" cried Perry quickly. - -He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this -burlesque the sound thrilled him. - -Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat -and was slipping it on her finger, muttering ancient and historic -words after Jumbo. He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His -one idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for -Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A dignified young man, -Perry--and this might injure his infant law practice. - -"Embrace the bride!" - -"Unmask, camel, and kiss her!" - -Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly -and began to strike the card-board muzzle. He felt his self-control -giving way, he longed to surround her with his arms and declare his -identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot away--when -suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a curious -hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo -had given vent to a huge "Hello!" in such a startled voice that all -eyes were bent on him. - -"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage -license, which he had been holding upside down, produced spectacles, -and was studying it agonizingly. - -"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence his words were heard -plainly by every one in the room, "this yeah's a sho-nuff marriage -permit." - -"What?" - -"Huh?" - -"Say it again, Jumbo!" - -"Sure you can read?" - -Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood burned to fire in his -veins as he realized the break he had made. - -"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a sho-nuff license, and the -pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis yeah young lady, Miz Betty Medill, -and th' other's Mistah Perry Pa'khurst." - -There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out as all eyes fell -on the camel. Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes -giving out sparks of fury. - -"Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?" - -Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. -He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment, his cardboard face still -hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo. - -"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty -serious mattah. Outside mah duties at this club ah happens to be a -sho-nuff minister in the Firs' Cullud Baptis' Church. It done look to -me as though y'all is gone an' got married." - - -V - -The scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the -Tallyho Club. Stout matrons fainted, one hundred per cent Americans -swore, wild-eyed debutantes babbled in lightning groups instantly -formed and instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent -yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic ballroom. Feverish -youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or some one, -and the Baptis' preacheh was besieged by a tempestuous covey of -clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making threats, demanding -precedents, ordering the bonds annulled, and especially trying to -ferret out any hint of prearrangement in what had occurred. - -In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. -Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to comfort her; they were -exchanging "all my fault's" volubly and voluminously. Outside on a -snow-covered walk Mr. Cyrus Medill, the Aluminum Man, was being paced -slowly up and down between two brawny charioteers, giving vent now to -a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let -him get at Jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild -man of Borneo, and the most exacting stage-manager would have -acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite -impossible. - -Meanwhile the two principals held the real centre of the stage. Betty -Medill--or was it Betty Parkhurst?--storming furiously, was surrounded -by the plainer girls--the prettier ones were too busy talking about -her to pay much attention to her--and over on the other side of the -hall stood the camel, still intact except for his headpiece, which -dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in -making protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry, puzzled men. -Every few minutes, just as he had apparently proved his case, some one -would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would -begin again. - -A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second best belle of Toledo, -changed the gist of the situation by a remark she made to Betty. - -"Well," she said maliciously, "it'll all blow over, dear. The courts -will annul it without question." - -Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes, her lips shut -tight together, and she looked stonily at Marion. Then she rose and, -scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the -room to Perry, who stared at her in terror. Again silence crept down -upon the room. - -"Will you have the decency to grant me five minutes' conversation--or -wasn't that included in your plans?" - -He nodded, his mouth unable to form words. - -Indicating coldly that he was to follow her she walked out into the -hall with her chin uptilted and headed for the privacy of one of the -little card-rooms. - -Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the -failure of his hind legs to function. - -"You stay here!" he commanded savagely. - -"I can't," whined a voice from the hump, "unless you get out first and -let me get out." - -Perry hesitated, but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the -curious crowd he muttered a command and the camel moved carefully from -the room on its four legs. - -Betty was waiting for him. - -"Well," she began furiously, "you see what you've done! You and that -crazy license! I told you you shouldn't have gotten it!" - -"My dear girl, I--" - -"Don't say 'dear girl' to me! Save that for your real wife if you ever -get one after this disgraceful performance. And don't try to pretend -it wasn't all arranged. You know you gave that colored waiter money! -You know you did! Do you mean to say you didn't try to marry me?" - -"No--of course--" - -"Yes, you'd better admit it! You tried it, and now what are you going -to do? Do you know my father's nearly crazy? It'll serve you right if -he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold steel in -you. Even if this wed--this _thing_ can be annulled it'll hang -over me all the rest of my life!" - -Perry could not resist quoting softly: "'Oh, camel, wouldn't you like -to belong to the pretty snake-charmer for all your--" - -"Shut-up!" cried Betty. - -There was a pause. - -"Betty," said Perry finally, "there's only one thing to do that will -really get us out clear. That's for you to marry me." - -"Marry you!" - -"Yes. Really it's the only--" - -"You shut up! I wouldn't marry you if--if--" - -"I know. If I were the last man on earth. But if you care anything -about your reputation--" - -"Reputation!" she cried. "You're a nice one to think about my -reputation _now_. Why didn't you think about my reputation before -you hired that horrible Jumbo to--to--" - -Perry tossed up his hands hopelessly. - -"Very well. I'll do anything you want. Lord knows I renounce all -claims!" - -"But," said a new voice, "I don't." - -Perry and Betty started, and she put her hand to her heart. - -"For Heaven's sake, what was that?" - -"It's me," said the camel's back. - -In a minute Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a lax, limp -object, his clothes hanging on him damply, his hand clenched tightly -on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them. - -"Oh," cried Betty, "you brought that object in here to frighten me! -You told me he was deaf--that awful person!" - -The camel's back sat down on a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. - -"Don't talk 'at way about me, lady. I ain't no person. I'm your -husband." - -"Husband!" - -The cry was wrung simultaneously from Betty and Perry. - -"Why, sure. I'm as much your husband as that gink is. The smoke didn't -marry you to the camel's front. He married you to the whole camel. -Why, that's my ring you got on your finger!" - -With a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it -passionately at the floor. - -"What's all this?" demanded Perry dazedly. - -"Jes' that you better fix me an' fix me right. If you don't I'm -a-gonna have the same claim you got to bein' married to her!" - -"That's bigamy," said Perry, turning gravely to Betty. - -Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance -on which he risked his fortunes. He rose and looked first at Betty, -where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the -individual who swayed from side to side on his chair, uncertainly, -menacingly. - -"Very well," said Perry slowly to the individual, "you can have her. -Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as far as I'm concerned our -marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my -rights to have you as my wife, and give you to--to the man whose ring -you wear--your lawful husband." - -There was a pause and four horror-stricken eyes were turned on him, - -"Good-by, Betty," he said brokenly. "Don't forget me in your new-found -happiness. I'm going to leave for the Far West on the morning train. -Think of me kindly, Betty." - -With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest -as his hand touched the door-knob. - -"Good-by," he repeated. He turned the door-knob. - -But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated -themselves violently toward him. - -"Oh, Perry, don't leave me! Perry, Perry, take me with you!" - -Her tears flowed damply on his neck. Calmly he folded his arms about -her. - -"I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a -minister at this hour and have it done over again I'll go West with -you." - -Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part -of the camel--and they exchanged a particularly subtle, esoteric sort -of wink that only true camels can understand. - - - - -MAY DAY - - -There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the -conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with -thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring -days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the -strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the brasses, while -merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding -to the windows, turned their white-bunched faces gravely upon the -passing battalions. - -Never had there been such splendor in the great city, for the -victorious war had brought plenty in its train, and the merchants had -flocked thither from the South and West with their households to taste -of all the luscious feasts and witness the lavish entertainments -prepared--and to buy for their women furs against the next winter and -bags of golden mesh and varicolored slippers of silk and silver and -rose satin and cloth of gold. - -So gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by -the scribes and poets of the conquering people that more and more -spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of -excitement, and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their -trinkets and slippers until they sent up a mighty cry for more -trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter -what was demanded of them. Some even of them flung up their hands -helplessly, shouting: - -"Alas! I have no more slippers! and alas! I have no more trinkets! May -heaven help me for I know not what I shall do!" - -But no one listened to their great outcry, for the throngs were far -too busy--day by day, the foot-soldiers trod jauntily the highway and -all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave, sound -of tooth and pink of cheek, and the young women of the land were -virgins and comely both of face and of figure. - -So during all this time there were many adventures that happened in -the great city, and, of these, several--or perhaps one--are here set -down. - -I - -At nine o'clock on the morning of the first of May, 1919, a young man -spoke to the room clerk at the Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip -Dean were registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr. -Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He -was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above -with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of -ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which -colored his face like a low, incessant fever. - -Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone -at the side. - -After a second his connection was made; a sleepy voice hello'd from -somewhere above. - -"Mr. Dean?"--this very eagerly--"it's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon -Sterrett. I'm down-stairs. I heard you were in New York and I had a -hunch you'd be here." - -The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, -old boy! Well, he certainly was surprised and tickled! Would Gordy -come right up, for Pete's sake! - -A few minutes later Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened -his door and the two young men greeted each other with a -half-embarrassed exuberance. They were both about twenty-four, Yale -graduates of the year before the war; but there the resemblance -stopped abruptly. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged under his thin -pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He -smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. - -"I was going to look you up," he cried enthusiastically. "I'm taking a -couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a sec I'll be right with you. -Going to take a shower." - -As he vanished into the bathroom his visitor's dark eyes roved -nervously around the room, resting for a moment on a great English -travelling bag in the corner and on a family of thick silk shirts -littered on the chairs amid impressive neckties and soft woollen -socks. - -Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute -examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow, with a pale blue -stripe--and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared -involuntarily at his own shirt-cuffs--they were ragged and linty at -the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held -his coat-sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they -were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself -with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded -and thumb-creased--it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes -of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three -years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections -at college for being the best-dressed man in his class. - -Dean emerged from the bathroom polishing his body. - -"Saw an old friend of yours last night," he remarked. -"Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my -neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year." - -Gordon started. - -"Edith Bradin? That whom you mean?" - -"'At's the one. Damn good looking. She's still sort of a pretty -doll--you know what I mean: as if you touched her she'd smear." - -He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled -faintly, exposing a section of teeth. - -"She must be twenty-three anyway," he continued. - -"Twenty-two last month," said Gordon absently. - -"What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Psi -dance. Did you know we're having a Yale Gamma Psi dance to-night at -Delmonico's? You better come up, Gordy. Half of New Haven'll probably -be there. I can get you an invitation." - -Draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear, Dean lit a cigarette -and sat down by the open window, inspecting his calves and knees under -the morning sunshine which poured into the room. - -"Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about what you've -been doing and what you're doing now and everything." - -Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and -spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his -face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic. - -"What's the matter?" asked Dean quickly. - -"Oh, God!" - -"What's the matter?" - -"Every God damn thing in the world," he said miserably, "I've -absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in." - -"Huh?" - -"I'm all in." His voice was shaking. - -Dean scrutinized him more closely with appraising blue eyes. - -"You certainly look all shot." - -"I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything." He paused. "I'd -better start at the beginning--or will it bore you?" "Not at all; go -on." There was, however, a hesitant note in Dean's voice. This trip -East had been planned for a holiday--to find Gordon Sterrett in -trouble exasperated him a little. - -"Go on," he repeated, and then added half under his breath, "Get it -over with." - -"Well," began Gordon unsteadily, "I got back from France in February, -went home to Harrisburg for a month, and then came down to New York to -get a job. I got one--with an export company. They fired me -yesterday." - -"Fired you?" - -"I'm coming to that, Phil. I want to tell you frankly. You're about -the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I -just tell you frankly, will you, Phil?" - -Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew -perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he was being unfairly saddled with -responsibility; he was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though -never surprised at finding Gordon Sterrett in mild difficulty, there -was something in this present misery that repelled him and hardened -him, even though it excited his curiosity. - -"Go on." - -"It's a girl." - -"Hm." Dean resolved that nothing was going to spoil his trip. If -Gordon was going to be depressing, then he'd have to see less of -Gordon. - -"Her name is Jewel Hudson," went on the distressed voice from the bed. -"She used to be 'pure,' I guess, up to about a year ago." Lived here -in New York--poor family. Her people are dead now and she lives with -an old aunt. You see it was just about the time I met her that -everybody began to come back from France in droves--and all I did was -to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with 'em. That's the -way it started, Phil, just from being glad to see everybody and having -them glad to see me." - -"You ought to've had more sense." - -"I know," Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. "I'm on my own -now, you know, and Phil, I can't stand being poor. Then came this darn -girl. She sort of fell in love with me for a while and, though I never -intended to get so involved, I'd always seem to run into her -somewhere. You can imagine the sort of work I was doing for those -exporting people--of course, I always intended to draw; do -illustrating for magazines; there's a pile of money in it." - -"Why didn't you? You've got to buckle down if you want to make good," -suggested Dean with cold formalism. - -"I tried, a little, but my stuff's crude. I've got talent, Phil; I can -draw--but I just don't know how. I ought to go to art school and I -can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just -as I was down to about my last dollar this girl began bothering me. -She wants some money; claims she can make trouble for me if she -doesn't get it." - -"Can she?" - -"I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job--she kept calling -up the office all the time, and that was sort of the last straw down -there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's -got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her." - -There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched -by his side. - -"I'm all in," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'm half crazy, -Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming East, I think I'd have killed -myself. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars." - -Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly -quiet--and the curious uncertainty playing between the two became taut -and strained. - -After a second Gordon continued: - -"I've bled the family until I'm ashamed to ask for another nickel." - -Still Dean made no answer. - -"Jewel says she's got to have two hundred dollars." - -"Tell her where she can go." - -"Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I -wrote her. Unfortunately she's not at all the flabby sort of person -you'd expect." - -Dean made an expression of distaste. - -"I can't stand that sort of woman. You ought to have kept away." - -"I know," admitted Gordon wearily. - -"You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money -you've got to work and stay away from women." - -"That's easy for you to say," began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. -"You've got all the money in the world." - -"I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I -spend. Just because I have a little leeway I have to be extra careful -not to abuse it." - -He raised the blind and let in a further flood of sunshine. - -"I'm no prig, Lord knows," he went on deliberately. "I like -pleasure--and I like a lot of it on a vacation like this, but -you're--you're in awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way -before. You seem to be sort of bankrupt--morally as well as -financially." - -"Don't they usually go together?" - -Dean shook his head impatiently. - -"There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand. It's a sort -of evil." - -"It's an air of worry and poverty and sleepless nights," said Gordon, -rather defiantly. - -"I don't know." - -"Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But, my God, Phil, a -week's rest and a new suit and some ready money and I'd be like--like -I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak, and you know it. But half the -time I haven't had the money to buy decent drawing materials--and I -can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in. With a little -ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started." - -"How do I know you wouldn't use it on some other woman?" - -"Why rub it in?" said Gordon, quietly. - -"I'm not rubbing it in. I hate to see you this way." - -"Will you lend me the money, Phil?" - -"I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money and it'll be darn -inconvenient for me." - -"It'll be hell for me if you can't--I know I'm whining, and it's all -my own fault but--that doesn't change it." - -"When could you pay it back?" - -This was encouraging. Gordon considered. It was probably wisest to be -frank. - -"Of course, I could promise to send it back next month, but--I'd -better say three months. Just as soon as I start to sell drawings." - -"How do I know you'll sell any drawings?" - -A new hardness in Dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over -Gordon. Was it possible that he wouldn't get the money? - -"I supposed you had a little confidence in me." - -"I did have--but when I see you like this I begin to wonder." - -"Do you suppose if I wasn't at the end of my rope I'd come to you like -this? Do you think I'm enjoying it?" He broke off and bit his lip, -feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice. After -all, he was the suppliant. - -"You seem to manage it pretty easily," said Dean angrily. "You put me -in the position where, if I don't lend it to you, I'm a sucker--oh, -yes, you do. And let me tell you it's no easy thing for me to get hold -of three hundred dollars. My income isn't so big but that a slice like -that won't play the deuce with it." - -He left his chair and began to dress, choosing his clothes carefully. -Gordon stretched out his arms and clenched the edges of the bed, -fighting back a desire to cry out. His head was splitting and -whirring, his mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in -his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular counts like a slow -dripping from a roof. - -Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece -of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette -case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and -settled the case in his vest pocket. - -"Had breakfast?" he demanded. - -"No; I don't eat it any more." - -"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money -later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to have a good time. - -"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added -with an implied reproof: "You've given up your job. You've got nothing -else to do." - -"I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money," said Gordon pointedly. - -"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in -glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money." - -He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to -Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an -added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever. -For an instant before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that -instant each found something that made him lower his own glance -quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated -each other. - - -II - -Fifth Avenue and Forty-fourth Street swarmed with the noon crowd. The -wealthy, happy sun glittered in transient gold through the thick -windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and -strings of pearls in gray velvet cases; upon gaudy feather fans of -many colors; upon the laces and silks of expensive dresses; upon the -bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate show -rooms of interior decorators. - -Working-girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these -windows, choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display -which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the -bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their -engagement rings, and their wedding rings and their platinum wrist -watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera -cloaks; meanwhile digesting the sandwiches and sundaes they had eaten -for lunch. - -All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great -fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from -Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and -finding the great city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they -were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the -weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley Dean and Gordon -wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity -at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had -been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and -dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to -Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless. - -In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who -greeted the visiting Dean vociferously. Sitting in a semicircle of -lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around. - -Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched -together _en masse_, warmed with liquor as the afternoon began. -They were all going to the Gamma Psi dance that night--it promised to -be the best party since the war. - -"Edith Bradin's coming," said some one to Gordon. "Didn't she used to -be an old flame of yours? Aren't you both from Harrisburg?" - -"Yes." He tried to change the subject. "I see her brother -occasionally. He's sort of a socialistic nut. Runs a paper or -something here in New York." - -"Not like his gay sister, eh?" continued his eager informant. "Well, -she's coming to-night--with a junior named Peter Himmel." - -Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock--he had promised to -have some money for her. Several times he glanced nervously at his -wrist watch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he -was going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as -they left the Club another of the party joined them, to Gordon's great -dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the -evening's party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers' he chose a dozen -neckties, selecting each one after long consultations with the other -man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back? And wasn't it a shame -that Rivers couldn't get any more Welsh Margotson collars? There never -was a collar like the "Covington." - -Gordon was in something of a panic. He wanted the money immediately. -And he was now inspired also with a vague idea of attending the Gamma -Psi dance. He wanted to see Edith--Edith whom he hadn't met since one -romantic night at the Harrisburg Country Club just before he went to -France. The affair had died, drowned in the turmoil of the war and -quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture -of her, poignant, debonnaire, immersed in her own inconsequential -chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and brought a hundred memories -with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college -with a sort of detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to -draw her--around his room had been a dozen sketches of her--playing -golf, swimming--he could draw her pert, arresting profile with his -eyes shut. - -They left Rivers' at five-thirty and parsed for a moment on the -sidewalk. - -"Well," said Dean genially, "I'm all set now. Think I'll go back to -the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and massage." - -"Good enough," said the other man, "I think I'll join you." - -Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty he -restrained himself from turning to the man and snarling out, "Go on -away, damn you!" In despair he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken -to him, was keeping him along in order to avoid a dispute about the -money. - -They went into the Biltmore--a Biltmore alive with girls--mostly from -the West and South, the stellar debutantes of many cities gathered for -the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon -they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last -appeal, was about to come out with he knew not what, when Dean -suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm led -him aside. - -"Gordy," he said quickly, "I've thought the whole thing over carefully -and I've decided that I can't lend you that money. I'd like to oblige -you, but I don't feel I ought to--it'd put a crimp in me for a month." - -Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed -how much those upper teeth projected. - -"I'm--mighty sorry, Gordon," continued Dean, "but that's the way it -is." - -He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventy-five -dollars in bills. - -"Here," he said, holding them out, "here's seventy-five; that makes -eighty all together. That's all the actual cash I have with me, -besides what I'll actually spend on the trip." - -Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it -were a tongs he was holding, and clenched it again on the money. - -"I'll see you at the dance," continued Dean. "I've got to get along to -the barber shop." - -"So-long," said Gordon in a strained and husky voice. - -"So-long." - -Dean, began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly -and disappeared. - -But Gordon stood there, his handsome face awry with distress, the roll -of bills clenched tightly in his hand. Then, blinded by sudden tears, -he stumbled clumsily down the Biltmore steps. - - -III - -About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a -cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, -devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without -even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; -they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a -strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from -their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They -were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the -shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New -Jersey, landed three days before. - -The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his -veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran -blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long, -chinless face, the dull, watery eyes, and high cheek-bones, without -finding suggestion of either ancestral worth or native resourcefulness. - -His companion was swart and bandy-legged, with rat-eyes and a -much-broken hooked nose. His defiant air was obviously a pretense, a -weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of -physical bluff and physical menace, in which he had always lived. His -name was Gus Rose. - -Leaving the cafe they sauntered down Sixth Avenue, wielding toothpicks -with great gusto and complete detachment. - -"Where to?" asked Rose, in a tone which implied that he would not be -surprised if Key suggested the South Sea Islands. - -"What you say we see if we can getta holda some liquor?" Prohibition -was not yet. The ginger in the suggestion was caused by the law -forbidding the selling of liquor to soldiers. - -Rose agreed enthusiastically. - -"I got an idea," continued Key, after a moment's thought, "I got a -brother somewhere." - -"In New York?" - -"Yeah. He's an old fella." He meant that he was an elder brother. -"He's a waiter in a hash joint." - -"Maybe he can get us some." - -"I'll say he can!" - -"B'lieve me, I'm goin' to get this darn uniform off me to-morra. Never -get me in it again, neither. I'm goin' to get me some regular -clothes." - -"Say, maybe I'm not." - -As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this -intention can be taken largely as a pleasant game of words, harmless -and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they -reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personages high in -biblical circles, adding such further emphasis as "Oh, boy!" "You -know!" and "I'll say so!" repeated many times over. - -The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended -nasal comment extended through the years upon the institution--army, -business, or poorhouse--which kept them alive, and toward their -immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning the -institution had been the "government" and the immediate superior had -been the "Cap'n"--from these two they had glided out and were now in -the vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next -bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and somewhat ill at ease. -This they hid by pretending an elaborate relief at being out of the -army, and by assuring each other that military discipline should never -again rule their stubborn, liberty-loving wills. Yet, as a matter of -fact, they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this -new-found and unquestionable freedom. - -Suddenly Key increased his gait. Rose, looking up and following his -glance, discovered a crowd that was collecting fifty yards down the -street. Key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd; -Rose thereupon also chuckled and his short bandy legs twinkled beside -the long, awkward strides of his companion. - -Reaching the outskirts of the crowd they immediately became an -indistinguishable part of it. It was composed of ragged civilians -somewhat the worse for liquor, and of soldiers representing many -divisions and many stages of sobriety, all clustered around a -gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving his -arms and delivering an excited but succinct harangue. Key and Rose, -having wedged themselves into the approximate parquet, scrutinized him -with acute suspicion, as his words penetrated their common -consciousness. - -"--What have you got outa the war?" he was crying fiercely. "Look -arounja, look arounja! Are you rich? Have you got a lot of money -offered you?--no; you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs; -you're lucky if you came back an' find your wife ain't gone off with -some other fella that had the money to buy himself out of the war! -That's when you're lucky! Who got anything out of it except J. P. -Morgan an' John D. Rockerfeller?" - -At this point the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile -impact of a fist upon the point of his bearded chin and he toppled -backward to a sprawl on the pavement. - -"God damn Bolsheviki!" cried the big soldier-blacksmith, who had -delivered the blow. There was a rumble of approval, the crowd closed -in nearer. - -The Jew staggered to his feet, and immediately went down again before -a half-dozen reaching-in fists. This time he stayed down, breathing -heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and -without. - -There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found -themselves flowing with the jumbled crowd down Sixth Avenue under the -leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier -who had summarily ended the oration. The crowd had marvellously -swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of more non-committal -citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support -by intermittent huzzas. - -"Where we goin'?" yelled Key to the man nearest him - -His neighbor pointed up to the leader in the slouch hat. - -"That guy knows where there's a lot of 'em! We're goin' to show 'em!" - -"We're goin' to show 'em!" whispered Key delightedly to Rose, who -repeated the phrase rapturously to a man on the other side. - -Down Sixth Avenue swept the procession, joined here and there by -soldiers and marines, and now and then by civilians, who came up with -the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves, as -if presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed Sporting and -Amusement Club. - -Then the procession swerved down a cross street and headed for Fifth -Avenue and the word filtered here and there that they were bound for a -Red meeting at Tolliver Hall. - -"Where is it?" - -The question went up the line and a moment later the answer floated -hack. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth Street. There was a bunch of -other sojers who was goin' to break it up and was down there now! - -But Tenth Street had a faraway sound and at the word a general groan -went up and a score of the procession dropped out. Among these were -Rose and Key, who slowed down to a saunter and let the more -enthusiastic sweep on by. - -"I'd rather get some liquor," said Key as they halted and made their -way to the sidewalk amid cries of "Shell hole!" and "Quitters!" - -"Does your brother work around here?" asked Rose, assuming the air of -one passing from the superficial to the eternal. - -"He oughta," replied Key. "I ain't seen him for a coupla years. I been -out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he don't work at night anyhow. It's -right along here. He can get us some o'right if he ain't gone." - -They found the place after a few minutes' patrol of the street--a -shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth Avenue and Broadway. Here -Key went inside to inquire for his brother George, while Rose waited -on the sidewalk. - -"He ain't here no more," said Key emerging. "He's a waiter up to -Delmonico's." - -Rose nodded wisely, as if he'd expected as much. One should not be -surprised at a capable man changing jobs occasionally. He knew a -waiter once--there ensued a long conversation as they waited as to -whether waiters made more in actual wages than in tips--it was decided -that it depended on the social tone of the joint wherein the waiter -labored. After having given each other vivid pictures of millionaires -dining at Delmonico's and throwing away fifty-dollar bills after their -first quart of champagne, both men thought privately of becoming -waiters. In fact, Key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask -his brother to get him a job. - -"A waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellas leave in -bottles," suggested Rose with some relish, and then added as an -afterthought, "Oh, boy!" - -By the time they reached Delmonico's it was half past ten, and they -were surprised to see a stream of taxis driving up to the door one -after the other and emitting marvelous, hatless young ladies, each one -attended by a stiff young gentleman in evening clothes. - -"It's a party," said Rose with some awe. "Maybe we better not go in. -He'll be busy." - -"No, he won't. He'll be o'right." - -After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the -least elaborate door and, indecision falling upon them immediately, -stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small -dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps -and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them and both -started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a -comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through -another door on the other side. - -There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers -mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them -suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if -prepared at any moment to turn and flee. - -"Say," began Key, "say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here." - -"His name is Key," annotated Rose. - -Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was up-stairs, he thought. There was a -big dance going on in the main ballroom. He'd tell him. - -Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the -utmost suspicion; his first and most natural thought being that he was -going to be asked for money. - -George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his -brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were not dull, they were alert and -twinkling, and his manner was suave, in-door, and faintly superior. -They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. -He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol -had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol. - -"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been -disposed of, "we want to get some booze, and they won't sell us none. -Can you get us some?" - -George considered. - -"Sure. Maybe I can. It may be half an hour, though." - -"All right," agreed Carrol, "we'll wait" - -At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed -to his feet by the indignant George. - -"Hey! Watch out, you! Can't sit down here! This room's all set for a -twelve o'clock banquet." - -"I ain't goin' to hurt it," said Rose resentfully. "I been through the -delouser." - -"Never mind," said George sternly, "if the head waiter seen me here -talkin' he'd romp all over me." - -"Oh." - -The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; -they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a -suggestion. - -"I tell you," said George, after a pause, "I got a place you can wait; -you just come here with me." - -They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a -pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room -chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, -and illuminated by a single dim electric light. There he left them, -after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour -with a quart of whiskey. - -"George is makin' money, I bet," said Key gloomily as he seated -himself on an inverted pail. "I bet he's making fifty dollars a week." - -Rose nodded his head and spat. - -"I bet he is, too." - -"What'd he say the dance was of?" - -"A lot of college fellas. Yale College." - -They, both nodded solemnly at each other. - -"Wonder where that crowda sojers is now?" - -"I don't know. I know that's too damn long to walk for me." - -"Me too. You don't catch me walkin' that far." - -Ten minutes later restlessness seized them. - -"I'm goin' to see what's out here," said Rose, stepping cautiously -toward the other door. - -It was a swinging door of green baize and he pushed it open a cautious -inch. - -"See anything?" - -For answer Rose drew in his breath sharply. - -"Doggone! Here's some liquor I'll say!" - -"Liquor?" - -Key joined Rose at the door, and looked eagerly. - -"I'll tell the world that's liquor," he said, after a moment of -concentrated gazing. - -It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in--and in it -was prepared a radiant feast of spirits. There were long walls of -alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, -brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention -an array of syphons and two great empty punch bowls. The room was as -yet uninhabited. - -"It's for this dance they're just starting," whispered Key; "hear the -violins playin'? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind havin' a dance." - -They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual -comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out. - -"I'd like to get my hands on a coupla those bottles," said Rose -emphatically. - -"Me too." - -"Do you suppose we'd get seen?" - -Key considered. - -"Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin' 'em. They got 'em all -laid out now, and they know how many of them there are." - -They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting -his hands on a bottle now and tucking it under his coat before anyone -came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. He was afraid he -might get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the -bottles were opened it'd be all right to take one, and everybody'd -think it was one of the college fellas. - -While they were still engaged in argument George Key hurried through -the room and, barely grunting at them, disappeared by way of the green -baize door. A minute later they heard several corks pop, and then the -sound of cracking ice and splashing liquid. George was mixing the -punch. - -The soldiers exchanged delighted grins. - -"Oh, boy!" whispered Rose. - -George reappeared. - -"Just keep low, boys," he said quickly. "Ill have your stuff for you -in five minutes." - -He disappeared through the door by which he had come. - -As soon as his footsteps receded down the stairs, Rose, after a -cautious look, darted into the room of delights and reappeared with a -bottle in his hand. - -"Here's what I say," he said, as they sat radiantly digesting their -first drink. "We'll wait till he comes up, and we'll ask him if we -can't just stay here and drink what he brings us--see. We'll tell him -we haven't got any place to drink it--see. Then we can sneak in there -whenever there ain't nobody in that there room and tuck a bottle under -our coats. We'll have enough to last us a coupla days--see?" - -"Sure," agreed Rose enthusiastically. "Oh, boy! And if we want to we -can sell it to sojers any time we want to." - -They were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea. Then Key -reached up and unhooked the collar of his O. D. coat. - -"It's hot in here, ain't it?" - -Rose agreed earnestly. - -"Hot as hell." - - -IV - -She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressing-room and -crossed the intervening parlor of politeness that opened onto the -hall--angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, -the merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had -occurred on this particular night. She had no quarrel with herself. -She had acted with that correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity -which she always employed. She had succinctly and deftly snubbed him. - -It had happened when their taxi was leaving the Biltmore--hadn't gone -half a block. He had lifted his right arm awkwardly--she was on his -right side--and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson -fur-trimmed opera cloak she wore. This in itself had been a mistake. -It was inevitably more graceful for a young man attempting to embrace -a young lady of whose acquiescence he was not certain, to first put -his far arm around her. It avoided that awkward movement of raising -the near arm. - -His second _faux pas_ was unconscious. She had spent the -afternoon at the hairdresser's; the idea of any calamity overtaking -her hair was extremely repugnant--yet as Peter made his unfortunate -attempt the point of his elbow had just faintly brushed it. That was -his second _faux pas_. Two were quite enough. - -He had begun to murmur. At the first murmur she had decided that he -was nothing but a college boy--Edith was twenty-two, and anyhow, this -dance, first of its kind since the war, was reminding her, with the -accelerating rhythm of its associations, of something else--of another -dance and another man, a man for whom her feelings had been little -more than a sad-eyed, adolescent mooniness. Edith Bradin was falling -in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett. - -So she came out of the dressing-room at Delmonico's and stood for a -second in the doorway looking over the shoulders of a black dress in -front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified -black moths around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left -drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to and fro of many -scented young beauties--rich perfumes and the fragile memory-laden -dust of fragrant powders. This odor drifting out acquired the tang of -cigarette smoke in the hall, and then settled sensuously down the -stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Psi dance was to be -held. It was an odor she knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly -sweet--the odor of a fashionable dance. - -She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were -powdered to a creamy white. She knew they looked very soft and would -gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them -to-night. The hairdressing had been a success; her reddish mass of -hair was piled and crushed and creased to an arrogant marvel of mobile -curves. Her lips were finely made of deep carmine; the irises of her -eyes were delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a -complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty, flowing -in an even line from a complex coiffure to two small slim feet. - -She thought of what she would say to-night at this revel, faintly -prestiged already by the sounds of high and low laughter and slippered -footsteps, and movements of couples up and down the stairs. She would -talk the language she had talked for many years--her line--made up of -the current expressions, bits of journalese and college slang strung -together into an intrinsic whole, careless, faintly provocative, -delicately sentimental. She stalled faintly as she heard a girl -sitting on the stairs near her say: "You don't know the half of it, -dearie!" - -And as she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes -she drew in a deep breath of pleasure. She dropped her arms to her -side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered -and suggested her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much -nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms. - -"I smell sweet," she said to herself simply, and then came another -thought "I'm made for love." - -She liked the sound of this and thought it again; then inevitable -succession came her new-born riot of dreams about Gordon. The twist of -her imagination which, two months before, had disclosed to her her -unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up -to this dance, this hour. - -For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slow-thinking girl. There -was a streak in her of that same desire to ponder, of that adolescent -idealism that had turned her brother socialist and pacifist. Henry -Bradin had left Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economies, -and had come to New York to pour the latest cures for incurable evils -into the columns of a radical weekly newspaper. - -Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon -Sterrett. There was a quality of weakness in Gordon that she wanted to -take care of; there was a helplessness in him that she wanted to -protect. And she wanted someone she had known a long while, someone -who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired; she wanted to -get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as -many memories, and this weariness, she had decided that next time she -saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed. She would say -something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her -evening. All evenings were her evenings. - -Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a -hurt look and an air of strained formality who presented himself -before her and bowed unusually low. It was the man she had come with, -Peter Himmel. He was tall and humorous, with horned-rimmed glasses and -an air of attractive whimsicality. She suddenly rather disliked -him--probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her. - -"Well," she began, "are you still furious at me?" - -"Not at all." - -She stepped forward and took his arm. - -"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I snapped out that -way. I'm in a bum humor to-night for some strange reason. I'm sorry." - -"S'all right," he mumbled, "don't mention it." - -He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his -late failure? - -"It was a mistake," she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. -"We'll both forget it." For this he hated her. - -A few minutes later they drifted out on the floor while the dozen -swaying, sighing members of the specially hired jazz orchestra -informed the crowded ballroom that "if a saxophone and me are left -alone why then two is com-pan-ee!" - -A man with a mustache cut in. - -"Hello," he began reprovingly. "You don't remember me." - -"I can't just think of your name," she said lightly--"and I know you -so well." - -"I met you up at--" His voice trailed disconsolately off as a man with -very fair hair cut in. Edith murmured a conventional "Thanks, -loads--cut in later," to the _inconnu_. - -The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She -placed him as one of the numerous Jims of her acquaintance--last name -a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in -dancing and found as they started that she was right. - -"Going to be here long?" he breathed confidentially. - -She leaned back and looked up at him. - -"Couple of weeks." - -"Where are you?" - -"Biltmore. Call me up some day." - -"I mean it," he assured her. "I will. We'll go to tea." - -"So do I--Do." - -A dark man cut in with intense formality. - -"You don't remember me, do you?" he said gravely. - -"I should say I do. Your name's Harlan." - -"No-ope. Barlow." - -"Well, I knew there were two syllables anyway. You're the boy that -played the ukulele so well up at Howard Marshall's house party. - -"I played--but not--" - -A man with prominent teeth cut in. Edith inhaled a slight cloud of -whiskey. She liked men to have had something to drink; they were so -much more cheerful, and appreciative and complimentary--much easier to -talk to. - -"My name's Dean, Philip Dean," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember -me, I know, but you used to come up to New Haven with a fellow I -roomed with senior year, Gordon Sterrett." - -Edith looked up quickly. - -"Yes, I went up with him twice--to the Pump and Slipper and the Junior -prom." - -"You've seen him, of course," said Dean carelessly. "He's here -to-night. I saw him just a minute ago." - -Edith started. Yet she had felt quite sure he would be here. - -"Why, no, I haven't--" - -A fat man with red hair cut in. - -"Hello, Edith," he began. - -"Why--hello there--" - -She slipped, stumbled lightly. - -"I'm sorry, dear," she murmured mechanically. - -She had seen Gordon--Gordon very white and listless, leaning against -the side of a doorway, smoking, and looking into the ballroom. Edith -could see that his face was thin and wan--that the hand he raised to -his lips with a cigarette, was trembling. They were dancing quite -close to him now. - -"--They invite so darn many extra fellas that you--" the short man was -saying. - -"Hello, Gordon," called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart -was pounding wildly. - -His large dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her -direction. Her partner turned her away--she heard his voice -bleating---- - -"--but half the stags get lit and leave before long, so--" Then a low -tone at her side. - -"May I, please?" - -She was dancing suddenly with Gordon; one of his arms was around her; -she felt it tighten spasmodically; felt his hand on her back with the -fingers spread. Her hand holding the little lace handkerchief was -crushed in his. - -"Why Gordon," she began breathlessly. - -"Hello, Edith." - -She slipped again--was tossed forward by her recovery until her face -touched the black cloth of his dinner coat. She loved him--she knew -she loved him--then for a minute there was silence while a strange -feeling of uneasiness crept over her. Something was wrong. - -Of a sudden her heart wrenched, and turned over as she realized what -it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a little drunk, and miserably -tired. - -"Oh--" she cried involuntarily. - -His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were -blood-streaked and rolling uncontrollably. - -"Gordon," she murmured, "we'll sit down; I want to sit down." - -They were nearly in mid-floor, but she had seen two men start toward -her from opposite sides of the room, so she halted, seized Gordon's -limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, -her face a little pale under her rouge, her eyes trembling with tears. - -She found a place high up on the soft-carpeted stairs, and he sat down -heavily beside her. - -"Well," he began, staring at her unsteadily, "I certainly am glad to -see you, Edith." - -She looked at him without answering. The effect of this on her was -immeasurable. For years she had seen men in various stages of -intoxication, from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs, and her -feelings had varied from amusement to disgust, but here for the first -time she was seized with a new feeling--an unutterable horror. - -"Gordon," she said accusingly and almost crying, "you look like the -devil." - -He nodded, "I've had trouble, Edith." - -"Trouble?" - -"All sorts of trouble. Don't you say anything to the family, but I'm -all gone to pieces. I'm a mess, Edith." - -His lower lip was sagging. He seemed scarcely to see her. - -"Can't you--can't you," she hesitated, "can't you tell me about it, -Gordon? You know I'm always interested in you." - -She bit her lip--she had intended to say something stronger, but found -at the end that she couldn't bring it out. - -Gordon shook his head dully. "I can't tell you. You're a good woman. I -can't tell a good woman the story." - -"Rot," she said, defiantly. "I think it's a perfect insult to call any -one a good woman in that way. It's a slam. You've been drinking, -Gordon." - -"Thanks." He inclined his head gravely. "Thanks for the information." - -"Why do you drink?" - -"Because I'm so damn miserable." - -"Do you think drinking's going to make it any better?" - -"What you doing--trying to reform me?" - -"No; I'm trying to help you, Gordon. Can't you tell me about it?" - -"I'm in an awful mess. Best thing you can do is to pretend not to know -me." - -"Why, Gordon?" - -"I'm sorry I cut in on you--its unfair to you. You're pure woman--and -all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get some one else to dance with -you." - -He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down -beside her on the stairs. - -"Here, Gordon. You're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting -like a--like a crazy man--" - -"I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. -There's something left me. It doesn't matter." - -"It does, tell me." - -"Just that. I was always queer--little bit different from other boys. -All right in college, but now it's all wrong. Things have been -snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress, and -it's about to come off when a few more hooks go. I'm very gradually -going loony." - -He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away -from him. - -"What _is_ the matter?" - -"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a -dream to me--this Delmonico's--" - -As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light -and gay and careless--a great lethargy and discouragement had come -over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising -boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void. - -"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. -Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith. Don't know why I'm telling -you this." - -She nodded absently. - -"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He -laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've become a damn beggar, a -leech on my friends. I'm a failure. I'm poor as hell." - -Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her -first possible cue to rise. - -Suddenly Gordon's eyes filled with tears. - -"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong -effort at self-control, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know -there's one person left who's interested in me." - -He reached out and patted her hand, and involuntarily she drew it -away. - -"It's mighty fine of you," he repeated. - -"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always -glad to see an old friend--but I'm sorry to see you like this, -Gordon." - -There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary -eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her -face quite expressionless. - -"Shall we dance?" she suggested, coolly. - ---Love is fragile--she was thinking--but perhaps the pieces are saved, -the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new -love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next -lover. - - -V - -Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being -snubbed; having been snubbed, he was hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed -of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery -terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and -explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental -correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He -searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this -attitude in the matter of a simple kiss. - -Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the mustache he went -out into the hall and, making up a sentence, said it over to himself -several times. Considerably deleted, this was it: - -"Well, if any girl ever led a man on and then jolted him, she did--and -she has no kick coming if I go out and get beautifully boiled." - -So he walked through the supper room into a small room adjoining it, -which he had located earlier in the evening. It was a room in which -there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He -took a seat beside the table which held the bottles. - -At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the -turbidity of events, sank into a vague background before which -glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves, -things lay quietly on their shelves; the troubles of the day arranged -themselves in trim formation and at his curt wish of dismissal, -marched off and disappeared. And with the departure of worry came -brilliant, permeating symbolism. Edith became a flighty, negligible -girl, not to be worried over; rather to be laughed at. She fitted like -a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him. He -himself became in a measure symbolic, a type of the continent -bacchanal, the brilliant dreamer at play. - -Then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his -imagination yielded to the warm glow and he lapsed into a state -similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this -point that he noticed that a green baize door near him was open about -two inches, and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were watching -him intently. - -"Hm," murmured Peter calmly. - -The green door closed--and then opened again--a bare half inch this -time. - -"Peek-a-boo," murmured Peter. - -The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of -tense intermittent whispers. - -"One guy." - -"What's he doin'?" - -"He's sittin' lookin'." - -"He better beat it off. We gotta get another li'l' bottle." - -Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness. - -"Now this," he thought, "is most remarkable." - -He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a -mystery. Affecting an elaborate carelessness he arose and waited -around the table--then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door, -precipitating Private Rose into the room. - -Peter bowed. - -"How do you do?" he said. - -Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for -fight, flight, or compromise. - -"How do you do?" repeated Peter politely. - -"I'm o'right." - -"Can I offer you a drink?" - -Private Rose looked at him searchingly, suspecting possible sarcasm. - -"O'right," he said finally. - -Peter indicated a chair. - -"Sit down." - -"I got a friend," said Rose, "I got a friend in there." He pointed to -the green door. - -"By all means let's have him in." - -Peter crossed over, opened the door and welcomed in Private Key, very -suspicious and uncertain and guilty. Chairs were found and the three -took their seats around the punch bowl. Peter gave them each a -highball and offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted -both with some diffidence. - -"Now," continued Peter easily, "may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to -lounge away your leisure hours in a room which is chiefly furnished, -as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race -has progressed to the stage where seventeen thousand chairs are -manufactured on every day except Sunday--" he paused. Rose and Key -regarded him vacantly. "Will you tell me," went on Peter, "why you -choose to rest yourselves on articles, intended for the transportation -of water from one place to another?" - -At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation. - -"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a -building beautifully hung with enormous candelabra, you prefer to -spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?" - -Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed -uproariously; they found it was impossible to look at each other -without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man--they were -laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was -either raving drunk or raving crazy. - -"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and -preparing another. - -They laughed again. - -"Na-ah." - -"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of -the university known as the Sheffield Scientific School." - -"Na-ah." - -"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to -preserve your incognito in this--this paradise of violet blue, as the -newspapers say." - -"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody." - -"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses, "very -interestin'. Had a date with a scrublady, eh?" - -They both denied this indignantly. - -"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A -scrublady's as good as any lady in the world." - -Kipling says 'Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'" - -"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose. - -"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got -a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn girl I ever saw. Refused -to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure -I want to kiss you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger -generation comin' to?" - -"Say tha's hard luck," said Key--"that's awful hard luck." - -"Oh, boy!" said Rose. - -"Have another?" said Peter. - -"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but -it was too far away." - -"A fight?--tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. -"Fight 'em all! I was in the army." - -"This was with a Bolshevik fella." - -"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's, what I say! -Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!" - -"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. - -"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americans! -Have another." - -They had another. - - -VI - -At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special -orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its members, seating -themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of -providing music for the Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a -famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for his feat of -standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played -the latest jazz on his flute. During his performance the lights were -extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another -roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic -colors over the massed dancers. - -Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only -with debutantes, a state equivalent to the glow of a noble soul after -several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her -music; her partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the -colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it seemed as if days -had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary -subjects with many men. She had been kissed once and made love to six -times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates had danced -with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her -own entourage--that is, half a dozen gallants had singled her out or -were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty; -they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession. - -Several times she had seen Gordon--he had been sitting a long time on -the stairway with his palm to his head, his dull eyes fixed at an -infinite spark on the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and -quite drunk--but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All -that seemed long ago; her mind was passive now, her senses were lulled -to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in -hazy sentimental banter. - -But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral -indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her, sublimely and happily -drunk. She gasped and looked up at him. - -"Why, _Peter_!" - -"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith." - -"Why, Peter, you're a _peach_, you are! Don't you think it's a -bum way of doing--when you're with me?" - -Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish -sentimentality varied with a silly spasmodic smile. - -"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?" - -"You tell it well." - -"I love you--and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly. - -His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful -girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful eyes, like stars above. He wanted -to 'pologize--firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for -drinking--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was -mad at him---- - -The red-fat man cut in, and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly. - -"Did you bring any one?" she asked. - -No. The red-fat man was a stag. - -"Well, would you mind--would it be an awful bother for you to--to take -me home to-night?" (this extreme diffidence was a charming affectation -on Edith's part--she knew that the red-fat man would immediately -dissolve into a paroxysm of delight). - -"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn -glad to." - -"Thanks _loads_! You're awfully sweet." - -She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said -"half-past one" to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her -brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his -newspaper until after one-thirty every evening. - -Edith turned suddenly to her current partner. - -"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?" - -"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course." - -"I mean, what cross street?" - -"Why--let's see--it's on Forty-fourth Street." - -This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the -street and just around the corner, and it occurred to her immediately -that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on -him, a shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him -up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith revelled in doing--an -unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her -imagination--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. - -"My hair is just about to tumble entirely down," she said pleasantly -to her partner; "would you mind if I go and fix it?" - -"Not at all." - -"You're a peach." - -A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted -down a side-stairs, her cheeks glowing with excitement at her little -adventure. She ran by a couple who stood at the door--a weak-chinned -waiter and an over-rouged young lady, in hot dispute--and opening the -outer door stepped into the warm May night. - -VII - -The over-rouged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter -glance--then turned again to the weak-chinned waiter and took up her -argument. - -"You better go up and tell him I'm here," she said defiantly, "or I'll -go up myself." - -"No, you don't!" said George sternly. - -The girl smiled sardonically. - -"Oh, I don't, don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college -fellas and more of 'em know me, and are glad to take me out on a -party, than you ever saw in your whole life." - -"Maybe so--" - -"Maybe so," she interrupted. "Oh, it's all right for any of 'em like -that one that just ran out--God knows where _she_ went--it's all -right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like--but -when I want to see a friend they have some cheap, ham-slinging, -bring-me-a-doughnut waiter to stand here and keep me out." - -"See here," said the elder Key indignantly, "I can't lose my job. -Maybe this fella you're talkin' about doesn't want to see you." - -"Oh, he wants to see me all right." - -"Anyways, how could I find him in all that crowd?" - -"Oh, he'll be there," she asserted confidently. "You just ask anybody -for Gordon Sterrett and they'll point him out to you. They all know -each other, those fellas." - -She produced a mesh bag, and taking out a dollar bill handed it to -George. - -"Here," she said, "here's a bribe. You find him and give him my -message. You tell him if he isn't here in five minutes I'm coming up." - -George shook his head pessimistically, considered the question for a -moment, wavered violently, and then withdrew. - -In less than the allotted time Gordon came down-stairs. He was drunker -than he had been earlier in the evening and in a different way. The -liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust. He was heavy and -lurching--almost incoherent when he talked. - -"'Lo, Jewel," he said thickly. "Came right away, Jewel, I couldn't get -that money. Tried my best." - -"Money nothing!" she snapped. "You haven't been near me for ten days. -What's the matter?" - -He shook his head slowly. - -"Been very low, Jewel. Been sick." - -"Why didn't you tell me if you were sick. I don't care about the money -that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began -neglecting me." - -Again he shook his head. - -"Haven't been neglecting you. Not at all." - -"Haven't! You haven't been near me for three weeks, unless you been so -drunk you didn't know what you were doing." - -"Been sick. Jewel," he repeated, turning his eyes upon her wearily. - -"You're well enough to come and play with your society friends here -all right. You told me you'd meet me for dinner, and you said you'd -have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up." - -"I couldn't get any money." - -"Haven't I just been saying that doesn't matter? I wanted to see -_you_, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your somebody else." - -He denied this bitterly. - -"Then get your hat and come along," she suggested. Gordon -hesitated--and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms -around his neck. - -"Come on with me, Gordon," she said in a half whisper. "We'll go over -to Devineries' and have a drink, and then we can go up to my -apartment." - -"I can't, Jewel,----" - -"You can," she said intensely. - -"I'm sick as a dog!" - -"Well, then, you oughtn't to stay here and dance." - -With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, -Gordon hesitated; then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him -with soft, pulpy lips. - -"All right," he said heavily. "I'll get my hat." - - -VII - -When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night she found the -Avenue deserted. The windows of the big shops were dark; over their -doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs -of the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward Forty-second Street -she saw a commingled blur of lights from the all-night restaurants. -Over on Sixth Avenue the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the -street between the glimmering parallels of light at the station and -streaked along into the crisp dark. But at Forty-fourth Street it was -very quiet. - -Pulling her cloak close about her Edith darted across the Avenue. She -started nervously as a solitary man passed her and said in a hoarse -whisper--"Where bound, kiddo?" She was reminded of a night in her -childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a -dog had howled at her from a mystery-big back yard. - -In a minute she had reached her destination, a two-story, -comparatively old building on Forty-fourth, in the upper window of -which she thankfully detected a wisp of light. It was bright enough -outside for her to make out the sign beside the window--the _New -York Trumpet_. She stepped inside a dark hall and after a second -saw the stairs in the corner. - -Then she was in a long, low room furnished with many desks and hung on -all sides with file copies of newspapers. There were only two -occupants. They were sitting at different ends of the room, each -wearing a green eye-shade and writing by a solitary desk light. - -For a moment she stood uncertainly in the doorway, and then both men -turned around simultaneously and she recognized her brother. - -"Why, Edith!" He rose quickly and approached her in surprise, removing -his eye-shade. He was tall, lean, and dark, with black, piercing eyes -under very thick glasses. They were far-away eyes that seemed always -fixed just over the head of the person to whom he was talking. - -He put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek. - -"What is it?" he repeated in some alarm. - -"I was at a dance across at Delmonico's, Henry," she said excitedly, -"and I couldn't resist tearing over to see you." - -"I'm glad you did." His alertness gave way quickly to a habitual -vagueness. "You oughtn't to be out alone at night though, ought you?" - -The man at the other end of the room had been looking at them -curiously, but at Henry's beckoning gesture he approached. He was -loosely fat with little twinkling eyes, and, having removed his collar -and tie, he gave the impression of a Middle-Western farmer on a Sunday -afternoon. - -"This is my sister," said Henry. "She dropped in to see me." - -"How do you do?" said the fat man, smiling. "My name's Bartholomew, -Miss Bradin. I know your brother has forgotten it long ago." - -Edith laughed politely. - -"Well," he continued, "not exactly gorgeous quarters we have here, are -they?" - -Edith looked around the room. - -"They seem very nice," she replied. "Where do you keep the bombs?" - -"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good--the -bombs. Did you hear her, Henry? She wants to know where we keep the -bombs. Say, that's pretty good." - -Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over -the edge. Her brother took a seat beside her. - -"Well," he asked, absent-mindedly, "how do you like New York this -trip?" - -"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday. -Can't you come to luncheon to-morrow?" - -He thought a moment. - -"I'm especially busy," he objected, "and I hate women in groups." - -"All right," she agreed, unruffled. "Let's you and me have luncheon -together." - -"Very well." - -"I'll call for you at twelve." - -Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but -apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some -parting pleasantry. - -"Well"--he began awkwardly. - -They both turned to him. - -"Well, we--we had an exciting time earlier in the evening." - -The two men exchanged glances. - -"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat -encouraged. "We had a regular vaudeville." - -"Did you really?" - -"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in -the street and began to yell at the sign." - -"Why?" she demanded. - -"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl. -They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd -probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up." - -"Yes," said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith, "you should have been -here." - -He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he -turned abruptly and went back to his desk. - -"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of -her brother. "I mean do they attack you violently and all that?" - -Henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned. - -"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of -us are throw-backs; the soldiers don't know what they want, or what -they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies, -and they seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be -against us. There've been riots all over the city to-night. It's May -Day, you see." - -"Was the disturbance here pretty serious?" - -"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twenty-five of them stopped in -the street about nine o'clock, and began to bellow at the moon." - -"Oh"--She changed the subject. "You're glad to see me, Henry?" - -"Why, sure." - -"You don't seem to be." - -"I am." - -"I suppose you think I'm a--a waster. Sort of the World's Worst -Butterfly." - -Henry laughed. - -"Not at all. Have a good time while you're young. Why? Do I seem like -the priggish and earnest youth?" - -"No--" she paused,"--but somehow I began thinking how absolutely -different the party I'm on is from--from all your purposes. It seems -sort of--of incongruous, doesn't it?--me being at a party like that, -and you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party -impossible ever any more, if your ideas work." - -"I don't think of it that way. You're young, and you're acting just as -you were brought up to act. Go ahead--have a good time?" - -Her feet, which had been idly swinging, stopped and her voice dropped -a note. - -"I wish you'd--you'd come back to Harrisburg and have a good time. Do -you feel sure that you're on the right track----" - -"You're wearing beautiful stockings," he interrupted. "What on earth -are they?" - -"They're embroidered," she replied, glancing down; "Aren't they -cunning?" She raised her skirts and uncovered slim, silk-sheathed -calves. "Or do you disapprove of silk stockings?" - -He seemed slightly exasperated, bent his dark eyes on her piercingly. - -"Are you trying to make me out as criticizing you in any way, Edith?" - -"Not at all-----" - -She paused. Bartholomew had uttered a grunt. She turned and saw that -he had left his desk and was standing at the window. - -"What is it?" demanded Henry. - -"People," said Bartholomew, and then after an instant: "Whole jam of -them. They're coming from Sixth Avenue." - -"People?" - -The fat man pressed his nose to the pane. - -"Soldiers, by God!" he said emphatically. "I had an idea they'd come -back." - -Edith jumped to her feet, and running over joined Bartholomew at the -window. - -"There's a lot of them!" she cried excitedly. "Come here, Henry!" - -Henry readjusted his shade, but kept his seat. - -"Hadn't we better turn out the lights?" suggested Bartholomew. - -"No. They'll go away in a minute." - -"They're not," said Edith, peering from the window. "They're not even -thinking of going away. There's more of them coming. Look--there's a -whole crowd turning the corner of Sixth Avenue," - -By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp she could see -that the sidewalk was crowded with men. They were mostly in uniform, -some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an -incoherent clamor and shouting. - -Henry rose, and going to the window exposed himself as a long -silhouette against the office lights. Immediately the shouting became -a steady yell, and a rattling fusillade of small missiles, corners of -tobacco plugs, cigarette-boxes, and even pennies beat against the -window. The sounds of the racket now began floating up the stairs as -the folding doors revolved. - -"They're coming up!" cried Bartholomew. - -Edith turned anxiously to Henry. - -"They're coming up, Henry." - -From down-stairs in the lower hall their cries were now quite audible. - -"--God Damn Socialists!" - -"Pro-Germans! Boche-lovers!" - -"Second floor, front! Come on!" - -"We'll get the sons--" - -The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the -clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, -that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had -seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then -the door opened and an overflow of men were forced into the room--not -the leaders, but simply those who happened to be in front. - -"Hello, Bo!" - -"Up late, ain't you!" - -"You an' your girl. Damn _you_!" - -She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the -front, where they wobbled fatuously--one of them was short and dark, -the other was tall and weak of chin. - -Henry stepped forward and raised his hand. - -"Friends!" he said. - -The clamor faded into a momentary stillness, punctuated with -mutterings. - -"Friends!" he repeated, his far-away eyes fixed over the heads of the -crowd, "you're injuring no one but yourselves by breaking in here -to-night. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you -in all fairness--" - -"Pipe down!" - -"I'll say you do!" - -"Say, who's your lady friend, buddy?" - -A man in civilian clothes, who had been pawing over a table, suddenly -held up a newspaper. - -"Here it is!" he shouted, "They wanted the Germans to win the war!" - -A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in and of a sudden the -room was full of men all closing around the pale little group at the -back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in -front. The short dark one had disappeared. - -She edged slightly backward, stood close to the open window, through -which came a clear breath of cool night air. - -Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging -forward, glimpsed the fat man swinging a chair over his -head--instantly the lights went out and she felt the push of warm -bodies under rough cloth, and her ears were full of shouting and -trampling and hard breathing. - -A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, -and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window -with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of -the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on -the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall -soldier with tie weak chin. - -Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged -blindly toward the thickest of the scuffling. She heard grunts, -curses, the muffled impact of fists. - -"Henry!" she called frantically, "Henry!" - -Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other -figures in the room. She heard a voice, deep, bullying, authoritative; -she saw yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. -The cries became more scattered. The scuffling increased and then -stopped. - -Suddenly the lights were on and the room was full of policemen, -clubbing left and right. The deep voice boomed out: - -"Here now! Here now! Here now!" - -And then: - -"Quiet down and get out! Here now!" - -The room seemed to empty like a wash-bowl. A policeman fast-grappled -in the corner released his hold on his soldier antagonist and started -him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith -perceived now that it came from a bull-necked police captain standing -near the door. - -"Here now! This is no way! One of your own sojers got shoved out of -the back window an' killed hisself!" - -"Henry!" called Edith, "Henry!" - -She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her; -she brushed between two others; fought, shrieked, and beat her way to -a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk. - -"Henry," she cried passionately, "what's the matter? What's the -matter? Did they hurt you?" - -His eyes were shut. He groaned and then looking up said disgustedly-- - -"They broke my leg. My God, the fools!" - -"Here now!" called the police captain. "Here now! Here now!" - - -IX - -"Childs', Fifty-ninth Street," at eight o'clock of any morning differs -from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the -degree of polish on the frying-pans. You will see there a crowd of -poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes, trying to look -straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor -people. But Childs', Fifty-ninth, four hours earlier is quite unlike -any Childs' restaurant from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine. -Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus -girls, college boys, debutantes, rakes, _filles de joie_--a not -unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway, and even of Fifth -Avenue. - -In the early morning of May the second it was unusually full. Over the -marble-topped tables were bent the excited faces of flappers whose -fathers owned individual villages. They were eating buckwheat cakes -and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto, an accomplishment that it -would have been utterly impossible for them to repeat in the same -place four hours later. - -Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Psi dance at Delmonico's -except for several chorus girls from a midnight revue who sat at a -side table and wished they'd taken off a little more make-up after the -show. Here and there a drab, mouse-like figure, desperately out of -place, watched the butterflies with a weary, puzzled curiosity. But -the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, -and celebration was still in the air. - -Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab -figures. How he had got himself from Forty-fourth Street to -Fifty-ninth Street after the riot was only a hazy half-memory. He had -seen the body of Carrol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and -then he had started up town with two or three soldiers. Somewhere -between Forty-fourth Street and Fifty-ninth Street the other soldiers -had met some women and disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus -Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of Childs' to minister to his -craving for coffee and doughnuts. He walked in and sat down. - -All around him floated airy, inconsequential chatter and high-pitched -laughter. At first he failed to understand, but after a puzzled five -minutes he realized that this was the aftermath of some gay party. -Here and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally -and familiarly between the tables, shaking hands indiscriminately and -pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters, -bearing cakes and eggs aloft, swore at him silently, and bumped him -out of the way. To Rose, seated at the most inconspicuous and least -crowded table, the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and -riotous pleasure. - -He became gradually aware, after a few moments, that the couple seated -diagonally across from him with their backs to the crowd, were not the -least interesting pair in the room. The man was drunk. He wore a -dinner coat with a dishevelled tie and shirt swollen by spillings of -water and wine. His eyes, dim and blood-shot, roved unnaturally from -side to side. His breath came short between his lips. - -"He's been on a spree!" thought Rose. - -The woman was almost if not quite sober. She was pretty, with dark -eyes and feverish high color, and she kept her active eyes fixed on -her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she -would lean and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by -inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish and repellent -wink. - -Rose scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes until the woman gave him -a quick, resentful look; then he shifted his gaze to two of the most -conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted -circuit of the tables. To his surprise he recognized in one of them -the young man by whom he had been so ludicrously entertained at -Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague -sentimentality, not unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen -thirty-five feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoa-nut. - -"He was a darn good guy," thought Rose mournfully. "He was a darn good -guy, o'right. That was awful hard luck about him." - -The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table -and the next, addressing friends and strangers alike with jovial -familiarity. Suddenly Rose saw the fair-haired one with the prominent -teeth stop, look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then -begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to side. - -The man with the blood-shot eyes looked up. - -"Gordy," said the promenader with the prominent teeth, "Gordy." - -"Hello," said the man with the stained shirt thickly. - -Prominent teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair, giving -the woman a glance of aloof condemnation. - -"What'd I tell you Gordy?" - -Gordon stirred in his seat. - -"Go to hell!" he said. - -Dean continued to stand there shaking his finger. The woman began to -get angry, - -"You go way!" she cried fiercely. "You're drunk, that's what you are!" - -"So's he," suggested Dean, staying the motion of his finger and -pointing it at Gordon. - -Peter Himmel ambled up, owlish now and oratorically inclined. - -"Here now," he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute -between children. "Wha's all trouble?" - -"You take your friend away," said Jewel tartly. "He's bothering us." - -"What's at?" - -"You heard me!" she said shrilly. "I said to take your drunken friend -away." - -Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a -waiter came hurrying up. - -"You gotta be more quiet!" - -"That fella's drunk," she cried. "He's insulting us." - -"Ah-ha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned -to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends. Been tryin' help him, haven't I, -Gordy?" - -Gordy looked up. - -"Help me? Hell, no!" - -Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm assisted him to his -feet. - -"Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half -whisper. "Let's us get out of here. This fella's got a mean drunk on." - -Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the -door. Jewel turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their -flight. - -"I know all about _you_!" she said fiercely. "Nice friend, you -are, I'll say. He told me about you." - -Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through -the curious crowd, paid their check, and went out. - -"You'll have to sit down," said the waiter to Peter after they had -gone. - -"What's 'at? Sit down?" - -"Yes--or get out." - -Peter turned to Dean. - -"Come on," he suggested. "Let's beat up this waiter." - -"All right." - -They advanced toward him, their faces grown stern. The waiter -retreated. - -Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and -picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a -languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by. - -"Hey! Ease up!" - -"Put him out!" - -"Sit down, Peter!" - -"Cut out that stuff!" - -Peter laughed and bowed. - -"Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will -lend me some more hash and a tall hat we will go on with the act." - -The bouncer bustled up. - -"You've gotta get out!" he said to Peter. - -"Hell, no!" - -"He's my friend!" put in Dean indignantly. - -A crowd of waiters were gathering. "Put him out!" - -"Better go, Peter." - -There was a short, struggle and the two were edged and pushed toward -the door. - -"I got a hat and a coat here!" cried Peter. - -"Well, go get 'em and be spry about it!" - -The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air -of extreme cunning, rushed immediately around to the other table, -where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the -exasperated waiters. - -"Think I just better wait a l'il longer," he announced. - -The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and four -another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another -struggle took place before the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he -was finally pinioned after overturning a sugar-bowl and several cups -of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk, where Peter -attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at -policemen. - -But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another -phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary -"Oh-h-h!" from every person in the restaurant. - -The great plate-glass front had turned to a deep blue, the color of a -Maxfield Parrish moonlight--a blue that seemed to press close upon the -pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in -Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouetting the great -statue of the immortal Christopher, and mingling in a curious and -uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside. - - -X - -Mr. In and Mr. Out are not listed by the census-taker. You will search -for them in vain through the social register or the births, marriages, -and deaths, or the grocer's credit list. Oblivion has swallowed them -and the testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy, -and inadmissible in a court of law. Yet I have it upon the best -authority that for a brief space Mr. In and Mr. Out lived, breathed, -answered to their names and radiated vivid personalities of their own. - -During the brief span of their lives they walked in their native -garments down the great highway of a great nation; were laughed at, -sworn at, chased, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no -more. - -They were already taking form dimly, when a taxi cab with the top open -breezed down Broadway in the faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car -sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out discussing with amazement the blue -light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of -Christopher Columbus, discussing with bewilderment the old, gray faces -of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown -bits of paper on a gray lake. They were agreed on all things, from the -absurdity of the bouncer in Childs' to the absurdity of the business -of life. They were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the -morning had awakened in their glowing souls. Indeed, so fresh and -vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt it should be -expressed by loud cries. - -"Ye-ow-ow!" hooted Peter, making a megaphone with his hands--and Dean -joined in with a call that, though equally significant and symbolic, -derived its resonance from its very inarticulateness. - -"Yo-ho! Yea! Yoho! Yo-buba!" - -Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; -Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a -yell of, "Look where you're aimin'!" in a pained and grieved voice. At -Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a -very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: - -"Some party, boys!" - -At Forty-ninth Street Peter turned to Dean. "Beautiful morning," he -said gravely, squinting up his owlish eyes. - -"Probably is." - -"Go get some breakfast, hey?" - -Dean agreed--with additions. - -"Breakfast and liquor." - -"Breakfast and liquor," repeated Peter, and they looked at each other, -nodding. "That's logical," - -Then they both burst into loud laughter. - -"Breakfast and liquor! Oh, gosh!" - -"No such thing," announced Peter. - -"Don't serve it? Ne'mind. We force 'em serve it Bring pressure bear." - -"Bring logic bear." - -The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed along a cross street, and -stopped in front of a heavy tomb-like building in Fifth Avenue. - -"What's idea?" - -The taxi-driver informed them that this was Delmonico's. - -This was somewhat puzzling. They were forced to devote several minutes -to intense concentration, for if such an order had been given there -must have been a reason for it. - -"Somep'm 'bouta coat," suggested the taxi-man. - -That was it. Peter's overcoat and hat. He had left them at -Delmonico's. Having decided this, they disembarked from the taxi and -strolled toward the entrance arm in arm. - -"Hey!" said the taxi-driver. - -"Huh?" - -"You better pay me." - -They shook their heads in shocked negation. - -"Later, not now--we give orders, you wait." - -The taxi-driver objected; he wanted his money now. With the scornful -condescension of men exercising tremendous self-control they paid him. - -Inside Peter groped in vain through a dim, deserted check-room in -search of his coat and derby. - -"Gone, I guess. Somebody stole it." - -"Some Sheff student." - -"All probability." - -"Never mind," said Dean, nobly. "I'll leave mine here too--then we'll -both be dressed the same." - -He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his -roving glance was caught and held magnetically by two large squares of -cardboard tacked to the two coat-room doors. The one on the left-hand -door bore the word "In" in big black letters, and the one on the -right-hand door flaunted the equally emphatic word "Out." - -"Look!" he exclaimed happily--- - -Peter's eyes followed his pointing finger. - -"What?" - -"Look at the signs. Let's take 'em." - -"Good idea." - -"Probably pair very rare an' valuable signs. Probably come in handy." - -Peter removed the left-hand sign from the door and endeavored to -conceal it about his person. The sign being of considerable -proportions, this was a matter of some difficulty. An idea flung -itself at him, and with an air of dignified mystery he turned his -back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around, and stretching -out his arms displayed himself to the admiring Dean. He had inserted -the sign in his vest, completely covering his shirt front. In effect, -the word "In" had been painted upon his shirt in large black letters. - -"Yoho!" cheered Dean. "Mister In." - -He inserted his own sign in like manner. - -"Mister Out!" he announced triumphantly. "Mr. In meet Mr. Out." - -They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they -rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth. - -"Yoho!" - -"We probably get a flock of breakfast." - -"We'll go--go to the Commodore." - -Arm in arm they sallied out the door, and turning east in Forty-fourth -Street set out for the Commodore. - -As they came out a short dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had -been wandering listlessly along the sidewalk, turned to look at them. - -He started over as though to address them, but as they immediately -bent on him glances of withering unrecognition, he waited until they -had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about -forty paces, chuckling to himself and saying, "Oh, boy!" over and over -under his breath, in delighted, anticipatory tones. - -Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning -their future plans. - -"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and -indivisible." - -"We want both 'em!" - -"Both 'em!" - -It was quite light now, and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on -the pair. Obviously they were engaged in a discussion, which afforded -each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter -would seize upon them so violently that, still with their arms -interlocked, they would bend nearly double. - -Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the -sleepy-eyed doorman, navigated the revolving door with some -difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but -startled lobby to the dining-room, where a puzzled waiter showed them -an obscure table in a corner. They studied the bill of fare -helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles. - -"Don't see any liquor here," said Peter reproachfully. - -The waiter became audible but unintelligible. - -"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems -to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon bill of -fare." - -"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the -waiter--"Bring us--bring us--" he scanned the bill of fare anxiously. -"Bring us a quart of champagne and a--a--probably ham sandwich." - -The waiter looked doubtful. - -"Bring it!" roared Mr. In and Mr. Out in chorus. - -The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during -which they were subjected without their knowledge to a careful -scrutiny by the head-waiter. Then the champagne arrived, and at the -sight of it Mr. In and Mr. Out became jubilant. - -"Imagine their objecting to us having, champagne for breakfast--jus' -imagine." - -They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, -but the feat was too much for them. It was impossible for their joint -imaginations to conjure up a world where any one might object any one -else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an -enormous _pop_ and their glasses immediately foamed with pale -yellow froth. - -"Here's health, Mr. In." - -"Here's same to you, Mr. Out." - -The waiter withdrew; the minutes passed; the champagne became low in -the bottle. - -"It's--it's mortifying," said Dean suddenly. - -"Wha's mortifying?" - -"The idea their objecting us having champagne breakfast." - -"Mortifying?" Peter considered. "Yes, tha's word--mortifying." - -Again they collapsed into laughter, howled, swayed, rocked back and -forth in their chairs, repeating the word "mortifying" over and over -to each other--each repetition seeming to make it only more -brilliantly absurd. - -After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another quart. Their -anxious waiter consulted his immediate superior, and this discreet -person gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be -served. Their check was brought. - -Five minutes later, arm in arm, they left the Commodore and made their -way through a curious, staring crowd along Forty-second Street, and up -Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they -rose to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast and -standing unnaturally erect. - -Once in the dining-room they repeated their performance. They were -torn between intermittent convulsive laughter and sudden spasmodic -discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their -dispositions. Their watches told them that it was now nine o'clock, -and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a memorable party, -something that they would remember always. They lingered over the -second bottle. Either of them had only to mention the word -"mortifying" to send them both into riotous gasps. The dining-room was -whirring and shifting now; a curious lightness permeated and rarefied -the heavy air. - -They paid their check and walked out into the lobby. - -It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved for the -thousandth time that morning, and admitted into the lobby a very pale -young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a -much-rumpled evening dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, -obviously not an appropriate escort. - -At the top of the stairs this couple encountered Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -"Edith," began Mr. In, stepping toward her hilariously and making a -sweeping bow, "darling, good morning." - -The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her -permission to throw this man summarily out of the way. - -"'Scuse familiarity," added Peter, as an afterthought. "Edith, -good-morning." - -He seized Dean's elbow and impelled him into the foreground. - -"Meet Mr. In, Edith, my bes' frien'. Inseparable. Mr. In and Mr. Out." - -Mr. Out advanced and bowed; in fact, he advanced so far and bowed so -low that he tipped slightly forward and only kept his balance by -placing a hand lightly on Edith's shoulder. - -"I'm Mr. Out, Edith," he mumbled pleasantly. "S'misterin Misterout." - -"'Smisterinanout," said Peter proudly. - -But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite -speck in the gallery above her. She nodded slightly to the stout man, -who advanced bull-like and with a sturdy brisk gesture pushed Mr. In -and Mr. Out to either side. Through this alley he and Edith walked. - -But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again--stopped and pointed to a -short, dark soldier who was eying the crowd in general, and the -tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular, with a sort of puzzled, -spell-bound awe. - -"There," cried Edith. "See there!" - -Her voice rose, became somewhat shrill. Her pointing finger shook -slightly. - -"There's the soldier who broke my brother's leg." - -There were a dozen exclamations; a man in a cutaway coat left his -place near the desk and advanced alertly; the stout person made a sort -of lightning-like spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the -lobby closed around the little group and blotted them from the sight -of Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -But to Mr. In and Mr. Out this event was merely a particolored -iridescent segment of a whirring, spinning world. - -They heard loud voices; they saw the stout man spring; the picture -suddenly blurred. - -Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. - -"What floor, please?" said the elevator man. - -"Any floor," said Mr. In. - -"Top floor," said Mr. Out. - -"This is the top floor," said the elevator man. - -"Have another floor put on," said Mr. Out. - -"Higher," said Mr. In. - -"Heaven," said Mr. Out. - - -XI - -In a bedroom of a small hotel just off Sixth Avenue Gordon Sterrett -awoke with a pain in the back of his head and a sick throbbing in all -his veins. He looked at the dusky gray shadows in the corners of the -room and at a raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where -it had long been in use. He saw clothes, dishevelled, rumpled clothes -on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The -windows were tight shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thrown a -dust-filled beam across the sill--a beam broken by the head of the -wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet--comatose, -drugged, his eyes wide, his mind clicking wildly like an unoiled -machine. - -It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with -the dust on it and the rip on the large leather chair that he had the -sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds -after that before that he realized that he was irrevocably married to -Jewel Hudson. - -He went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting -goods store. Then he took a took a taxi to the room where he had been -living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table -that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just -behind the temple. - - - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK - - -_room in the down-stairs of a summer cottage. High around the wall -runs an art frieze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and -a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet -and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his -feet and so on. In one place on the frieze there is an overlapping--here -we have half a fisherman with half a pile of nets at his foot, -crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. -The frieze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could -continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects -in the room--a blue porcelain bath-tub. It has character, this -bath-tub. It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small with a -high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump; discouraged, -however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its -environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. But it grumpily refuses -to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs--which brings us -neatly to the second object in the room:_ - -_is a girl--clearly an appendage to the bath-tub, only her head and -throat--beautiful girls have throats instead of necks--and a -suggestion of shoulder appearing above the side. For the first ten -minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she -really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether -it is being cheated and she is dressed._ - -_The girl's name is_ JULIE MARVIS. _From the proud way she sits -up in the bath-tub we deduce that she is not very tall and that she -carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper tip rolls a little -and reminds you of an Easter Bunny, She is within whispering distance -of twenty years old._ - -_One thing more--above and to the right of the bath-tub is a window. -It is narrow and has a wide sill; it lets in much sunshine, but -effectually prevents any one who looks in from seeing the bath-tub. -You begin to suspect the plot?_ - -_We open, conventionally enough, with a song, but, as the startled -gasp of the audience quite drowns out the first half, we will give -only the last of it:_ - -JULIE: (_In an airy sophrano--enthusiastico_) - - When Caesar did the Chicago - He was a graceful child, - Those sacred chickens - Just raised the dickens - The Vestal Virgins went wild. - Whenever the Nervii got nervy - He gave them an awful razz - They shook is their shoes - With the Consular blues - The Imperial Roman Jazz - -(_During the wild applause that follows_ JULIE _modestly moves -her arms and makes waves on the surface of the water--at least we -suppose she does. Then the door on the left opens and_ LOIS MARVIS -_enters, dressed but carrying garments and towels._ LOIS _is a -year older than_ JULIE _and is nearly her double in face and -voice, but in her clothes and expression are the marks of the -conservative. Yes, you've guessed it. Mistaken identity is the old -rusty pivot upon which the plot turns._) - -LOIS: (_Starting_) Oh, 'scuse me. I didn't know you were here. - -JULIE: Oh, hello. I'm giving a little concert-- - -LOIS: (_Interrupting_) Why didn't you lock the door? - -JULIE: Didn't I? - -LOIS: Of course you didn't. Do you think I just walked through it? - -JULIE: I thought you picked the lock, dearest. - -LOIS: You're _so_ careless. - -JULIE: No. I'm happy as a garbage-man's dog and I'm giving a little -concert. - -LOIS: (_Severely_) Grow up! - -JULIE: (_Waving a pink arm around the room_) The walls reflect -the sound, you see. That's why there's something very beautiful about -singing in a bath-tub. It gives an effect of surpassing loveliness. -Can I render you a selection? - -LOIS: I wish you'd hurry out of the tub. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head thoughtfully_) Can't be hurried. This -is my kingdom at present, Godliness. - -LOIS: Why the mellow name? - -JULIE: Because you're next to Cleanliness. Don't throw anything -please! - -LOIS: How long will you be? - -JULIE: (_After some consideration_) Not less than fifteen nor -more than twenty-five minutes. - -LOIS: As a favor to me will you make it ten? - -JULIE: (_Reminiscing_) Oh, Godliness, do you remember a day in -the chill of last January when one Julie, famous for her Easter-rabbit -smile, was going out and there was scarcely any hot water and young -Julie had just filled the tub for her own little self when the wicked -sister came and did bathe herself therein, forcing the young Julie to -perform her ablutions with cold cream--which is expensive and a darn -lot of troubles? - -LOIS: (_Impatiently_) Then you won't hurry? - -JULIE: Why should I? - -LOIS: I've got a date. - -JULIE: Here at the house? - -LOIS: None of your business. - -(_JULIE shrugs the visible tips of her shoulders and stirs the water -into ripples._) - -JULIE: So be it. - -LOIS: Oh, for Heaven's sake, yes! I have a date here, at the house--in -a way. - -JULIE: In a way? - -LOIS: He isn't coming in. He's calling for me and we're walking. - -JULIE: (_Raising her eyebrows_) Oh, the plot clears. It's that -literary Mr. Calkins. I thought you promised mother you wouldn't -invite him in. - -LOIS: (_Desperately_) She's so idiotic. She detests him because -he's just got a divorce. Of course she's had more expedience than I -have, but-- - -JULIE: (_Wisely_) Don't let her kid you! Experience is the -biggest gold brick in the world. All older people have it for sale. - -LOIS: I like him. We talk literature. - -JULIE: Oh, so that's why I've noticed all these weighty, books around -the house lately. - -LOIS: He lends them to me. - -JULIE: Well, you've got to play his game. When in Rome do as the -Romans would like to do. But I'm through with books. I'm all educated. - -LOIS: You're very inconsistent--last summer you read every day. - -JULIE: If I were consistent I'd still be living on warm milk out of a -bottle. - -LOIS: Yes, and probably my bottle. But I like Mr. Calkins. - -JULIE: I never met him. - -LOIS: Well, will you hurry up? - -JULIE: Yes. (_After a pause_) I wait till the water gets tepid -and then I let in more hot. - -LOIS: (_Sarcastically_) How interesting! - -JULIE: 'Member when we used to play "soapo"? - -LOIS: Yes--and ten years old. I'm really quite surprised that you -don't play it still. - -JULIE: I do. I'm going to in a minute. - -LOIS: Silly game. - -JULIE: (_Warmly_) No, it isn't. It's good for the nerves. I'll -bet you've forgotten how to play it. - -LOIS: (_Defiantly_) No, I haven't. You--you get the tub all full -of soapsuds and then you get up on the edge and slide down. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head scornfully_) Huh! That's only part of -it. You've got to slide down without touching your hand or feet-- - -LOIS:(_Impatiently_) Oh, Lord! What do I care? I wish we'd either -stop coming here in the summer or else get a house with two bath-tubs. - -JULIE: You can buy yourself a little tin one, or use the hose----- - -LOIS: Oh, shut up! - -JULIE: (_Irrelevantly_) Leave the towel. - -LOIS: What? - -JULIE: Leave the towel when you go. - -LOIS: This towel? - -JULIE: (_Sweetly_) Yes, I forgot my towel. - -LOIS: (_Looking around for the first time_) Why, you idiot! You -haven't even a kimono. - -JULIE: (_Also looking around_) Why, so I haven't. - -LOIS: (_Suspicion growing on her_) How did you get here? - -JULIE: (_Laughing_) I guess I--I guess I whisked here. You know--a -white form whisking down the stairs and-- - -LOIS: (_Scandalized_) Why, you little wretch. Haven't you any -pride or self-respect? - -JULIE: Lots of both. I think that proves it. I looked very well. I -really am rather cute in my natural state. - -LOIS: Well, you-- - -JULIE: (_Thinking aloud_) I wish people didn't wear any clothes. -I guess I ought to have been a pagan or a native or something. - -LOIS: You're a-- - -JULIE: I dreamt last night that one Sunday in church a small boy -brought in a magnet that attracted cloth. He attracted the clothes -right off of everybody; put them in an awful state; people were crying -and shrieking and carrying on as if they'd just discovered their skins -for the first time. Only _I_ didn't care. So I just laughed. I -had to pass the collection plate because nobody else would. - -LOIS: (_Who has turned a deaf ear to this speech_) Do you mean to -tell me that if I hadn't come you'd have run back to your -room--un--unclothed? - -JULIE: _Au naturel_ is so much nicer. - -LOIS: Suppose there had been some one in the living-room. - -JULIE: There never has been yet. - -LOIS: Yet! Good grief! How long-- - -JULIE: Besides, I usually have a towel. - -LOIS: (_Completely overcome_) Golly! You ought to be spanked. I -hope, you get caught. I hope there's a dozen ministers in the -living-room when you come out--and their wives, and their daughters. - -JULIE: There wouldn't be room for them in the living-room, answered -Clean Kate of the Laundry District. - -LOIS: All right. You've made your own--bath-tub; you can lie in it. - -(_LOIS starts determinedly for the door._) - -JULIE: (_In alarm_) Hey! Hey! I don't care about the k'mono, but -I want the towel. I can't dry myself on a piece of soap and a wet -wash-rag. - -LOIS: (_Obstinately_). I won't humor such a creature. You'll have -to dry yourself the best way you can. You can roll on the floor like -the animals do that don't wear any clothes. - -JULIE: (_Complacent again_) All right. Get out! - -LOIS: (_Haughtily_) Huh! - -(JULIE _turns on the cold water and with her finger directs a -parabolic stream at LOIS. LOIS retires quickly, slamming the door -after her. JULIE laughs and turns off the water_) - -JULIE: (Singing) - - When the Arrow-collar man - Meets the D'jer-kiss girl - On the smokeless Sante Fe - Her Pebeco smile - Her Lucile style - De dum da-de-dum one day-- - -(_She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps, -but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for -a moment--then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a -telephone_) - -JULIE: Hello! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_) -Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do -you want? (_No answer_) I believe you're a ghost. Are you? (_No -answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on -the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to -the spigot_) If you're the plumber that's a mean trick. Turn it on -for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don't argue! I want -water--water! _Water_! - -(_A young man's head appears in the window--a head decorated with a -slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they -can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean, -they decide him to speak_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted? - -JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water's no good for fits. - -JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits! - -THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping - -JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not! - -THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go -out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody -will gossip? - -JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It'd be more than -gossip--it'd be a regular scandal. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you're going it a little strong. Your family -might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are -suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old -women. Come on. - -JULIE: You don't know what you ask. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us? - -JULIE: A crowd? There'd be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving -New York hourly. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning? - -JULIE: Why? - -THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls. - -JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or -tapestry or panelling or something. - -JULIE: There's not even any furniture in here. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house! - -JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It's so nice talking to you like -this--when you're merely a voice. I'm rather glad I can't see you. - -JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing? - -JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess -it's a sort of pinkish white. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you? - -JULIE: Very. It's--it's old. I've had it for a long while. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes. - -JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear -it. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I'll bet it's divine. Is it in -style? - -JULIE: Quite. It's very simple, standard model. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut -my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And -I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand -there, water stretching on both sides of you-- - -(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young -man blinks_) - -YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it? - -JULIE: Yes. You're--you're very poetic, aren't you? - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when -I am stirred. - -JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon-- - -THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day -the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was "Evangeline." - -JULIE: That's a fib. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say "Evangeline"? I meant "The Skeleton in -Armor." - -JULIE: I'm a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one -verse: - - Parker and Davis - Sittin' on a fence - Tryne to make a dollar - Outa fif-teen cents. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature? - -JULIE: If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way -with people. I usually like 'em not too ancient or complicated or -depressing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I've read enormously. You told me last night -that you were very fond of Walter Scott. - -JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let's see. Yes, I've read "Ivanhoe" -and "The Last of the Mohicans." - -THE YOUNG MAN: That's by Cooper. - -JULIE: (_Angrily_) "Ivanhoe" is? You're crazy! I guess I know. I -read it. THE YOUNG MAN: "The Last of the Mohicans" is by Cooper. - -JULIE: What do I care! I like O. Henry. I don't see how he ever wrote -those stories. Most of them he wrote in prison. "The Ballad of Reading -Gaol" he made up in prison. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Biting his lip_) Literature--literature! How -much it has meant to me! - -JULIE: Well, as Gaby Deslys said to Mr. Bergson, with my looks and -your brains there's nothing we couldn't do. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Laughing_) You certainly are hard to keep up -with. One day you're awfully pleasant and the next you're in a mood. -If I didn't understand your temperament so well-- - -JULIE: (_Impatiently_) Oh, you're one of these amateur -character-readers, are you? Size people up in five minutes and then -look wise whenever they're mentioned. I hate that sort of thing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I don't boast of sizing you up. You're most mysterious, -I'll admit. - -JULIE: There's only two mysterious people in history. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Who are they? - -JULIE: The Man with the Iron Mask and the fella who says "ug uh-glug -uh-glug uh-glug" when the line is busy. - -THE YOUNG MAN: You _are_ mysterious, I love you. You're -beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that's the rarest known -combination. - -JULIE: You're a historian. Tell me if there are any bath-tubs in -history. I think they've been frightfully neglected. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Bath-tubs! Let's see. Well, Agamemnon was stabbed in -his bath-tub. And Charlotte Corday stabbed Marat in his bath-tub. - -JULIE: (_Sighing_) Way back there! Nothing new besides the sun, -is there? Why only yesterday I picked up a musical-comedy score that -mast have been at least twenty years old; and there on the cover it -said "The Shimmies of Normandy," but shimmie was spelt the old way, -with a "C." - -THE YOUNG MAN: I loathe these modern dances. Oh, Lois, I wish I could -see you. Come to the window. - -(_There is a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the flow -starts from the open taps. Julie turns them off quickly_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Puzzled_) What on earth was that? - -JULIE: (_Ingeniously_) I heard something, too. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Sounded like running water. - -JULIE: Didn't it? Strange like it. As a matter of fact I was filling -the gold-fish bowl. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Still puzzled_) What was that banging noise? - -JULIE: One of the fish snapping his golden jaws. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_With sudden resolution_) Lois, I love you. I am -not a mundane man but I am a forger--- - -JULIE: (_Interested at once_) Oh, how fascinating. - -THE YOUNG MAN:--a forger ahead. Lois, I want you. - -JULIE: (_Skeptically_) Huh! What you really want is for the world -to come to attention and stand there till you give "Rest!" - -THE YOUNG MAN: Lois I--Lois I-- - -(_He stops as Lois opens the door, comes in, and bangs it behind -her. She looks peevishly at _JULIE _and then suddenly catches -sight of the young man in the window_) - -LOIS: (_In horror_) Mr. Calkins! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Surprised_) Why I thought you said you were -wearing pinkish white! - -(_After one despairing stare _LOIS _ shrieks, throws up her -hands in surrender, and sinks to the floor._) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_In great alarm_) Good Lord! She's fainted! I'll -be right in. - -(JULIE'S _eyes light on the towel which has slipped from_ LOIS'S -_inert hand._) - -JULIE: In that case I'll be right out. - -(_She puts her hands on the side of the tub to lift herself out and -a murmur, half gasp, half sigh, ripples from the audience. - -A Belasco midnight comes guickly down and blots out the stage._) - -CURTAIN. - - - - -_FANTASIES_ - - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ - -1 - - -John T. Unger came from a family that had been well known in Hades--a -small town on the Mississippi River--for several generations. John's -father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated -contest; Mrs. Unger was known "from hot-box to hot-bed," as the local -phrase went, for her political addresses; and young John T. Unger, who -had just turned sixteen, had danced all the latest dances from New -York before he put on long trousers. And now, for a certain time, he -was to be away from home. That respect for a New England education -which is the bane of all provincial places, which drains them yearly -of their most promising young men, had seized upon his parents. -Nothing would suit them but that he should go to St. Midas's School -near Boston--Hades was too small to hold their darling and gifted son. - -Now in Hades--as you know if you ever have been there--the names of -the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean very -little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that, -though they make a show of keeping up-to-date in dress and manners and -literature, they depend to a great extent on hearsay, and a function -that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed -by a Chicago beef-princess as "perhaps a little tacky." - -John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with maternal -fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric fans, and -Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocket-book stuffed with -money. - -"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be sure, -boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning." - -"I know," answered John huskily. - -"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued his -father proudly, "and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an -Unger--from Hades." - -So the old man and the young shook hands, and John walked away with -tears streaming from his eyes. Ten minutes later he had passed outside -the city limits and he stopped to glance back for the last time. Over -the gates the old-fashioned Victorian motto seemed strangely -attractive to him. His father had tried time and time again to have it -changed to something with a little more push and verve about it, such -as "Hades--Your Opportunity," or else a plain "Welcome" sign set over -a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights. The old motto was a -little depressing, Mr. Unger had thought--but now .... - -So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his -destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the -sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty. - - * * * * * - -St. Midas's School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce -motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one, except -John T. Unger, had ever arrived there save in a Rolls-Pierce and -probably no one ever will again. St. Midas's is the most expensive and -the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the world. - -John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the -boys were money-kings, and John spent his summer visiting at -fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he -visited, their fathers struck him as being much of a piece, and in his -boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness. When he told -them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down -there?" and John would muster a faint smile and answer, "It certainly -is." His response would have been heartier had they not all made this -joke--at best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you down there?" -which he hated just as much. - -In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy -named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The new-comer was -pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well dressed even for St. -Midas's, but for some reason he kept aloof from the other boys. The -only person with whom he was intimate was John T. Unger, but even to -John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his -family. That he was wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such -deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised rich -confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the -summer at his home "in the West." He accepted, without hesitation. - -It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the -first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating lunch -in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of several -of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and made an -abrupt remark. - -"My father," he said, "is by far the richest man in the world." - -"Oh," said John politely. He could think of no answer to make to this -confidence. He considered "That's very nice," but it sounded hollow -and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since it would -seem to question Percy's statement. And such an astounding statement -could scarcely be questioned. - -"By far the richest," repeated Percy. - -"I was reading in the _World Almanac_," began John, "that there -was one man in America with an income of over five million a years and -four men with incomes of over three million a year, and---" - -"Oh, they're nothing." Percy's mouth was a half-moon of scorn. -"Catch-penny capitalists, financial small-fry, petty merchants and -money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done -it." - -"But how does he---" - -"Why haven't they put down _his_ income-tax? Because he doesn't -pay any. At least he pays a little one--but he doesn't pay any on his -_real_ income." - -"He must be very rich," said John simply, "I'm glad. I like very rich -people. - -"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of -passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I visited the -Schnlitzer-Murphys last Easter. Vivian Schnlitzer-Murphy had rubies as -big as hen's eggs, and sapphires that were like globes with lights -inside them---" - -"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I wouldn't -want any one at school to know about it, but I've got quite a -collection myself. I used to collect them instead of stamps." - -"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The Schnlitzer-Murphys had -diamonds as big as walnuts---" - -"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a -low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My father has a diamond bigger -than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - - -2 - -The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise -from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned sky. An -immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish, minute, -dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the -village of Fish, twelve sombre and inexplicable souls who sucked a -lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious -populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, -these twelve men of Fish, like some species developed by an early whim -of nature, which on second thought had abandoned them to struggle and -extermination. - -Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of -moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men of -Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of -the seven o'clock train, the Transcontinental Express from Chicago. -Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through some -inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and when -this occurred a figure or so would disembark, mount into a buggy that -always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off toward the bruised -sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon -had become a sort of cult among the men of Fish. To observe, that was -all; there remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion -which would make them wonder or speculate, else a religion might have -grown up around these mysterious visitations. But the men of Fish were -beyond all religion--the barest and most savage tenets of even -Christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rock--so there was -no altar, no priest, no sacrifice; only each night at seven the silent -concourse by the shanty depot, a congregation who lifted up a prayer -of dim, anaemic wonder. - -On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified any -one, they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist, had -ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or -inhuman) deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Washington -and John T. Unger disembarked, hurried past the spellbound, the agape, -the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into a buggy -which had obviously appeared from nowhere, and drove away. - -After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the -silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body somewhere -ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned upon -them a luminous disc which regarded them like a malignant eye out of -the unfathomable night. As they came closer, John saw that it was the -tail-light of an immense automobile, larger and more magnificent than -any he had ever seen. Its body was of gleaming metal richer than -nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the wheels were -studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellow--John -did not dare to guess whether they were glass or jewel. - -Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pictures -of royal processions in London, were standing at attention beside the -car and, as the two young men dismounted from the buggy, they were -greeted in some language which the guest could not understand, but -which seemed to be an extreme form of the Southern negro's dialect. - -"Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to the -ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we had to bring you this far in -that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train -or those God-forsaken fellas in Fish to see this automobile." - -"Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its interior. -John saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute and -exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries, and -set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats in -which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled -duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colours of the ends of ostrich -feathers. - -"What a car!" cried John again, in amazement. - -"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for a -station wagon." - -By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the -break between the two mountains. - -"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the -clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to be like anything you -ever saw before." - -If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared -to be astonished indeed. The simple piety prevalent in Hades has the -earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its -creed--had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his -parents would have turned away in horror at the blasphemy. - -They had now reached and were entering the break between the two -mountains and almost immediately the way became much rougher. - -"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch," -said Percy, trying to peer out of the window. He spoke a few words -into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a -searchlight and swept the hillsides with an immense beam. - -"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an -hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew the -way. You notice we're going uphill now." - -They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car was -crossing a high rise, where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon newly -risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures -took shape out of the dark beside it--these were negroes also. Again -the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recognisable dialect; -then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from -overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jewelled -wheels. At a resounding "Hey-yah!" John felt the car being lifted -slowly from the ground--up and up--clear of the tallest rocks on both -sides--then higher, until he could see a wavy, moonlit valley -stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks -that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rock--and -then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around. - -It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-blade of -stone, projecting perpendicularly into the air. In a moment they were -going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon -the smooth earth. - -"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's only -five miles from here, and our own road--tapestry brick--all the way. -This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father -says." - -"Are we in Canada?" - -"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But you are -now on the only five square miles of land in the country that's never -been surveyed." - -"Why hasn't it? Did they forget it?" - -"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The -first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the State -survey; the second time he had the official maps of the United States -tinkered with--that held them for fifteen years. The last time was -harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the -strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set -of surveying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow -for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones -that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what -looked like a village up on its banks--so that they'd see it, and -think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one -thing my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the -world that could be used to find us out." - -"What's that?" - -Percy sank his voice to a whisper. - -"Aeroplanes," he breathed. "We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft guns -and we've arranged it so far--but there've been a few deaths and a -great many prisoners. Not that we mind _that_, you know, father -and I, but it upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the -chance that some time we won't be able to arrange it." - -Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green moon's -heaven, were passing the green moon like precious Eastern stuffs -paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to John that -it was day, and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in -the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine circulars, with -their messages of hope for despairing, rock-bound hamlets. It seemed -to him that he could see them look down out of the clouds and -stare--and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place -whither he was bound--What then? Were they induced to land by some -insidious device to be immured far from patent medicines and from -tracts until the judgment day--or, should they fail to fall into the -trap, did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp round of a splitting -shell bring them drooping to earth--and "upset" Percy's mother and -sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued -silently from his parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden -here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre Croesus? What terrible and -golden mystery?... - -The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and, outside the Montana -night was bright as day the tapestry brick of the road was smooth to -the tread of the great tyres as they rounded a still, moonlit lake; -they passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and -cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn, and John's -exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn "We're -home." - -Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite chateau rose from the -borders of the lake, climbed in marble radiance half the height of an -adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in -translucent feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of -pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the sloping parapets, -the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs -and hectagons and triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of -the intersecting planes of star-shine and blue shade, all trembled on -John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the -tallest, the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights -at the top made a sort of floating fairyland--and as John gazed up in -warm enchantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in -a rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever beard before. Then -in a moment the car stepped before wide, high marble steps around -which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At the top of -the steps two great doors swung silently open and amber light flooded -out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady -with black, high-piled hair, who held out her arms toward them. - -"Mother," Percy was saying, "this is my friend, John Unger, from -Hades." - -Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many colours, -of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love, and of -the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces. There -was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-hued cordial from a -crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was a girl with a flowery -face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There -was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the -pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic conception -of the ultimate prison--ceiling, floor, and all, it was lined with an -unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every size and shape, until, -lit with tail violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a -whiteness that could be compared only with itself, beyond human wish, -or dream. - -Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes the -floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from lighting -below, patterns of barbaric clashing colours, of pastel delicacy, of -sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some -mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal -he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and -growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of -every texture and colour or along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken -as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct -before the age of man .... - -Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinner--where -each plate was of two almost imperceptible layers of solid diamond -between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a -shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, -drifted down through far corridors--his chair, feathered and curved -insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he -drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question -that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that clasped his body -added to the illusion of sleep--jewels, fabrics, wines, and metals -blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist .... - -"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough -for me down there." - -He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement, without -resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an iced dessert -that was pink as a dream .... He fell asleep. - -When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great -quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination that was too -faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was standing -over him. - -"You fell asleep at dinner," Percy was saying. "I nearly did, too--it -was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school. -Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping." - -"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percy--before you go, -I want to apologise." - -"For what?" - -"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the -Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - -Percy smiled. - -"I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know." - -"What mountain?" - -"The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big, for a mountain. -But except about fifty feet of sod and gravel on top it's solid -diamond. _One_ diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you -listening? Say----" - -But John T. Unger had again fallen asleep. - - -3 - -Morning. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at the -same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panels of one wall -had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half open to -the day. A large negro in a white uniform stood beside his bed. - -"Good-evening," muttered John, summoning his brains from the wild -places. - -"Good-morning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't get -up--I'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton your pyjamas--there. -Thank you, sir." - -John lay quietly as his pyjamas were removed--he was amused and -delighted; he expected to be lifted like a child by this black -Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened; -instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side--he began to roll, -startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached -the wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a -fleecy incline he plumped gently into water the same temperature as -his body. - -He looked about him. The runway or rollway on which he had arrived had -folded gently back into place. He had been projected into another -chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the -level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and -the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue aquarium, and -gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he could see fish -swimming among amber lights and even gliding without curiosity past -his outstretched toes, which were separated from them only by the -thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight came down through -sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John. discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it. - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -4 - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding the room and the sides and bottom of the bath -itself was a blue aquarium, and gazing through the crystal surface on -which he sat, he could see fish swimming among amber lights and even -gliding without curiosity past his outstretched toes, which were -separated from them only by the thickness of the crystal. From -overhead, sunlight came down through sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please,"; Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it." - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly, He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous chair while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -4 - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West, He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without food he -began to grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was forced to -pursue a squirrel, and, in the course of the pursuit, he noticed that -it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it vanished -into its hole--for Providence did not intend that this squirrel should -alleviate his hunger--it dropped its burden. Sitting down to consider -the situation Fitz-Norman's eye was caught by a gleam in the grass -beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his appetite and -gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel, which had refused -with annoying persistence to become food, had made him a present of a -large and perfect diamond. - -Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all -the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole digging -furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered -a rhinestone mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever seen even -a small diamond before, they believed him, without question. When the -magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him, he found himself in -a quandary. The mountain was _a_ diamond--it was literally -nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle bags full of -glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul. There he -managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones--when he tried a -larger one a storekeeper fainted and Fitz-Norman was arrested as a -public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for New -York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received in -exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did not -dare to produce any exceptional gems--in fact, he left New York just -in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in jewellery circles, -not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the -city from mysterious sources. Wild rumours became current that a -diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on the Jersey -coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excursion trains, -packed with men carrying picks and shovels, began to leave New York -hourly, bound for various neighbouring El Dorados. But by that time -young Fitz-Norman was on his way back to Montana. - -By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the -mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the -diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any -regular computation, however, for it was _one solid diamond_--and -if it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the -market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual -arithmetical progression, there would not be enough gold in the world -to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do with a diamond -that size? - -It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest man -that ever lived--and yet was he worth anything at all? If his secret -should transpire there was no telling to what measures the Government -might resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well as in -jewels. They might take over the claim immediately and institute a -monopoly. - -There was no alternative--he must market his mountain in secret. He -sent South for his younger brother and put him in charge of his -coloured following, darkies who had never realised that slavery was -abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he -had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reorganised the -shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched -battle. The negroes believed him implicitly. They passed a vote -declaring it a good thing and held revival services immediately. - -Fitz-Norman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred -thousand dollars and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all -sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk, and six months after -his departure from Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure -lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller, announcing -that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St. Petersburg for -two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered, living from lodging -to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or four -times during the whole fortnight. - -On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he -was allowed to leave for India. Before he left, however, the Court -Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum of -fifteen million dollars--under four different aliases. - -He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two -years. He had visited the capitals of twenty-two countries and talked -with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan, and a -sultan. At that time Fitz-Norman estimated his own wealth at one -billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the disclosure -of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public -eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough -fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it from the -days of the first Babylonian Empire. - -From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman -Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of -course--he evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he -had a single son, and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate -complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of -drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times -endangered their safety. But very other murders stained these happy -years of progress and exspansion. - -Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few -million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk, -which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, -marked as bric-a-brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington, followed -this policy on an even more tensive scale. The minerals were converted -into the rarest of all elements--radium--so that the equivalent of a -billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no bigger than -a cigar box. - -When Fitz-Norman had been dead three years his son, Braddock, decided -that the business had gone far enough. The amount of wealth that he -and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact -computation. He kept a note-book in cipher in which he set down the -approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand banks he -patronised, and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he -did a very simple thing--he sealed up the mine. - -He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all -the Washingtons yet to be born in unparalleled luxury for generations. -His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the -possible panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced with -all the property-holders in the world to utter poverty. - -This was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the -story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning after his -arrival. - - -5 - -After breakfast, John found his way out the great marble entrance, and -looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from the -diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still -gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine -sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of elms -made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough -masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark-blue -green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file patter -out from one clump about a half-mile away and disappear with awkward -gaiety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would not -have been surprised to see a goat-foot piping his way among the trees -or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin and flying yellow hair -between the greenest of the green leaves. - -In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing -faintly the sleep of two silky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and -set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no -particular direction. - -He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity -as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, -but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly -imagined future--flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only -prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young -dream. - -John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air -with heavy scent, and struck off across a park toward a patch of moss -under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted to see -whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an -adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass. She -was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. - -She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, -and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound -up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she -came. She was younger than John--not more than sixteen. - -"Hallo," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine." - -She was much more than that to John already. He advanced toward her, -scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes. - -"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, "Oh, -but you've missed a great deal!"... "You met my sister, Jasmine, last -night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her soft voice, and -her eye continued, "and when I'm sick I'm sweet--and when I'm well." - -"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes, "and -I'm not so slow myself"--"How do you do?" said his voice. "I hope -you're better this morning."--"You darling," added his eyes -tremulously. - -John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her -suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of which -he failed to determine. - -He was critical about women. A single defect--a thick ankle, a hoarse -voice, a glass eye--was enough to make him utterly indifferent. And -here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to -him the incarnation of physical perfection. - -"Are you from the East?" asked Kismine with charming interest. - -"No," answered John simply. "I'm from Hades." - -Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant -comment to make upon it, for she did not discuss it further. - -"I'm going East to school this fall" she said. "D'you think I'll like -it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's. It's very strict, but you -see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in our -New York house, because father heard that the girls had to go walking -two by two." - -"Your father wants you to be proud," observed John. - -"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity. "None of us has -ever been punished. Father said we never should be. Once when my -sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just -got up and limped away. - -"Mother was--well, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when she -heard that you were from--from where you _are_ from, you know. -She said that when she was a young girl--but then, you see, she's a -Spaniard and old-fashioned." - -"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the fact -that he was somewhat hurt by this remark. It seemed an unkind allusion -to his provincialism. - -"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next summer -Jasmine is going to Newport. She's coming out in London a year from -this fall. She'll be presented at court." - -"Do you know," began John hesitantly, "you're much more sophisticated -than I thought you were when I first saw you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think of -being. I think that sophisticated young people are _terribly_ -common, don't you? I'm not all, really. If you say I am, I'm going to -cry." - -She was so distressed that her lip was trembling. John was impelled to -protest: - -"I didn't mean that; I only said it to tease you." - -"Because I wouldn't mind if I _were_," she persisted, "but I'm -not. I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke, or drink, or read -anything except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry. -I dress _very_ simply--in fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think -sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me. I believe that -girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way." - -"I do, too," said John, heartily, - -Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a still-born tear -dripped from the comer of one blue eye. - -"I like you," she whispered intimately. "Are you going to spend all -your time with Percy while you're here, or will you be nice to me? -Just think--I'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in love -with me in all my life. I've never been allowed even to _see_ -boys alone--except Percy. I came all the way out here into this grove -hoping to run into you, where the family wouldn't be around." - -Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught at -dancing school in Hades. - -"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with mother -at eleven. You haven't asked me to kiss you once. I thought boys -always did that nowadays" - -John drew himself up proudly. - -"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that sort -of thing--in Hades." - -Side by side they walked back toward the house. - - -6 - -John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight. The -elder man was about forty, with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent -eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses--the -best horses. He carried a plain walking-stick of gray birch with a -single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing John around. - -"The slaves' quarters are there." His walking-stick indicated a -cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful Gothic along the -side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from -the business of life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time -they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one of their -rooms with a tile bath." - -"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they -used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy told me that -once he---" - -"The opinions of Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy are of little importance, I -should imagine," interrupted Braddock Washington coldly. "My slaves -did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe every -day, and they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sulphuric -acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite another reason. -Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for certain -races--except as a beverage." - -John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement. -Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable. - -"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North -with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that -they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect -has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them -up to speak English--my secretary and two or three of the house -servants. - -"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the -velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you see--no fairway, no rough, -no hazards." - -He smiled pleasantly at John. - -"Many men in the cage, father?" asked Percy suddenly. - -Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary curse. - -"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darkly--and then added -after a moment, "We've had difficulties." - -"Mother was telling me," exclaimed Percy, "that Italian teacher---" - -"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of course -there's a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he fell -somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's -always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be -believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men looking for him in -different towns around here." - -"And no luck?" - -"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent they'd each killed a man -answering to that description, but of course it was probably only the -reward they were after---" - -He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the -circumference of a merry-go-round, and covered by a strong iron -grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane -down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. -Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below. - -"Come on down to Hell!" - -"Hallo, kiddo, how's the air up there?" - -"Hey! Throw us a rope!" - -"Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches?" - -"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show you -a quick disappearance scene." - -"Paste him one for me, will you?" - -It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell -from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices -that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited -type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the -grass, and the scene below sprang into light. - -"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to -discover El Dorado," he remarked. - -Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like -the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of -polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two -dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their -upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with -cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the -exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a -well-fed, healthy lot. - -Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat -down. - -"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially. - -A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too -dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock -Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had -died away he spoke again. - -"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?" - -From here and there among them a remark floated up. - -"We decided to stay here for love!" - -"Bring us up there and we'll find us a way!" - -Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said: - -"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here, I wish to heaven -I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that -you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be -glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to -digging tunnels--yes, I know about the new one you've started--you -won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with -all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the type who -worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have taken up -aviation." - -A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to call -his captor's attention to what he was about to say. - -"Let me ask you a few questions!" he cried. "You pretend to be a -fair-minded man." - -"How absurd. How could a man of _my_ position be fair-minded -toward you? You might as well speak of a Spaniard being fair-minded -toward a piece of steak." - -At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen fell, but the -tall man continued: - -"All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a -humanitarian and you're not fair-minded, but you're human--at least -you say you are--and you ought to be able to put yourself in our place -for long enough to think how--how--how--" - -"How what?" demanded Washington, coldly. - -"--how unnecessary--" - -"Not to me." - -"Well--how cruel--" - -"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where self-preservation is -involved. You've been soldiers; you know that. Try another." - -"Well, then, how stupid." - -"There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think of -an alternative. I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly -executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives, sweethearts, -children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge -your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives. -If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have all -of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside of my -preserves. But that's as far as my ideas go." - -"How about trusting us not to peach on you?" cried some one. - -"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington, with -an expression of scorn. "I did take out one man to teach my daughter -Italian. Last week he got away." - -A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats and -a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog-danced and cheered and -yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal -spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they -could, and slid back to the bottom upon the natural cushions of their -bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined-- - - "_Oh, we'll hang the kaiser - On a sour apple-tree_--" - -Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was -over. - -"You see," he remarked, when he could gain a modicum of attention. "I -bear you no ill-will. I like to see you enjoying yourselves. That's -why I didn't tell you the whole story at once. The man--what was his -name? Critchtichiello?--was shot by some of my agents in fourteen -different places." - -Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of -rejoicing subsided immediately. - -"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried to -run away. Do you expect me to take chances with any of you after an -experience like that?" - -Again a series of ejaculations went up. - -"Sure!" - -"Would your daughter like to learn Chinese?" - -"Hey, I can speak Italian! My mother was a wop." - -"Maybe she'd like t'learna speak N'Yawk!" - -"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot -of things better than Italian." - -"I know some Irish songs--and I could hammer brass once't." - -Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the -button in the grass so that the picture below went out instantly, and -there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the -black teeth of the grating. - -"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away without -givin' us your blessing?" - -But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already strolling on -toward the ninth hole of the golf course, as though the pit and its -contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had -triumphed with ease. - - -7 - -July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket -nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love. He -did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend -_Pro deo et patria et St. Mida_) which he had given her rested on -a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her part -was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her -simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John's jewel box. - -Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they -spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she gave him such a -look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward him--then -hesitated. - -"Did you say 'Kismine'?" she asked softly, "or--" - -She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunderstood. - -Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour -it seemed to make little difference. - -The afternoon drifted away. That night, when a last breath of music -drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake, happily -dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be -married as soon as possible. - - -8 - -Every day Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting or fishing -in the deep forests or played golf around the somnolent course--games -which John diplomatically allowed his host to win--or swam in the -mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Washington a somewhat -exacting personality--utterly uninterested in any ideas or opinions -except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times. -She was apparently indifferent to her two daughters, and entirely -absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she held interminable -conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner. - -Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearance--except -that she was somewhat bow-legged, and terminated in large hands and -feet--but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favourite books -had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John -learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never recovered from the shock -and disappointment caused her by the termination of the World War, -just as she was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had -even pined away for a time, and Braddock Washington had taken steps to -promote a new war in the Balkans--but she had seen a photograph of -some wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole -proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed to have inherited the -arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A -chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pattern through their -every idea. - -John was enchanted by the wonders of the chateau and the valley. -Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped a -landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a -French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his -entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply them -with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work -out some ideas of their own. But one by one they had shown their -uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewailing his -separation, from the boulevards in spring--he made some vague remarks -about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that was of any -practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make the -whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects--a state of -things that the Washingtons would soon have grown tired of. And as for -the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought only in terms -of convention. They must make this like this and that like that. - -But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done with -them--they all went mad early one morning after spending the night in -a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain, and -were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at Westport, -Connecticut. - -"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful -reception rooms and halls, and approaches and bathrooms---?" - -"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a -moving-picture fella. He was the only man we found who was used to -playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his -napkin in his collar and couldn't read or write." - -As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon go -back to school. He and Kismine had decided to elope the following -June. - -"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but of -course I could never get father's permission to marry you at all. Next -to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be -married in America at present--they always have to send out bulletins -to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants, when -what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and some used -lace worn once by the Empress Eugenie." - -"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the -Schnlitzer-Murphys, the eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, married a man -whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what a -tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk--and -then she ended up by saying that 'Thank God, I have four good maids -anyhow, and that helps a little.'" - -"It's absurd," commented Kismine--"Think of the millions and millions -of people in the world, labourers and all, who get along with only two -maids." - -One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's changed the -face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state of terror. - -They were in their favourite grove, and between kisses John was -indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added -poignancy to their relations. - -"Sometimes I think we'll never marry," he said sadly. "You're too -wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other -girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale -hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her -half-million." - -"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," remarked -Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been contented with her. She was a -friend of my sister's. She visited here." - -"Oh, then you've had other guests?" exclaimed John in surprise. - -Kismine seemed to regret her words. - -"Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, "we've had a few." - -"But aren't you--wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside?" - -"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered, "Let's talk about -something pleasanter." - -But John's curiosity was aroused. - -"Something pleasanter!" he demanded. "What's unpleasant about that? -Weren't they nice girls?" - -To his great surprise Kismine began to weep. - -"Yes--th--that's the--the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite attached to -some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting them anyway. I -couldn't under_stand_ it." - -A dark suspicion was born in John's heart. - -"Do you mean that they _told_, and your father had -them--removed?" - -"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no chances--and -Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had _such_ a good -time!" - -She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief. - -Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there -open-mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many -sparrows perched upon his spinal column. - -"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming suddenly -and drying her dark blue eyes. - -"Do you mean to say that your father had them _murdered_ before -they left?" - -She nodded. - -"In August usually--or early in September. It's only natural for us to -get all the pleasure out of them that we can first." - -"How abominable! How--why, I must be going crazy! Did you really admit -that--" - -"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very -well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual -reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine -and me, because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that -way we avoided any farewell scene-" - -"So you murdered them! Uh!" cried John. - -"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were -asleep--and their families were always told that they died of scarlet -fever in Butte." - -"But--I fail to understand why you kept on inviting them!" - -"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did. And -they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest presents -toward the last. I shall probably have visitors too--I'll harden up to -it. We can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of -enjoying life while we have it. Think of how lonesome it'd be out here -if we never had _any_ one. Why, father and mother have sacrificed -some of their best friends just as we have." - -"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make love -to you and pretending to return it, and talking about marriage, all -the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here -alive---" - -"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first. You -were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days might as -well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, -and--and I'm honestly sorry you're going to--going to be put -away--though I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss another -girl." - -"Oh, you would, would you?" cried John ferociously. - -"Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun -with a man whom she knows she can never marry. Oh, why did I tell you? -I've probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we were really -enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things -sort of depressing for you." - -"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've heard -about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and decency than -to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much better than a -corpse, I don't want to have any more to with you!" - -"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a corpse! -I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse!" - -"I said nothing of the sort!" - -"You did! You said I kissed a corpse!" - -"I didn't!" - -Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both -subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the path -in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted -displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his -good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them. - -"Who kissed a corpse?" he demanded in obvious disapproval. - -"Nobody," answered Kismine quickly. "We were just joking." - -"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly. "Kismine, -you ought to be--to be reading or playing golf with your sister. Go -read! Go play golf! Don't let me find you here when I come back!" - -Then he bowed at John and went up the path. - -"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've -spoiled it all. We can never meet any more. He won't let me meet you. -He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love." - -"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his mind at -rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going to stay -around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains, if I -have to gnaw a passage through them, and on my way East." They had -both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put -her arm through his. - -"I'm going, too." - -"You must be crazy--" - -"Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently. - -"You most certainly are not. You--" - -"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father and talk it -over with him." - -Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile. - -"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affection, -"we'll go together." - -His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She was -his--she would go with him to share his dangers. He put his arms about -her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him; she had saved -him, in fact. - -Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the chateau. -They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them together -they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were -unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of -peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into the -turquoise and sable card-room and pounded on the back by one of the -under-butlers, which Percy considered a great joke. - - -9 - -Long after midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, he sat suddenly -upright, staring into the veils of somnolence that draped the room. -Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open windows, he -had heard a faint far-away sound that died upon a bed of wind before -identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy dreams. But the -sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the -room--the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper, he could not -tell; a hard lump gathered in the pit of his stomach, and his whole -body ached in the moment that he strained agonisingly to hear. Then -one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure -standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and blocked in upon -the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem -distorted, like a reflection seen in a dirty pane of glass. - -With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the button -by his bedside, and the next moment he was sitting in the green sunken -bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the -cold water which half filled it. - -He sprang out, and, his wet pyjamas scattering a heavy trickle of -water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led out on -to the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. -A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the -magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty. For -a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendour massed about -him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the -solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing. Then -simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sitting-room -swung open, precipitating three naked negroes into the hall--and, as -John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another door slid back -in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John saw Braddock -Washington standing in the lighted lift, wearing a fur coat and a pair -of riding boots which reached to his knees and displayed, above, the -glow of his rose-colored pyjamas. - -On the instant the three negroes--John had never seen any of them -before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the -professional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and -turned expectantly to the man in the lift, who burst out with an -imperious command: - -"Get in here! All three of you! Quick as hell!" - -Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage, the -oblong of light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut, and John -was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against an ivory -stair. - -It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, something -which, for the moment at least, had postponed his own petty disaster. -What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the aviators forced -aside the iron bars of the grating? Or had the men of Fish stumbled -blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak, joyless eyes upon the -gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint whir of air as the -lift whizzed up again, and then, a moment later, as it descended. It -was probable that Percy was hurrying to his father's assistance, and -it occurred to John that this was his opportunity to join Kismine and -plan an immediate escape. He waited until the lift had been silent for -several minutes; shivering a little with the night cool that whipped -in through his wet pyjamas, he returned to his room and dressed -himself quickly. Then he mounted a long flight of stairs and turned -down the corridor carpeted with Russian sable which led to Kismine's -suite. - -The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted. -Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near the window Of the room in a -listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward -him. - -"Oh, it's you!" she whispered, crossing the room to him. "Did you hear -them?" - -I heard your father's slaves in my---" - -"No," she interrupted excitedly. "Aeroplanes!" - -"Aeroplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me." - -"There're at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead against -the moon. The guard back by the cliff fired his rifle and that's what -roused father. We're going to open on them right away." - -"Are they here on purpose?" - -"Yes--it's that Italian who got away---" - -Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks -tumbled in through the open window. Kismine uttered a little cry, took -a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to -one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was in -darkness--she had blown out the fuse. - -"Come on!" she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden, and -watch it from there!" - -Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their way -out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she pressed -the button that shot them upward he put his arms around her in the -darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. -A minute later they had stepped out upon the star-white platform. -Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of -cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-winged bodies in a -constant circling course. From here and there in the valley flashes of -fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kismine -clapped her hands with pleasure, which, a moment later, turned to -dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal, began to release -their bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep -reverberate sound and lurid light. - -Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the -points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was -almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a -park of rose bushes. - -"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this -attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard -shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead---" - -"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her. -"You'll have to talk louder!" - -"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they -begin to shell the chateau!" - -Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a -geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments -of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake. - -"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at -pre-war prices. So few Americans have any respect for property." - -John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the -aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only two of -the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the -garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much longer. - -"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you -realise that those aviators will kill you without question if they -find you?" - -She consented reluctantly. - -"We'll have to wake Jasmine!" she said, as they hurried toward the -lift. Then she added in a sort of childish delight: "We'll be poor, -won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly -free. Free and poor! What fun!" She stopped and raised her lips to him -in a delighted kiss. - -"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People have -found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of the -two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel -box into your pockets." - -Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they -descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last time -through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a -moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the -flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on the other side of the -lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the -attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their -thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance shot -might annihilate its Ethiopian crew. - -John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply -to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound like a -garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily wooded spot -half-way up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe -the wild night in the valley--finally to make an escape, when it -should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully. - - -10 - -It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The -obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning -against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm -around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle -among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. -Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging -sound, and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though -the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling -closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the -beleaguered possessed no further resources they would land and the -dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over. - -With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of -the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in -the grass. The chateau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light -as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of -Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. -Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound -asleep. - -It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the -path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence -until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-point -he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of -human origin, and the dew was cold; be knew that the dawn would break -soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the -mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way to the -steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread -itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he -slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life -just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head -gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded; this is what he -saw: - -Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against -the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came up out of -the east, lending a gold green colour to the earth, it brought the -solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day, - -While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in -some inscrutable contemplation; then he signalled to the two negroes -who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As -they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck -through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled -diamond--and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air -like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its -weight for a moment--then their rippling muscles caught and hardened -under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again -motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens. - -After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms -in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd to -hear--but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain -and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The -figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an -inextinguishable pride. - -"You--out there---!" he cried in a trembling voice. - -"You--there-----!" He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held -attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his -eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain, but -the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking -flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a -moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed--there was something in -the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer. - -"Oh, you above there!" - -The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn -supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous -condescension. - -"You there---" Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing -one into the other .... John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase -here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off -again--now strong and argumentative, now coloured with a slow, puzzled -impatience, Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single -listener, and as realisation crept over him a spray of quick blood -rushed through his arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe -to God! - -That was it--there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves -was some advance sample, a promise of more to follow. - -That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his -sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten -sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of -Christ. For a while his discourse took the farm of reminding God of -this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men--great -churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and -gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of -children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and -goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been -offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of -alleviation from the Divine wrath--and now he, Braddock Washington, -Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of -splendour and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as princes before -him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride. - -He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, -the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many -more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the -whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger -than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many years. It would be -set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped -with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be -hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of iridescent, -decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any -worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer--and on this altar there -would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor any victim -He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most -powerful man alive. - -In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be -absurdly easy--only that matters should be as they were yesterday at -this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the -heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes--and then -close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and -well. - -There was no one else with whom he had ever needed: to treat or -bargain. - -He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His -price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said: He -must have His price. And the price would be rare--no cathedral whose -building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand -workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid. - -He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to -specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it -would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it -or leave it. - -As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and -uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to catch the -slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His -hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his -head high to the heavens like a prophet of old--magnificently mad. - -Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a -curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as though -the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden -murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets, a sighing like -the rustle of a great silken robe--for a time the whole of nature -round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the -trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of -dull, menacing thunder. - -That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The -dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent -hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The -leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bough -was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the -bribe. - -For another moment John, watched the triumph of the day. Then, -turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another -flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from -the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth. - -John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the -clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. -Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a -question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no -time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing a -moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the -tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind -them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of the -peacocks far away and the pleasant of morning. - -When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and -entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At the -highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested -upon the mountainside they had just left--oppressed by some dark sense -of tragic impendency. - -Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly descending -the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes, who -carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the -sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them--John could see that -they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon whose arm she leaned. The -aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in -front of the chateau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the -diamond mountain in skirmishing formation. - -But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was -engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of -rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a -trap-door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, -the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two -negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the -sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all. - -Kismine clutched John's arm. - -"Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they going to -do?" - -"It must be some underground way of escape--" - -A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence. - -"Don't you see?" sobbed Kismine hysterically. "The mountain is wired!" - -Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before -their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a -dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as -light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow -continued, and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared, -revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying -off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the -aviators there was left neither blood nor bone--they were consumed as -completely as the five souls who had gone inside. - -Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the chateau literally -threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as it rose, -and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay -projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire--what -smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few -minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great -featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no -more sound and the three people were alone in the valley. - - -9 - -At sunset John and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had -marked the boundaries of the Washington's dominion, and looking back -found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They sat down to -finish the food which Jasmine had brought with her in a basket, - -"There!" she said, as she spread the table-cloth and put the -sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look tempting? I always -think that food tastes better outdoors." - -"With that remark," remarked Kismine, "Jasmine enters the middle -class." - -"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what -jewels you brought along. If you made a good selection we three ought -to live comfortably all the rest of our lives." - -Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls -of glittering stones before him. "Not so bad," cried John -enthusiastically. "They aren't very big, but-Hallo!" His expression -changed as he held one of them up to the declining sun. "Why, these -aren't diamonds! There's something the matter! - -"By golly!" exclaimed Kismine, with a startled look. "What an idiot I -am!" - -"Why, these are rhinestones!" cried John. - -"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer. They -belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine. I got her to give -them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything but -precious stones before." - -"And this is what you brought?" - -"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I -like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds." - -"Very well," said John gloomily. "We'll have to live in Hades. And you -will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong drawer. -Unfortunately, your father's bank-books were consumed with him." - -"Well, what's the matter with Hades?" - -"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as -not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they say down there." - -Jasmine spoke up. - -"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own -handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and support you both." - -"Do they have washwomen in Hades?" asked Kismine innocently. - -"Of course," answered John. "It's just like anywhere else." - -"I thought--perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes." - -John laughed. - -"Just try it!" he suggested. "They'll run you out before you're half -started." - -"Will father be there?" she asked. - -John turned to her in astonishment. - -"Your father is dead," he replied sombrely. "Why should he go to -Hades? You have it confused with another place that was abolished long -ago." - -After supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their blankets -for the night. - -"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars. "How -strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless fiancee! - -"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before. I -always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some -one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, -all my youth." - -"It _was_ a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a -dream, a form of chemical madness." - -"How pleasant then to be insane!" - -"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any -rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a -form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only -diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of -disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing -of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the -night's full of chill and you'll get pneumonia. His was a great sin -who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours." - -So wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep. - - - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON - -I - - -As long ago as 1860 it was the proper thing to be born at home. At -present, so I am told, the high gods of medicine have decreed that the -first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of -a hospital, preferably a fashionable one. So young Mr. and Mrs. Roger -Button were fifty years ahead of style when they decided, one day in -the summer of 1860, that their first baby should be born in a -hospital. Whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the -astonishing history I am about to set down will never be known. - -I shall tell you what occurred, and let you judge for yourself. - -The Roger Buttons held an enviable position, both social and -financial, in ante-bellum Baltimore. They were related to the This -Family and the That Family, which, as every Southerner knew, entitled -them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated -the Confederacy. This was their first experience with the charming old -custom of having babies--Mr. Button was naturally nervous. He hoped it -would be a boy so that he could be sent to Yale College in -Connecticut, at which institution Mr. Button himself had been known -for four years by the somewhat obvious nickname of "Cuff." - -On the September morning consecrated to the enormous event he arose -nervously at six o'clock dressed himself, adjusted an impeccable -stock, and hurried forth through the streets of Baltimore to the -hospital, to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in -new life upon its bosom. - -When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private -Hospital for Ladies and Gentlemen he saw Doctor Keene, the family -physician, descending the front steps, rubbing his hands together with -a washing movement--as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten -ethics of their profession. - -Mr. Roger Button, the president of Roger Button & Co., Wholesale -Hardware, began to run toward Doctor Keene with much less dignity than -was expected from a Southern gentleman of that picturesque period. -"Doctor Keene!" he called. "Oh, Doctor Keene!" - -The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious -expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face as Mr. Button drew -near. - -"What happened?" demanded Mr. Button, as he came up in a gasping rush. -"What was it? How is she" A boy? Who is it? What---" - -"Talk sense!" said Doctor Keene sharply, He appeared somewhat -irritated. - -"Is the child born?" begged Mr. Button. - -Doctor Keene frowned. "Why, yes, I suppose so--after a fashion." Again -he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button. - -"Is my wife all right?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it a boy or a girl?" - -"Here now!" cried Doctor Keene in a perfect passion of irritation," -I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous!" He snapped the -last word out in almost one syllable, then he turned away muttering: -"Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation? -One more would ruin me--ruin anybody." - -"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Button appalled. "Triplets?" - -"No, not triplets!" answered the doctor cuttingly. "What's more, you -can go and see for yourself. And get another doctor. I brought you -into the world, young man, and I've been physician to your family for -forty years, but I'm through with you! I don't want to see you or any -of your relatives ever again! Good-bye!" - -Then he turned sharply, and without another word climbed into his -phaeton, which was waiting at the curbstone, and drove severely away. - -Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from -head to foot. What horrible mishap had occurred? He had suddenly lost -all desire to go into the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and -Gentlemen--it was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later, -he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door. - -A nurse was sitting behind a desk in the opaque gloom of the hall. -Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her. - -"Good-morning," she remarked, looking up at him pleasantly. - -"Good-morning. I--I am Mr. Button." - -At this a look of utter terror spread itself over girl's face. She -rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall, restraining -herself only with the most apparent difficulty. - -"I want to see my child," said Mr. Button. - -The nurse gave a little scream. "Oh--of course!" she cried -hysterically. "Upstairs. Right upstairs. Go--_up!_" - -She pointed the direction, and Mr. Button, bathed in cool -perspiration, turned falteringly, and began to mount to the second -floor. In the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached -him, basin in hand. "I'm Mr. Button," he managed to articulate. "I -want to see my----" - -Clank! The basin clattered to the floor and rolled in the direction of -the stairs. Clank! Clank! I began a methodical decent as if sharing in -the general terror which this gentleman provoked. - -"I want to see my child!" Mr. Button almost shrieked. He was on the -verge of collapse. - -Clank! The basin reached the first floor. The nurse regained control -of herself, and threw Mr. Button a look of hearty contempt. - -"All _right_, Mr. Button," she agreed in a hushed voice. "Very -_well!_ But if you _knew_ what a state it's put us all in this -morning! It's perfectly outrageous! The hospital will never have -a ghost of a reputation after----" - -"Hurry!" he cried hoarsely. "I can't stand this!" - -"Come this way, then, Mr. Button." - -He dragged himself after her. At the end of a long hall they reached a -room from which proceeded a variety of howls--indeed, a room which, in -later parlance, would have been known as the "crying-room." They -entered. - -"Well," gasped Mr. Button, "which is mine?" - -"There!" said the nurse. - -Mr. Button's eyes followed her pointing finger, and this is what he -saw. Wrapped in a voluminous white blanket, and partly crammed into -one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently about seventy years -of age. His sparse hair was almost white, and from his chin dripped a -long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth, fanned -by the breeze coming in at the window. He looked up at Mr. Button with -dim, faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled question. - -"Am I mad?" thundered Mr. Button, his terror resolving into rage. "Is -this some ghastly hospital joke? - -"It doesn't seem like a joke to us," replied the nurse severely. "And -I don't know whether you're mad or not--but that is most certainly -your child." - -The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button's forehead. He closed -his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no -mistake--he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten--a _baby_ -of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the -crib in which it was reposing. - -The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and -then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice. "Are you my -father?" he demanded. - -Mr. Button and the nurse started violently. - -"Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd -get me out of this place--or, at least, get them to put a comfortable -rocker in here," - -"Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you?" burst out Mr. -Button frantically. - -"I can't tell you _exactly_ who I am," replied the querulous -whine, "because I've only been born a few hours--but my last name is -certainly Button." - -"You lie! You're an impostor!" - -The old man turned wearily to the nurse. "Nice way to welcome a -new-born child," he complained in a weak voice. "Tell him he's wrong, -why don't you?" - -"You're wrong. Mr. Button," said the nurse severely. "This is your -child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you -to take him home with you as soon as possible-some time to-day." - -"Home?" repeated Mr. Button incredulously. - -"Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know?" - -"I'm right glad of it," whined the old man. "This is a fine place to -keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling, I -haven't been able to get a wink of sleep. I asked for something to -eat"--here his voice rose to a shrill note of protest--"and they -brought me a bottle of milk!" - -Mr. Button, sank down upon a chair near his son and concealed his face -in his hands. "My heavens!" he murmured, in an ecstasy of horror. -"What will people say? What must I do?" - -"You'll have to take him home," insisted the nurse--"immediately!" - -A grotesque picture formed itself with dreadful clarity before the -eyes of the tortured man--a picture of himself walking through the -crowded streets of the city with this appalling apparition stalking by -his side. - -"I can't. I can't," he moaned. - -People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He -would have to introduce this--this septuagenarian: "This is my son, -born early this morning." And then the old man would gather his -blanket around him and they would plod on, past the bustling stores, -the slave market--for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately -that his son was black--past the luxurious houses of the residential -district, past the home for the aged.... - -"Come! Pull yourself together," commanded the nurse. - -"See here," the old man announced suddenly, "if you think I'm going to -walk home in this blanket, you're entirely mistaken." - -"Babies always have blankets." - -With a malicious crackle the old man held up a small white swaddling -garment. "Look!" he quavered. "_This_ is what they had ready for -me." - -"Babies always wear those," said the nurse primly. - -"Well," said the old man, "this baby's not going to wear anything in -about two minutes. This blanket itches. They might at least have given -me a sheet." - -"Keep it on! Keep it on!" said Mr. Button hurriedly. He turned to the -nurse. "What'll I do?" - -"Go down town and buy your son some clothes." - -Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the: hall: "And a -cane, father. I want to have a cane." - -Mr. Button banged the outer door savagely.... - - -2 - - -"Good-morning," Mr. Button said nervously, to the clerk in the -Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. "I want to buy some clothes for my -child." - -"How old is your child, sir?" - -"About six hours," answered Mr. Button, without due consideration. - -"Babies' supply department in the rear." - -"Why, I don't think--I'm not sure that's what I want. It's--he's an -unusually large-size child. Exceptionally--ah large." - -"They have the largest child's sizes." - -"Where is the boys' department?" inquired Mr. Button, shifting his -ground desperately. He felt that the clerk must surely scent his -shameful secret. - -"Right here." - -"Well----" He hesitated. The notion of dressing his son in men's -clothes was repugnant to him. If, say, he could only find a very large -boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white -hair brown, and thus manage to conceal the worst, and to retain -something of his own self-respect--not to mention his position in -Baltimore society. - -But a frantic inspection of the boys' department revealed no suits to -fit the new-born Button. He blamed the store, of course---in such -cases it is the thing to blame the store. - -"How old did you say that boy of yours was?" demanded the clerk -curiously. - -"He's--sixteen." - -"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six _hours_. You'll -find the youths' department in the next aisle." - -Mr. Button turned miserably away. Then he stopped, brightened, and -pointed his finger toward a dressed dummy in the window display. -"There!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that suit, out there on the dummy." - -The clerk stared. "Why," he protested, "that's not a child's suit. At -least it _is_, but it's for fancy dress. You could wear it -yourself!" - -"Wrap it up," insisted his customer nervously. "That's what I want." - -The astonished clerk obeyed. - -Back at the hospital Mr. Button entered the nursery and almost threw -the package at his son. "Here's your clothes," he snapped out. - -The old man untied the package and viewed the contents with a -quizzical eye. - -"They look sort of funny to me," he complained, "I don't want to be -made a monkey of--" - -"You've made a monkey of me!" retorted Mr. Button fiercely. "Never you -mind how funny you look. Put them on--or I'll--or I'll _spank_ -you." He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling -nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say. - -"All right, father"--this with a grotesque simulation of filial -respect--"you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say." - -As before, the sound of the word "father" caused Mr. Button to start -violently. - -"And hurry." - -"I'm hurrying, father." - -When his son was dressed Mr. Button regarded him with depression. The -costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse -with a wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish -beard, drooping almost to the waist. The effect was not good. - -"Wait!" - -Mr. Button seized a hospital shears and with three quick snaps -amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement -the ensemble fell far short of perfection. The remaining brush of -scraggly hair, the watery eyes, the ancient teeth, seemed oddly out of -tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was -obdurate--he held out his hand. "Come along!" he said sternly. - -His son took the hand trustingly. "What are you going to call me, -dad?" he quavered as they walked from the nursery--"just 'baby' for a -while? till you think of a better name?" - -Mr. Button grunted. "I don't know," he answered harshly. "I think -we'll call you Methuselah." - - -3 - -Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his hair cut -short and then dyed to a sparse unnatural black, had had his face -shaved so dose that it glistened, and had been attired in small-boy -clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for -Button to ignore the fact that his son was a excuse for a first family -baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button--for it was by this name -they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious -Methuselah--was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not -conceal this, nor did the clipping and dyeing of his eyebrows disguise -the fact that the eyes under--were faded and watery and tired. In -fact, the baby-nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house -after one look, in a state of considerable indignation. - -But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a -baby, and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if -Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether, -but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter, -and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a -rattle and, giving it to Benjamin, insisted in no uncertain terms that -he should "play with it," whereupon the old man took it with--a weary -expression and could be heard jingling it obediently at intervals -throughout the day. - -There can be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him, and that he -found other and more soothing amusements when he was left alone. For -instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week -be had smoked more cigars than ever before--a phenomenon, which was -explained a few days later when, entering the nursery unexpectedly, he -found the room full of faint blue haze and Benjamin, with a guilty -expression on his face, trying to conceal the butt of a dark Havana. -This, of course, called for a severe spanking, but Mr. Button found -that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his -son that he would "stunt his growth." - -Nevertheless he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead -soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals -made of cotton, and, to perfect the illusion which he was -creating--for himself at least--he passionately demanded of the clerk -in the toy-store whether "the paint would come oft the pink duck if -the baby put it in his mouth." But, despite all his father's efforts, -Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs -and return to the nursery with a volume of the Encyclopedia -Britannica, over which he would pore through an afternoon, while his -cotton cows and his Noah's ark were left neglected on the floor. -Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail. - -The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, prodigious. What the -mishap would have cost the Buttons and their kinsfolk socially cannot -be determined, for the outbreak of the Civil War drew the city's -attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite -racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents--and -finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby -resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of -decay common to all men of seventy, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs. -Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was -furiously insulted. - -Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. Several -small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a stiff-jointed -afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles--he even -managed, quite accidentally, to break a kitchen window with a stone -from a sling shot, a feat which secretly delighted his father. - -Thereafter Benjamin contrived to break something every day, but he did -these things only because they were expected of him, and because he -was by nature obliging. - -When his grandfather's initial antagonism wore off, Benjamin and that -gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would -sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and, -like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of -the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than -in his parents'--they seemed always somewhat in awe of him and, -despite the dictatorial authority they exercised over him, frequently -addressed him as "Mr." - -He was as puzzled as any one else at the apparently advanced age of -his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal, -but found that no such case had been previously recorded. At his -father's urging he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and -frequently he joined in the milder games--football shook him up too -much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would -refuse to knit. - -When he was five he was sent to kindergarten, where he initiated into -the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving coloured -maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to -drowse off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both -irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief she -complained to his parents, and he was removed from the school. The -Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young. - -By the time he was twelve years old his parents had grown used to him. -Indeed, so strong is the force of custom that they no longer felt that -he was different from any other child--except when some curious -anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his -twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made, or -thought he made, an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him, -or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to -iron-gray under its concealing dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his -face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier and firmer, with -even a touch of ruddy winter colour? He could not tell. He knew that -he no longer stooped, and that his physical condition had improved -since the early days of his life. - -"Can it be----?" he thought to himself, or, rather, scarcely dared to -think. - -He went to his father. "I am grown," he announced determinedly. "I -want to put on long trousers." - -His father hesitated. "Well," he said finally, "I don't know. Fourteen -is the age for putting on long trousers--and you are only twelve." - -"But you'll have to admit," protested Benjamin, "that I'm big for my -age." - -His father looked at him with illusory speculation. "Oh, I'm not so -sure of that," he said. "I was as big as you when I was twelve." - -This was not true-it was all part of Roger Button's silent agreement -with himself to believe in his son's normality. - -Finally a compromise was reached. Benjamin was to continue to dye his -hair. He was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own -age. He was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street. -In return for these concessions he was allowed his first suit of long -trousers.... - - -4 - -Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first -year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of -normal ungrowth. When Benjamin was eighteen he was erect as a man of -fifty; he had more hair and it was of a dark gray; his step was firm, -his voice had lost its cracked quaver and descended to a healthy -baritone. So his father sent him up to Connecticut to take -examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his -examination and became a member of the freshman class. - -On the third day following his matriculation he received a -notification from Mr. Hart, the college registrar, to call at his -office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror, -decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but -an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye -bottle was not there. Then he remembered--he had emptied it the day -before and thrown it away. - -He was in a dilemma. He was due at the registrar's in five minutes. -There seemed to be no help for it--he must go as he was. He did. - -"Good-morning," said the registrar politely. "You've come to inquire -about your son." - -"Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button----" began Benjamin, but -Mr. Hart cut him off. - -"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here -any minute." - -"That's me!" burst out Benjamin. "I'm a freshman." - -"What!" - -"I'm a freshman." - -"Surely you're joking." - -"Not at all." - -The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. "Why, I have -Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen." - -"That's my age," asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly. - -The registrar eyed him wearily. "Now surely, Mr. Button, you don't -expect me to believe that." - -Benjamin smiled wearily. "I am eighteen," he repeated. - -The registrar pointed sternly to the door. "Get out," he said. "Get -out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic." - -"I am eighteen." - -Mr. Hart opened the door. "The idea!" he shouted. "A man of your age -trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well, -I'll give you eighteen minutes to get out of town." - -Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room, and half a dozen -undergraduates, who were waiting in the hall, followed him curiously -with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced -the infuriated registrar, who was still standing in the door-way, and -repeated in a firm voice: "I am eighteen years old." - -To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates, -Benjamin walked away. - -But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy walk to -the railroad station he found that he was being followed by a group, -then by a swarm, and finally by a dense mass of undergraduates. The -word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance -examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of -eighteen. A fever of excitement permeated the college. Men ran hatless -out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined -the mob, professors' wives with bonnets awry and bustles out of -position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a -continual succession of remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of -Benjamin Button. - -"He must be the wandering Jew!" - -"He ought to go to prep school at his age!" - -"Look at the infant prodigy!" "He thought this was the old men's -home." - -"Go up to Harvard!" - -Benjamin increased his gait, and soon he was running. He would show -them! He _would_ go to Harvard, and then they would regret these -ill-considered taunts! - -Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the -window. "You'll regret this!" he shouted. - -"Ha-ha!" the undergraduates laughed. "Ha-ha-ha!" It was the biggest -mistake that Yale College had ever made.... - - -5 - -In 1880 Benjamin Button was twenty years old, and he signalised his -birthday by going to work for his father in Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware. It was in that same year that he began "going out -socially"--that is, his father insisted on taking him to several -fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son -were more and more companionable--in fact, since Benjamin had ceased -to dye his hair (which was still grayish) they appeared about the same -age, and could have passed for brothers. - -One night in August they got into the phaeton attired in their -full-dress suits and drove out to a dance at the Shevlins' country -house, situated just outside of Baltimore. It was a gorgeous evening. -A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless colour of platinum, -and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air -aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter. The open country, -carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent as in the -day. It was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty -of the sky--almost. - -"There's a great future in the dry-goods business," Roger Button was -saying. He was not a spiritual man--his aesthetic sense was -rudimentary. - -"Old fellows like me can't learn new tricks," he observed profoundly. -"It's you youngsters with energy and vitality that have the great -future before you." - -Far up the road the lights of the Shevlins' country house drifted into -view, and presently there was a sighing sound that crept persistently -toward them--it might have been the fine plaint of violins or the -rustle of the silver wheat under the moon. - -They pulled up behind a handsome brougham whose passengers were -disembarking at the door. A lady got out, then an elderly gentleman, -then another young lady, beautiful as sin. Benjamin started; an almost -chemical change seemed to dissolve and recompose the very elements of -his body. A rigour passed over him, blood rose into his cheeks, his -forehead, and there was a steady thumping in his ears. It was first -love. - -The girl was slender and frail, with hair that was ashen under the -moon and honey-coloured under the sputtering gas-lamps of the porch. -Over her shoulders was thrown a Spanish mantilla of softest yellow, -butterflied in black; her feet were glittering buttons at the hem of -her bustled dress. - -Roger Button leaned over to his son. "That," he said, "is young -Hildegarde Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief." - -Benjamin nodded coldly. "Pretty little thing," he said indifferently. -But when the negro boy had led the buggy away, he added: "Dad, you -might introduce me to her." - -They approached a group, of which Miss Moncrief was the centre. Reared -in the old tradition, she curtsied low before Benjamin. Yes, he might -have a dance. He thanked her and walked away--staggered away. - -The interval until the time for his turn should arrive dragged itself -out interminably. He stood close to the wall, silent, inscrutable, -watching with murderous eyes the young bloods of Baltimore as they -eddied around Hildegarde Moncrief, passionate admiration in their -faces. How obnoxious they seemed to Benjamin; how intolerably rosy! -Their curling brown whiskers aroused in him a feeling equivalent to -indigestion. - -But when his own time came, and he drifted with her out upon the -changing floor to the music of the latest waltz from Paris, his -jealousies and anxieties melted from him like a mantle of snow. Blind -with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning. - -"You and your brother got here just as we did, didn't you?" asked -Hildegarde, looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue -enamel. - -Benjamin hesitated. If she took him for his father's brother, would it -be best to enlighten her? He remembered his experience at Yale, so he -decided against it. It would be rude to contradict a lady; it would be -criminal to mar this exquisite occasion with the grotesque story of -his origin. Later, perhaps. So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy. - -"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so -idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and -how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to -appreciate women." - -Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he -choked back the impulse. "You're just the romantic age," she -continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be -pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole -cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is -the mellow age. I love fifty." - -Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be -fifty. - -"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man -of fifty and be taken care of than many a man of thirty and take care -of _him_." - -For Benjamin the rest of the evening was bathed in a honey-coloured -mist. Hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that -they were marvellously in accord on all the questions of the day. She -was to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they -would discuss all these questions further. - -Going home in the phaeton just before the crack of dawn, when the -first bees were humming and the fading moon glimmered in the cool dew, -Benjamin knew vaguely that his father was discussing wholesale -hardware. - -".... And what do you think should merit our biggest attention after -hammers and nails?" the elder Button was saying. - -"Love," replied Benjamin absent-mindedly. - -"Lugs?" exclaimed Roger Button, "Why, I've just covered the question -of lugs." - -Benjamin regarded him with dazed eyes just as the eastern sky was -suddenly cracked with light, and an oriole yawned piercingly in the -quickening trees... - - -6 - -When, six months later, the engagement of Miss Hildegarde Moncrief to -Mr. Benjamin Button was made known (I say "made known," for General -Moncrief declared he would rather fall upon his sword than announce -it), the excitement in Baltimore society reached a feverish pitch. The -almost forgotten story of Benjamin's birth was remembered and sent out -upon the winds of scandal in picaresque and incredible forms. It was -said that Benjamin was really the father of Roger Button, that he was -his brother who had been in prison for forty years, that he was John -Wilkes Booth in disguise--and, finally, that he had two small conical -horns sprouting from his head. - -The Sunday supplements of the New York papers played up the case with -fascinating sketches which showed the head of Benjamin Button attached -to a fish, to a snake, and, finally, to a body of solid brass. He -became known, journalistically, as the Mystery Man of Maryland. But -the true story, as is usually the case, had a very small circulation. - -However, every one agreed with General Moncrief that it was "criminal" -for a lovely girl who could have married any beau in Baltimore to -throw herself into the arms of a man who was assuredly fifty. In vain -Mr. Roger Button published Us son's birth certificate in large type in -the Baltimore _Blaze_. No one believed it. You had only to look -at Benjamin and see. - -On the part of the two people most concerned there was no wavering. So -many of the stories about her fiance were false that Hildegarde -refused stubbornly to believe even the true one. In vain General -Moncrief pointed out to her the high mortality among men of fifty--or, -at least, among men who looked fifty; in vain he told her of the -instability of the wholesale hardware business. Hildegarde had chosen -to marry for mellowness, and marry she did.... - - -7 - -In one particular, at least, the friends of Hildegarde Moncrief were -mistaken. The wholesale hardware business prospered amazingly. In the -fifteen years between Benjamin Button's marriage in 1880 and his -father's retirement in 1895, the family fortune was doubled--and this -was due largely to the younger member of the firm. - -Needless to say, Baltimore eventually received the couple to its -bosom. Even old General Moncrief became reconciled to his son-in-law -when Benjamin gave him the money to bring out his _History of the -Civil War_ in twenty volumes, which had been refused by nine -prominent publishers. - -In Benjamin himself fifteen years had wrought many changes. It seemed -to him that the blood flowed with new vigour through his veins. It -began to be a pleasure to rise in the morning, to walk with an active -step along the busy, sunny street, to work untiringly with his -shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. It was in 1890 that he -executed his famous business coup: he brought up the suggestion that -_all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped -are the property of the shippee_, a proposal which became a -statute, was approved by Chief Justice Fossile, and saved Roger Button -and Company, Wholesale Hardware, more than _six hundred nails every -year_. - -In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more -attracted by the gay side of life. It was typical of his growing -enthusiasm for pleasure that he was the first man in the city of -Baltimore to own and run an automobile. Meeting him on the street, his -contemporaries would stare enviously at the picture he made of health -and vitality. - -"He seems to grow younger every year," they would remark. And if old -Roger Button, now sixty-five years old, had failed at first to give a -proper welcome to his son he atoned at last by bestowing on him what -amounted to adulation. - -And here we come to an unpleasant subject which it will be well to -pass over as quickly as possible. There was only one thing that -worried Benjamin Button; his wife had ceased to attract him. - -At that time Hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five, with a son, -Roscoe, fourteen years old. In the early days of their marriage -Benjamin had worshipped her. But, as the years passed, her -honey-coloured hair became an unexciting brown, the blue enamel of her -eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery--moreover, and, most of all, -she had become too settled in her ways, too placid, too content, too -anaemic in her excitements, and too sober in her taste. As a bride it -been she who had "dragged" Benjamin to dances and dinners--now -conditions were reversed. She went out socially with him, but without -enthusiasm, devoured already by that eternal inertia which comes to -live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end. - -Benjamin's discontent waxed stronger. At the outbreak of the -Spanish-American War in 1898 his home had for him so little charm that -he decided to join the army. With his business influence he obtained a -commission as captain, and proved so adaptable to the work that he was -made a major, and finally a lieutenant-colonel just in time to -participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly -wounded, and received a medal. - -Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required -attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at -the station by a brass band and escorted to his house. - - -8 - -Hildegarde, waving a large silk flag, greeted him on the porch, and -even as he kissed her he felt with a sinking of the heart that these -three years had taken their toll. She was a woman of forty now, with a -faint skirmish line of gray hairs in her head. The sight depressed -him. - -Up in his room he saw his reflection in the familiar mirror--he went -closer and examined his own face with anxiety, comparing it after a -moment with a photograph of himself in uniform taken just before the -war. - -"Good Lord!" he said aloud. The process was continuing. There was no -doubt of it--he looked now like a man of thirty. Instead of being -delighted, he was uneasy--he was growing younger. He had hitherto -hoped that once he reached a bodily age equivalent to his age in -years, the grotesque phenomenon which had marked his birth would cease -to function. He shuddered. His destiny seemed to him awful, -incredible. - -When he came downstairs Hildegarde was waiting for him. She appeared -annoyed, and he wondered if she had at last discovered that there was -something amiss. It was with an effort to relieve the tension between -them that he broached the matter at dinner in what he considered a -delicate way. - -"Well," he remarked lightly, "everybody says I look younger than -ever." - -Hildegarde regarded him with scorn. She sniffed. "Do you think it's -anything to boast about?" - -"I'm not boasting," he asserted uncomfortably. She sniffed again. "The -idea," she said, and after a moment: "I should think you'd have enough -pride to stop it." - -"How can I?" he demanded. - -"I'm not going to argue with you," she retorted. "But there's a right -way of doing things and a wrong way. If you've made up your mind to be -different from everybody else, I don't suppose I can stop you, but I -really don't think it's very considerate." - -"But, Hildegarde, I can't help it." - -"You can too. You're simply stubborn. You think you don't want to be -like any one else. You always have been that way, and you always will -be. But just think how it would be if every one else looked at things -as you do--what would the world be like?" - -As this was an inane and unanswerable argument Benjamin made no reply, -and from that time on a chasm began to widen between them. He wondered -what possible fascination she had ever exercised over him. - -To add to the breach, he found, as the new century gathered headway, -that his thirst for gaiety grew stronger. Never a party of any kind in -the city of Baltimore but he was there, dancing with the prettiest of -the young married women, chatting with the most popular of the -debutantes, and finding their company charming, while his wife, a -dowager of evil omen, sat among the chaperons, now in haughty -disapproval, and now following him with solemn, puzzled, and -reproachful eyes. - -"Look!" people would remark. "What a pity! A young fellow that age -tied to a woman of forty-five. He must be twenty years younger than -his wife." They had forgotten--as people inevitably forget--that back -in 1880 their mammas and papas had also remarked about this same -ill-matched pair. - -Benjamin's growing unhappiness at home was compensated for by his many -new interests. He took up golf and made a great success of it. He went -in for dancing: in 1906 he was an expert at "The Boston," and in 1908 -he was considered proficient at the "Maxine," while in 1909 his -"Castle Walk" was the envy of every young man in town. - -His social activities, of course, interfered to some extent with his -business, but then he had worked hard at wholesale hardware for -twenty-five years and felt that he could soon hand it on to his son, -Roscoe, who had recently graduated from Harvard. - -He and his son were, in fact, often mistaken for each other. This -pleased Benjamin--he soon forgot the insidious fear which had come -over him on his return from the Spanish-American War, and grew to take -a naive pleasure in his appearance. There was only one fly in the -delicious ointment--he hated to appear in public with his wife. -Hildegarde was almost fifty, and the sight of her made him feel -absurd.... - - -9 - -One September day in 1910--a few years after Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware, had been handed over to young Roscoe Button--a -man, apparently about twenty years old, entered himself as a freshman -at Harvard University in Cambridge. He did not make the mistake of -announcing that he would never see fifty again, nor did he mention the -fact that his son had been graduated from the same institution ten -years before. - -He was admitted, and almost immediately attained a prominent position -in the class, partly because he seemed a little older than the other -freshmen, whose average age was about eighteen. - -But his success was largely due to the fact that in the football game -with Yale he played so brilliantly, with so much dash and with such a -cold, remorseless anger that he scored seven touchdowns and fourteen -field goals for Harvard, and caused one entire eleven of Yale men to -be carried singly from the field, unconscious. He was the most -celebrated man in college. - -Strange to say, in his third or junior year he was scarcely able to -"make" the team. The coaches said that he had lost weight, and it -seemed to the more observant among them that he was not quite as tall -as before. He made no touchdowns--indeed, he was retained on the team -chiefly in hope that his enormous reputation would bring terror and -disorganisation to the Yale team. - -In his senior year he did not make the team at all. He had grown so -slight and frail that one day he was taken by some sophomores for a -freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known -as something of a prodigy--a senior who was surely no more than -sixteen--and he was often shocked at the worldliness of some of his -classmates. His studies seemed harder to him--he felt that they were -too advanced. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the -famous preparatory school, at which so many of them had prepared for -college, and he determined after his graduation to enter himself at -St. Midas's, where the sheltered life among boys his own size would be -more congenial to him. - -Upon his graduation in 1914 he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard -diploma in his pocket. Hildegarde was now residing in Italy, so -Benjamin went to live with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed -in a general way there was obviously no heartiness in Roscoe's feeling -toward him--there was even perceptible a tendency on his son's part to -think that Benjamin, as he moped about the house in adolescent -mooniness, was somewhat in the way. Roscoe was married now and -prominent in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal to creep out in -connection with his family. - -Benjamin, no longer _persona grata_ with the debutantes and -younger college set, found himself left much done, except for the -companionship of three or four fifteen-year-old boys in the -neighbourhood. His idea of going to St. Midas's school recurred to -him. - -"Say," he said to Roscoe one day, "I've told you over and over that I -want to go to prep, school." - -"Well, go, then," replied Roscoe shortly. The matter was distasteful -to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion. - -"I can't go alone," said Benjamin helplessly. "You'll have to enter me -and take me up there." - -"I haven't got time," declared Roscoe abruptly. His eyes narrowed and -he looked uneasily at his father. "As a matter of fact," he added, -"you'd better not go on with this business much longer. You better -pull up short. You better--you better"--he paused and his face -crimsoned as he sought for words--"you better turn right around and -start back the other way. This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't -funny any longer. You--you behave yourself!" - -Benjamin looked at him, on the verge of tears. - -"And another thing," continued Roscoe, "when visitors are in the house -I want you to call me 'Uncle'--not 'Roscoe,' but 'Uncle,' do you -understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my -first name. Perhaps you'd better call me 'Uncle' _all_ the time, -so you'll get used to it." - -With a harsh look at his father, Roscoe turned away.... - - -10 - -At the termination of this interview, Benjamin wandered dismally -upstairs and stared at himself in the mirror. He had not shaved for -three months, but he could find nothing on his face but a faint white -down with which it seemed unnecessary to meddle. When he had first -come home from Harvard, Roscoe had approached him with the proposition -that he should wear eye-glasses and imitation whiskers glued to his -cheeks, and it had seemed for a moment that the farce of his early -years was to be repeated. But whiskers had itched and made him -ashamed. He wept and Roscoe had reluctantly relented. - -Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, _The Boy Scouts in Bimini -Bay_, and began to read. But he found himself thinking persistently -about the war. America had joined the Allied cause during the -preceding month, and Benjamin wanted to enlist, but, alas, sixteen was -the minimum age, and he did not look that old. His true age, which was -fifty-seven, would have disqualified him, anyway. - -There was a knock at his door, and the butler appeared with a letter -bearing a large official legend in the corner and addressed to Mr. -Benjamin Button. Benjamin tore it open eagerly, and read the enclosure -with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had -served in the Spanish-American War were being called back into service -with a higher rank, and it enclosed his commission as brigadier-general -in the United States army with orders to report immediately. - -Benjamin jumped to his feet fairly quivering with enthusiasm. This was -what he had wanted. He seized his cap, and ten minutes later he had -entered a large tailoring establishment on Charles Street, and asked -in his uncertain treble to be measured for a uniform. - -"Want to play soldier, sonny?" demanded a clerk casually. - -Benjamin flushed. "Say! Never mind what I want!" he retorted angrily. -"My name's Button and I live on Mt. Vernon Place, so you know I'm good -for it." - -"Well," admitted the clerk hesitantly, "if you're not, I guess your -daddy is, all right." - -Benjamin was measured, and a week later his uniform was completed. He -had difficulty in obtaining the proper general's insignia because the -dealer kept insisting to Benjamin that a nice V.W.C.A. badge would -look just as well and be much more fun to play with. - -Saying nothing to Roscoe, he left the house one night and proceeded by -train to Camp Mosby, in South Carolina, where he was to command an -infantry brigade. On a sultry April day he approached the entrance to -the camp, paid off the taxicab which had brought him from the station, -and turned to the sentry on guard. - -"Get some one to handle my luggage!" he said briskly. - -The sentry eyed him reproachfully. "Say," he remarked, "where you -goin' with the general's duds, sonny?" - -Benjamin, veteran of the Spanish-American War, whirled upon him with -fire in his eye, but with, alas, a changing treble voice. - -"Come to attention!" he tried to thunder; he paused for breath--then -suddenly he saw the sentry snap his heels together and bring his rifle -to the present. Benjamin concealed a smile of gratification, but when -he glanced around his smile faded. It was not he who had inspired -obedience, but an imposing artillery colonel who was approaching on -horseback. - -"Colonel!" called Benjamin shrilly. - -The colonel came up, drew rein, and looked coolly down at him with a -twinkle in his eyes. "Whose little boy are you?" he demanded kindly. - -"I'll soon darn well show you whose little boy I am!" retorted -Benjamin in a ferocious voice. "Get down off that horse!" - -The colonel roared with laughter. - -"You want him, eh, general?" - -"Here!" cried Benjamin desperately. "Read this." And he thrust his -commission toward the colonel. The colonel read it, his eyes popping -from their sockets. "Where'd you get this?" he demanded, slipping the -document into his own pocket. "I got it from the Government, as you'll -soon find out!" "You come along with me," said the colonel with a -peculiar look. "We'll go up to headquarters and talk this over. Come -along." The colonel turned and began walking his horse in the -direction of headquarters. There was nothing for Benjamin to do but -follow with as much dignity as possible--meanwhile promising himself a -stern revenge. But this revenge did not materialise. Two days later, -however, his son Roscoe materialised from Baltimore, hot and cross -from a hasty trip, and escorted the weeping general, _sans_ -uniform, back to his home. - - -II - -In 1920 Roscoe Button's first child was born. During the attendant -festivities, however, no one thought it "the thing" to mention, that -the little grubby boy, apparently about ten years of age who played -around the house with lead soldiers and a miniature circus, was the -new baby's own grandfather. - -No one disliked the little boy whose fresh, cheerful face was crossed -with just a hint of sadness, but to Roscoe Button his presence was a -source of torment. In the idiom of his generation Roscoe did not -consider the matter "efficient." It seemed to him that his father, in -refusing to look sixty, had not behaved like a "red-blooded -he-man"--this was Roscoe's favourite expression--but in a curious and -perverse manner. Indeed, to think about the matter for as much as a -half an hour drove him to the edge of insanity. Roscoe believed that -"live wires" should keep young, but carrying it out on such a scale -was--was--was inefficient. And there Roscoe rested. - -Five years later Roscoe's little boy had grown old enough to play -childish games with little Benjamin under the supervision of the same -nurse. Roscoe took them both to kindergarten on the same day, and -Benjamin found that playing with little strips of coloured paper, -making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most -fascinating game in the world. Once he was bad and had to stand in the -corner--then he cried--but for the most part there were gay hours in -the cheerful room, with the sunlight coming in the windows and Miss -Bailey's kind hand resting for a moment now and then in his tousled -hair. - -Roscoe's son moved up into the first grade after a year, but Benjamin -stayed on in the kindergarten. He was very happy. Sometimes when other -tots talked about what they would do when they grew up a shadow would -cross his little face as if in a dim, childish way he realised that -those were things in which he was never to share. - -The days flowed on in monotonous content. He went back a third year to -the kindergarten, but he was too little now to understand what the -bright shining strips of paper were for. He cried because the other -boys were bigger than he, and he was afraid of them. The teacher -talked to him, but though he tried to understand he could not -understand at all. - -He was taken from the kindergarten. His nurse, Nana, in her starched -gingham dress, became the centre of his tiny world. On bright days -they walked in the park; Nana would point at a great gray monster and -say "elephant," and Benjamin would say it after her, and when he was -being undressed for bed that night he would say it over and over aloud -to her: "Elyphant, elyphant, elyphant." Sometimes Nana let him jump on -the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right it would -bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said "Ah" for a long time -while you jumped you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect. - -He loved to take a big cane from the hat-rack and go around hitting -chairs and tables with it and saying: "Fight, fight, fight." When -there were people there the old ladies would cluck at him, which -interested him, and the young ladies would try to kiss him, which he -submitted to with mild boredom. And when the long day was done at five -o'clock he would go upstairs with Nana and be fed on oatmeal and nice -soft mushy foods with a spoon. - -There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep; no token -came to him of his brave days at college, of the glittering years when -he flustered the hearts of many girls. There were only the white, safe -walls of his crib and Nana and a man who came to see him sometimes, -and a great big orange ball that Nana pointed at just before his -twilight bed hour and called "sun." When the sun went his eyes were -sleepy--there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him. - -The past--the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the -first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk -down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days -before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old -Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded -like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. -He did not remember. - -He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his -last feeding or how the days passed--there was only his crib and -Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was -hungry he cried--that was all. Through the noons and nights he -breathed and over him there were soft mumblings and murmurings that he -scarcely heard, and faintly differentiated smells, and light and -darkness. - -Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved -above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether -from his mind. - - - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE - - -Running footsteps--light, soft-soled shoes made of curious leathery -cloth brought from Ceylon setting the pace; thick flowing boots, two -pairs, dark blue and gilt, reflecting the moonlight in blunt gleams -and splotches, following a stone's throw behind. - -Soft Shoes flashes through a patch of moonlight, then darts into a -blind labyrinth of alleys and becomes only an intermittent scuffle -ahead somewhere in the enfolding darkness. In go Flowing Boots, with -short swords lurching and long plumes awry, finding a breath to curse -God and the black lanes of London. - -Soft Shoes leaps a shadowy gate and crackles through a hedgerow. -Flowing Boots leap the gate and crackles through the hedgerow--and -there, startlingly, is the watch ahead--two murderous pikemen of -ferocious cast of mouth acquired in Holland and the Spanish marches. - -But there is no cry for help. The pursued does not fall panting at the -feet of the watch, clutching a purse; neither do the pursuers raise a -hue and cry. Soft Shoes goes by in a rush of swift air. The watch -curse and hesitate, glance after the fugitive, and then spread their -pikes grimly across the road and wait for Flowing Boots. Darkness, -like a great hand, cuts off the even flow the moon. - -The hand moves off the moon whose pale caress finds again the eaves -and lintels, and the watch, wounded and tumbled in the dust. Up the -street one of Flowing Boots leaves a black trail of spots until he -binds himself, clumsily as he runs, with fine lace caught from his -throat. - -It was no affair for the watch: Satan was at large tonight and Satan -seemed to be he who appeared dimly in front, heel over gate, knee over -fence. Moreover, the adversary was obviously travelling near home or -at least in that section of London consecrated to his coarser whims, -for the street narrowed like a road in a picture and the houses bent -over further and further, cooping in natural ambushes suitable for -murder and its histrionic sister, sudden death. - -Down long and sinuous lanes twisted the hunted and the harriers, -always in and out of the moon in a perpetual queen's move over a -checker-board of glints and patches. Ahead, the quarry, minus his -leather jerkin now and half blinded by drips of sweat, had taken to -scanning his ground desperately on both sides. As a result he suddenly -slowed short, and retracing his steps a bit scooted up an alley so -dark that it seemed that here sun and moon had been in eclipse since -the last glacier slipped roaring over the earth. Two hundred yards -down he stopped and crammed himself into a niche in the wall where he -huddled and panted silently, a grotesque god without bulk or outline -in the gloom. - -Flowing Boots, two pairs, drew near, came up, went by, halted twenty -yards beyond him, and spoke in deep-lunged, scanty whispers: - -"I was attune to that scuffle; it stopped." - -"Within twenty paces." - -"He's hid." - -"Stay together now and we'll cut him up." - -The voice faded into a low crunch of a boot, nor did Soft Shoes wait -to hear more--he sprang in three leaps across the alley, where he -bounded up, flapped for a moment on the top of the wall like a huge -bird, and disappeared, gulped down by the hungry night at a mouthful. - - -II - - "He read at wine, he read in bed, - He read aloud, had he the breath, - His every thought was with the dead, - And so he read himself to death." - -Any visitor to the old James the First graveyard near Peat's Hill may -spell out this bit of doggerel, undoubtedly one of the worst recorded -of an Elizabethan, on the tomb of Wessel Caster. - -This death of his, says the antiquary, occurred when he was -thirty-seven, but as this story is concerned with the night of a -certain chase through darkness, we find him still alive, still -reading. His eyes were somewhat dim, his stomach somewhat obvious-he -was a mis-built man and indolent--oh, Heavens! But an era is an era, -and in the reign of Elizabeth, by the grace of Luther, Queen of -England, no man could help but catch the spirit of enthusiasm. Every -loft in Cheapside published its _Magnum Folium_ (or magazine)--of -its new blank verse; the Cheapside Players would produce anything on -sight as long as it "got away from those reactionary miracle plays," -and the English Bible had run through seven "very large" printings in, -as many months. - -So Wessel Caxter (who in his youth had gone to sea) was now a reader -of all on which he could lay his hands--he read manuscripts In holy -friendship; he dined rotten poets; he loitered about the shops where -the _Magna Folia_ were printed, and he listened tolerantly while -the young playwrights wrangled and bickered among them-selves, and -behind each other's backs made bitter and malicious charges of -plagiarism or anything else they could think of. - -To-night he had a book, a piece of work which, though inordinately -versed, contained, he thought, some rather excellent political satire. -"The Faerie Queene" by Edmund Spenser lay before him under the -tremulous candle-light. He had ploughed through a canto; he was -beginning another: - -THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS OR OF CHASTITY - - _It falls me here to write of Chastity. - The fayrest vertue, far above the rest_.... - -A sudden rush of feet on the stairs, a rusty swing-open of the thin -door, and a man thrust himself into the room, a man without a jerkin, -panting, sobbing, on the verge of collapse. - -"Wessel," words choked him, "stick me away somewhere, love of Our -Lady!" - -Caxter rose, carefully closing his book, and bolted the door in some -concern. - -"I'm pursued," cried out Soft Shoes. "I vow there's two short-witted -blades trying to make me into mincemeat and near succeeding. They saw -me hop the back wall!" - -"It would need," said Wessel, looking at him curiously, "several -battalions armed with blunderbusses, and two or three Armadas, to keep -you reasonably secure from the revenges of the world." - -Soft Shoes smiled with satisfaction. His sobbing gasps were giving way -to quick, precise breathing; his hunted air had faded to a faintly -perturbed irony. - -"I feel little surprise," continued Wessel. - -"They were two such dreary apes." - -"Making a total of three." - -"Only two unless you stick me away. Man, man, come alive, they'll be -on the stairs in a spark's age." - -Wessel took a dismantled pike-staff from the corner, and raising it to -the high ceiling, dislodged a rough trap-door opening into a garret -above. - -"There's no ladder." - -He moved a bench under the trap, upon which Soft Shoes mounted, -crouched, hesitated, crouched again, and then leaped amazingly upward. -He caught at the edge of the aperture and swung back and forth, for a -moment, shifting his hold; finally doubled up and disappeared into the -darkness above. There was a scurry, a migration of rats, as the -trap-door was replaced;... silence. - -Wessel returned to his reading-table, opened to the Legend of -Britomartis or of Chastity--and waited. Almost a minute later there -was a scramble on the stairs and an intolerable hammering at the door. -Wessel sighed and, picking up his candle, rose. - -"Who's there?" - -"Open the door!" - -"Who's there?" - -An aching blow frightened the frail wood, splintered it around the -edge. Wessel opened it a scarce three inches, and held the candle -high. His was to play the timorous, the super-respectable citizen, -disgracefully disturbed. - -"One small hour of the night for rest. Is that too much to ask from -every brawler and---" - -"Quiet, gossip! Have you seen a perspiring fellow?" - -The shadows of two gallants fell in immense wavering outlines over the -narrow stairs; by the light Wessel scrutinized them closely. -Gentlemen, they were, hastily but richly dressed--one of them wounded -severely in the hand, both radiating a sort of furious horror. Waving -aside Wessel's ready miscomprehension, they pushed by him into the -room and with their swords went through the business of poking -carefully into all suspected dark spots in the room, further extending -their search to Wessel's bedchamber. - -"Is he hid here?" demanded the wounded man fiercely. - -"Is who here?" - -"Any man but you." - -"Only two others that I know of." - -For a second Wessel feared that he had been too damned funny, for the -gallants made as though to prick him through. - -"I heard a man on the stairs," he said hastily, "full five minutes -ago, it was. He most certainly failed to come up." - -He went on to explain his absorption in "The Faerie Queene" but, for -the moment at least, his visitors, like the great saints, were -anaesthetic to culture. - -"What's been done?" inquired Wessel. - -"Violence!" said the man with the wounded hand. Wessel noticed that -his eyes were quite wild. "My own sister. Oh, Christ in heaven, give -us this man!" - -Wessel winced. - -"Who is the man?" - -"God's word! We know not even that. What's that trap up there?" he -added suddenly. - -"It's nailed down. It's not been used for years." He thought of the -pole in the corner and quailed in his belly, but the utter despair of -the two men dulled their astuteness. - -"It would take a ladder for any one not a tumbler," said the wounded -man listlessly. - -His companion broke into hysterical laughter. - -"A tumbler. Oh, a tumbler. Oh---" - -Wessel stared at them in wonder. - -"That appeals to my most tragic humor," cried the man, "that no -one--oh, no one--could get up there but a tumbler." - -The gallant with the wounded hand snapped his good fingers -impatiently. - -"We must go next door--and then on--" - -Helplessly they went as two walking under a dark and storm-swept sky. - -Wessel closed and bolted the door and stood a moment by it, frowning -in pity. - -A low-breathed "Ha!" made him look up. Soft Shoes had already raised -the trap and was looking down into the room, his rather elfish face -squeezed into a grimace, half of distaste, half of sardonic amusement. - -"They take off their heads with their helmets," he remarked in a -whisper, "but as for you and me, Wessel, we are two cunning men." - -"Now you be cursed," cried Wessel vehemently. "I knew you for a dog, -but when I hear even the half of a tale like this, I know you for such -a dirty cur that I am minded to club your skull." - -Soft Shoes stared at him, blinking. - -"At all events," he replied finally, "I find dignity impossible in -this position." - -With this he let his body through the trap, hung for an instant, and -dropped the seven feet to the floor. - -"There was a rat considered my ear with the air of a gourmet," he -continued, dusting his hands on his breeches. "I told him in the rat's -peculiar idiom that I was deadly poison, so he took himself off." - -"Let's hear of this night's lechery!" insisted Wessel angrily. - -Soft Shoes touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled the fingers -derisively at Wessel. - -"Street gamin!" muttered Wessel. - -"Have you any paper?" demanded Soft Shoes irrelevantly, and then -rudely added, "or can you write?" - -"Why should I give you paper?" - -"You wanted to hear of the night's entertainment. So you shall, an you -give me pen, ink, a sheaf of paper, and a room to myself." - -Wessel hesitated. - -"Get out!" he said finally. - -"As you will. Yet you have missed a most intriguing story." - -Wessel wavered--he was soft as taffy, that man--gave in. Soft Shoes -went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and -precisely closed the door. Wessel grunted and returned to "The Faerie -Queene"; so silence came once more upon the house. - - -III - -Three o'clock went into four. The room paled, the dark outside was -shot through with damp and chill, and Wessel, cupping his brain in his -hands, bent low over his table, tracing through the pattern of knights -and fairies and the harrowing distresses of many girls. There were -dragons chortling along the narrow street outside; when the sleepy -armorer's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clink and -clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching -cavalcade. - -A fog shut down at the first flare of dawn, and the room was grayish -yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and -pulled open the door. His guest turned on him a face pale as parchment -in which two distraught eyes burned like great red letters. He had -drawn a chair close to Wessel's _prie-dieu_ which he was using as -a desk; and on it was an amazing stack of closely written pages. With -a long sigh Wessel withdrew and returned to his siren, calling himself -fool for not claiming his bed here at dawn. - -The dump of boots outside, the croaking of old beldames from attic to -attic, the dull murmur of morning, unnerved him, and, dozing, he -slumped in his chair, his brain, overladen with sound and color, -working intolerably over the imagery that stacked it. In this restless -dream of his he was one of a thousand groaning bodies crushed near the -sun, a helpless bridge for the strong-eyed Apollo. The dream tore at -him, scraped along his mind like a ragged knife. When a hot hand -touched his shoulder, he awoke with what was nearly a scream to find -the fog thick in the room and his guest, a gray ghost of misty stuff, -beside him with a pile of paper in his hand. - -"It should be a most intriguing tale, I believe, though it requires -some going over. May I ask you to lock it away, and in God's name let -me sleep?" - -He waited for no answer, but thrust the pile at Wessel, and literally -poured himself like stuff from a suddenly inverted bottle upon a couch -in the corner, slept, with his breathing regular, but his brow -wrinkled in a curious and somewhat uncanny manner. - -Wessel yawned sleepily and, glancing at the scrawled, uncertain first -page, he began reading aloud very softly: - - _The Rape of Lucrece - - "From the besieged Ardea all in post, - Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, - Lust-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman host--"_ - - - - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - - -Merlin Grainger was employed by the Moonlight Quill Bookshop, which -you may have visited, just around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton on -Forty-seventh Street. The Moonlight Quill is, or rather was, a very -romantic little store, considered radical and admitted dark. It was -spotted interiorly with red and orange posters of breathless exotic -intent, and lit no less by the shiny reflecting bindings of special -editions than by the great squat lamp of crimson satin that, lighted -through all the day, swung overhead. It was truly a mellow bookshop. -The words "Moonlight Quill" were worked over the door in a sort of -serpentine embroidery. The windows seemed always full of something -that had passed the literary censors with little to spare; volumes -with covers of deep orange which offer their titles on little white -paper squares. And over all there was the smell of the musk, which the -clever, inscrutable Mr. Moonlight Quill ordered to be sprinkled -about-the smell half of a curiosity shop in Dickens' London and half -of a coffee-house on the warm shores of the Bosphorus. - -From nine until five-thirty Merlin Grainger asked bored old ladies in -black and young men with dark circles under their eyes if they "cared -for this fellow" or were interested in first editions. Did they buy -novels with Arabs on the cover, or books which gave Shakespeare's -newest sonnets as dictated psychically to Miss Sutton of South Dakota? -he sniffed. As a matter of fact, his own taste ran to these latter, -but as an employee at the Moonlight Quill he assumed for the working -day the attitude of a disillusioned connoisseur. - -After he had crawled over the window display to pull down the front -shade at five-thirty every afternoon, and said good-bye to the -mysterious Mr. Moonlight Quill and the lady clerk, Miss McCracken, and -the lady stenographer, Miss Masters, he went home to the girl, -Caroline. He did not eat supper with Caroline. It is unbelievable that -Caroline would have considered eating off his bureau with the collar -buttons dangerously near the cottage cheese, and the ends of Merlin's -necktie just missing his glass of milk--he had never asked her to eat -with him. He ate alone. He went into Braegdort's delicatessen on Sixth -Avenue and bought a box of crackers, a tube of anchovy paste, and some -oranges, or else a little jar of sausages and some potato salad and a -bottled soft drink, and with these in a brown package he went to his -room at Fifty-something West Fifty-eighth Street and ate his supper -and saw Caroline. - -Caroline was a very young and gay person who lived with some older -lady and was possibly nineteen. She was like a ghost in that she never -existed until evening. She sprang into life when the lights went on in -her apartment at about six, and she disappeared, at the latest, about -midnight. Her apartment was a nice one, in a nice building with a -white stone front, opposite the south side of Central Park. The back -of her apartment faced the single window of the single room occupied -by the single Mr. Grainger. - -He called her Caroline because there was a picture that looked like -her on the jacket of a book of that name down at the Moonlight Quill. - -Now, Merlin Grainger was a thin young man of twenty-five, with dark -hair and no mustache or beard or anything like that, but Caroline was -dazzling and light, with a shimmering morass of russet waves to take -the place of hair, and the sort of features that remind you of -kisses--the sort of features you thought belonged to your first love, -but know, when you come across an old picture, didn't. She dressed in -pink or blue usually, but of late she had sometimes put on a slender -black gown that was evidently her especial pride, for whenever she -wore it she would stand regarding a certain place on the wall, which -Merlin thought most be a mirror. She sat usually in the profile chair -near the window, but sometimes honored the _chaise longue_ by the -lamp, and often she leaned 'way back and smoked a cigarette with -posturings of her arms and hands that Merlin considered very graceful. - -At another time she had come to the window and stood in it -magnificently, and looked out because the moon had lost its way and -was dripping the strangest and most transforming brilliance into the -areaway between, turning the motif of ash-cans and clothes-lines into -a vivid impressionism of silver casks and gigantic gossamer cobwebs. -Merlin was sitting in plain sight, eating cottage cheese with sugar -and milk on it; and so quickly did he reach out for the window cord -that he tipped the cottage cheese into his lap with his free hand--and -the milk was cold and the sugar made spots on his trousers, and he was -sure that she had seen him after all. - -Sometimes there were callers--men in dinner coats, who stood and -bowed, hat in hand and coat on arm, as they talked to Caroline; then -bowed some more and followed her out of the light, obviously bound for -a play or for a dance. Other young men came and sat and smoked -cigarettes, and seemed trying to tell Caroline something--she sitting -either in the profile chair and watching them with eager intentness or -else in the _chaise longue_ by the lamp, looking very lovely and -youthfully inscrutable indeed. - -Merlin enjoyed these calls. Of some of the men he approved. Others won -only his grudging toleration, one or two he loathed--especially the -most frequent caller, a man with black hair and a black goatee and a -pitch-dark soul, who seemed to Merlin vaguely familiar, but whom he -was never quite able to recognize. - -Now, Merlin's whole life was not "bound up with this romance he had -constructed"; it was not "the happiest hour of his day." He never -arrived in time to rescue Caroline from "clutches"; nor did he even -marry her. A much stranger thing happened than any of these, and it is -this strange thing that will presently be set down here. It began one -October afternoon when she walked briskly into the mellow interior of -the Moonlight Quill. - -It was a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, -and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York -afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, whisking -along battered newspapers and pieces of things, and little lights were -pricking out all the windows--it was so desolate that one was sorry -for the tops of sky-scrapers lost up there in the dark green and gray -heaven, and felt that now surely the farce was to close, and presently -all the buildings would collapse like card houses, and pile up in a -dusty, sardonic heap upon all the millions who presumed to wind in and -out of them. - -At least these were the sort of musings that lay heavily upon the soul -of Merlin Grainger, as he stood by the window putting a dozen books -back in a row after a cyclonic visit by a lady with ermine trimmings. -He looked out of the window full of the most distressing thoughts--of -the early novels of H. G. Wells, of the boot of Genesis, of how Thomas -Edison had said that in thirty years there would be no dwelling-houses -upon the island, but only a vast and turbulent bazaar; and then he set -the last book right side up, turned--and Caroline walked coolly into -the shop. - -She was dressed in a jaunty but conventional walking costume--he -remembered this when he thought about it later. Her skirt was plaid, -pleated like a concertina; her jacket was a soft but brisk tan; her -shoes and spats were brown and her hat, small and trim, completed her -like the top of a very expensive and beautifully filled candy box. - -Merlin, breathless and startled, advanced nervously toward her. - -"Good-afternoon--" he said, and then stopped--why, he did not know, -except that it came to him that something very portentous in his life -was about to occur, and that it would need no furbishing but silence, -and the proper amount of expectant attention. And in that minute -before the thing began to happen he had the sense of a breathless -second hanging suspended in time: he saw through the glass partition -that bounded off the little office the malevolent conical head of his -employer, Mr. Moonlight Quill, bent over his correspondence. He saw -Miss McCracken and Miss Masters as two patches of hair drooping over -piles of paper; he saw the crimson lamp overhead, and noticed with a -touch of pleasure how really pleasant and romantic it made the -book-store seem. - -Then the thing happened, or rather it began to happen. Caroline picked -up a volume of poems lying loose upon a pile, fingered it absently -with her slender white hand, and suddenly, with an easy gesture, -tossed it upward toward the ceiling where it disappeared in the -crimson lamp and lodged there, seen through the illuminated silk as a -dark, bulging rectangle. This pleased her--she broke into young, -contagious laughter, in which Merlin found himself presently joining. - -"It stayed up!" she cried merrily. "It stayed up, didn't it?" To both -of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity. Their laughter -mingled, filled the bookshop, and Merlin was glad to find that her -voice was rich and full of sorcery. - -"Try another," he found himself suggesting--"try a red one." - -At this her laughter increased, and she had to rest her hands upon the -stack to steady herself. - -"Try another," she managed to articulate between spasms of mirth. "Oh, -golly, try another!" - -"Try two." - -"Yes, try two. Oh, I'll choke if I don't stop laughing. Here it goes." - -Suiting her action to the word, she picked up a red book and sent it -in a gentle hyperbola toward the ceiling, where it sank into the lamp -beside the first. It was a few minutes before either of them could do -more than rock back and forth in helpless glee; but then by mutual -agreement they took up the sport anew, this time in unison. Merlin -seized a large, specially bound French classic and whirled it upward. -Applauding his own accuracy, he took a best-seller in one hand and a -book on barnacles in the other, and waited breathlessly while she made -her shot. Then the business waxed fast and furious--sometimes they -alternated, and, watching, he found how supple she was in every -movement; sometimes one of them made shot after shot, picking up the -nearest book, sending it off, merely taking time to follow it with a -glance before reaching for another. Within three minutes they had -cleared a little place on the table, and the lamp of crimson satin was -so bulging with books that it was near breaking. - -"Silly game, basket-ball," she cried scornfully as a book left her -hand. "High-school girls play it in hideous bloomers." - -"Idiotic," he agreed. - -She paused in the act of tossing a book, and replaced it suddenly in -its position on the table. - -"I think we've got room to sit down now," she said gravely. - -They had; they had cleared an ample space for two. With a faint touch -of nervousness Merlin glanced toward Mr. Moonlight Quill's glass -partition, but the three heads were still bent earnestly over their -work, and it was evident that they had not seen what had gone on in -the shop. So when Caroline put her hands on the table and hoisted -herself up Merlin calmly imitated her, and they sat side by side -looking very earnestly at each other. - -"I had to see you," she began, with a rather pathetic expression in -her brown eyes. - -"I know." - -"It was that last time," she continued, her voice trembling a little, -though she tried to keep it steady. "I was frightened. I don't like -you to eat off the dresser. I'm so afraid you'll--you'll swallow a -collar button." - -"I did once--almost," he confessed reluctantly, "but it's not so easy, -you know. I mean you can swallow the flat part easy enough or else the -other part--that is, separately--but for a whole collar button you'd -have to have a specially made throat." He was astonishing himself by -the debonnaire appropriateness of his remarks. Words seemed for the -first time in his life to ran at him shrieking to be used, gathering -themselves into carefully arranged squads and platoons, and being -presented to him by punctilious adjutants of paragraphs. - -"That's what scared me," she said. "I knew you had to have a specially -made throat--and I knew, at least I felt sure, that you didn't have -one." - -He nodded frankly. - -"I haven't. It costs money to have one--more money unfortunately than -I possess." - -He felt no shame in saying this--rather a delight in making the -admission--he knew that nothing he could say or do would be beyond her -comprehension; least of all his poverty, and the practical -impossibility of ever extricating himself from it. - -Caroline looked down at her wrist watch, and with a little cry slid -from the table to her feet. - -"It's after five," she cried. "I didn't realize. I have to be at the -Ritz at five-thirty. Let's hurry and get this done. I've got a bet on -it." - -With one accord they set to work. Caroline began the matter by seizing -a book on insects and sending it whizzing, and finally crashing -through the glass partition that housed Mr. Moonlight Quill. The -proprietor glanced up with a wild look, brushed a few pieces of glass -from his desk, and went on with his letters. Miss McCracken gave no -sign of having heard--only Miss Masters started and gave a little -frightened scream before she bent to her task again. - -But to Merlin and Caroline it didn't matter. In a perfect orgy of -energy they were hurling book after book in all directions until -sometimes three or four were in the air at once, smashing against -shelves, cracking the glass of pictures on the walls, falling in -bruised and torn heaps upon the floor. It was fortunate that no -customers happened to come in, for it is certain they would never have -come in again--the noise was too tremendous, a noise of smashing and -ripping and tearing, mixed now and then with the tinkling of glass, -the quick breathing of the two throwers, and the intermittent -outbursts of laughter to which both of them periodically surrendered. - -At five-thirty Caroline tossed a last book at the lamp, and gave the -final impetus to the load it carried. The weakened silk tore and -dropped its cargo in one vast splattering of white and color to the -already littered floor. Then with a sigh of relief she turned to -Merlin and held out her hand. - -"Good-by," she said simply. - -"Are you going?" He knew she was. His question was simply a lingering -wile to detain her and extract for another moment that dazzling -essence of light he drew from her presence, to continue his enormous -satisfaction in her features, which were like kisses and, he thought, -like the features of a girl he had known back in 1910. For a minute he -pressed the softness of her hand--then she smiled and withdrew it and, -before he could spring to open the door, she had done it herself and -was gone out into the turbid and ominous twilight that brooded -narrowly over Forty-seventh Street. - -I would like to tell you how Merlin, having seen how beauty regards -the wisdom of the years, walked into the little partition of Mr. -Moonlight Quill and gave up his job then and there; thence issuing out -into the street a much finer and nobler and increasingly ironic man. -But the truth is much more commonplace. Merlin Grainger stood up and -surveyed the wreck of the bookshop, the ruined volumes, the torn silk -remnants of the once beautiful crimson lamp, the crystalline -sprinkling of broken glass which lay in iridescent dust over the whole -interior--and then he went to a corner where a broom was kept and -began cleaning up and rearranging and, as far as he was able, -restoring the shop to its former condition. He found that, though some -few of the books were uninjured, most of them had suffered in varying -extents. The backs were off some, the pages were torn from others, -still others were just slightly cracked in the front, which, as all -careless book returners know, makes a book unsalable, and therefore -second-hand. - -Nevertheless by six o'clock he had done much to repair the damage. He -had returned the books to their original places, swept the floor, and -put new lights in the sockets overhead. The red shade itself was -ruined beyond redemption, and Merlin thought in some trepidation that -the money to replace it might have to come out of his salary. At six, -therefore, having done the best he could, he crawled over the front -window display to pull down the blind. As he was treading delicately -back, he saw Mr. Moonlight Quill rise from his desk, put on his -overcoat and hat, and emerge into the shop. He nodded mysteriously at -Merlin and went toward the door. With his hand on the knob he paused, -turned around, and in a voice curiously compounded of ferocity and -uncertainty, he said: - -"If that girl comes in here again, you tell her to behave." - -With that he opened the door, drowning Merlin's meek "Yessir" in its -creak, and went out. - -Merlin stood there for a moment, deciding wisely not to worry about -what was for the present only a possible futurity, and then he went -into the back of the shop and invited Miss Masters to have supper with -him at Pulpat's French Restaurant, where one could still obtain red -wine at dinner, despite the Great Federal Government. Miss Masters -accepted. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly," she said. - -Merlin laughed inwardly as he compared her to Caroline, or rather as -he didn't compare her. There was no comparison. - - -II - -Mr. Moonlight Quill, mysterious, exotic, and oriental in temperament -was, nevertheless, a man of decision. And it was with decision that he -approached the problem of his wrecked shop. Unless he should make an -outlay equal to the original cost of his entire stock--a step which -for certain private reasons he did not wish to take--it would be -impossible for him to continue in business with the Moonlight Quill as -before. There was but one thing to do. He promptly turned his -establishment from an up-to-the-minute book-store into a second-hand -bookshop. The damaged books were marked down from twenty-five to fifty -per cent, the name over the door whose serpentine embroidery had once -shone so insolently bright, was allowed to grow dim and take on the -indescribably vague color of old paint, and, having a strong penchant -for ceremonial, the proprietor even went so far as to buy two -skull-caps of shoddy red felt, one for himself and one for his clerk, -Merlin Grainger. Moreover, he let his goatee grow until it resembled -the tail-feathers of an ancient sparrow and substituted for a once -dapper business suit a reverence-inspiring affair of shiny alpaca. - -In fact, within a year after Caroline's catastrophic visit to the -bookshop the only thing in it that preserved any semblance of being up -to date was Miss Masters. Miss McCracken had followed in the footsteps -of Mr. Moonlight Quill and become an intolerable dowd. - -For Merlin too, from a feeling compounded of loyalty and listlessness, -had let his exterior take on the semblance of a deserted garden. He -accepted the red felt skull-cap as a symbol of his decay. Always a -young man known, as a "pusher," he had been, since the day of his -graduation from the manual training department of a New York High -School, an inveterate brusher of clothes, hair, teeth, and even -eyebrows, and had learned the value of laying all his clean socks toe -upon toe and heel upon heel in a certain drawer of his bureau, which -would be known as the sock drawer. - -These things, he felt, had won him his place in the greatest splendor -of the Moonlight Quill. It was due to them that he was not still -making "chests useful for keeping things," as he was taught with -breathless practicality in High School, and selling them to whoever -had use of such chests--possibly undertakers. Nevertheless when the -progressive Moonlight Quill became the retrogressive Moonlight Quill -he preferred to sink with it, and so took to letting his suits gather -undisturbed the wispy burdens of the air and to throwing his socks -indiscriminately into the shirt drawer, the underwear drawer, and even -into no drawer at all. It was not uncommon in his new carelessness to -let many of his clean clothes go directly back to the laundry without -having ever been worn, a common eccentricity of impoverished -bachelors. And this in the face of his favorite magazines, which at -that time were fairly staggering with articles by successful authors -against the frightful impudence of the condemned poor, such as the -buying of wearable shirts and nice cuts of meat, and the fact that -they preferred good investments in personal jewelry to respectable -ones in four per cent saving-banks. - -It was indeed a strange state of affairs and a sorry one for many -worthy and God-fearing men. For the first time in the history of the -Republic almost any negro north of Georgia could change a one-dollar -bill. But as at that time the cent was rapidly approaching the -purchasing power of the Chinese ubu and was only a thing you got back -occasionally after paying for a soft drink, and could use merely in -getting your correct weight, this was perhaps not so strange a -phenomenon as it at first seems. It was too curious a state of things, -however, for Merlin Grainger to take the step that he did take--the -hazardous, almost involuntary step of proposing to Miss Masters. -Stranger still that she accepted him, - -It was at Pulpat's on Saturday night and over a $1.75 bottle of water -diluted with _vin ordinaire_ that the proposal occurred. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly, doesn't it you?" chattered Miss -Masters gaily. - -"Yes," answered Merlin absently; and then, after a long and pregnant -pause: "Miss Masters--Olive--I want to say something to you if you'll -listen to me." - -The tingliness of Miss Masters (who knew what was coming) increased -until it seemed that she would shortly be electrocuted by her own -nervous reactions. But her "Yes, Merlin," came without a sign or -flicker of interior disturbance. Merlin swallowed a stray bit of air -that he found in his mouth. - -"I have no fortune," he said with the manner of making an -announcement. "I have no fortune at all." - -Their eyes met, locked, became wistful, and dreamy and beautiful. - -"Olive," he told her, "I love you." - -"I love you too, Merlin," she answered simply. "Shall we have another -bottle of wine?" - -"Yes," he cried, his heart beating at a great rate. "Do you mean--" - -"To drink to our engagement," she interrupted bravely. "May it be a -short one!" - -"No!" he almost shouted, bringing his fist fiercely down upon the -table. "May it last forever!" - -"What?" - -"I mean--oh, I see what you mean. You're right. May it be a short -one." He laughed and added, "My error." - -After the wine arrived they discussed the matter thoroughly. - -"We'll have to take a small apartment at first," he said, "and I -believe, yes, by golly, I know there's a small one in the house where -I live, a big room and a sort of a dressing-room-kitchenette and the -use of a bath on the same floor." - -She clapped her hands happily, and he thought how pretty she was -really, that is, the upper part of her face--from the bridge of the -nose down she was somewhat out of true. She continued enthusiastically: - -"And as soon as we can afford it we'll take a real swell apartment, -with an elevator and a telephone girl." - -"And after that a place in the country--and a car." - -"I can't imagine nothing more fun. Can you?" - -Merlin fell silent a moment. He was thinking that he would have to -give up his room, the fourth floor rear. Yet it mattered very little -now. During the past year and a half--in fact, from the very date of -Caroline's visit to the Moonlight Quill--he had never seen her. For a -week after that visit her lights had failed to go on--darkness brooded -out into the areaway, seemed to grope blindly in at his expectant, -uncurtained window. Then the lights had appeared at last, and instead -of Caroline and her callers they stowed a stodgy family--a little man -with a bristly mustache and a full-bosomed woman who spent her -evenings patting her hips and rearranging bric-a-brac. After two days -of them Merlin had callously pulled down his shade. - -No, Merlin could think of nothing more fun than rising in the world -with Olive. There would be a cottage in a suburb, a cottage painted -blue, just one class below the sort of cottages that are of white -stucco with a green roof. In the grass around the cottage would be -rusty trowels and a broken green bench and a baby-carriage with a -wicker body that sagged to the left. And around the grass and the -baby-carriage and the cottage itself, around his whole world there -would be the arms of Olive, a little stouter, the arms of her -neo-Olivian period, when, as she walked, her cheeks would tremble up -and down ever so slightly from too much face-massaging. He could hear -her voice now, two spoons' length away: - -"I knew you were going to say this to-night, Merlin. I could see--" - -She could see. Ah--suddenly he wondered how much she could see. Could -she see that the girl who had come in with a party of three men and -sat down at the next table was Caroline? Ah, could she see that? Could -she see that the men brought with them liquor far more potent than -Pulpat's red ink condensed threefold?... - -Merlin stared breathlessly, half-hearing through an auditory ether -Olive's low, soft monologue, as like a persistent honey-bee she sucked -sweetness from her memorable hour. Merlin was listening to the -clinking of ice and the fine laughter of all four at some -pleasantry--and that laughter of Caroline's that he knew so well -stirred him, lifted him, called his heart imperiously over to her -table, whither it obediently went. He could see her quite plainly, and -he fancied that in the last year and a half she had changed, if ever -so slightly. Was it the light or were her cheeks a little thinner and -her eyes less fresh, if more liquid, than of old? Yet the shadows were -still purple in her russet hair; her mouth hinted yet of kisses, as -did the profile that came sometimes between his eyes and a row of -books, when it was twilight in the bookshop where the crimson lamp -presided no more. - -And she had been drinking. The threefold flush in her cheeks was -compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic--that he could tell. -She was making great amusement for the young man on her left and the -portly person on her right, and even for the old fellow opposite her, -for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly -reproachful cackles of another generation. Merlin caught the words of -a song she was intermittently singing-- - - _"Just snap your fingers at care, - Don't cross the bridge 'til you're there--"_ - -The portly person filled her glass with chill amber. A waiter after -several trips about the table, and many helpless glances at Caroline, -who was maintaining a cheerful, futile questionnaire as to the -succulence of this dish or that, managed to obtain the semblance of an -order and hurried away.... - -Olive was speaking to Merlin-- - -"When, then?" she asked, her voice faintly shaded with disappointment. -He realized that he had just answered no to some question she had -asked him. - -"Oh, sometime." - -"Don't you--care?" - -A rather pathetic poignancy in her question brought his eyes back to -her. - -"As soon as possible, dear," he replied with surprising tenderness. -"In two months--in June." - -"So soon?" Her delightful excitement quite took her breath away. - -"Oh, yes, I think we'd better say June. No use waiting." - -Olive began to pretend that two months was really too short a time for -her to make preparations. Wasn't he a bad boy! Wasn't he impatient, -though! Well, she'd show him he mustn't be too quick with _her_. -Indeed he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to -marry him at all. - -"June," he repeated sternly. - -Olive sighed and smiled and drank her coffee, her little finger lifted -high above the others in true refined fashion. A stray thought came to -Merlin that he would like to buy five rings and throw at it. - -"By gosh!" he exclaimed aloud. Soon he _would_ be putting rings -on one of her fingers. - -His eyes swung sharply to the right. The party of four had become so -riotous that the head-waiter had approached and spoken to them. -Caroline was arguing with this head-waiter in a raised voice, a voice -so clear and young that it seemed as though the whole restaurant would -listen--the whole restaurant except Olive Masters, self-absorbed in -her new secret. - -"How do you do?" Caroline was saying. "Probably the handsomest -head-waiter in captivity. Too much noise? Very unfortunate. -Something'll have to be done about it. Gerald"--she addressed the man -on her right--"the head-waiter says there's too much noise. Appeals to -us to have it stopped. What'll I say?" - -"Sh!" remonstrated Gerald, with laughter. "Sh!" and Merlin heard him -add in an undertone: "All the bourgeoisie will be aroused. This is -where the floorwalkers learn French." - -Caroline sat up straight in sudden alertness. - -"Where's a floorwalker?" she cried. "Show me a floorwalker." This -seemed to amuse the party, for they all, including Caroline, burst -into renewed laughter. The head-waiter, after a last conscientious but -despairing admonition, became Gallic with his shoulders and retired -into the background. - -Pulpat's, as every one knows, has the unvarying respectability of the -table d'hote. It is not a gay place in the conventional sense. One -comes, drinks the red wine, talks perhaps a little more and a little -louder than usual under the low, smoky ceilings, and then goes home. -It closes up at nine-thirty, tight as a drum; the policeman is paid -off and given an extra bottle of wine for the missis, the coat-room -girl hands her tips to the collector, and then darkness crushes the -little round tables out of sight and life. But excitement was prepared -for Pulpat's this evening--excitement of no mean variety. A girl with -russet, purple-shadowed hair mounted to her table-top and began to -dance thereon. - -"_Sacre nom de Dieu!_ Come down off there!" cried the -head-waiter. "Stop that music!" - -But the musicians were already playing so loud that they could pretend -not to hear his order; having once been young, they played louder and -gayer than ever, and Caroline danced with grace and vivacity, her -pink, filmy dress swirling about her, her agile arms playing in -supple, tenuous gestures along the smoky air. - -A group of Frenchmen at a table near by broke into cries of applause, -in which other parties joined--in a moment the room was full of -clapping and shouting; half the diners were on their feet, crowding -up, and on the outskirts the hastily summoned proprietor was giving -indistinct vocal evidences of his desire to put an end to this thing -as quickly as possible. - -"... Merlin!" cried Olive, awake, aroused at last; "she's such a -wicked girl! Let's get out--now!" - -The fascinated Merlin protested feebly that the check was not paid. - -"It's all right. Lay five dollars on the table. I despise that girl. I -can't _bear_ to look at her." She was on her feet now, tagging at -Merlin's arm. - -Helplessly, listlessly, and then with what amounted to downright -unwillingness, Merlin rose, followed Olive dumbly as she picked her -way through the delirious clamor, now approaching its height and -threatening to become a wild and memorable riot. Submissively he took -his coat and stumbled up half a dozen steps into the moist April air -outside, his ears still ringing with the sound of light feet on the -table and of laughter all about and over the little world of the cafe. -In silence they walked along toward Fifth Avenue and a bus, - -It was not until next day that she told him about the wedding--how she -had moved the date forward: it was much better that they should be -married on the first of May. - - -III - -And married they were, in a somewhat stuffy manner, under the -chandelier of the flat where Olive lived with her mother. After -marriage came elation, and then, gradually, the growth of weariness. -Responsibility descended upon Merlin, the responsibility of making his -thirty dollars a week and her twenty suffice to keep them respectably -fat and to hide with decent garments the evidence that they were. - -It was decided after several weeks of disastrous and well-nigh -humiliating experiments with restaurants that they would join the -great army of the delicatessen-fed, so he took up his old way of life -again, in that he stopped every evening at Braegdort's delicatessen -and bought potatoes in salad, ham in slices, and sometimes even -stuffed tomatoes in bursts of extravagance. - -Then he would trudge homeward, enter the dark hallway, and climb three -rickety flights of stairs covered by an ancient carpet of long -obliterated design. The hall had an ancient smell--of the vegetables -of 1880, of the furniture polish in vogue when "Adam-and Eve" Bryan -ran against William McKinley, of portieres an ounce heavier with dust, -from worn-out shoes, and lint from dresses turned long since into -patch-work quilts. This smell would pursue him up the stairs, -revivified and made poignant at each landing by the aura of -contemporary cooking, then, as he began the next flight, diminishing -into the odor of the dead routine of dead generations. - -Eventually would occur the door of his room, which slipped open with -indecent willingness and closed with almost a sniff upon his "Hello, -dear! Got a treat for you to-night." - -Olive, who always rode home on the bus to "get a morsel of air," would -be making the bed and hanging up things. At his call she would come up -to him and give him a quick kiss with wide-open eyes, while be held -her upright like a ladder, his hands on her two arms, as though she -were a thing without equilibrium, and would, once he relinquished -hold, fall stiffly backward to the floor. This is the kiss that comes -in with the second year of marriage, succeeding the bridegroom kiss -(which is rather stagey at best, say those who know about such things, -and apt to be copied from passionate movies). - -Then came supper, and after that they went out for a walk, up two -blocks and through Central Park, or sometimes to a moving picture, -which taught them patiently that they were the sort of people for whom -life was ordered, and that something very grand and brave and -beautiful would soon happen to them if they were docile and obedient -to their rightful superiors and kept away from pleasure. - -Such was their day for three years. Then change came into their lives: -Olive had a baby, and as a result Merlin had a new influx of material -resources. In the third week of Olive's confinement, after an hour of -nervous rehearsing, he went into the office of Mr. Moonlight Quill and -demanded an enormous increase in salary. - -"I've been here ten years," he said; "since I was nineteen. I've -always tried to do my best in the interests of the business." - -Mr. Moonlight Quill said that he would think it over. Next morning he -announced, to Merlin's great delight, that he was going to put into -effect a project long premeditated--he was going to retire from active -work in the bookshop, confining himself to periodic visits and leaving -Merlin as manager with a salary of fifty dollars a week and a -one-tenth interest in the business. When the old man finished, -Merlin's cheeks were glowing and his eyes full of tears. He seized his -employer's hand and shook it violently, saying over and over again: - -"It's very nice of you, sir. It's very white of you. It's very, very -nice of you." - -So after ten years of faithful work in the store he had won out at -last. Looking back, he saw his own progress toward this hill of -elation no longer as a sometimes sordid and always gray decade of -worry and failing enthusiasm and failing dreams, years when the -moonlight had grown duller in the areaway and the youth had faded out -of Olive's face, but as a glorious and triumphant climb over obstacles -which he had determinedly surmounted by unconquerable will-power. The -optimistic self-delusion that had kept him from misery was seen now in -the golden garments of stern resolution. Half a dozen times he had -taken steps to leave the Moonlight Quill and soar upward, but through -sheer faintheartedness he had stayed on. Strangely enough he now -thought that those were times when he had exerted tremendous -persistence and had "determined" to fight it out where he was. - -At any rate, let us not for this moment begrudge Merlin his new and -magnificent view of himself. He had arrived. At thirty he had reached -a post of importance. He left the shop that evening fairly radiant, -invested every penny in his pocket in the most tremendous feast that -Braegdort's delicatessen offered, and staggered homeward with the -great news and four gigantic paper bags. The fact that Olive was too -sick to eat, that he made himself faintly but unmistakably ill by a -struggle with four stuffed tomatoes, and that most of the food -deteriorated rapidly in an iceless ice-box: all next day did not mar -the occasion. For the first time since the week of his marriage Merlin -Grainger lived under a sky of unclouded tranquillity. - -The baby boy was christened Arthur, and life became dignified, -significant, and, at length, centered. Merlin and Olive resigned -themselves to a somewhat secondary place in their own cosmos; but what -they lost in personality they regained in a sort of primordial pride. -The country house did not come, but a month in an Asbury Park -boarding-house each summer filled the gap; and during Merlin's two -weeks' holiday this excursion assumed the air of a really merry -jaunt--especially when, with the baby asleep in a wide room opening -technically on the sea, Merlin strolled with Olive along the thronged -board-walk puffing at his cigar and trying to look like twenty -thousand a year. - -With some alarm at the slowing up of the days and the accelerating of -the years, Merlin became thirty-one, thirty-two--then almost with a -rush arrived at that age which, with all its washing and panning, can -only muster a bare handful of the precious stuff of youth: he became -thirty-five. And one day on Fifth Avenue he saw Caroline. - -It was Sunday, a radiant, flowerful Easter morning and the avenue was -a pageant of lilies and cutaways and happy April-colored bonnets. -Twelve o'clock: the great churches were letting out their people--St. -Simon's, St. Hilda's, the Church of the Epistles, opened their doors -like wide mouths until the people pouring forth surely resembled happy -laughter as they met and strolled and chattered, or else waved white -bouquets at waiting chauffeurs. - -In front of the Church of the Epistles stood its twelve vestrymen, -carrying out the time-honored custom of giving away Easter eggs full -of face-powder to the church-going debutantes of the year. Around them -delightedly danced the two thousand miraculously groomed children of -the very rich, correctly cute and curled, shining like sparkling -little jewels upon their mothers' fingers. Speaks the sentimentalist -for the children of the poor? Ah, but the children of the rich, -laundered, sweet-smelling, complexioned of the country, and, above -all, with soft, in-door voices. - -Little Arthur was five, child of the middle class. Undistinguished, -unnoticed, with a nose that forever marred what Grecian yearnings his -features might have had, he held tightly to his mother's warm, sticky -hand, and, with Merlin on his other side, moved, upon the home-coming -throng. At Fifty-third Street, where there were two churches, the -congestion was at its thickest, its richest. Their progress was of -necessity retarded to such an extent that even little Arthur had not -the slightest difficulty in keeping up. Then it was that Merlin -perceived an open landaulet of deepest crimson, with handsome nickel -trimmings, glide slowly up to the curb and come to a stop. In it sat -Caroline. - -She was dressed in black, a tight-fitting gown trimmed with lavender, -flowered at the waist with a corsage of orchids. Merlin started and -then gazed at her fearfully. For the first time in the eight years -since his marriage he was encountering the girl again. But a girl no -longer. Her figure was slim as ever--or perhaps not quite, for a -certain boyish swagger, a sort of insolent adolescence, had gone the -way of the first blooming of her cheeks. But she was beautiful; -dignity was there now, and the charming lines of a fortuitous -nine-and-twenty; and she sat in the car with such perfect -appropriateness and self-possession that it made him breathless to -watch her. - -Suddenly she smiled--the smile of old, bright as that very Easter and -its flowers, mellower than ever--yet somehow with not quite the -radiance and infinite promise of that first smile back there in the -bookshop nine years before. It was a steelier smile, disillusioned and -sad. - -But it was soft enough and smile enough to make a pair of young men in -cutaway coats hurry over, to pull their high hats off their wetted, -iridescent hair; to bring them, flustered and bowing, to the edge of -her landaulet, where her lavender gloves gently touched their gray -ones. And these two were presently joined by another, and then two -more, until there was a rapidly swelling crowd around the landaulet. -Merlin would hear a young man beside him say to his perhaps -well-favored companion: - -"If you'll just pardon me a moment, there's some one I _have_ to -speak to. Walk right ahead. I'll catch up." - -Within three minutes every inch of the landaulet, front, back, and -side, was occupied by a man--a man trying to construct a sentence -clever enough to find its way to Caroline through the stream of -conversation. Luckily for Merlin a portion of little Arthur's clothing -had chosen the opportunity to threaten a collapse, and Olive had -hurriedly rushed him over against a building for some extemporaneous -repair work, so Merlin was able to watch, unhindered, the salon in the -street. - -The crowd swelled. A row formed in back of the first, -two more behind that. In the midst, an orchid rising from a black -bouquet, sat Caroline enthroned in her obliterated car, nodding and -crying salutations and smiling with such true happiness that, of a -sudden, a new relay of gentlemen had left their wives and consorts and -were striding toward her. - -The crowd, now phalanx deep, began to be augmented by the merely -curious; men of all ages who could not possibly have known Caroline -jostled over and melted into the circle of ever-increasing diameter, -until the lady in lavender was the centre of a vast impromptu -auditorium. - -All about her were faces--clean-shaven, bewhiskered, old, young, -ageless, and now, here and there, a woman. The mass was rapidly -spreading to the opposite curb, and, as St. Anthony's around the -corner let out its box-holders, it overflowed to the sidewalk and -crushed up against the iron picket-fence of a millionaire across the -street. The motors speeding along the avenue were compelled to stop, -and in a jiffy were piled three, five, and six deep at the edge of the -crowd; auto-busses, top-heavy turtles of traffic, plunged into the -jam, their passengers crowding to the edges of the roofs in wild -excitement and peering down into the centre of the mass, which -presently could hardly be seen from the mass's edge. - -The crush had become terrific. No fashionable audience at a -Yale-Princeton football game, no damp mob at a world's series, could -be compared with the panoply that talked, stared, laughed, and honked -about the lady in black and lavender. It was stupendous; it was -terrible. A quarter mile down the block a half-frantic policeman -called his precinct; on the same corner a frightened civilian crashed -in the glass of a fire-alarm and sent in a wild paean for all the -fire-engines of the city; up in an apartment high in one of the tall -buildings a hysterical old maid telephoned in turn for the prohibition -enforcement agent; the special deputies on Bolshevism, and the -maternity ward of Bellevue Hospital. - -The noise increased. The first fire-engine arrived, filling the Sunday -air with smoke, clanging and crying a brazen, metallic message down -the high, resounding walls. In the notion that some terrible calamity -had overtaken the city, two excited deacons ordered special services -immediately and set tolling the great bells of St. Hilda's and St. -Anthony's, presently joined by the jealous gongs of St. Simon's and -the Church of the Epistles. Even far off in the Hudson and the East -River the sounds of the commotion were heard, and the ferry-boats and -tugs and ocean liners set up sirens and whistles that sailed in -melancholy cadence, now varied, now reiterated, across the whole -diagonal width of the city from Riverside Drive to the gray -water-fronts of the lower East Side.... - -In the centre of her landaulet sat the lady in black and lavender, -chatting pleasantly first with one, then with another of that -fortunate few in cutaways who had found their way to speaking distance -in the first rush. After a while she glanced around her and beside her -with a look of growing annoyance. - -She yawned and asked the man nearest her if he couldn't run in -somewhere and get her a glass of water. The man apologized in some -embarrassment. He could not have moved hand or foot. He could not have -scratched his own ear.... - -As the first blast of the river sirens keened along the air, Olive -fastened the last safety-pin in little Arthur's rompers and looked up. -Merlin saw her start, stiffen slowly like hardening stucco, and then -give a little gasp of surprise and disapproval. - -"That woman," she cried suddenly. "Oh!" - -She flashed a glance at Merlin that mingled reproach and pain, and -without another word gathered up little Arthur with one hand, grasped -her husband by the other, and darted amazingly in a winding, bumping -canter through the crowd. Somehow people gave way before her; somehow -she managed to-retain her grasp on her son and husband; somehow she -managed to emerge two blocks up, battered and dishevelled, into an -open space, and, without slowing up her pace, darted down a -side-street. Then at last, when uproar had died away into a dim and -distant clamor, did she come to a walk and set little Arthur upon his -feet. - -"And on Sunday, too! Hasn't she disgraced herself enough?" This was -her only comment. She said it to Arthur, as she seemed to address her -remarks to Arthur throughout the remainder of the day. For some -curious and esoteric reason she had never once looked at her husband -during the entire retreat. - - -IV - -The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the -passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they -are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted -first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing -and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds -of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the -certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and -women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from -life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad -amusements and curiosities of youth, to a line with less, when we peel -down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, -our friends to a few to whom we are anaesthetic; ending up at last in -a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, where the shells -now whistle abominably, now are but half-heard as, by turns frightened -and tired, we sit waiting for death. - -At forty, then, Merlin was no different from himself at thirty-five; a -larger paunch, a gray twinkling near his ears, a more certain lack of -vivacity in his walk. His forty-five differed from his forty by a like -margin, unless one mention a slight deafness in his left ear. But at -fifty-five the process had become a chemical change of immense -rapidity. Yearly he was more and more an "old man" to his -family--senile almost, so far as his wife was concerned. He was by -this time complete owner of the bookshop. The mysterious Mr. Moonlight -Quill, dead some five years and not survived by his wife, had deeded -the whole stock and store to him, and there he still spent his days, -conversant now by name with almost all that man has recorded for three -thousand years, a human catalogue, an authority upon tooling and -binding, upon folios and first editions, an accurate inventory of a -thousand authors whom he could never have understood and had certainly -never read. - -At sixty-five he distinctly doddered. He had assumed the melancholy -habits of the aged so often portrayed by the second old man in -standard Victorian comedies. He consumed vast warehouses of time -searching for mislaid spectacles. He "nagged" his wife and was nagged -in turn. He told the same jokes three or four times a year at the -family table, and gave his son weird, impossible directions as to his -conduct in life. Mentally and materially he was so entirely different -from the Merlin Grainger of twenty-five that it seemed incongruous -that he should bear the same name. - -He worked still In the bookshop with the assistance of a youth, whom, -of course, he considered very idle, indeed, and a new young woman, -Miss Gaffney. Miss McCracken, ancient and unvenerable as himself, -still kept the accounts. Young Arthur was gone into Wall Street to -sell bonds, as all the young men seemed to be doing in that day. This, -of course, was as it should be. Let old Merlin get what magic he could -from his books--the place of young King Arthur was in the -counting-house. - -One afternoon at four when he had slipped noiselessly up to the front -of the store on his soft-soled slippers, led by a newly formed habit, -of which, to be fair, he was rather ashamed, of spying upon the young -man clerk, he looked casually out of the front window, straining his -faded eyesight to reach the street. A limousine, large, portentous, -impressive, had drawn to the curb, and the chauffeur, after -dismounting and holding some sort of conversation with persons in the -interior of the car, turned about and advanced in a bewildered fashion -toward the entrance of the Moonlight Quill. He opened the door, -shuffled in, and, glancing uncertainly at the old man in the -skull-cap, addressed him in a thick, murky voice, as though his words -came through a fog. - -"Do you--do you sell additions?" - -Merlin nodded. - -"The arithmetic books are in the back of the store." - -The chauffeur took off his cap and scratched a close-cropped, fuzzy -head. - -"Oh, naw. This I want's a detecatif story." He jerked a thumb back -toward the limousine. "She seen it in the paper. Firs' addition." - -Merlin's interest quickened. Here was possibly a big sale. - -"Oh, editions. Yes, we've advertised some firsts, but-detective -stories, I-don't-believe-What was the title?" - -"I forget. About a crime." - -"About a crime. I have-well, I have 'The Crimes of the Borgias'-full -morocco, London 1769, beautifully--" - -"Naw," interrupted the chauffeur, "this was one fella did this crime. -She seen you had it for sale in the paper." He rejected several -possible titles with the air of connoisseur. - -"'Silver Bones,'" he announced suddenly out of a slight pause. - -"What?" demanded Merlin, suspecting that the stiffness of his sinews -were being commented on. - -"Silver Bones. That was the guy that done the crime." - -"Silver Bones?" - -"Silver Bones. Indian, maybe." - -Merlin, stroked his grizzly cheeks. "Gees, Mister," went on the -prospective purchaser, "if you wanna save me an awful bawln' out jes' -try an' think. The old lady goes wile if everything don't run smooth." - -But Merlin's musings on the subject of Silver Bones were as futile as -his obliging search through the shelves, and five minutes later a very -dejected charioteer wound his way back to his mistress. Through the -glass Merlin could see the visible symbols of a tremendous uproar -going on in the interior of the limousine. The chauffeur made wild, -appealing gestures of his innocence, evidently to no avail, for when -he turned around and climbed back into the driver's seat his -expression was not a little dejected. - -Then the door of the limousine opened and gave forth a pale and -slender young man of about twenty, dressed in the attenuation of -fashion and carrying a wisp of a cane. He entered the shop, walked -past Merlin, and proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it. -Merlin approached him. - -"Anything I can do for you, sir?" - -"Old boy," said the youth coolly, "there are seveereal things; You can -first let me smoke my ciggy in here out of sight of that old lady in -the limousine, who happens to be my grandmother. Her knowledge as to -whether I smoke it or not before my majority happens to be a matter of -five thousand dollars to me. The second thing is that you should look -up your first edition of the 'Crime of Sylvester Bonnard' that you -advertised in last Sunday's _Times_. My grandmother there happens -to want to take it off your hands." - -Detecatif story! Crime of somebody! Silver Bones! All was explained. -With a faint deprecatory chuckle, as if to say that he would have -enjoyed this had life put him in the habit of enjoying anything, -Merlin doddered away to the back of his shop where his treasures were -kept, to get this latest investment which he had picked up rather -cheaply at the sale of a big collection. - -When he returned with it the young man was drawing on his cigarette -and blowing out quantities of smoke with immense satisfaction. - -"My God!" he said, "She keeps me so close to her the entire day -running idiotic errands that this happens to be my first puff in six -hours. What's the world coming to, I ask you, when a feeble old lady -in the milk-toast era can dictate to a man as to his personal vices. I -happen to be unwilling to be so dictated to. Let's see the book." - -Merlin passed it to him tenderly and the young man, after opening it -with a carelessness that gave a momentary jump to the book-dealer's -heart, ran through the pages with his thumb. - -"No illustrations, eh?" he commented. "Well, old boy, what's it worth? -Speak up! We're willing to give you a fair price, though why I don't -know." - -"One hundred dollars," said Merlin with a frown. - -The young man gave a startled whistle. - -"Whew! Come on. You're not dealing with somebody from the cornbelt. I -happen to be a city-bred man and my grandmother happens to be a -city-bred woman, though I'll admit it'd take a special tax -appropriation to keep her in repair. We'll give you twenty-five -dollars, and let me tell you that's liberal. We've got books in our -attic, up in our attic with my old play-things, that were written -before the old boy that wrote this was born." - -Merlin stiffened, expressing a rigid and meticulous horror. - -"Did your grandmother give you twenty-five dollars to buy this with?" - -"She did not. She gave me fifty, but she expects change. I know that -old lady." - -"You tell her," said Merlin with dignity, "that she has missed a very -great bargain." - -"Give you forty," urged the young man. "Come on now--be reasonable and -don't try to hold us up----" - -Merlin had wheeled around with the precious volume under his arm and -was about to return it to its special drawer in his office when there -was a sudden interruption. With unheard-of magnificence the front door -burst rather than swung open, and admitted in the dark interior a -regal apparition in black silk and fur which bore rapidly down upon -him. The cigarette leaped from the fingers of the urban young man and -he gave breath to an inadvertent "Damn!"--but it was upon Merlin that -the entrance seemed to have the most remarkable and incongruous -effect--so strong an effect that the greatest treasure of his shop -slipped from his hand and joined the cigarette on the floor. Before -him stood Caroline. - -She was an old woman, an old woman remarkably preserved, unusually -handsome, unusually erect, but still an old woman. Her hair was a -soft, beautiful white, elaborately dressed and jewelled; her face, -faintly rouged a la grande dame, showed webs of wrinkles at the edges -of her eyes and two deeper lines in the form of stanchions connected -her nose with the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were dim, ill -natured, and querulous. - -But it was Caroline without a doubt: Caroline's features though in -decay; Caroline's figure, if brittle and stiff in movement; Caroline's -manner, unmistakably compounded of a delightful insolence and an -enviable self assurance; and, most of all, Caroline's voice, broken -and shaky, yet with a ring in it that still could and did make -chauffeurs want to drive laundry wagons and cause cigarettes to fall -from the fingers of urban grandsons. - -She stood and sniffed. Her eyes found the cigarette upon the floor. - -"What's that?" she cried. The words were not a question--they were an -entire litany of suspicion, accusation, confirmation, and decision. -She tarried over them scarcely an instant. "Stand up!" she said to her -grandson, "stand up and blow that nicotine out of your lungs!" - -The young man looked at her in trepidation. - -"Blow!" she commanded. - -He pursed his lips feebly and blew into the air. - -"Blow!" she repeated, more peremptorily than before. - -He blew again, helplessly, ridiculously. - -"Do you realize," she went on briskly, "that you've forfeited five -thousand dollars in five minutes?" - -Merlin momentarily expected the young man to fall pleading upon his -knees, but such is the nobility of human nature that he remained -standing--even blew again into the air, partly from nervousness, -partly, no doubt, with some vague hope of reingratiating himself. - -"Young ass!" cried Caroline. "Once more, just once more and you leave -college and go to work." - -This threat had such an overwhelming effect upon the young man that he -took on an even paler pallor than was natural to him. But Caroline was -not through. - -"Do you think I don't know what you and your brothers, yes, and your -asinine father too, think of me? Well, I do. You think I'm senile. You -think I'm soft. I'm not!" She struck herself with her-fist as though -to prove that she was a mass of muscle and sinew. "And I'll have more -brains left when you've got me laid out in the drawing-room some sunny -day than you and the rest of them were born with." - -"But Grandmother----" - -"Be quiet. You, a thin little stick of a boy, who if it weren't for my -money might have risen to be a journeyman barber out in the Bronx--Let -me see your hands. Ugh! The hands of a barber--_you_ presume to -be smart with _me_, who once had three counts and a bona-fide -duke, not to mention half a dozen papal titles pursue me from the city -of Rome to the city of New York." She paused, took breath. "Stand up! -Blow'!" - -The young man obediently blew. Simultaneously the door opened and an -excited gentleman of middle age who wore a coat and hat trimmed with -fur, and seemed, moreover, to be trimmed with the same sort of fur -himself on upper lip and chin, rushed into the store and up to -Caroline. - -"Found you at last," he cried. "Been looking for you all over town. -Tried your house on the 'phone and your secretary told me he thought -you'd gone to a bookshop called the Moonlight--" - -Caroline turned to him irritably. - -"Do I employ you for your reminiscences?" she snapped. "Are you my -tutor or my broker?" - -"Your broker," confessed the fur-trimmed man, taken somewhat aback. "I -beg your pardon. I came about that phonograph stock. I can sell for a -hundred and five." - -"Then do it" - -"Very well. I thought I'd better--" - -"Go sell it. I'm talking to my grandson." - -"Very well. I--" - -"Good-by." - -"Good-by, Madame." The fur-trimmed man made a slight bow and hurried -in some confusion from the shop. - -"As for you," said Caroline, turning to her grandson, "you stay just -where you are and be quiet." - -She turned to Merlin and included his entire length in a not -unfriendly survey. Then she smiled and he found himself smiling too. -In an instant they had both broken into a cracked but none the less -spontaneous chuckle. She seized his arm and hurried him to the other -side of the store. There they stopped, faced each other, and gave vent -to another long fit of senile glee. - -"It's the only way," she gasped in a sort of triumphant malignity. -"The only thing that keeps old folks like me happy is the sense that -they can make other people step around. To be old and rich and have -poor descendants is almost as much fun as to be young and beautiful -and have ugly sisters." - -"Oh, yes," chuckled Merlin. "I know. I envy you." - -She nodded, blinking. - -"The last time I was in here, forty years ago," she said, "you were a -young man very anxious to kick up your heels." - -"I was," he confessed. - -"My visit must have meant a good deal to you." - -"You have all along," he exclaimed. "I thought--I used to think at -first that you were a real person--human, I mean." - -She laughed. - -"Many men have thought me inhuman." - -"But now," continued Merlin excitedly, "I understand. Understanding is -allowed to us old people--after nothing much matters. I see now that -on a certain night when you danced upon a table-top you were nothing -but my romantic yearning for a beautiful and perverse woman." - -Her old eyes were far away, her voice no more than the echo of a -forgotten dream. - -"How I danced that night! I remember." - -"You were making an attempt at me. Olive's arms were closing about me -and you warned me to be free and keep my measure of youth and -irresponsibility. But it seemed like an effect gotten up at the last -moment. It came too late." - -"You are very old," she said inscrutably. "I did not realize." - -"Also I have not forgotten what you did to me when I was thirty-five. -You shook me with that traffic tie-up. It was a magnificent effort. -The beauty and power you radiated! You became personified even to my -wife, and she feared you. For weeks I wanted to slip out of the house -at dark and forget the stuffiness of life with music and cocktails and -a girl to make me young. But then--I no longer knew how." - -"And now you are so very old." - -With a sort of awe she moved back and away from him. - -"Yes, leave me!" he cried. "You are old also; the spirit withers with -the skin. Have you come here only to tell me something I had best -forget: that to be old and poor is perhaps more wretched than to be -old and rich; to remind me that _my_ son hurls my gray failure in -my face?" - -"Give me my book," she commanded harshly. "Be quick, old man!" - -Merlin looked at her once more and then patiently obeyed. He picked up -the book and handed it to her, shaking his head when she offered him a -bill. - -"Why go through the farce of paying me? Once you made me wreck these -very premises." - -"I did," she said in anger, "and I'm glad. Perhaps there had been -enough done to ruin _me_." - -She gave him a glance, half disdain, half ill-concealed uneasiness, -and with a brisk word to her urban grandson moved toward the door. - -Then she was gone--out of his shop--out of his life. The door clicked. -With a sigh he turned and walked brokenly back toward the glass -partition that enclosed the yellowed accounts of many years as well as -the mellowed, wrinkled Miss McCracken. - -Merlin regarded her parched, cobwebbed face with an odd sort of pity. -She, at any rate, had had less from life than he. No rebellious, -romantic spirit popping out unbidden had, in its memorable moments, -given her life a zest and a glory. - -Then Miss McGracken looked up and spoke to him: - -"Still a spunky old piece, isn't she?" - -Merlin started. - -"Who?" - -"Old Alicia Dare. Mrs. Thomas Allerdyce she is now, of course; has -been, these thirty years." - -"What? I don't understand you." Merlin sat down suddenly in his swivel -chair; his eyes were wide. - -"Why, surely, Mr. Grainger, you can't tell me that you've forgotten -her, when for ten years she was the most notorious character in New -York. Why, one time when she was the correspondent in the Throckmorton -divorce case she attracted so much attention on Fifth Avenue that -there was a traffic tie-up. Didn't you read about it in the papers." - -"I never used to read the papers." His ancient brain was whirring. - -"Well, you can't have forgotten the time she came in here and ruined -the business. Let me tell you I came near asking Mr. Moonlight Quill -for my salary, and clearing out." - -"Do you mean, that--that you _saw_ her?" - -"Saw. her! How could I help, it with the racket that went on. Heaven -knows Mr. Moonlight Quill didn't like it either but of course _he_ -didn't say anything. He was daffy about her and she could twist him -around her little finger. The second he opposed one of her whims she'd -threaten to tell his wife on him. Served him right. The idea of that -man falling for a pretty adventuress! Of course he was never rich -enough for _her_ even though the shop paid well in those days." - -"But when I saw her." stammered Merlin, "that is, when I -_thought_ saw her, she lived with her mother." - -"Mother, trash!". said Miss McCracken indignantly. "She had a woman -there she called 'Aunty', who was no more related to her than I am. -Oh, she was a bad one--but clever. Right after the Throckmorton -divorce case she married Thomas Allerdyce, and made herself secure for -life." - -"Who was she?" cried Merlin. "For God's sake what was she--a witch?" - -"Why, she was Alicia Dare, the dancer, of course. In those days you -couldn't pick up a paper without finding her picture." - -Merlin sat very quiet, his brain suddenly fatigued and stilled. He was -an old man now indeed, so old that it was impossible for him to dream -of ever having been young, so old that the glamour was gone out of the -world, passing not into the faces of children and into the persistent -comforts of warmth and life, but passing out of the range of sight and -feeling. He was never to smile again or to sit in a long reverie when -spring evenings wafted the cries of children in at his window until -gradually they became the friends of his boyhood out there, urging him -to come and play before the last dark came down. He was too old now -even for memories. - -That night he sat at supper with his wife and son, who had used him -for their blind purposes. Olive said: - -"Don't sit there like a death's-head. Say something." - -"Let him sit quiet," growled Arthur. "If you encourage him he'll tell -us a story we've heard a hundred times before." - -Merlin went up-stairs very quietly at nine o'clock. When he was in his -room and had closed the door tight he stood by it for a moment, his -thin limbs trembling. He knew now that he had always been a fool. - -"O Russet Witch!" - -But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many -temptations. There was nothing left but heaven, where he would meet -only those who, like him, had wasted earth. - - - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS - - -If you should look through the files of old magazines for the first -years of the present century you would find, sandwiched in between the -stories of Richard Harding Davis and Frank Norris and others long -since dead, the work of one Jeffrey Curtain: a novel or two, and -perhaps three or four dozen short stories. You could, if you were -interested, follow them along until, say, 1908, when they suddenly -disappeared. - -When you had read them all you would have been quite sure that here -were no masterpieces--here were passably amusing stories, a bit out of -date now, but doubtless the sort that would then have whiled away a -dreary half hour in a dental office. The man who did them was of good -intelligence, talented, glib, probably young. In the samples of his -work you found there would have been nothing to stir you to more than -a faint interest in the whims of life--no deep interior laughs, no -sense of futility or hint of tragedy. - -After reading them you would yawn and put the number back in the -files, and perhaps, if you were in some library reading-room, you -would decide that by way of variety you would look at a newspaper of -the period and see whether the Japs had taken Port Arthur. But if by -any chance the newspaper you had chosen was the right one and had -crackled open at the theatrical page, your eyes would have been -arrested and held, and for at least a minute you would have forgotten -Port Arthur as quickly as you forgot Chateau Thierry. For you would, -by this fortunate chance, be looking at the portrait of an exquisite -woman. - -Those were tie days of "Florodora" and of sextets, of pinched-in -waists and blown-out sleeves, of almost bustles and absolute ballet -skirts, but here, without doubt, disguised as she might be by the -unaccustomed stiffness and old fashion of her costume, was a butterfly -of butterflies. Here was the gayety of the period--the soft wine of -eyes, the songs that flurried hearts, the toasts and tie bouquets, the -dances and the dinners. Here was a Venus of the hansom, cab, the -Gibson girl in her glorious prime. Here was... - -...here was you. Find by looking at the name beneath, one Roxanne -Milbank, who had been chorus girl and understudy in "The Daisy Chain," -but who, by reason of an excellent performance when the star was -indisposed, had gained a leading part. - -You would look again--and wonder. Why you had never heard of her. Why -did her name not linger in popular songs and vaudeville jokes and -cigar bands, and the memory of that gay old uncle of yours along with -Lillian Russell and Stella Mayhew and Anna Held? Roxanne -Milbank-whither had she gone? What dark trap-door had opened suddenly -and swallowed her up? Her name was certainly not in last Sunday's -supplement on the list of actresses married to English noblemen. No -doubt she was dead--poor beautiful young lady--and quite forgotten. - -I am hoping too much. I am having you stumble on Jeffrey Curtains's -stories and Roxanne Milbank's picture. It would be incredible that you -should find a newspaper item six months later, a single item two -inches by four, which informed the public of the marriage, very -quietly, of Miss Roxanne Milbank, who had been on tour with "The Daisy -Chain," to Mr. Jeffrey Curtain, the popular author. "Mrs. Curtain," it -added dispassionately, "will retire from the stage." - -It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; -she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs -they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together. Yet had -Jeffrey Curtain kept at scrivening for twoscore years he could not -have put a quirk into one of his stories weirder than the quirk that -came into his own life. Had Roxanne Milbank played three dozen parts -and filled five thousand houses she could never have had a role with -more happiness and more despair than were in the fate prepared for -Roxanne Curtain. - -For a year they lived in hotels, travelled to California, to Alaska, -to Florida, to Mexico, loved and quarrelled gently, and gloried in the -golden triflings of his wit with her beauty--they were young and -gravely passionate; they demanded everything and then yielded -everything again in ecstasies of unselfishness and pride. She loved -the swift tones of his voice and his frantic, if unfounded jealousy. -He loved her dark radiance, the white irises of her eyes, the warm, -lustrous enthusiasm of her smile. - -"Don't you like her?" he would demand rather excitedly and shyly. -"Isn't she wonderful? Did you ever see--" - -"Yes," they would answer, grinning. "She's a wonder. You're lucky." - -The year passed. They tired of hotels. They bought an old house and -twenty acres near the town of Marlowe, half an hour from Chicago; -bought a little car, and moved out riotously with a pioneering -hallucination that would have confounded Balboa. - -"Your room will be here!" they cried in turn. - ---And then: - -"And my room here!" - -"And the nursery here when we have children." - -"And we'll build a sleeping porch--oh, next year." - -They moved out in April. In July Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry -Cromwell same to spend a week--they met him at the end of the long -lawn and hurried him proudly to the house. - -Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before -and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had -gathered from Jeffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as -Harry--Jeffrey had met her once and considered her--"shallow." But -Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparantly happy, so -Jeffrey guessed that she was probably all right. - -"I'm making biscuits," chattered Roxanne gravely. "Can you wife make -biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know -how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can -make biscuits can surely do no----" - -"You'll have to come out here and live," said Jeffrey. "Get a place -out in the country like us, for you and Kitty." - -"You don't know Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her -theatres and vaudevilles." - -"Bring her out," repeated Jeffrey. "We'll have a colony. There's an -awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out!" - -They were at the porch steps now and Roxanne made a brisk gesture -toward a dilapidated structure on the right. - -"The garage," she announced. "It will also be Jeffrey's writing-room -within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I -will mix a cocktail." - -The two men ascended to the second floor--that is, they ascended -half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest's -suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed: - -"For God's sake, Harry, how do you like her?" - -"We will go up-stairs," answered his guest, "and we will shut the -door." - -Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library -Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of -biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose. - -"They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely. - -"Exquisite," murmured Harry. - -Roxanne beamed. - -"Taste one. I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all -and I can't bear to take them back until I find what they taste like." - -"Like manna, darling." - -Simultaneously the two men raised the biscuits to their lips, nibbled -tentatively. Simultaneously they tried to change the subject. But -Roxanne undeceived, set down the pan and seized a biscuit. After a -second her comment rang out with lugubrious finality: - -"Absolutely bum!" - -"Really----" - -"Why, I didn't notice----" - -Roxanne roared. - -"Oh, I'm useless," she cried laughing. "Turn me out, Jeffrey--I'm a -parasite; I'm no goal----" - -Jeffrey put his arm around her. - -"Darling, I'll eat your biscuits." - -"They're beautiful, anyway," insisted Roxanne. - -"They're-they're decorative," suggested Harry. - -Jeffrey took him up wildly. - -"That's the word. They're decorative; they're masterpieces. We'll use -them." - -He rushed to the kitchen and returned with a hammer and a handful of -nails. - -"We'll use them, by golly, Roxanne! We'll make a frieze out of them." - -"Don't!" wailed Roxanne. "Our beautiful house." - -"Never mind. We're going to have the library repapered in October. -Don't you remember?" - -"Well----" - -Bang! The first biscuit was impaled to the wall, where it quivered for -a moment like a live thing. - -Bang!... - -When Roxanne returned, with a second round of cocktails the biscuits -were in a perpendicular row, twelve of them, like a collection of -primitive spear-heads. - -"Roxanne," exclaimed Jeffrey, "you're an artist! Cook?--nonsense! You -shall illustrate my books!" - -During dinner the twilight faltered into dusk, and later it was a -starry dark outside, filled and permeated with the frail gorgeousness -of Roxanne's white dress and her tremulous, low laugh. - ---Such a little girl she is, thought Harry. Not as old as Kitty. - -He compared the two. Kitty--nervous without being sensitive, -temperamental without temperament, a woman who seemed to flit and -never light--and Roxanne, who was as young as spring night, and summed -up in her own adolescent laughter. - ---A good match for Jeffrey, he thought again. Two very young people, -the sort who'll stay very young until they suddenly find themselves -old. - -Harry thought these things between his constant thoughts about Kitty, -He was depressed about Kitty. It seemed to him that she was well -enough to come back to Chicago and bring his little son. He was -thinking vaguely of Kitty when he said good-night to his friend's wife -and his friend at the foot of the stairs. - -"You're our first real house guest," called Roxanne after him. "Aren't -you thrilled and proud?" - -When he was out of sight around the stair corner she turned to -Jeffrey, who was standing beside her resting his hand on the end of -the banister. - -"Are you tired, my dearest?" - -Jeffrey rubbed the centre of his forehead with his fingers. - -"A little. How did you know?" - -"Oh, how could I help knowing about you?" - -"It's a headache," he said moodily. "Splitting. I'll take some -aspirin." - -She reached over and snapped out the light, and with his arm tight -about her waist they walked up the stairs together. - - -II - -Harry's week passed. They drove about the dreaming lanes or idled in -cheerful inanity upon lake or lawn. In the evening Roxanne, sitting -inside, played to them while the ashes whitened on the glowing ends of -their cigars. Then came a telegram from Kitty saying that she wanted -Harry to come East and get her, so Roxanne and Jeffrey were left alone -in that privacy of which they never seemed to tire. - -"Alone" thrilled them again. They wandered about the house, each -feeling intimately the presence of the other; they sat on the same -side of the table like honeymooners; they were intensely absorbed, -intensely happy. - -The town of Marlowe, though a comparatively old settlement, had only -recently acquired a "society." Five or six years before, alarmed at -the smoky swelling of Chicago, two or three young married couples, -"bungalow people," had moved out; their friends had followed. The -Jeffrey Curtains found an already formed "set" prepared to welcome: -them; a country club, ballroom, and golf links yawned for them, and -there were bridge parties, and poker parties, and parties where they -drank beer, and parties where they drank nothing at all. - -It was at a poker party that they found themselves a week after -Harry's departure. There were two tables, and a good proportion of the -young wives were smoking and shouting their bets, and being very -daringly mannish for those days. - -Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation; she -wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice--beer gave -her a headache--and then passed from table to table, looking over -shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffrey and being pleasantly -unexcited and content. Jeffrey, with intense concentration, was -raising a pile of chips of all colors, and Roxanne knew by the -deepened wrinkle between his eyes that he was interested. She liked to -see him interested in small things. - -She crossed over quietly and sat down on the arm of his chair. - -She sat there five minutes, listening to the sharp intermittent -comments of the men and the chatter of the women, which rose from the -table like soft smoke--and yet scarcely hearing either. Then quite -innocently she reached out her hand, intending to place it on -Jeffrey's shoulder--as it touched him he started of a sudden, gave a -short grunt, and, sweeping back his arm furiously, caught her a -glancing blow on her elbow. - -There was a general gasp. Roxanne regained her balance, gave a little -cry, and rose quickly to her feet. It had been the greatest shock of -her life. This, from Jeffrey, the heart of kindness, of -consideration--this instinctively brutal gesture. - -The gasp became a silence. A dozen eyes were turned on Jeffrey, who -looked up as though seeing Roxanne for the first time. An expression -of bewilderment settled on his face. - -"Why--Roxanne----" he said haltingly. - -Into a dozen minds entered a quick suspicion, a rumor of scandal. -Could it be that behind the scenes with this couple, apparently so in -love, lurked some curious antipathy? Why else this streak of fire, -across such a cloudless heaven? - -"Jeffrey!"--Roxanne's voice was pleading--startled and horrified, she -yet knew that it was a mistake. Not once did it occur to her to blame -him or to resent it. Her word was a trembling supplication--"Tell me, -Jeffrey," it said, "tell Roxanne, your own Roxanne." - -"Why, Roxanne--" began Jeffrey again. The bewildered look changed to -pain. He was clearly as startled as she. "I didn't intend that," he -went on; "you startled me. You--I felt as if some one were attacking -me. I--how--why, how idiotic!" - -"Jeffrey!" Again the word was a prayer, incense offered up to a high -God through this new and unfathomable darkness. - -They were both on their feet, they were saying good-by, faltering, -apologizing, explaining. There was no attempt to pass it off easily. -That way lay sacrilege. Jeffrey had not been feeling well, they said. -He had become nervous. Back of both their minds was the unexplained -horror of that blow--the marvel that there had been for an instant -something between them--his anger and her fear--and now to both a -sorrow, momentary, no doubt, but to be bridged at once, at once, while -there was yet time. Was that swift water lashing under their feet--the -fierce glint of some uncharted chasm? - -Out in their car under the harvest moon he talked brokenly. It was -just--incomprehensible to him, he said. He had been thinking of the -poker game--absorbed--and the touch on his shoulder had seemed like an -attack. An attack! He clung to that word, flung it up as a shield. He -had hated what touched him. With the impact of his hand it had gone, -that--nervousness. That was all he knew. - -Both their eyes filled with tears and they whispered love there under -the broad night as the serene streets of Marlowe sped by. Later, when -they went to bed, they were quite calm. Jeffrey was to take a week off -all work--was simply to loll, and sleep, and go on long walks until -this nervousness left him. When they had decided this safety settled -down upon Roxanne. The pillows underhead became soft and friendly; the -bed on which they lay seemed wide, and white, and sturdy beneath the -radiance that streamed in at the window. - -Five days later, in the first cool of late afternoon, Jeffrey picked -up an oak chair and sent it crashing through his own front window. -Then he lay down on the couch like a child, weeping piteously and -begging to die. A blood clot the size of a marble had broken his -brain. - - -III - -There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one -has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue -and a new sun, that the quality of the life around has changed. It is -a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then -leading is a branch shoot of life and is related to life only as a -moving picture or a mirror--that the people, and streets, and houses -are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past. It was in such -a state that Roxanne found herself during the first months of -Jeffrey's illness. She slept only when she was utterly exhausted; she -awoke under a cloud. The long, sober-voiced consultations, the faint -aura of medicine in the halls, the sudden tiptoeing in a house that -had echoed to many cheerful footsteps, and, most of ail, Jeffrey's -white face amid the pillows of the bed they had shared--these things -subdued her and made her indelibly older. The doctors held out hope, -but that was all. A long rest, they said, and quiet. So responsibility -came to Roxanne. It was she who paid the bills, pored over his -bank-book, corresponded with his publishers. She was in the kitchen -constantly. She learned from the nurse how to prepare his meals and -after the first month took complete charge of the sick-room. She had -had to let the nurse go for reasons of economy. One of the two colored -girls left at the same time. Roxanne was realizing that they had been -living from short story to short story. - -The most frequent visitor was Harry Cromwell. He had been shocked and -depressed by the news, and though his wife was now living with him in -Chicago he found time to come out several times a month. Roxanne found -his sympathy welcome--there was some quality of suffering in the man, -some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. -Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with -Jeffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most -of all she needed and should have had. - -It was six months after Jeffrey's collapse and when the nightmare had -faded, leaving not the old world but a new one, grayer and colder, -that she wait to see Harry's wife. Finding herself in Chicago with an -extra hour before train time, she decided out of courtesy to call. - -As she stepped inside the door she had an immediate impression that -the apartment was very like some place she had seen before--and almost -instantly she remembered a round-the-corner bakery of her childhood, a -bakery full of rows and rows of pink frosted cakes--a stuffy pink, -pink as a food, pink triumphant, vulgar, and odious. - -And this apartment was like that. It was pink. It smelled pink! - -Mrs. Cromwell, attired in a wrapper of pink and black, opened the -door. Her hair was yellow, heightened, Roxanne imagined by a dash of -peroxide in the rinsing water every week. Her eyes were a thin waxen -blue--she was pretty and too consciously graceful. Her cordiality was -strident and intimate, hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that -it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice--never touching -nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. - -But to Roxanne these things were secondary; her eyes were caught and -held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean. -From its lowest hem up four inches it was sheerly dirty with the blue -dust of the floor; for the next three inches it was gray--then it -shaded off into its natural color, which, was--pink. It was dirty at -the sleeves, too, and at the collar--and when the woman turned to lead -the way into the parlor, Roxanne was sure that her neck was dirty. - -A one-sided rattle of conversation began. Mrs. Cromwell became -explicit about her likes and dislikes, her head, her stomach, her -teeth, her apartment--avoiding with a sort of insolent meticulousness -any inclusion of Roxanne with life, as if presuming that Roxanne, -having been dealt a blow, wished life to be carefully skirted. - -Roxanne smiled. That kimono! That neck! - -After five minutes a little boy toddled into the parlor--a dirty -little boy clad in dirty pink rompers. His face was smudgy--Roxanne -wanted to take him into her lap and wipe his nose; other parts in the -of his head needed attention, his tiny shoes were kicked out at the -toes. Unspeakable! - -"What a darling little boy!" exclaimed Roxanne, smiling radiantly. -"Come here to me." - -Mrs. Cromwell looked coldly at her son. - -"He will get dirty. Look at that face!" She held her head on one side -and regarded it critically. - -"Isn't he a _darling?_" repeated Roxanne. - -"Look at his rompers," frowned Mrs. Cromwell. - -"He needs a change, don't you, George?" - -George stared at her curiously. To his mind the word rompers -connotated a garment extraneously smeared, as this one. - -"I tried to make him look respectable this morning," complained Mrs. -Cromwell as one whose patience had been sorely tried, "and I found he -didn't have any more rompers--so rather than have him go round without -any I put him back in those--and his face--" - -"How many pairs has he?" Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious, "How -many feather fans have you?" she might have asked. - -"Oh,--" Mrs. Cromwell considered, wrinkling her pretty brow. "Five, I -think. Plenty, I know." - -"You can get them for fifty cents a pair." - -Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise--and the faintest superiority. -The price of rompers! - -"Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have plenty, but I haven't -had a minute all week to send the laundry out." Then, dismissing the -subject as irrelevant--"I must show you some things--" - -They rose and Roxanne followed her past an open bathroom door whose -garment-littered floor showed indeed that the laundry hadn't been sent -out for some time, into another room that was, so to speak, the -quintessence of pinkness. This was Mrs. Cromwell's room. - -Here the Hostess opened a closet door and displayed before' Roxanne's -eyes an amazing collection of lingerie. - -There were dozens of filmy marvels of lace and silk, all clean, -unruffled, seemingly not yet touched. On hangers beside them were -three new evening dresses. - -"I have some beautiful things," said Mrs. Cromwell, "but not much of a -chance to wear them. Harry doesn't care about going out." Spite crept -into her voice. "He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and -housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening." - -Roxanne smiled again. - -"You've got some beautiful clothes here." - -"Yes, I have. Let me show you----" - -"Beautiful," repeated Roxanne, interrupting, "but I'll have to run if -I'm going to catch my train." - -She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this -woman and shake her--shake her. She wanted her locked up somewhere and -set to scrubbing floors. - -"Beautiful," she repeated, "and I just came in for a moment." - -"Well, I'm sorry Harry isn't here." - -They moved toward the door. - -"--and, oh," said Roxanne with an effort--yet her voice was still -gentle and her lips were smiling--"I think it's Argile's where you can -get those rompers. Good-by." - -It was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to -Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six -months that her mind had been off Jeffrey. - - -IV - -A week later Harry appeared at Marlowe, arrived unexpectedly at five -o'clock, and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of -exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The -doctors were coming at five-thirty, bringing a celebrated nerve -specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed, -but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him. - -"What's the matter?" - -"Nothing, Roxanne," he denied. "I came to see how Jeff was doing. -Don't you bother about me." - -"Harry," insisted Roxanne, "there's something the matter." - -"Nothing," he repeated. "How's Jeff?" - -Anxiety darkened her face. - -"He's a little worse, Harry. Doctor Jewett has come on from New York. -They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try -and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original -blood clot." - -Harry rose. - -"Oh, I'm sorry," he said jerkily. "I didn't know you expected a -consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your -porch for an hour--" - -"Sit down," she commanded. - -Harry hesitated. - -"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped -him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet. -I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer." - -All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his -hands. - -"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried. -This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been getting my -breakfast down town--and--well, just after I went to the office she -left the house, went East to her mother's with George and a suitcase -full of lace underwear." - -"Harry!" - -"And I don't know---" - -There was a crunch on the gravel, a car turning into the drive. -Roxanne uttered a little cry. - -"It's Doctor Jewett." - -"Oh, I'll---" - -"You'll wait, won't you?" she interrupted abstractedly. He saw that -his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind. - -There was an embarrassing minute of vague, elided introductions and -then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the -stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa. - -For an hour he watched the sun creep up the patterned folds of the -chintz curtains. In the deep quiet a trapped wasp buzzing on the -inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From -time to time another buzzing drifted down from up-stairs, resembling -several more larger wasps caught on larger window-panes. He heard low -footfalls, the clink of bottles, the clamor of pouring water. - -What had he and Roxanne done that life should deal these crashing -blows to them? Up-stairs there was taking place a living inquest on -the soul of his friend; he was sitting here in a quiet room listening -to the plaint of a wasp, just as when he was a boy he had been -compelled by a strict aunt to sit hour-long on a chair and atone for -some misbehavior. But who had put him here? What ferocious aunt had -leaned out of the sky to make him atone for--what? - -About Kitty he felt a great hopelessness. She was too expensive--that -was the irremediable difficulty. Suddenly he hated her. He wanted to -throw her down and kick at her--to tell her she was a cheat and a -leech--that she was dirty. Moreover, she must give him his boy. - -He rose and began pacing up and down the room. Simultaneously he heard -some one begin walking along the hallway up-stairs in exact time with -him. He found himself wondering if they would walk in time until the -person reached the end of the hall. - -Kitty had gone to her mother. God help her, what a mother to go to! He -tried to imagine the meeting: the abused wife collapsing upon the -mother's breast. He could not. That Kitty was capable of any deep -grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as -something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of -course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider -this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped; a picture -flashed before him--of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he -could not see, of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was -surely: passion. - -"God!" he cried aloud. "God! God! God!" - -Then the pictures came thick and fast. The Kitty of this morning -faded; the soiled kimono rolled up and disappeared; the pouts, and -rages, and tears all were washed away. Again she was Kitty Carr--Kitty -Carr with yellow hair and great baby eyes. Ah, she had loved him, she -had loved him. - -After a while he perceived that something was amiss with him, -something that had nothing to do with Kitty or Jeff, something of a -different genre. Amazingly it burst on him at last; he was hungry. -Simple enough! He would go into the kitchen in a moment and ask the -colored cook for a sandwich. After that he must go back to the city. - -He paused at the wall, jerked at something round, and, fingering it -absently, put it to his mouth and tasted it as a baby tastes a bright -toy. His teeth closed on it--Ah! - -She'd left that damn kimono, that dirty pink kimono. She might have -had the decency to take it with her, he thought. It would hang in the -house like the corpse of their sick alliance. He would try to throw it -away, but he would never be able to bring himself to move it. It would -be like Kitty, soft and pliable, withal impervious. You couldn't move -Kitty; you couldn't reach Kitty. There was nothing there to reach. He -understood that perfectly--he had understood it all along. - -He reached to the wall for another biscuit and with an effort pulled -it out, nail and all. He carefully removed the nail from the centre, -wondering idly if he had eaten the nail with the first biscuit. -Preposterous! He would have remembered--it was a huge nail. He felt -his stomach. He must be very hungry. He considered--remembered-- -yesterday he had had no dinner. It was the girl's day out and Kitty -had lain in her room eating chocolate drops. She had said she felt -"smothery" and couldn't bear having him near her. He had given -George a bath and put him to bed, and then lain down on the couch -intending to rest a minute before getting his own dinner. There -he had fallen asleep and awakened about eleven, to find that -there was nothing in the ice-box except a spoonful of potato salad. -This he had eaten, together with some chocolate drops that he found on -Kitty's bureau. This morning he had breakfasted hurriedly down town -before going to the office. But at noon, beginning to worry about -Kitty, he had decided to go home and take her out to lunch. After that -there had been the note on his pillow. The pile of lingerie in the -closet was gone--and she had left instructions for sending her trunk. - -He had never been so hungry, he thought. - -At five o'clock, when the visiting nurse tiptoed down-stairs, he was -sitting on the sofa staring at the carpet. - -"Mr. Cromwell?" - -"Yes?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Curtain won't be able to see you at dinner. She's not well -She told me to tell you that the cook will fix you something and that -there's a spare bedroom." - -"She's sick, you say?" - -"She's lying down in her room. The consultation is just over." - -"Did they--did they decide anything?" - -"Yes," said the nurse softly. "Doctor Jewett says there's no hope. Mr. -Curtain may live indefinitely, but he'll never see again or move again -or think. He'll just breathe." - -"Just breathe?" - -"Yes." - -For the first time the nurse noted that beside the writing-desk where -she remembered that she had seen a line of a dozen curious round -objects she had vaguely imagined to be some exotic form of decoration, -there was now only one. Where the others had been, there was now a -series of little nail-holes. - -Harry followed her glance dazedly and then rose to his feet. - -"I don't believe I'll stay. I believe there's a train." - -She nodded. Harry picked up his hat. - -"Good-by," she said pleasantly. - -"Good-by," he answered, as though talking to himself and, evidently -moved by some involuntary necessity, he paused on his way to the door -and she saw him pluck the last object from the wall and drop it into -his pocket. - -Then he opened the screen door and, descending the porch steps, passed -out of her sight. - - -V - -After a while the coat of clean white paint on the Jeffrey Curtain -house made a definite compromise with the suns of many Julys and -showed its good faith by turning gray. It scaled--huge peelings of -very brittle old paint leaned over backward like aged men practising -grotesque gymnastics and finally dropped to a moldy death in the -overgrown grass beneath. The paint on the front pillars became -streaky; the white ball was knocked off the left-hand door-post; the -green blinds darkened, then lost all pretense of color. - -It began to be a house that was avoided by the tender-minded--some -church bought a lot diagonally opposite for a graveyard, and this, -combined with "the place where Mrs. Curtain stays with that living -corpse," was enough to throw a ghostly aura over that quarter of the -road. Not that she was left alone. Men and women came to see her, met -her down town, where she went to do her marketing, brought her home in -their cars--and came in for a moment to talk and to rest, in the -glamour that still played in her smile. But men who did not know her -no longer followed her with admiring glances in the street; a -diaphanous veil had come down over her beauty, destroying its -vividness, yet bringing neither wrinkles nor fat. - -She acquired a character in the village--a group of little stories -were told of her: how when the country was frozen over one winter so -that no wagons nor automobiles could travel, she taught herself to -skate so that she could make quick time to the grocer and druggist, -and not leave Jeffrey alone for long. It was said that every night -since his paralysis she slept in a small bed beside his bed, holding -his hand. - -Jeffrey Curtain was spoken of as though he were already dead. As the -years dropped by those who had known him died or moved away--there -were but half a dozen of the old crowd who had drunk cocktails -together, called each other's wives by their first names, and thought -that Jeff was about the wittiest and most talented fellow that Marlowe -had ever known. How, to the casual visitor, he was merely the reason -that Mrs. Curtain excused herself sometimes and hurried upstairs; he -was a groan or a sharp cry borne to the silent parlor on the heavy air -of a Sunday afternoon. - -He could not move; he was stone blind, dumb and totally unconscious. -All day he lay in his bed, except for a shift to his wheel-chair every -morning while she straightened the room. His paralysis was creeping -slowly toward his heart. At first-for the first year--Roxanne had -received the faintest answering pressure sometimes when she held his -hand--then it had gone, ceased one evening and never come back, and -through two nights Roxanne lay wide-eyed, staring into the dark and -wondering what had gone, what fraction of his soul had taken flight, -what last grain of comprehension those shattered broken nerves still -carried to the brain. - -After that hope died. Had it not been for her unceasing care the last -spark would have gone long before. Every morning she shaved and bathed -him, shifted him with her own hands from bed to chair and back to bed. -She was in his room constantly, bearing medicine, straightening a -pillow, talking to him almost as one talks to a nearly human dog, -without hope of response or appreciation, but with the dim persuasion -of habit, a prayer when faith has gone. - -Not a few people, one celebrated nerve specialist among them, gave her -a plain impression that it was futile to exercise so much care, that -if Jeffrey had been conscious he would have wished to die, that if his -spirit were hovering in some wider air it would agree to no such -sacrifice from her, it would fret only for the prison of its body to -give it full release. - -"But you see," she replied, shaking her head gently, "when I married -Jeffrey it was--until I ceased to love him." - -"But," was protested, in effect, "you can't love that." - -"I can love what it once was. What else is there for me to do?" - -The specialist shrugged his shoulders and went away to say that Mrs. -Curtain was a remarkable woman and just about as sweet as an -angel--but, he added, it was a terrible pity. - -"There must be some man, or a dozen, just crazy to take care of -her...." - -Casually--there were. Here and there some one began in hope--and ended -in reverence. There was no love in the woman except, strangely enough, -for life, for the people in the world, from the tramp to whom she gave -food she could ill afford to the butcher who sold her a cheap cut of -steak across the meaty board. The other phase was sealed up somewhere -in that expressionless mummy who lay with his face turned ever toward -the light as mechanically as a compass needle and waited dumbly for -the last wave to wash over his heart. - -After eleven years he died in the middle of a May night, when the -scent of the syringa hung upon the window-sill and a breeze wafted in -the shrillings of the frogs and cicadas outside. Roxanne awoke at two, -and realized with a start she was alone in the house at last. - - -VI - -After that she sat on her weather-beaten porch through many -afternoons, gazing down across the fields that undulated in a slow -descent to the white and green town. She was wondering what she would -do with her life. She was thirty-six--handsome, strong, and free. The -years had eaten up Jeffrey's insurance; she had reluctantly parted -with the acres to right and left of her, and had even placed a small -mortgage on the house. - -With her husband's death had come a great physical restlessness. She -missed having to care for him in the morning, she missed her rush to -town, and the brief and therefore accentuated neighborly meetings in -the butcher's and grocer's; she missed the cooking for two, the -preparation of delicate liquid food for him. One day, consumed with -energy, she went out and spaded up the whole garden, a thing that had -not been done for years. - -And she was alone at night in the room that had seen the glory of her -marriage and then the pain. To meet Jeff again she went back in spirit -to that wonderful year, that intense, passionate absorption and -companionship, rather than looked forward to a problematical meeting -hereafter; she awoke often to lie and wish for that presence beside -her--inanimate yet breathing--still Jeff. - -One afternoon six months after his death she was sitting on the porch, -in a black dress which took away the faintest suggestion of plumpness -from her figure. It was Indian summer--golden brown all about her; a -hush broken by the sighing of leaves; westward a four o'clock sun -dripping streaks of red and yellow over a flaming sky. Most of the -birds had gone--only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the -cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent cheeping varied by -occasional fluttering sallies overhead. Roxanne moved her chair to -where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of -the afternoon. - -Harry Cromwell was coming out from Chicago to dinner. Since his -divorce over eight years before he had been a frequent visitor. They -had kept up what amounted to a tradition between them: when he arrived -they would go to look at Jeff; Harry would sit down on the edge of the -bed and in a hearty voice ask: - -"Well, Jeff, old man, how do you feel to-day?" - -Roxanne, standing beside, would look intently at Jeff, dreaming that -some shadowy recognition of this former friend had passed across that -broken mind--but the head, pale, carven, would only move slowly in its -sole gesture toward the light as if something behind the blind eyes -were groping for another light long since gone out. - -These visits stretched over eight years--at Easter, Christmas, -Thanksgiving, and on many a Sunday Harry had arrived, paid his call on -Jeff, and then talked for a long while with Roxanne on the porch. He -was devoted to her. He made no pretense of hiding, no attempt to -deepen, this relation. She was his best friend as the mass of flesh on -the bed there had been his best friend. She was peace, she was rest; -she was the past. Of his own tragedy she alone knew. - -He had been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he -worked had shifted him to the East and only a business trip had -brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written him to -come when he could--after a night in the city he had caught a train -out. - -They shook hands and he helped her move two rockers together. - -"How's George?" - -"He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school." - -"Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him." - -"Of course---" - -"You miss him horribly, Harry?" - -"Yes--I do miss him. He's a funny boy---" - -He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring -him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her -life--a child in dirty rompers. - -She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner--she had -four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She -put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they -continued their talk about George. - -"If I had a child--" she would say. - -Afterward, Harry having given her what slender advice he could about -investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to -recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court -had lain.... - -"Do you remember--" - -Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences: the day they had taken -all the snap-shots and Jeff had been photographed astride the calf; -and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne, lying sprawled in -the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a -covered lattice connecting the barn-studio with the house, so that -Jeff could get there on wet days--the lattice had been started, but -nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered -to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop. - -"And those mint juleps!" - -"And Jeff's note-book! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when -we'd get it out of his pocket and read aloud a page of material. And -how frantic he used to get?" - -"Wild! He was such a kid about his writing." - -They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said: - -"We were to have a place out here, too. Do you remember? We were to -buy the adjoining twenty acres. And the parties we were going to -have!" - -Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from -Roxanne. - -"Do you ever hear of her, Harry?" - -"Why--yes," he admitted placidly. "She's in Seattle. She's married -again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great deal -older than she is, I believe." - -"And she's behaving?" - -"Yes--that is, I've heard so. She has everything, you see. Nothing -much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time." - -"I see." - -Without effort he changed the subject. - -"Are you going to keep the house?" - -"I think so," she said, nodding. "I've lived here so long, Harry, it'd -seem terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course -that'd mean leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady." - -"Live in one?" - -"No. Keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady? -Anyway I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer -and two or three, if I can get them, in the winter. Of course I'll -have to have the house repainted and gone over inside." - -Harry considered. - -"Roxanne, why--naturally you know best what you can do, but it does -seem a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride." - -"Perhaps," she said, "that's why I don't mind remaining here as a -boarding-house lady." - -"I remember a certain batch of biscuits." - -"Oh, those biscuits," she cried. "Still, from all I heard about the -way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was _so_ -low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those -biscuits." - -"I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still in the library wall -where Jeff drove them." - -"Yes." - -It was getting very dark now, a crispness settled in the air; a little -gust of wind sent down a last spray of leaves. Roxanne shivered -slightly. - -"We'd better go in." - -He looked at his watch. - -"It's late. I've got to be leaving. I go East tomorrow." - -"Must you?" - -They lingered for a moment just below the stoop, watching a moon that -seemed full of snow float out of the distance where the lake lay. -Summer was gone and now Indian summer. The grass was cold and there -was no mist and no dew. After he left she would go in and light the -gas and close the shatters, and he would go down the path and on to -the village. To these two life had come quickly and gone, leaving not -bitterness, but pity; not disillusion, but only pain. There was -already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the -gathered kindness in the other's eyes. - - - - -MR. ICKY - -THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT - - -_The Scene is the Exterior of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a -desperately Arcadian afternoon in August._ MR. ICKY, _quaintly -dressed in the costume of an Elizabethan peasant, is pottering and -doddering among the pots and dods. He is an old man, well past the -prime of life, no longer young, From the fact that there is a burr in -his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrongside -out, we surmise that he is either above or below the ordinary -superficialities of life._ - -_Near him on the grass lies _PETER_, a little boy. -_PETER_, of course, has his chin on his palm like the pictures -of the young Sir Walter Raleigh. He has a complete set of features, -including serious, sombre, even funereal, gray eyes--and radiates that -alluring air of never having eaten food. This air can best be radiated -during the afterglow of a beef dinner. Be is looking at _MR. -ICKY_, fascinated._ - -_Silence. . . . The song of birds._ - -PETER: Often at night I sit at my window and regard the stars. -Sometimes I think they're my stars.... (_Gravely_) I think I -shall be a star some day.... - -ME. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) Yes, yes ... yes.... - -PETER: I know them all: Venus, Mars, Neptune, Gloria Swanson. - -MR. ICKY: I don't take no stock in astronomy.... I've been thinking o' -Lunnon, laddie. And calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for to -be a typewriter.... (_He sighs._) - -PETER: I liked Ulsa, Mr. Icky; she was so plump, so round, so buxom. - -MR. ICKY: Not worth the paper she was padded with, laddie. (_He -stumbles over a pile of pots and dods._) - -PETER: How is your asthma, Mr. Icky? - -MR. ICKY: Worse, thank God!...(_Gloomily.)_ I'm a hundred years -old... I'm getting brittle. - -PETER: I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty -arson. - -MR. ICKY: Yes... yes.... You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty I -reformed once--in prison. - -PETER: You went wrong again? - -MR. ICKY: Worse than that. The week before my term expired they -insisted on transferring to me the glands of a healthy young prisoner -they were executing. - -PETER: And it renovated you? - -MR. ICKY: Renovated me! It put the Old Nick back into me! This young -criminal was evidently a suburban burglar and a kleptomaniac. What was -a little playful arson in comparison! - -PETER: (_Awed_) How ghastly! Science is the bunk. - -MR. ICKY: (_Sighing_) I got him pretty well subdued now. 'Tisn't -every one who has to tire out two sets o' glands in his lifetime. I -wouldn't take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan -asylum. - -PETER: (_Considering_) I shouldn't think you'd object to a nice -quiet old clergyman's set. - -MR. ICKY: Clergymen haven't got glands--they have souls. - -(_There is a low, sonorous honking off stage to indicate that a -large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity. Then a young -man handsomely attired in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat -comes onto the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the -spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first -row of the balcony. This is_ RODNEY DIVINE.) - -DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky. - -(MR. ICKY _rises and stands tremulously between two dods._) - -MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon. - -DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her. - -(_He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel that hangs at -his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches -it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights._) - -DIVINE: I shall wait. - -(_He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an -occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among -themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks -by_ DIVINE _or a tumbling act, as desired._) - -DIVINE: It's very quiet here. - -MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet.... - -(_Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It -is _ULSA ICKY._ On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to -early Italian painting._) - -ULSA: (_In a coarse, worldly voice_) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did -what? - -MR. ICKY: (_Tremulously_) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (_They embrace -each other's torsos._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Hopefully_) You've come back to help with the -ploughing. - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) No, feyther; ploughing's such a beyther. I'd -reyther not. - -(_Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and -clean._) - -DIVINE: (_Conciliatingly_) See here, Ulsa. Let's come to an -understanding. - -(_He advances toward her with the graceful, even stride that made -him captain of the striding team at Cambridge._) - -ULSA: You still say it would be Jack? - -MR. ICKY: What does she mean? - -DIVINE: (_Kindly_) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It -couldn't be Frank. - -MR. ICKY: Frank who? - -ULSA: It _would_ be Frank! - -(_Some risque joke can be introduced here._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting... - -DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement -that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You'd better marry me. - -ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn't let me in through the -servants' entrance of your house. - -DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn't! Never fear--you shall come in -through the mistress' entrance. - -ULSA: Sir! - -DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean? - -MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little -Ulsa?... - -DIVINE: I do. - -MR. ICKY: Your record is clean. - -DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world--- - -ULSA: And the worst by-laws. - -DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to -Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force--- - -MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?... - -DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections -every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a -converted tank. I have seats at the opera--- - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can't sleep except in a box. And I've heard -that you were cashiered from your club. - -MR. ICKY: A cashier? ... - -DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered. - -ULSA: What for? - -DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo bails one day for a -joke. - -MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape? - -DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair. After all what is brilliance? Merely -the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is. - -ME. ICKY; Be careful. ... I will-not marry my daughter to an epigram.... - -DIVINE: (_More gloomily_) I assure you I'm a mere platitude. I -often descend to the level of an innate idea. - -ULSA: (_Dully_) None of what you're saying matters. I can't marry -a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would-- - -DIVINE: (_Interrupting_) Nonsense! - -ULSA: (_Emphatically_) You're a fool! - -MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! ... One should not judge ... Charity, my girl. What -was it Nero said?--"With malice toward none, with charity toward -all---" - -PETER: That wasn't Nero. That was John Drinkwater. - -MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack? - - -DIVINE: (_Morosely_) Gotch. - -ULSA: Dempsey. - -DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in -a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that -Jack Dempsey would take one--- - -ULSA: (_Angrily_) Rot! He wouldn't have a--- - -DIVINE: (_Quickly_) You win. - -ULSA: Then I love you again. - -MR. ICKY: So I'm going to lose my little daughter... - -ULSA: You've still got a houseful of children, - -(CHARLES, ULSA'S _brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed -as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an -anchor is hanging from his neck._) - -CHARLES: (_Not seeing them_) I'm going to sea! I'm going to sea! - -(_His voice is triumphant._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Sadly_) You went to seed long ago. - -CHARLES: I've been reading "Conrad." - -PETER: (_Dreamily_) "Conrad," ah! "Two Years Before the Mast," by -Henry James. - -CHARLES: What? - -PETER: Walter Pater's version of "Robinson Crusoe." - -CHARLES: (_To his feyther_) I can't stay here and rot with you. I -want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. - -MR. ICKY: I will be here... when you come back.... - -CHARLES: (_Contemptuously_) Why, the worms are licking their -chops already when they hear your name. - -(_It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for -some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a -spirited saxophone number._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Mournfully_) These vales, these hills, these -McCormick harvesters--they mean nothing to my children. I understand. - -CHARLES: (_More gently_) Then you'll think of me kindly, feyther. -To understand is to forgive. - -MR. ICKY: No...no....We never forgive those we can understand....We -can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all.... - -CHARLES: (_Impatiently_) I'm so beastly sick of your human nature -line. And, anyway, I hate the hours around here. - -(_Several dozen more of _MR. ICKY'S_ children trip out of the -house, trip over the grass, and trip over the pots and dods. They are -muttering "We are going away," and "We are leaving you."_) - -MR. ICKY: (_His heart breaking_) They're all deserting me. I've -been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of -a Bismarck. - -(_There is a honking outside--probably _DIVINE'S_ chauffeur -growing impatient for his master._) - -MR. ICKY: (_In misery_) They do not love the soil! They have been -faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (_He picks up a handful of -soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts._) Oh, -Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke! - - _"No motion has she now, no force; - She does not hear or feel; - Roll'd round on earth's diurnal course - In some one's Oldsmobile."_ - -(_They all groan and shouting "Life" and "Jazz" move slowly toward -the wings._) - -CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I've been trying to turn my back to -the soil for ten years! - -ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who -wants to be a backbone? - -ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce of my country if I can -eat the salad! - -ALL: Life! Psychic Research! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: (_Struggling with himself_) I must be quaint. That's -all there is. It's not life that counts, it's the quaintness you bring -to it.... - -ALL: We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for -Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at -random. One always finds something that bears on the situation. - -(_He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random -begins to read._) - -"Ahab and Istemo and Anim, Goson and Olon and Gilo, eleven cities and -their villages. Arab, and Ruma, and Esaau--" - -CHARLES: (_Cruelly_) Buy ten more rings and try again. - -MR. ICKY: (_Trying again_) "How beautiful art thou my love, how -beautiful art thou! Thy eyes are dove's eyes, besides what is hid -within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats which come up from Mount -Galaad--Hm! Rather a coarse passage...." - -(_His children laugh at him rudely, shouting "Jazz!" and "All life -is primarily suggestive!"_) - -MR. ICKY: (_Despondently_) It won't work to-day. -(_Hopefully_) Maybe it's damp. (_He feels it_) Yes, it's -damp.... There was water in the dod.... It won't work. - -ALL: It's damp! It won't work! Jazz! - -ONE OF THE CHILDREN: Come, we must catch the six-thirty. - -(_Any other cue may be inserted here._) - -MR. ICKY: Good-by.... - -(_ They all go out._ MR. ICKY _is left alone. He sighs and -walking over to the cottage steps, lies down, and closes his eyes._) - -_Twilight has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as -never was on land or sea. There is no sound except a sheep-herder's -wife in the distance playing an aria from Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, -on a mouth-organ. The great white and gray moths swoop down and light -on the old man until he is completely covered by them. But he does not -stir._ - -_The curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse of -several minutes. A good comedy effect can be obtained by having -_MR. ICKY_ cling to the curtain and go up and down with it. -Fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this -point._ - -_Then _PETER_ appears, a look of almost imbecile sweetness on -his face. In his hand he clutches something and from time to time -glances at it in a transport of ecstasy. After a struggle with himself -he lays it on the old man's body and then quietly withdraws._ - -_The moths chatter among themselves and then scurry away in sudden -fright. And as night deepens there still sparkles there, small, white -and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Issacshire breeze, -_PETER'S_ gift of love--a moth-ball._ - -(_The play can end at this point or can go on indefinitely._) - - - - -JEMINA, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL - -This don't pretend to be "Literature." This is just a tale for -red-blooded folks who want a _story_ and not just a lot of -"psychological" stuff or "analysis." Boy, you'll love it! Read it -here, see it in the movies, play it on the phonograph, run it through -the sewing-machine. - - -A WILD THING - -It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all -sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the -mountains. - -Jemima Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family -still. - -She was a typical mountain girl. - -Her feet were bare. Her hands, large and powerful, hung down below her -knees. Her face showed the ravages of work. Although but sixteen, she -had for over a dozen years been supporting her aged pappy and mappy by -brewing mountain whiskey. From time to time she would pause in her -task, and, filling a dipper full of the pure, invigorating liquid, -would drain it off--then pursue her work with renewed vigor. - -She would place the rye in the vat, thresh it out with her feet and, -in twenty minutes, the completed product would be turned out. - -A sudden cry made her pause in the act of draining a dipper and look -up. - -"Hello," said a voice. It came from a man clad in hunting boots -reaching to his neck, who had emerged. - -"Can you tell me the way to the Tantrums' cabin?" - -"Are you uns from the settlements down thar?" - -She pointed her hand down to the bottom of the hill, where Louisville -lay. She had never been there; but once, before she was born, her -great-grandfather, old Gore Tantrum, had gone into the settlements in -the company of two marshals, and had never come back. So the Tantrums -from generation to generation, had learned to dread civilization. - -The man was amused. He laughed a light tinkling laugh, the laugh of a -Philadelphian. Something in the ring of it thrilled her. She drank off -another dipper of whiskey. - -"Where is Mr. Tantrum, little girl?" he asked, not without kindness. - -She raised her foot and pointed her big toe toward the woods. "Thar in -the cabing behind those thar pines. Old Tantrum air my old man." - -The man from the settlements thanked her and strode off. He was fairly -vibrant with youth and personality. As he walked along he whistled and -sang and turned handsprings and flapjacks, breathing in the fresh, -cool air of the mountains. - -The air around the still was like wine. - -Jemina Tantrum watched him entranced. No one like him had ever come -into her life before. - -She sat down on the grass and counted her toes. She counted eleven. -She had learned arithmetic in the mountain school. - - -A MOUNTAIN FEUD - -Ten years before a lady from the settlements had opened a school on -the mountain. Jemina had no money, but she had paid her way in -whiskey, bringing a pailful to school every morning and leaving it on -Miss Lafarge's desk. Miss Lafarge had died of delirium tremens after a -year's teaching, and so Jemina's education had stopped. - -Across the still stream, still another still was standing; It was that -of the Doldrums. The Doldrums and the Tantrums never exchanged calls. - -They hated each other. - -Fifty years before old Jem Doldrum and old Jem Tantrum had quarrelled -in the Tantrum cabin over a game of slapjack. Jem Doldrum had thrown -the king of hearts in Jem Tantrum's face, and old Tantrum, enraged, -had felled the old Doldrum with the nine of diamonds. Other Doldrums -and Tantrums had joined in and the little cabin was soon filled with -flying cards. Harstrum Doldrum, one of the younger Doldrums, lay -stretched on the floor writhing in agony, the ace of hearts crammed -down his throat. Jem Tantrum, standing in the doorway; ran through -suit after suit, his face alight with fiendish hatred. Old Mappy -Tantrum stood on the table wetting down the Doldrums with hot whiskey. -Old Heck Doldrum, having finally run out of trumps, was backed out of -the cabin, striking left and right with his tobacco pouch, and -gathering around him the rest of his clan. Then they mounted their -steers and galloped furiously home. - -That night old man Doldrum and his sons, vowing vengeance, had -returned, put a ticktock on the Tantrum window, stuck a pin in the -doorbell, and beaten a retreat. - -A week later the Tantrums had put Cod Liver Oil in the Doldrums' -still, and so, from year to year, the feud had continued, first one -family being entirely wiped out, then the other. - - -THE BIRTH OF LOVE - -Every day little Jemina worked the still on her side of the stream, -and Boscoe Doldrum worked the still on his side. - -Sometimes, with automatic inherited hatred, the feudists would throw -whiskey at each other, and Jemina would come home smelling like a -French table d'hote. - -But now Jemina was too thoughtful to look across the stream. - -How wonderful the stranger had been and how oddly he was dressed! In -her innocent way she had never believed that there were any civilized -settlements at all, and she had put the belief in them down to the -credulity of the mountain people. - -She turned to go up to the cabin, and, as she turned something struck -her in the neck. It was a sponge, thrown by Boscoe Doldrum--a sponge -soaked in whiskey from his still on the other side of the stream. - -"Hi, thar, Boscoe Doldrum," she shouted in her deep bass voice. - -"Yo! Jemina Tantrum. Gosh ding yo'!" he returned. - -She continued her way to the cabin. - -The stranger was talking to her father. Gold had been discovered on -the Tantrum land, and the stranger, Edgar Edison, was trying to buy -the land for a song. He was considering what song to offer. - -She sat upon her hands and watched him. - -He was wonderful. When he talked his lips moved. - -She sat upon the stove and watched him. - -Suddenly there came a blood-curdling scream. The Tantrums rushed to -the windows. - -It was the Doldrums. - -They had hitched their steers to trees and concealed themselves behind -the bushes and flowers, and soon a perfect rattle of stones and bricks -beat against the windows, bending them inward. - -"Father! father!" shrieked Jemina. - -Her father took down his slingshot from his slingshot rack on the wall -and ran his hand lovingly over the elastic band. He stepped to a -loophole. Old Mappy Tantrum stepped to the coalhole. - - -A MOUNTAIN BATTLE - -The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at the Doldrums, he -tried to escape from the house by crawling up the chimney. Then he -thought there might be a door under the bead, but Jemina told him -there was not. He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each -time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no doors there. -Furious with anger, he beat upon the door and hollered at the -Doldrums. They did not answer him, but kept up their fusillade of -bricks and stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew that just -as soon as they were able to affect an aperture they would pour in and -the fight would be over. - -Then old Heck Doldrum, foaming at the mouth and expectorating on the -ground, left and right, led the attack. - -The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not been without their -effect. A master shot had disabled one Doldrum, and another Doldrum, -shot almost incessantly through the abdomen, fought feebly on. - -Nearer and nearer they approached the house. - -"We must fly," shouted the stranger to Jemina. "I will sacrifice -myself and bear you away." - -"No," shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed. "You stay here and fit -on. I will bar Jemina away. I will bar Mappy away. I will bar myself -away." - -The man from the settlements, pale and trembling with anger, turned to -Ham Tantrum, who stood at the door throwing loophole after loophole at -the advancing Doldrums. - -"Will you cover the retreat?" - -But Ham said that he too had Tantrums to bear away, but that he would -leave himself here to help the stranger cover the retreat, if he could -think of a way of doing it. - -Soon smoke began to filter through the floor and ceiling. Shem Doldrum -had come up and touched a match to old Japhet Tantrum's breath as he -leaned from a loophole, and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides. - -The whiskey in the bathtub caught fire. The walls began to fall in. - -Jemina and the man from the settlements looked at each other. - -"Jemina," he whispered. - -"Stranger," she answered, - -"We will die together," he said. "If we had lived I would have taken -you to the city and married you. With your ability to hold liquor, -your social success would have been assured." - -She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes softly to -herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left leg was on fire. - -She was a human alcohol lamp. - -Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall fell on them and -blotted them out. - -"As One." - -When the Doldrums burst through the ring of flame, they found them -dead where they had fallen, their arms about each other. - -Old Jem Doldrum was moved. - -He took off his hat. - -He filled it with whiskey and drank it off. - -"They air dead," he said slowly, "they hankered after each other. The -fit is over now. We must not part them." - -So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they -made were as one. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - -This file should be named 7tjzz10.txt or 7tjzz10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7tjzz11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7tjzz10a.txt - -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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Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. 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: Tales of the Jazz Age - -Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald - -Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6695] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on January 14, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - - - - -Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team. This file was produced from images generously made -available by the Digital & Multimedia Center, Michigan State University -Libraries. - - - - - - -TALES FROM THE JAZZ AGE - - -BY - -F. SCOTT FITZGERALD - -1922 - - - - -A TABLE OF CONTENTS - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - -THE JELLY-BEAN - -This is a Southern story, with the scene laid in the small Lily of -Tarleton, Georgia. I have a profound affection for Tarleton, but -somehow whenever I write a story about it I receive letters from all -over the South denouncing me in no uncertain terms. "The Jelly-Bean," -published in "The Metropolitan," drew its full share of these -admonitory notes. - -It was written under strange circumstances shortly after my first -novel was published, and, moreover, it was the first story in which I -had a collaborator. For, finding that I was unable to manage the -crap-shooting episode, I turned it over to my wife, who, as a Southern -girl, was presumably an expert on the technique and terminology of -that great sectional pastime. - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - -I suppose that of all the stories I have ever written this one cost me -the least travail and perhaps gave me the most amusement. As to the -labor involved, it was written during one day in the city of New -Orleans, with the express purpose of buying a platinum and diamond -wrist watch which cost six hundred dollars. I began it at seven in the -morning and finished it at two o'clock the same night. It was -published in the "Saturday Evening Post" in 1920, and later included -in the O. Henry Memorial Collection for the same year. I like it least -of all the stories in this volume. - -My amusement was derived from the fact that the camel part of the -story is literally true; in fact, I have a standing engagement with -the gentleman involved to attend the next fancy-dress party to which -we are mutually invited, attired as the latter part of the camel--this -as a sort of atonement for being his historian. - - -MAY DAY. - -This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the "Smart -Set" in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the -spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great -impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general -hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my -story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a -pattern--a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New -York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the -younger generation. - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK. - -"And do you write for any other magazines?" inquired the young lady. - -"Oh, yes," I assured her. "I've had some stories and plays in the -'Smart Set,' for instance------" - -The young lady shivered. - -"The 'Smart Set'!" she exclaimed. "How can you? Why, they publish -stuff about girls in blue bathtubs, and silly things like that" - -And I had the magnificent joy of telling her that she was referring to -"Porcelain and Pink," which had appeared there several months before. - - -FANTASIES - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ. - -These next stories are written in what, were I of imposing stature, I -should call my "second manner." "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," -which appeared last summer in the "Smart Set," was designed utterly -for my own amusement. I was in that familiar mood characterized by a -perfect craving for luxury, and the story began as an attempt to feed -that craving on imaginary foods. - -One well-known critic has been pleased to like this extravaganza -better than anything I have written. Personally I prefer "The Offshore -Pirate." But, to tamper slightly with Lincoln: If you like this sort -of thing, this, possibly, is the sort of thing you'll like. - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. - -This story was inspired by a remark of Mark Twain's to the effect that -it was a pity that the best part of life came at the beginning and the -worst part at the end. By trying the experiment upon only one man in a -perfectly normal world I have scarcely given his idea a fair trial. -Several weeks after completing it, I discovered an almost identical -plot in Samuel Butler's "Note-books." - -The story was published in "Collier's" last summer and provoked this -startling letter from an anonymous admirer in Cincinnati: - -"Sir-- - -I have read the story Benjamin Button in Colliers and I wish to say -that as a short story writer you would make a good lunatic I have seen -many peices of cheese in my life but of all the peices of cheese I -have ever seen you are the biggest peice. I hate to waste a peice of -stationary on you but I will." - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE. - -Written almost six years ago, this story is a product of undergraduate -days at Princeton. Considerably revised, it was published in the -"Smart Set" in 1921. At the time of its conception I had but one -idea--to be a poet--and the fact that I was interested in the ring of -every phrase, that I dreaded the obvious in prose if not in plot, -shows throughout. Probably the peculiar affection I feel for it -depends more upon its age than upon any intrinsic merit. - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - -When this was written I had just completed the first draft of my -second novel, and a natural reaction made me revel in a story wherein -none of the characters need be taken seriously. And I'm afraid that I -was somewhat carried away by the feeling that there was no ordered -scheme to which I must conform. After due consideration, however, I -have decided to let it stand as it is, although the reader may find -himself somewhat puzzled at the time element. I had best say that -however the years may have dealt with Merlin Grainger, I myself was -thinking always in the present. It was published in the -"Metropolitan." - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS. - -Of this story I can say that it came to me in an irresistible form, -crying to be written. It will be accused perhaps of being a mere piece -of sentimentality, but, as I saw it, it was a great deal more. If, -therefore, it lacks the ring of sincerity, or even, of tragedy, the -fault rests not with the theme but with my handling of it. - -It appeared in the "Chicago Tribune," and later obtained, I believe, -the quadruple gold laurel leaf or some such encomium from one of the -anthologists who at present swarm among us. The gentleman I refer to -runs as a rule to stark melodramas with a volcano or the ghost of John -Paul Jones in the role of Nemesis, melodramas carefully disguised by -early paragraphs in Jamesian manner which hint dark and subtle -complexities to follow. On this order: - -"The case of Shaw McPhee, curiously enough, had no hearing on the -almost incredible attitude of Martin Sulo. This is parenthetical and, -to at least three observers, whose names for the present I must -conceal, it seems improbable, etc., etc., etc.," until the poor rat of -fiction is at last forced out into the open and the melodrama begins. - - -MR. ICKY - -This has the distinction of being the only magazine piece ever written -in a New York hotel. The business was done in a bedroom in the -Knickerbocker, and shortly afterward that memorable hostelry closed -its doors forever. - -When a fitting period of mourning had elapsed it was published in the -"Smart Set." - - -JEMINA. - -Written, like "Tarquin of Cheapside," while I was at Princeton, this -sketch was published years later in "Vanity Fair." For its technique I -must apologize to Mr. Stephen Leacock. - -I have laughed over it a great deal, especially when I first wrote it, -but I can laugh over it no longer. Still, as other people tell me it -is amusing, I include it here. It seems to me worth preserving a few -years--at least until the ennui of changing fashions suppresses me, my -books, and it together. - -With due apologies for this impossible Table of Contents, I tender -these tales of the Jazz Age into the hands of those who read as they -run and run as they read. - - - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - - -THE JELLY-BEAN. - - -Jim Powell was a Jelly-bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing -character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that -point. He was a bred-in-the-bone, dyed-in-the-wool, ninety-nine -three-quarters per cent Jelly-bean and he grew lazily all during -Jelly-bean season, which is every season, down in the land of the -Jelly-beans well below the Mason-Dixon line. - -Now if you call a Memphis man a Jelly-bean he will quite possibly pull -a long sinewy rope from his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient -telegraph-pole. If you Call a New Orleans man a Jelly-bean he will -probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras -ball. The particular Jelly-bean patch which produced the protagonist -of this history lies somewhere between the two--a little city of forty -thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern -Georgia occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something -about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone -else has forgotten long ago. - -Jim was a Jelly-bean. I write that again because it has such a -pleasant sound--rather like the beginning of a fairy story--as if Jim -were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of him with a round, -appetizing face and all sort of leaves and vegetables growing out of -his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from stooping -over pool-tables, and he was what might have been known in the -indiscriminating North as a corner loafer. "Jelly-bean" is the name -throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life -conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular--I am -idling, I have idled, I will idle. - -Jim was born in a white house on a green corner, It had four -weather-beaten pillars in front and a great amount of lattice-work in -the rear that made a cheerful criss-cross background for a flowery -sun-drenched lawn. Originally the dwellers in the white house had -owned the ground next door and next door to that and next door to -that, but this had been so long ago that even Jim's father, scarcely -remembered it. He had, in fact, thought it a matter of so little -moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he -neglected even to tell little Jim, who was five years old and -miserably frightened. The white house became a boarding-house run by a -tight-lipped lady from Macon, whom Jim called Aunt Mamie and detested -with all his soul. - -He became fifteen, went to high school, wore his hair in black snarls, -and was afraid of girls. He hated his home where four women and one -old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about -what lots the Powell place had originally included and what sorts of -flowers would be out next. Sometimes the parents of little girls in -town, remembering Jim's. mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark -eyes and hair, invited him to parties, but parties made him shy and he -much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in Tilly's Garage, -rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. -For pocket money, he picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that -he stopped going to parties. At his third party little Marjorie Haight -had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a -boy who brought the groceries sometimes. So instead of the two-step -and polka, Jim had learned to throw, any number he desired on the dice -and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred -in the surrounding country during the past fifty years. - -He became eighteen. The war broke out and he enlisted as a gob and -polished brass in the Charleston Navy-yard for a year. Then, by way of -variety, he went North and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navy-yard -for a year. - -When the war was over he came home, He was twenty-one, has trousers -were too short and too tight. His buttoned shoes were long and narrow. -His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink marvellously -scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very -good old cloth, long exposed to the sun. - -In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down -along the cottonfields and over the sultry town, he was a vague figure -leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim -above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently -on a problem that had held his attention for an. The Jelly-bean had -been invited to a party. - -Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark -Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in school. But, while Jim's social -aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had -alternately fallen in and out of love, gone to college, taken to -drink, given it up, and, in short, become one of the best beaux of the -town. Nevertheless Clark and Jim had retained a friendship that, -though casual, was perfectly definite. That afternoon Clark's ancient -Ford had slowed up beside Jim, who was on the sidewalk and, out of a -clear sky, Clark invited him to a party at the country club. The -impulse that made him do this was no stranger than the impulse which -made Jim accept. The latter was probably an unconscious ennui, a -half-frightened sense of adventure. And now Jim was soberly thinking -it over. - -He began to sing, drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the -sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in time to the low throaty tune: - - "One smile from Home in Jelly-bean town, - Lives Jeanne, the Jelly-bean Queen. - She loves her dice and treats 'em nice; - No dice would treat her mean." - -He broke off and agitated the sidewalk to a bumpy gallop. - -"Daggone!" he muttered, half aloud. They would all be there--the old -crowd, the crowd to which, by right of the white house, sold long -since, and the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantel, Jim -should have belonged. But that crowd had grown up together into a -tight little set as gradually as the girls' dresses had lengthened -inch by inch, as definitely as the boys' trousers had dropped suddenly -to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppy -loves Jim was an outsider--a running mate of poor whites. Most of the -men knew him, condescendingly; he tipped his hat to three or four -girls. That was all. - -When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he -walked through the hot, pleasantly pungent town to Jackson Street. The -stores were closing and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as -if borne on the dreamy revolution of a slow merry-go-round. A -street-fair farther down a brilliant alley of varicolored booths and -contributed a blend of music to the night--an oriental dance on a -calliope, a melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful -rendition of "Back Home in Tennessee" on a hand-organ. - -The Jelly-bean stopped in a store and bought a collar. Then he -sauntered along toward Soda Sam's, where he found the usual three or -four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies -running back and forth with sundaes and lemonades. - -"Hello, Jim." - -It was a voice at his elbow--Joe Ewing sitting in an automobile with -Marylyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a strange man were in the back seat. - -The Jelly-bean tipped his hat quickly. - -"Hi Ben--" then, after an almost imperceptible pause--"How y' all?" - -Passing, he ambled on toward the garage where he had a room up-stairs. -His "How y'all" had been said to Nancy Lamar, to whom he had not -spoken in fifteen years. - -Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and -blue-black hair inherited from her mother who had been born in -Budapest. Jim passed her often on the street, walking small-boy -fashion with her hands in her pockets and he knew that with her -inseparable Sally Carrol Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts -from Atlanta to New Orleans. - -For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed -and as he reached his door began to sing softly to himself: - - "Her Jelly Roll can twist your soul, - Her eyes are big and brown, - She's the Queen of the Queens of the Jelly-beans-- - My Jeanne of Jelly-bean Town." - - -II - -At nine-thirty, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started -for the Country Club in Clark's Ford. "Jim," asked Clark casually, as -they rattled through the jasmine-scented night, "how do you keep -alive?" - -The Jelly-bean paused, considered. - -"Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him -some with the cars in the afternoon an' he gives it to me free. -Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a little thataway. I -get fed up doin' that regular though." - -"That all?" - -"Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the day--Saturdays -usually--and then there's one main source of revenue I don't generally -mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'm about the champion crap-shooter -of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now because once I get the -feel of a pair of dice they just roll for me." - -Clark grinned appreciatively, - -"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish -you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar some day and take all her money away from -her. She will roll 'em with the boys and she loses more than her daddy -can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last -month to pay a debt." - -The Jelly-bean was noncommittal. - -"The white house on Elm Street still belong to you?" - -Jim shook his head. - -"Sold. Got a pretty good price, seein' it wasn't in a good part of -town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into Liberty bonds. But Aunt -Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to -keep her up at Great Farms Sanitarium. - -"Hm." - -"I got an old uncle up-state an' I reckin I kin go up there if ever I -get sure enough pore. Nice farm, but not enough niggers around to work -it. He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take -much to it. Too doggone lonesome--" He broke off suddenly. "Clark, I -want to tell you I'm much obliged to you for askin' me out, but I'd be -a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here an' let me walk -back into town." - -"Shucks!" Clark grunted. "Do you good to step out. You don't have to -dance--just get out there on the floor and shake." - -"Hold on," exclaimed. Jim uneasily, "Don't you go leadin' me up to any -girls and leavin' me there so I'll have to dance with 'em." - -Clark laughed. - -"'Cause," continued Jim desperately, "without you swear you won't do -that I'm agoin' to get out right here an' my good legs goin' carry me -back to Jackson street." - -They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was -to view the spectacle from a secluded settee in the corner where Clark -would join him whenever he wasn't dancing. - -So ten o'clock found the Jelly-bean with his legs crossed and his arms -conservatively folded, trying to look casually at home and politely -uninterested in the dancers. At heart he was torn between overwhelming -self-consciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on -around him. He saw the girls emerge one by one from the dressing-room, -stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over -their powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance -around to take in the room and, simultaneously, the room's reaction to -their entrance--and then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in -the sober arms of their waiting escorts. Sally Carrol Hopper, blonde -and lazy-eyed, appeared clad in her favorite pink and blinking like an -awakened rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the -girls he had seen loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled -and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights, were -miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and -gold, fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried. - -He had been there half an hour, totally uncheered by Clark's jovial -visits which were each one accompanied by a "Hello, old boy, how you -making out?" and a slap at his knee. A dozen males had spoken to him -or stopped for a moment beside him, but he knew that they were each -one surprised at finding him there and fancied that one or two were -even slightly resentful. But at half past ten his embarrassment -suddenly left him and a pull of breathless interest took him -completely out of himself--Nancy Lamar had come out of the -dressing-room. - -She was dressed in yellow organdie, a costume of a hundred cool -corners, with three tiers of ruffles and a big bow in back until she -shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent lustre. -The Jelly-bean's eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat. For -she stood beside the door until her partner hurried up. Jim recognized -him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that -afternoon. He saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low -voice, and laugh. The man laughed too and Jim experienced the quick -pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the -pair, a shaft of beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment -since. The Jelly-bean felt suddenly like a weed in a shadow. - -A minute later Clark approached him, bright-eyed and glowing. - -"Hi, old man" he cried with some lack of originality. "How you making -out?" - -Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected. - -"You come along with me," commanded Clark. "I've got something that'll -put an edge on the evening." - -Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the -locker-room where Clark produced a flask of nameless yellow liquid. - -"Good old corn." - -Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as "good old corn" -needed some disguise beyond seltzer. - -"Say, boy," exclaimed Clark breathlessly, "doesn't Nancy Lamar look -beautiful?" - -Jim nodded. - -"Mighty beautiful," he agreed. - -"She's all dolled up to a fare-you-well to-night," continued Clark. -"Notice that fellow she's with?" - -"Big fella? White pants?" - -"Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes -the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her. Been chasing, -after her all year. - -"She's a wild baby," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does -everybody. But she sure does do crazy stunts. She usually gets out -alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or -another she's done." - -"That so?" Jim passed over his glass. "That's good corn." - -"Not so bad. Oh, she's a wild one. Shoot craps, say, boy! And she do -like her high-balls. Promised I'd give her one later on." - -"She in love with this--Merritt?" - -"Damned if I know. Seems like all the best girls around here marry -fellas and go off somewhere." - -He poured himself one more drink and carefully corked the bottle. - -"Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just -stick this corn right on your hip as long as you're not dancing. If a -man notices I've had a drink he'll come up and ask me and before I -know it it's all gone and somebody else is having my good time." - -So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become -the private property of an individual in white trousers--and all -because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his -neighbor. As they descended the stairs Jim found the idea inexplicably -depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a vague and -romantic yearning. A picture of her began to form in his -imagination--Nancy walking boylike and debonnaire along the street, -taking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruit-dealer, charging a -dope on a mythical account, at Soda Sam's, assembling a convoy of -beaux and then driving off in triumphal state for an afternoon of -splashing and singing. - -The Jelly-bean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark -between the moon on the lawn and the single lighted door of the -ballroom. There he found a chair and, lighting a cigarette, drifted -into the thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a -reverie made sensuous by the night and by the hot smell of damp powder -puffs, tucked in the fronts of low dresses and distilling a thousand -rich scents, to float out through the open door. The music itself, -blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a languorous -overtone to the scraping of many shoes and slippers. - -Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was -obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come out of the dressing-room -and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a -low-breathed "doggone" and then she turned and saw him. It was Nancy -Lamar. - -Jim rose to his feet. - -"Howdy?" - -"Hello--" she paused, hesitated and then approached. "Oh, it's--Jim -Powell." - -He bowed slightly, tried to think of a casual remark. - -"Do you suppose," she began quickly, "I mean--do you know anything -about gum?" - -"What?" "I've got gum on my shoe. Some utter ass left his or her gum -on the floor and of course I stepped in it." - -Jim blushed, inappropriately. - -"Do you know how to get it off?" she demanded petulantly. "I've tried -a knife. I've tried every damn thing in the dressing-room. I've tried -soap and water--and even perfume and I've ruined my powder-puff trying -to make it stick to that." - -Jim considered the question in some agitation. - -"Why--I think maybe gasolene--" - -The words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and -pulled him at a run off the low veranda, over a flower bed and at a -gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first -hole of the golf course. - -"Turn on the gasolene," she commanded breathlessly. - -"What?" - -"For the gum of course. I've got to get it off. I can't dance with gum -on." - -Obediently Jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a -view to obtaining the desired solvent. Had she demanded a cylinder he -would have done his best to wrench one out. - -"Here," he said after a moment's search. "'Here's one that's easy. Got -a handkerchief?" - -"It's up-stairs wet. I used it for the soap and water." - -Jim laboriously explored his pockets. - -"Don't believe I got one either." - -"Doggone it! Well, we can turn it on and let it run on the ground." - -He turned the spout; a dripping began. - -"More!" - -He turned it on fuller. The dripping became a flow and formed an oily -pool that glistened brightly, reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on -its quivering bosom. - -"Ah," she sighed contentedly, "let it all out. The only thing to do is -to wade in it." - -In desperation he turned on the tap full and the pool suddenly widened -sending tiny rivers and trickles in all directions. - -"That's fine. That's something like." - -Raising her skirts she stepped gracefully in. - -"I know this'll take it off," she murmured. - -Jim smiled. - -"There's lots more cars." - -She stepped daintily out of the gasolene and began scraping her -slippers, side and bottom, on the running-board of the automobile. The -jelly-bean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive -laughter and after a second she joined in. - -"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" she asked as they walked -back toward the veranda. - -"Yes." - -"You know where he is now?" - -"Out dancin', I reckin." - -"The deuce. He promised me a highball." - -"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right -here in my pocket." - -She smiled at him radiantly. - -"I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale though," he added. - -"Not me. Just the bottle." - -"Sure enough?" - -She laughed scornfully. - -"Try me. I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down." - -She perched herself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of -the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork she held the flask -to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated. - -"Like it?" - -She shook her head breathlessly. - -"No, but I like the way it makes me feel. I think most people are that -way." - -Jim agreed. - -"My daddy liked it too well. It got him." - -"American men," said Nancy gravely, "don't know how to drink." - -"What?" Jim was startled. - -"In fact," she went on carelessly, "they don't know how to do anything -very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in -England." - -"In England?" - -"Yes. It's the one regret of my life that I wasn't." - -"Do you like it over there?" "Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in -person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the -army, Oxford and Cambridge men--you know, that's like Sewanee and -University of Georgia are here--and of course I've read a lot of -English novels." - -Jim was interested, amazed. - -"D' you ever hear of Lady Diana Manner?" she asked earnestly. - -No, Jim had not. - -"Well, she's what I'd like to be. Dark, you know, like me, and wild as -sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral -or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it -afterwards." - -Jim nodded politely. He was out of his depths. - -"Pass the bottle," suggested Nancy. "I'm going to take another little -one. A little drink wouldn't hurt a baby. - -"You see," she continued, again breathless after a draught. "People -over there have style, Nobody has style here. I mean the boys here -aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. -Don't you know?" - -"I suppose so--I mean I suppose not," murmured Jim. - -"And I'd like to do 'em an' all. I'm really the only girl in town that -has style." - -She stretched, out her arms and yawned pleasantly. - -"Pretty evening." - -"Sure is," agreed Jim. - -"Like to have boat" she suggested dreamily. "Like to sail out on a -silver lake, say the Thames, for instance. Have champagne and caviare -sandwiches along. Have about eight people. And one of the men would -jump overboard to amuse the party, and get drowned like a man did with -Lady Diana Manners once." - -"Did he do it to please her?" "Didn't mean drown himself to please -her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh," - -"I reckin they just died laughin' when he drowned." - -"Oh, I suppose they laughed a little," she admitted. "I imagine she -did, anyway. She's pretty hard, I guess--like I am." - -"You hard?" - -"Like nails." She yawned again and added, "Give me a little more from -that bottle." - -Jim hesitated but she held out her hand defiantly, "Don't treat me -like a girl;" she warned him. "I'm not like any girl _you_ ever -saw," She considered. "Still, perhaps you're right. You got--you got -old head on young shoulders." - -She jumped to her feet and moved toward the door. The Jelly-bean rose -also. - -"Good-bye," she said politely, "good-bye. Thanks, Jelly-bean." - -Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch. - - - -III - -At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the -women's dressing-room and, each one pairing with a coated beau like -dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with -sleepy happy laughter--through the door into the dark where autos -backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered -around the water-cooler. - -Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at -eleven; then Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered -into the soft-drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was -deserted except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two -boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was -about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark -looked up. - -"Hi, Jim" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I -guess there's not much left, but there's one all around." - -Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling -and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim's eye and winked at him -humorously. - -They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited -for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned -his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the -two boys at the next table. - -"Bring them over here," suggested Clark. - -Joe looked around. - -"We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules. - -"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up -and down, like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out -of his car." - -There was a general laugh. - -"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park -when she's around." - -"O Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you!" - -Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't -seen his silly little flivver in two weeks." - -Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of -uncertain age standing in the doorway. - -Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment. - -"Won't you join us Mr. Taylor?" - -"Thanks." - -Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I -guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got -funny with my car." - -His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim -wondered what he had heard from the doorway--tried to remember what -had been said. - -"I'm right to-night," Nancy sang out, "and my four bits is in the -ring." - -"Faded!" snapped Taylor suddenly. - -"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed -to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They -had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely -discouraged a series of rather pointed advances. - -"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." -Nancy was _cooing_ to the dice. She rattled them with a brave -underhand flourish, and rolled them out on the table. - -"Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up." - -Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it -personal, and after each success Jim watched triumph flutter across -her face. She was doubling with each throw--such luck could scarcely -last. "Better go easy," he cautioned her timidly. - -"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and -she called her number. - -"Little Ada, this time we're going South." - -Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and -half-hysterical, but her luck was holding. - -She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming -with his fingers on the table but he was in to stay. - -Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them -avidly. He shot in silence, and in the hush of excitement the clatter -of one pass after another on the table was the only sound. - -Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour passed. -Back and forth it went. Taylor had been at it again--and again and -again. They were even at last--Nancy lost her ultimate five dollars. - -"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll -shoot it all?" Her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as -she reached to the money. - -Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing. Taylor -shot again. He had Nancy's check. - -"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll do--money -everywhere as a matter of fact." - -Jim understood---the "good old corn" he had given her--the "good old -corn" she had taken since. He wished he dared interfere--a girl of -that age and position would hardly have two bank accounts. When the -clock struck two he contained himself no longer. - -"May I--can't you let me roll 'em for you?" he suggested, his low, -lazy voice a little strained. - -Suddenly sleepy and listless, Nancy flung the dice down before him. - -"All right--old boy! As Lady Diana Manners says, 'Shoot 'em, -Jelly-bean'--My luck's gone." - -"Mr. Taylor," said Jim, carelessly, "we'll shoot for one of those -there checks against the cash." - -Half an hour later Nancy swayed forward and clapped him on the back. - -"Stole my luck, you did." She was nodding her head sagely. - -Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them -into confetti and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing -and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "Ladies--that's you Marylyn. I -want to tell the world that Mr. Jim Powell, who is a well-known -Jelly-bean of this city, is an exception to the great rule--'lucky in -dice--unlucky in love.' He's lucky in dice, and as matter of fact I--I -_love_ him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, famous dark-haired -beauty often featured in the _Herald_ as one the most popular -members of younger set as other girls are often featured in this -particular case; Wish to announce--wish to announce, anyway, -Gentlemen--" She tipped suddenly. Clark caught her and restored her -balance. - -"My error," she laughed, "she--stoops to--stoops to--anyways--We'll -drink to Jelly-bean ... Mr. Jim Powell, King of the Jelly-beans." - -And a few minutes later as Jim waited hat in hand for Clark in the -darkness of that same corner of the porch where she had come searching -for gasolene, she appeared suddenly beside him. - -"Jelly-bean," she said, "are you here, Jelly-bean? I think--" and her -slight unsteadiness seemed part of an enchanted dream--"I think you -deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jelly-bean." - -For an instant her arms were around his neck--her lips were pressed to -his. - -"I'm a wild part of the world, Jelly-bean, but you did me a good -turn." - -Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricket-loud lawn. Jim saw -Merritt come out the front door and say something to her angrily--saw -her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. -Marylyn and Joe followed, singing a drowsy song about a Jazz baby. - -Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "All pretty lit, I guess," -he yawned. "Merritt's in a mean mood. He's certainly off Nancy." - -Over east along the golf course a faint rug of gray spread itself -across the feet of the night. The party in the car began to chant a -chorus as the engine warmed up. - -"Good-night everybody," called Clark. - -"Good-night, Clark." - -"Good-night." - -There was a pause, and then a soft, happy voice added, - -"Good-night, Jelly-bean." - -The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across -the way took up a solitary mournful crow, and behind them, a last -negro waiter turned out the porch light, Jim and Clark strolled over -toward the Ford, their, shoes crunching raucously on the gravel drive. - -"Oh boy!" sighed Clark softly, "how you can set those dice!" - -It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin -cheeks--or to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar shame. - - - -IV - -Over Tilly's garage a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and -snorting down-stairs and the singing of the negro washers as they -turned the hose on the cars outside. It was a cheerless square of a -room, punctuated with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a -dozen books--Joe Miller's "Slow Train thru Arkansas," "Lucille," in an -old edition very much annotated in an old-fashioned hand; "The Eyes of -the World," by Harold Bell Wright, and an ancient prayer-book of the -Church of England with the name Alice Powell and the date 1831 written -on the fly-leaf. - -The East, gray when Jelly-bean entered the garage, became a rich and -vivid blue as he turned on his solitary electric light. He snapped it -out again, and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and -stared into the deepening morning. With the awakening of his emotions, -his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter -grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging -him in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare -room. And with his perception of this wall all that had been the -romance of his existence, the casualness, the light-hearted -improvidence, the miraculous open-handedness of life faded out. The -Jelly-bean strolling up Jackson Street humming a lazy song, known at -every shop and street stand, cropful of easy greeting and local wit, -sad sometimes for only the sake of sadness and the flight of -time--that Jelly-bean was suddenly vanished. The very name was a -reproach, a triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt -must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn would have -awakened not jealousy but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering -herself. And on his part the Jelly-bean had used for her a dingy -subterfuge learned from the garage. He had been her moral laundry; the -stains were his. - -As the gray became blue, brightened and filled the room, he crossed to -his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely. - -"I love her," he cried aloud, "God!" - -As he said this something gave way within him like a lump melting in -his throat. The air cleared and became radiant with dawn, and turning -over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow. - -In the sunshine of three o'clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along -Jackson Street was hailed by the Jelly-bean, who stood on the curb -with his fingers in his vest pockets. - -"Hi!" called Clark, bringing his Ford to an astonishing stop -alongside. "Just get up?" - -The Jelly-bean shook his head. - -"Never did go to bed. Felt sorta restless, so I took a long walk this -morning out in the country. Just got into town this minute." - -"Should think you _would_ feel restless. I been feeling thataway -all day--" - -"I'm thinkin' of leavin' town" continued the Jelly-bean, absorbed by -his own thoughts. "Been thinkin' of goin' up on the farm, and takin' a -little that work off Uncle Dun. Reckin I been bummin' too long." - -Clark was silent and the Jelly-bean continued: - -"I reckin maybe after Aunt Mamie dies I could sink that money of mine -in the farm and make somethin' out of it. All my people originally -came from that part up there. Had a big place." - -Clark looked at him curiously. - -"That's funny," he said. "This--this sort of affected me the same -way." - -The Jelly-bean hesitated. - -"I don't know," he began slowly, "somethin' about--about that girl -last night talkin' about a lady named Diana Manners--an English lady, -sorta got me thinkin'!" He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark, -"I had a family once," he said defiantly. - -Clark nodded. - -"I know." - -"And I'm the last of 'em," continued the Jelly-bean his voice rising -slightly, "and I ain't worth shucks. Name they call me by means -jelly--weak and wobbly like. People who weren't nothin' when my folks -was a lot turn up their noses when they pass me on the street." - -Again Clark was silent. - -"So I'm through, I'm goin' to-day. And when I come back to this town -it's going to be like a gentleman." - -Clark took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp brow. - -"Reckon you're not the only one it shook up," he admitted gloomily. -"All this thing of girls going round like they do is going to stop -right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it thataway." - -"Do you mean," demanded Jim in surprise, "that all that's leaked out?" - -"Leaked out? How on earth could they keep it secret. It'll be -announced in the papers to-night. Doctor Lamar's got to save his name -somehow." - -Jim put his hands on the sides of the car and tightened his long -fingers on the metal. - -"Do you mean Taylor investigated those checks?" - -It was Clark's turn to be surprised. - -"Haven't you heard what happened?" - -Jim's startled eyes were answer enough. - -"Why," announced Clark dramatically, "those four got another bottle of -corn, got tight and decided to shock the town--so Nancy and that fella -Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning." - -A tiny indentation appeared in the metal under the Jelly-bean's -fingers. - -"Married?" - -"Sure enough. Nancy sobered up and rushed back into town, crying and -frightened to death--claimed it'd all been a mistake. First Doctor -Lamar went wild and was going to kill Merritt, but finally they got it -patched up some way, and Nancy and Merritt went to Savannah on the -two-thirty train." - -Jim closed his eyes and with an effort overcame a sudden sickness. - -"It's too bad," said Clark philosophically. "I don't mean the -wedding--reckon that's all right, though I don't guess Nancy cared a -darn about him. But it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her -family that way." - -The Jelly-bean let go the car and turned away. Again something was -going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change. - -"Where you going?" asked Clark. - -The Jelly-bean turned and looked dully back over his shoulder. - -"Got to go," he muttered. "Been up too long; feelin' right sick." - -"Oh." - - * * * * * - -The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust -seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth again as a world-old joke -forever played on an eternity of afternoons. But at half past four a -first layer of quiet fell and the shades lengthened under the awnings -and heavy foliaged trees. In this heat nothing mattered. All life was -weather, a waiting through the hot where events had no significance -for the cool that was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a -tired forehead. Down in Georgia there is a feeling--perhaps -inarticulate--that this is the greatest wisdom of the South--so after -a while the Jelly-bean turned into a poolhall on Jackson Street where -he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old -jokes--the ones he knew. - - - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - - -The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above -title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup -and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything, -to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story Is the -exception. It has to do with a material, visible and large-as-life -camel's back. - -Starting from the neck we shall work toward the tail. I want you to -meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twenty-eight, lawyer, native of Toledo. -Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle. -You have met him before--in Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, -Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker Brothers, New York, -pause on their semi-annual trip through the West to clothe him; -Montmorency & Co. dispatch a young man post-haste every three months -to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his -shoes. He has a domestic roadster now, will have a French roadster if -he lives long enough, and doubtless a Chinese tank if it comes into -fashion. He looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his -sunset-colored chest with liniment and goes East every other year to -his class reunion. - -I want you to meet his Love. Her name is Betty Medill, and she would -take well in the movies. Her father gives her three hundred a month to -dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five -colors. I shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Medill. Though he is -to all appearances flesh and blood, he is, strange to say, commonly -known in Toledo as the Aluminum Man. But when he sits in his club -window with two or three Iron Men, and the White Pine Man, and the -Brass Man, they look very much as you and I do, only more so, if you -know what I mean. - -Now during the Christmas holidays of 1919 there took place in Toledo, -counting only the people with the italicized _the_, forty-one -dinner parties, sixteen dances, six luncheons, male and female, twelve -teas, four stag dinners, two weddings, and thirteen bridge parties. It -was the cumulative effect of all this that moved Perry Parkhurst on -the twenty-ninth day of December to a decision. - -This Medill girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him. She was -having such a good time that she hated to take such a definite step. -Meanwhile, their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as -if any day it might break off of its own weight. A little man named -Warburton, who knew it all, persuaded Perry to superman her, to get a -marriage license and go up to the Medill house and tell her she'd have -to marry him at once or call it off forever. So he presented himself, -his heart, his license, and his ultimatum, and within five minutes -they were in the midst of a violent quarrel, a burst of sporadic open -fighting such as occurs near the end of all long wars and engagements. -It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people who -are in love pull up sharp, look at each other coolly and think it's -all been a mistake. Afterward they usually kiss wholesomely and assure -the other person it was all their fault. Say it all was my fault! Say -it was! I want to hear you say it! - -But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in -a measure, stalling it off, so that they might the more voluptuously -and sentimentally enjoy it when it came, they were permanently -interrupted by a twenty-minute phone call for Betty from a garrulous -aunt. At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst, urged on by -pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, -picked up his light brown soft hat, and stalked out the door, - -"It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into -first. "It's all over--if I have to choke you for an hour, damn you!". -The last to the car, which had been standing some time and was quite -cold. - -He drove downtown--that is, he got into a snow rut that led him -downtown. He sat slouched down very low in his seat, much too -dispirited to care where he went. - -In front of the Clarendon Hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a -bad man named Baily, who had big teeth and lived at the hotel and had -never been in love. - -"Perry," said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him -at the, curb, "I've got six quarts of the doggonedest still champagne -you ever tasted. A third of it's yours, Perry, if you'll come -up-stairs and help Martin Macy and me drink it." - -"Baily," said Perry tensely, "I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink -every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me." - -"Shut up, you nut!" said the bad man gently. "They don't put wood -alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff that proves the world is more -than six thousand years old. It's so ancient that the cork is -petrified. You have to pull it with a stone drill." - -"Take me up-stairs," said Perry moodily. "If that cork sees my heart -it'll fall out from pure mortification." - -The room up-stairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little -girls eating apples and sitting in swings and talking to dogs. The -other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper -devoted to ladies in pink tights. - -"When you have to go into the highways and byways----" said the pink -man, looking reproachfully at Baily and Perry. - -"Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age -champagne?" - -"What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a -party." - -Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. - -Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six -handsome bottles. - -"Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe -you'd like to have us open all the windows." - -"Give me champagne," said Perry. - -"Going to the Townsends' circus ball to-night?" - -"Am not!" - -"'Vited?" - -"Uh-huh." - -"Why not go?" - -"Oh, I'm sick of parties," exclaimed Perry. "I'm sick of 'em. I've -been to so many that I'm sick of 'em." - -"Maybe you're going to the Howard Tates' party?" - -"No, I tell you; I'm sick of 'em." - -"Well," said Macy consolingly, "the Tates' is just for college kids -anyways." - -"I tell you----" - -"I thought you'd be going to one of 'em anyways. I see by the papers -you haven't missed a one this Christmas." - -"Hm," grunted Perry morosely. - -He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his -mind--that side of his life was closed, closed. Now when a man says -"closed, closed" like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has -double-closed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other -classical thought, about how cowardly suicide is. A noble thought that -one---warm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if -suicide were not so cowardly! - -An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to -the young man in the liniment advertisement. He looked like a rough -draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singing--an impromptu song of -Baily's improvisation: - - _"One Lump Perry, the parlor snake, - Famous through the city for the way he drinks his tea; - Plays with it, toys with it - Makes no noise with it, - Balanced on a napkin on his well-trained knee--"_ - -"Trouble is," said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Baily's -comb and was tying an orange tie round it to get the effect of Julius -Caesar, "that you fellas can't sing worth a damn. Soon's I leave the -air and start singing tenor you start singin' tenor too," - -"'M a natural tenor," said Macy gravely. "Voice lacks cultivation, -tha's all. Gotta natural voice, m'aunt used say. Naturally good -singer." - -"Singers, singers, all good singers," remarked Baily, who was at the -telephone. "No, not the cabaret; I want night egg. I mean some -dog-gone clerk 'at's got food--food! I want----" - -"Julius Caesar," announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. "Man -of iron will and stern 'termination" - -"Shut up!" yelled Baily. "Say, iss Mr. Baily Sen' up enormous supper. -Use y'own judgment. Right away." - -He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then -with his lips closed and an expression of solemn intensity in his eyes -went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open. - -"Lookit!" he commanded. In his hands he held a truncated garment of -pink gingham. - -"Pants," he exclaimed gravely. "Lookit!" - -This was a pink blouse, a red tie, and a Buster Brown collar. - -"Lookit!" he repeated. "Costume for the Townsends' circus ball. I'm -li'l' boy carries water for the elephants." - -Perry was impressed in spite of himself. - -"I'm going to be Julius Caesar," he announced after a moment of -concentration. - -"Thought you weren't going!" said Macy. - -"Me? Sure I'm goin', Never miss a party. Good for the nerves--like -celery." - -"Caesar!" scoffed Baily. "Can't be Caesar! He is not about a circus. -Caesar's Shakespeare. Go as a clown." - -Perry shook his head. - -"Nope; Caesar," - -"Caesar?" - -"Sure. Chariot." - -Light dawned on Baily. - -"That's right. Good idea." - -Perry looked round the room searchingly. - -"You lend me a bathrobe and this tie," he said finally. Baily -considered. - -"No good." - -"Sure, tha's all I need. Caesar was a savage. They can't kick if I -come as Caesar, if he was a savage." - -"No," said Baily, shaking his head slowly. "Get a costume over at a -costumer's. Over at Nolak's." - -"Closed up." - -"Find out." - -After a puzzling five minutes at the phone a small, weary voice -managed to convince Perry that it was Mr. Nolak speaking, and that -they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. -Thus assured, Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his -third of the last bottle of champagne. At eight-fifteen the man in the -tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to -start his roadster. - -"Froze up," said Perry wisely. "The cold froze it. The cold air." - -"Froze, eh?" - -"Yes. Cold air froze it." - -"Can't start it?" - -"Nope. Let it stand here till summer. One those hot ole August days'll -thaw it out awright." - -"Goin' let it stand?" - -"Sure. Let 'er stand. Take a hot thief to steal it. Gemme taxi." - -The man in the tall hat summoned a taxi. - -"Where to, mister?" - -"Go to Nolak's--costume fella." - - -II - -Mrs. Nolak was short and ineffectual looking, and on the cessation of -the world war had belonged for a while to one of the new -nationalities. Owing to unsettled European conditions she had never -since been quite sure what she was. The shop in which she and her -husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and peopled -with suits of armor and Chinese mandarins, and enormous papier-mch -birds suspended from the ceiling. In a vague background many rows of -masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases full -of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers, and -paints, and crape hair, and wigs of all colors. - -When Perry ambled into the shop Mrs. Nolak was folding up the last -troubles of a strenuous day, so she thought, in a drawer full of pink -silk stockings. - -"Something for you?" she queried pessimistically. "Want costume of -Julius Hur, the charioteer." - -Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented -long ago. Was it for the Townsends' circus ball? - -It was. - -"Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's -really circus." - -This was an obstacle. - -"Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. "If you've got a, piece -of canvas I could go's a tent." - -"Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware store is where -you'd have to go to. We have some very nice Confederate soldiers." - -"No. No soldiers." - -"And I have a very handsome king." - -He shook his head. - -"Several of the gentlemen" she continued hopefully, "are wearing -stovepipe hats and swallow-tail coats and going as ringmasters--but -we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a -mustache." - -"Want somep'n 'stinctive." - -"Something--let's see. Well, we have a lion's head, and a goose, and a -camel--" - -"Camel?" The idea seized Perry's imagination, gripped it fiercely. - -"Yes, but It needs two people." - -"Camel, That's the idea. Lemme see it." - -The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first -glance he appeared to consist entirely of a very gaunt, cadaverous -head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to -possess a dark brown, unwholesome-looking body made of thick, cottony -cloth. - -"You see it takes two people," explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel -in frank admiration. "If you have a friend he could be part of it. You -see there's sorta pants for two people. One pair is for the fella in -front, and the other pair for the fella in back. The fella in front -does the lookin' out through these here eyes, an' the fella in back -he's just gotta stoop over an' folla the front fella round." - -"Put it on," commanded Perry. - -Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabby-cat face inside the camel's head -and turned it from side to side ferociously. - -Perry was fascinated. - -"What noise does a camel make?" - -"What?" asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "Oh, -what noise? Why, he sorta brays." - -"Lemme see it in a mirror." - -Before a wide mirror Perry tried on the head and turned from side to -side appraisingly. In the dim light the effect was distinctly -pleasing. The camel's face was a study in pessimism, decorated with -numerous abrasions, and it must be admitted that his coat was in that -state of general negligence peculiar to camels--in fact, he needed to -be cleaned and pressed--but distinctive he certainly was. He was -majestic. He would have attracted attention in any gathering, if only -by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking round -his shadowy eyes. - -"You see you have to have two people," said Mrs. Nolak again. - -Perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about -him, tying the hind legs as a girdle round his waist. The effect on -the whole was bad. It was even irreverent--like one of those mediaeval -pictures of a monk changed into a beast by the ministrations of Satan. -At the very best the ensemble resembled a humpbacked cow sitting on -her haunches among blankets. - -"Don't look like anything at all," objected Perry gloomily. - -"No," said Mrs. Nolak; "you see you got to have two people." - -A solution flashed upon Perry. - -"You got a date to-night?" - -"Oh, I couldn't possibly----" - -"Oh, come on," said Perry encouragingly. "Sure you can! Here! Be good -sport, and climb into these hind legs." - -With difficulty he located them, and extended their yawning depths -ingratiatingly. But Mrs. Nolak seemed loath. She backed perversely -away. - -"Oh, no----" - -"C'mon! You can be the front if you want to. Or we'll flip a coin." - -"Make it worth your while." - -Mrs. Nolak set her lips firmly together. - -"Now you just stop!" she said with no coyness implied. "None of the -gentlemen ever acted up this way before. My husband----" - -"You got a husband?" demanded Perry. "Where is he?" - -"He's home." - -"Wha's telephone number?" - -After considerable parley he obtained the telephone number pertaining -to the Nolak penates and got into communication with that small, weary -voice he had heard once before that day. But Mr. Nolak, though taken -off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of -logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He refused firmly, but with -dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a -camel. - -Having rung off, or rather having been rung off on, Perry sat down on -a three-legged stool to think it over. He named over to himself those -friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty -Medill's name hazily and sorrowfully occurred to him. He had a -sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love affair was over, but -she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to -ask--to help him keep up his end of social obligation for one short -night. And if she insisted, she could be the front part of the camel -and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind -even turned to rosy-colored dreams of a tender reconciliation inside -the camel--there hidden away from all the world.... - -"Now you'd better decide right off." - -The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and -roused him to action. He went to the phone and called up the Medill -house. Miss Betty was out; had gone out to dinner. - -Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into -the store. He was a dilapidated individual with a cold in his head and -a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down low -on his head, and his chin was pulled down low on his chest, his coat -hung down to his shoes, he looked run-down, down at the heels, -and--Salvation Army to the contrary--down and out. He said that he was -the taxicab-driver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon -Hotel. He had been instructed to wait outside, but he had waited some -time, and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone -out the back way with purpose to defraud him--gentlemen sometimes -did--so he had come in. He sank down onto the three-legged stool. - -"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. - -"I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep -my job." - -"It's a very good party." - -"'S a very good job." - -"Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See--it's pretty!" He held -the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. - -"Huh!" - -Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth. - -"See!" he cried enthusiastically, holding up a selection of folds. -"This is your part. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is -to walk--and sit down occasionally. You do all the sitting down. Think -of it. I'm on my feet all the time and _you_ can sit down some of -the time. The only time _I_ can sit down is when we're lying -down, and you can sit down when--oh, any time. See?" - -"What's 'at thing?" demanded the individual dubiously. "A shroud?" - -"Not at all," said Perry indignantly. "It's a camel." - -"Huh?" - -Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the -land of grunts and assumed a practical tinge. Perry and the -taxi-driver tried on the camel in front of the mirror. - -"You can't see it," explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the -eyeholes, "but honestly, ole man, you look sim'ly great! Honestly!" - -A grunt from the hump acknowledged this somewhat dubious compliment. - -"Honestly, you look great!" repeated Perry enthusiastically. "Move -round a little." - -The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge cat-camel -hunching his back preparatory to a spring. - -"No; move sideways." - -The camel's hips went neatly out of joint; a hula dancer would have -writhed in envy. - -"Good, isn't it?" demanded Perry, turning to Mrs. Nolak for approval. - -"It looks lovely," agreed Mrs. Nolak. - -"We'll take it," said Perry. - -The bundle was stowed under Perry's arm and they left the shop. - -"Go to the party!" he commanded as he took his seat in the back. - -"What party?" - -"Fanzy-dress party." - -"Where'bouts is it?" - -This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names -of all those who had given parties during the holidays danced -confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking -out the window he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already -faded out, a little black smudge far down the snowy street. - -"Drive uptown," directed Perry with fine confidence. "If you see a -party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we get there." - -He fell into a hazy daydream and his thoughts wandered again to -Betty--he imagined vaguely that they had had a disagreement because -she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was -just slipping off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the -taxi-driver opening the door and shaking him by the arm. - -"Here we are, maybe." - -Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a -spreading gray stone house, from which issued the low drummy whine of -expensive jazz. He recognized the Howard Tate house. - -"Sure," he said emphatically; "'at's it! Tate's party to-night. Sure, -everybody's goin'." - -"Say," said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, -"you sure these people ain't gonna romp on me for comin' here?" - -Perry drew himself up with dignity. - -"'F anybody says anything to you, just tell 'em you're part of my -costume." - -The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to -reassure the individual. - -"All right," he said reluctantly. - -Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling -the camel. - -"Let's go," he commanded. - -Several minutes later a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting -clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump, -might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate -residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and -heading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom. The -beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an uncertain -lockstep and a stampede--but can best be described by the word -"halting." The camel had a halting gait--and as he walked he -alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina. - - - -III - -The Howard Tates are, as every one who lives in Toledo knows, the most -formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before -she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that -conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American -aristocracy. The Tates have reached the stage where they talk about -pigs and farms and look at you icy-eyed if you are not amused. They -have begun to prefer retainers rather than friends as dinner guests, -spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and, having lost all sense of -competition, are in process of growing quite dull. - -The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all -ages were represented, the dancers were mostly from school and -college--the younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball -up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside tie -ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes, and beaming -whenever she caught her bye. Beside her were two middle-aged -sycophants, who were saying what a perfectly exquisite child Millicent -was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the -skirt and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself -with an "Oof!" into her mother's arms. - -"Why, Emily, what's the trouble?" - -"Mamma," said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble, "there's something out on -the stairs." - -"What?" - -"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog, -mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog." - -"What do you mean, Emily?" - -The sycophants waved their heads sympathetically. - -"Mamma, it looks like a--like a camel." - -Mrs. Tate laughed. - -"You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all." - -"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mamma--big. I was going -down-stairs to see if there were any more people, and this dog or -something, he was coming up-stairs. Kinda funny, mamma, like he was -lame. And then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped -at the top of the landing, and I ran." - -Mrs. Tate's laugh faded. - -"The child must have seen something," she said. - -The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen something--and -suddenly all three women took an instinctive step away from the door -as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside. - -And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark brown form rounded -the corner, and they saw what was apparently a huge beast looking down -at them hungrily. - -"Oof!" cried Mrs. Tate. - -"O-o-oh!" cried the ladies in a chorus. - -The camel suddenly humped his back, and the gasps turned to shrieks. - -"Oh--look!" - -"What is it?" - -The dancing stopped, bat the dancers hurrying over got quite a -different impression of the invader; in fact, the young people -immediately suspected that it was a stunt, a hired entertainer come to -amuse the party. The boys in long trousers looked at it rather -disdainfully, and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets, -feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls -uttered little shouts of glee. - -"It's a camel!" - -"Well, if he isn't the funniest!" - -The camel stood there uncertainly, swaying slightly from side to aide, -and seeming to take in the room in a careful, appraising glance; then -as if he had come to an abrupt decision, he turned and ambled swiftly -out the door. - -Mr. Howard Tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor, -and was standing chatting with a young man in the hall. Suddenly they -heard the noise of shouting up-stairs, and almost immediately a -succession of bumping sounds, followed by the precipitous appearance -at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast that seemed to be -going somewhere in a great hurry. - -"Now what the devil!" said Mr. Tate, starting. - -The beast picked itself up not without dignity and, affecting an air -of extreme nonchalance, as if he had just remembered an important -engagement, started at a mixed gait toward the front door. In fact, -his front legs began casually to run. - -"See here now," said Mr. Tate sternly. "Here! Grab it, Butterfield! -Grab it!" - -The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling -arms, and, realizing that further locomotion was impossible, the front -end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some -agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring -down-stairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything from an ingenious -burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man: - -"Hold him! Lead him in here; we'll soon see." - -The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after -locking the door, took a revolver from a table drawer and instructed -the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and -returned the revolver to its hiding-place. - -"Well, Perry Parkhurst!" he exclaimed in amazement. - -"Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate," said Perry sheepishly. "Hope I didn't -scare you." - -"Well--you gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him. -"You're bound for the Townsends' circus ball." - -"That's the general idea." - -"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst." Then turning to -Perry; "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days." - -"I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry." - -"Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a -clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while." He turned to -Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us." - -The young man demurred. He was going to bed. - -"Have a drink, Perry?" suggested Mr. Tate. - -"Thanks, I will." - -"And, say," continued Tate quickly, "I'd forgotten all about -your--friend here." He indicated the rear part of the camel. "I didn't -mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out." - -"It's not a friend," explained Perry hurriedly. "I just rented him." - -"Does he drink?" - -"Do you?" demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously round. - -There was a faint sound of assent. - -"Sure he does!" said Mr. Tate heartily. "A really efficient camel -ought to be able to drink enough so it'd last him three days." - -"Tell you," said Perry anxiously, "he isn't exactly dressed up enough -to come out. If you give me the bottle I can hand it back to him and -he can take his inside." - -From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound -inspired by this suggestion. When a butler had appeared with bottles, -glasses, and siphon one of the bottles was handed back; thereafter the -silent partner could be heard imbibing long potations at frequent -intervals. - -Thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd -better be starting. He donned his clown's costume; Perry replaced the -camel's head, arid side by side they traversed on foot the single -block between the Tate house and the Tallyho Club. - -The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up -inside the ballroom and round the walls had been built rows of booths -representing the various attractions of a circus side show, but these -were now vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing -medley of youth and color--downs, bearded ladies, acrobats, bareback -riders, ringmasters, tattooed men, and charioteers. The Townsends had -determined to assure their party of success, so a great quantity of -liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their house and was -now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall completely round -the ballroom, with pointing arrows alongside and signs which -instructed the uninitiated to "Follow the green line!" The green line -led down to the bar, where waited pure punch and wicked punch and -plain dark-green bottles. - -On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and -under it the slogan: "Now follow this!" - -But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented, -there, the entrance of the camel created something of a stir, and -Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd -attempting to penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the -wide doorway eying the dancers with his hungry, melancholy gaze. - -And then Perry saw Betty standing in front of a booth, talking to a -comic policeman. She was dressed in the costume of an Egyptian -snake-charmer: her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass -rings, the effect crowned with a glittering Oriental tiara. Her fair -face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arms and the half -moon of her back writhed painted serpents with single eyes of venomous -green. Her feet were in sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees, -so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim serpents -painted just above her bare ankles. Wound about her neck was a -glittering cobra. Altogether a charming costume--one that caused the -more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her when she -passed, and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about -"shouldn't be allowed" and "perfectly disgraceful." - -But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only -her face, radiant, animated, and glowing with excitement, and her arms -and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the -outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination -exercised a sobering effect on him. With a growing clarity the events -of the day came back--rage rose within him, and with a half-formed -intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her--or -rather he elongated slightly, for he had neglected to issue the -preparatory command necessary to locomotion. - -But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him -bitterly and sardonically, decided to reward him in full for the -amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the -snake-charmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man -beside her and say, "Who's that? That camel?" - -"Darned if I know." - -But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary -to hazard an opinion: - -"It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it's probably Warren -Butterfield, the architect from New York, who's visiting the Tates." - -Something stirred in Betty Medill--that age-old interest of the -provincial girl in the visiting man. - -"Oh," she said casually after a slight pause. - -At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within -a few feet of the camel. With the informal audacity that was the -key-note of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's -nose. - -"Hello, old camel." - -The camel stirred uneasily. - -"You 'fraid of me?" said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. -"Don't be. You see I'm a snake-charmer, but I'm pretty good at camels -too." - -The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about -beauty and the beast. - -Mrs. Townsend approached the group. - -"Well, Mr. Butterfield," she said helpfully, "I wouldn't have -recognised you." - -Perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask. - -"And who is this with you?" she inquired. - -"Oh," said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite -unrecognizable, "he isn't a fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He's just part of -my costume." - -Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty, - -"So," he thought, "this is how much she cares! On the very day of our -final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man--an absolute -stranger." - -On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his -head suggestively toward the hall, making it clear that he desired her -to leave her partner and accompany him. - -"By-by, Rus," she called to her partner. "This old camel's got me. -Where we going, Prince of Beasts?" - -The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the -direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs. - -There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of -confusion which included gruff orders and sounds of a heated dispute -going on in his interior, placed himself beside her--his hind legs -stretching out uncomfortably across two steps. - -"Well, old egg," said Betty cheerfully, "how do you like our happy -party?" - -The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head -ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his hoofs. - -"This is the first time that I ever had a tte--tte with a man's -valet 'round"--she pointed to the hind legs--"or whatever that is." - -"Oh," mumbled Perry, "he's deaf and blind." - -"I should think you'd feel rather handicapped--you can't very well -toddle, even if you want to." - -The camel hang his head lugubriously. - -"I wish you'd say something," continued Betty sweetly. "Say you like -me, camel. Say you think I'm beautiful. Say you'd like to belong to a -pretty snake-charmer." - -The camel would. - -"Will you dance with me, camel?" - -The camel would try. - -Betty devoted half an hour to the camel. She devoted at least half an -hour to all visiting men. It was usually sufficient. When she -approached a new man the current dbutantes were accustomed to scatter -right and left like a close column deploying before a machine-gun. And -so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique privilege of seeing his -love as others saw her. He was flirted with violently! - - -IV - -This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a -general ingress to the ballroom; the cotillion was beginning. Betty -and the camel joined the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his -shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption of him. - -When they entered the couples were already seating themselves at -tables round the walls, and Mrs. Townsend, resplendent as a super -bareback rider with rather too rotund calves, was standing in the -centre with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to -the band every one rose and began to dance. - -"Isn't it just slick!" sighed Betty. "Do you think you can possibly -dance?" - -Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly exuberant. After all, -he was here incognito talking to his love---he could wink -patronizingly at the world. - -So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that is stretching -the word far beyond the wildest dreams of the jazziest terpsichorean. -He suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and -pull him here and there over the floor while he hung his huge head -docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy motions with his -feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by -hopping first on one foot and then on the other. Never being sure -whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by -going through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So -the spectacle was frequently presented of the front part of the camel -standing at ease and the rear keeping up a constant energetic motion -calculated to rouse a sympathetic perspiration in any soft-hearted -observer. - -He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered -with straw who announced jovially that she was a bale of hay and coyly -begged him not to eat her. - -"I'd like to; you're so sweet," said the camel gallantly. - -Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men up!" he lumbered -ferociously for Betty with the cardboard wienerwurst or the photograph -of the bearded lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes he -reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and -resulted in intense interior arguments. - -"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl, fiercely between his clenched -teeth, "get a little pep! I could have gotten her that time if you'd -picked your feet up." - -"Well, gimme a little warnin'!" - -"I did, darn you." - -"I can't see a dog-gone thing in here." - -"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging a load of -sand round to walk with you." - -"Maybe you wanta try back hare." - -"You shut up! If these people found you in this room they'd give you -the worst beating you ever had. They'd take your taxi license away -from you!" - -Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous -threat, but it seemed to have a soporific influence on his companion, -for he gave out an "aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence. - -The ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and waved his hand for -silence. - -"Prizes!" he cried. "Gather round!" - -"Yea! Prizes!" - -Self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who -had mustered the nerve to come as a bearded lady trembled with -excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The -man who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him -skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously when any one told -him he was sure to get it. - -"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced the ringmaster -jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had -by all. We will now bestow honor where honor is due by bestowing the -prizes. Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prices. Now, fellow -performers, the first prize is for that lady who has displayed this -evening the most striking, becoming"--at this point the bearded lady -sighed resignedly--"and original costume." Here the bale of hay -pricked up her ears. "Now I am sure that the decision which has been -agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present. The first prize -goes to Miss Betty Medill, the charming Egyptian snake-charmer." There -was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Medill, -blushing beautifully through her olive paint, was passed up to receive -her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a -huge bouquet of orchids. - -"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the other prize is for -that man who has the most amusing and original costume. This prize -goes without dispute to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is -visiting here but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry--in -short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his hungry -look and his brilliant dancing throughout the evening." - -He ceased and there was a violent clapping, and yeaing, for it was a -popular choice. The prize, a large box of cigars, was put aside for -the camel, as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person. - -"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will wind up the cotillion -with the marriage of Mirth to Folly! - -"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful snake-charmer and the -noble camel in front!" - -Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm round the -camel's neck. Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little -girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men -of Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all -of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color -round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under -bizarre wigs and barbaric paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding -march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a delirious blend from -the trombones and saxophones--and the march began. - -"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. -"Aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong -to the nice snake-charmer ever afterward?" - -The camel's front legs pranced, expressing excessive joy. - -"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried voices out of the -revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?" - -The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tally-ho Club for many -years, appeared rashly through a half-opened pantry door. - -"Oh, Jumbo!" - -"Get old Jumbo. He's the fella!" - -"Come on, Jumbo. How 'bout marrying us a couple?" - -"Yea!" - -Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron, and -escorted to a raised das at the head of the ball. There his collar -was removed and replaced back side forward with ecclesiastical effect. -The parade separated into two lines, leaving an aisle for the bride -and groom. - -"Lawdy, man," roared Jumbo, "Ah got ole Bible 'n' ev'ythin', sho -nuff." - -He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket. - -"Yea! Jumbo's got a Bible!" - -"Razor, too, I'll bet!" - -Together the snake-charmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle -and stopped in front of Jumbo. - -"Where's yo license, camel?" - -A man near by prodded Perry. - -"Give him a piece of paper. Anything'll do." - -Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and -pushed it out through the camel's mouth. Holding it upside down Jumbo -pretended to scan it earnestly. - -"Dis yeah's a special camel's license," he said. "Get you ring ready, -camel." - -Inside the camel Perry turned round and addressed his worse half. - -"Gimme a ring, for Heaven's sake!" - -"I ain't got none," protested a weary voice. - -"You have. I saw it." - -"I ain't goin' to take it offen my hand." - -"If you don't I'll kill you." - -There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass -inserted into his hand. - -Again he was nudged from the outside. - -"Speak up!" - -"I do!" cried Perry quickly. - -He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this -burlesque the sound thrilled him. - -Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat -and was slipping it on her finger, muttering ancient and historic -words after Jumbo. He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His -one idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for -Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A dignified young man, -Perry--and this might injure his infant law practice. - -"Embrace the bride!" - -"Unmask, camel, and kiss her!" - -Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly -and began to strike the card-board muzzle. He felt his self-control -giving way, he longed to surround her with his arms and declare his -identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot away--when -suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a curious -hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo -had given vent to a huge "Hello!" in such a startled voice that all -eyes were bent on him. - -"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage -license, which he had been holding upside down, produced spectacles, -and was studying it agonizingly. - -"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence his words were heard -plainly by every one in the room, "this yeah's a sho-nuff marriage -permit." - -"What?" - -"Huh?" - -"Say it again, Jumbo!" - -"Sure you can read?" - -Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood burned to fire in his -veins as he realized the break he had made. - -"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a sho-nuff license, and the -pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis yeah young lady, Miz Betty Medill, -and th' other's Mistah Perry Pa'khurst." - -There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out as all eyes fell -on the camel. Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes -giving out sparks of fury. - -"Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?" - -Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. -He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment, his cardboard face still -hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo. - -"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty -serious mattah. Outside mah duties at this club ah happens to be a -sho-nuff minister in the Firs' Cullud Baptis' Church. It done look to -me as though y'all is gone an' got married." - - -V - -The scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the -Tallyho Club. Stout matrons fainted, one hundred per cent Americans -swore, wild-eyed dbutantes babbled in lightning groups instantly -formed and instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent -yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic ballroom. Feverish -youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or some one, -and the Baptis' preacheh was besieged by a tempestuous covey of -clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making threats, demanding -precedents, ordering the bonds annulled, and especially trying to -ferret out any hint of prearrangement in what had occurred. - -In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. -Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to comfort her; they were -exchanging "all my fault's" volubly and voluminously. Outside on a -snow-covered walk Mr. Cyrus Medill, the Aluminum Man, was being paced -slowly up and down between two brawny charioteers, giving vent now to -a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let -him get at Jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild -man of Borneo, and the most exacting stage-manager would have -acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite -impossible. - -Meanwhile the two principals held the real centre of the stage. Betty -Medill--or was it Betty Parkhurst?--storming furiously, was surrounded -by the plainer girls--the prettier ones were too busy talking about -her to pay much attention to her--and over on the other side of the -hall stood the camel, still intact except for his headpiece, which -dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in -making protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry, puzzled men. -Every few minutes, just as he had apparently proved his case, some one -would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would -begin again. - -A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second best belle of Toledo, -changed the gist of the situation by a remark she made to Betty. - -"Well," she said maliciously, "it'll all blow over, dear. The courts -will annul it without question." - -Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes, her lips shut -tight together, and she looked stonily at Marion. Then she rose and, -scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the -room to Perry, who stared at her in terror. Again silence crept down -upon the room. - -"Will you have the decency to grant me five minutes' conversation--or -wasn't that included in your plans?" - -He nodded, his mouth unable to form words. - -Indicating coldly that he was to follow her she walked out into the -hall with her chin uptilted and headed for the privacy of one of the -little card-rooms. - -Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the -failure of his hind legs to function. - -"You stay here!" he commanded savagely. - -"I can't," whined a voice from the hump, "unless you get out first and -let me get out." - -Perry hesitated, but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the -curious crowd he muttered a command and the camel moved carefully from -the room on its four legs. - -Betty was waiting for him. - -"Well," she began furiously, "you see what you've done! You and that -crazy license! I told you you shouldn't have gotten it!" - -"My dear girl, I--" - -"Don't say 'dear girl' to me! Save that for your real wife if you ever -get one after this disgraceful performance. And don't try to pretend -it wasn't all arranged. You know you gave that colored waiter money! -You know you did! Do you mean to say you didn't try to marry me?" - -"No--of course--" - -"Yes, you'd better admit it! You tried it, and now what are you going -to do? Do you know my father's nearly crazy? It'll serve you right if -he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold steel in -you. Even if this wed--this _thing_ can be annulled it'll hang -over me all the rest of my life!" - -Perry could not resist quoting softly: "'Oh, camel, wouldn't you like -to belong to the pretty snake-charmer for all your--" - -"Shut-up!" cried Betty. - -There was a pause. - -"Betty," said Perry finally, "there's only one thing to do that will -really get us out clear. That's for you to marry me." - -"Marry you!" - -"Yes. Really it's the only--" - -"You shut up! I wouldn't marry you if--if--" - -"I know. If I were the last man on earth. But if you care anything -about your reputation--" - -"Reputation!" she cried. "You're a nice one to think about my -reputation _now_. Why didn't you think about my reputation before -you hired that horrible Jumbo to--to--" - -Perry tossed up his hands hopelessly. - -"Very well. I'll do anything you want. Lord knows I renounce all -claims!" - -"But," said a new voice, "I don't." - -Perry and Betty started, and she put her hand to her heart. - -"For Heaven's sake, what was that?" - -"It's me," said the camel's back. - -In a minute Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a lax, limp -object, his clothes hanging on him damply, his hand clenched tightly -on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them. - -"Oh," cried Betty, "you brought that object in here to frighten me! -You told me he was deaf--that awful person!" - -The camel's back sat down on a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. - -"Don't talk 'at way about me, lady. I ain't no person. I'm your -husband." - -"Husband!" - -The cry was wrung simultaneously from Betty and Perry. - -"Why, sure. I'm as much your husband as that gink is. The smoke didn't -marry you to the camel's front. He married you to the whole camel. -Why, that's my ring you got on your finger!" - -With a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it -passionately at the floor. - -"What's all this?" demanded Perry dazedly. - -"Jes' that you better fix me an' fix me right. If you don't I'm -a-gonna have the same claim you got to bein' married to her!" - -"That's bigamy," said Perry, turning gravely to Betty. - -Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance -on which he risked his fortunes. He rose and looked first at Betty, -where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the -individual who swayed from side to side on his chair, uncertainly, -menacingly. - -"Very well," said Perry slowly to the individual, "you can have her. -Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as far as I'm concerned our -marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my -rights to have you as my wife, and give you to--to the man whose ring -you wear--your lawful husband." - -There was a pause and four horror-stricken eyes were turned on him, - -"Good-by, Betty," he said brokenly. "Don't forget me in your new-found -happiness. I'm going to leave for the Far West on the morning train. -Think of me kindly, Betty." - -With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest -as his hand touched the door-knob. - -"Good-by," he repeated. He turned the door-knob. - -But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated -themselves violently toward him. - -"Oh, Perry, don't leave me! Perry, Perry, take me with you!" - -Her tears flowed damply on his neck. Calmly he folded his arms about -her. - -"I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a -minister at this hour and have it done over again I'll go West with -you." - -Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part -of the camel--and they exchanged a particularly subtle, esoteric sort -of wink that only true camels can understand. - - - - -MAY DAY - - -There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the -conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with -thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring -days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the -strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the brasses, while -merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding -to the windows, turned their white-bunched faces gravely upon the -passing battalions. - -Never had there been such splendor in the great city, for the -victorious war had brought plenty in its train, and the merchants had -flocked thither from the South and West with their households to taste -of all the luscious feasts and witness the lavish entertainments -prepared--and to buy for their women furs against the next winter and -bags of golden mesh and varicolored slippers of silk and silver and -rose satin and cloth of gold. - -So gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by -the scribes and poets of the conquering people that more and more -spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of -excitement, and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their -trinkets and slippers until they sent up a mighty cry for more -trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter -what was demanded of them. Some even of them flung up their hands -helplessly, shouting: - -"Alas! I have no more slippers! and alas! I have no more trinkets! May -heaven help me for I know not what I shall do!" - -But no one listened to their great outcry, for the throngs were far -too busy--day by day, the foot-soldiers trod jauntily the highway and -all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave, sound -of tooth and pink of cheek, and the young women of the land were -virgins and comely both of face and of figure. - -So during all this time there were many adventures that happened in -the great city, and, of these, several--or perhaps one--are here set -down. - -I - -At nine o'clock on the morning of the first of May, 1919, a young man -spoke to the room clerk at the Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip -Dean were registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr. -Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He -was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above -with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of -ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which -colored his face like a low, incessant fever. - -Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone -at the side. - -After a second his connection was made; a sleepy voice hello'd from -somewhere above. - -"Mr. Dean?"--this very eagerly--"it's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon -Sterrett. I'm down-stairs. I heard you were in New York and I had a -hunch you'd be here." - -The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, -old boy! Well, he certainly was surprised and tickled! Would Gordy -come right up, for Pete's sake! - -A few minutes later Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened -his door and the two young men greeted each other with a -half-embarrassed exuberance. They were both about twenty-four, Yale -graduates of the year before the war; but there the resemblance -stopped abruptly. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged under his thin -pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He -smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. - -"I was going to look you up," he cried enthusiastically. "I'm taking a -couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a sec I'll be right with you. -Going to take a shower." - -As he vanished into the bathroom his visitor's dark eyes roved -nervously around the room, resting for a moment on a great English -travelling bag in the corner and on a family of thick silk shirts -littered on the chairs amid impressive neckties and soft woollen -socks. - -Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute -examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow, with a pale blue -stripe--and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared -involuntarily at his own shirt-cuffs--they were ragged and linty at -the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held -his coat-sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they -were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself -with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded -and thumb-creased--it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes -of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three -years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections -at college for being the best-dressed man in his class. - -Dean emerged from the bathroom polishing his body. - -"Saw an old friend of yours last night," he remarked. -"Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my -neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year." - -Gordon started. - -"Edith Bradin? That whom you mean?" - -"'At's the one. Damn good looking. She's still sort of a pretty -doll--you know what I mean: as if you touched her she'd smear." - -He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled -faintly, exposing a section of teeth. - -"She must be twenty-three anyway," he continued. - -"Twenty-two last month," said Gordon absently. - -"What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Psi -dance. Did you know we're having a Yale Gamma Psi dance to-night at -Delmonico's? You better come up, Gordy. Half of New Haven'll probably -be there. I can get you an invitation." - -Draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear, Dean lit a cigarette -and sat down by the open window, inspecting his calves and knees under -the morning sunshine which poured into the room. - -"Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about what you've -been doing and what you're doing now and everything." - -Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and -spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his -face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic. - -"What's the matter?" asked Dean quickly. - -"Oh, God!" - -"What's the matter?" - -"Every God damn thing in the world," he said miserably, "I've -absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in." - -"Huh?" - -"I'm all in." His voice was shaking. - -Dean scrutinized him more closely with appraising blue eyes. - -"You certainly look all shot." - -"I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything." He paused. "I'd -better start at the beginning--or will it bore you?" "Not at all; go -on." There was, however, a hesitant note in Dean's voice. This trip -East had been planned for a holiday--to find Gordon Sterrett in -trouble exasperated him a little. - -"Go on," he repeated, and then added half under his breath, "Get it -over with." - -"Well," began Gordon unsteadily, "I got back from France in February, -went home to Harrisburg for a month, and then came down to New York to -get a job. I got one--with an export company. They fired me -yesterday." - -"Fired you?" - -"I'm coming to that, Phil. I want to tell you frankly. You're about -the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I -just tell you frankly, will you, Phil?" - -Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew -perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he was being unfairly saddled with -responsibility; he was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though -never surprised at finding Gordon Sterrett in mild difficulty, there -was something in this present misery that repelled him and hardened -him, even though it excited his curiosity. - -"Go on." - -"It's a girl." - -"Hm." Dean resolved that nothing was going to spoil his trip. If -Gordon was going to be depressing, then he'd have to see less of -Gordon. - -"Her name is Jewel Hudson," went on the distressed voice from the bed. -"She used to be 'pure,' I guess, up to about a year ago." Lived here -in New York--poor family. Her people are dead now and she lives with -an old aunt. You see it was just about the time I met her that -everybody began to come back from France in droves--and all I did was -to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with 'em. That's the -way it started, Phil, just from being glad to see everybody and having -them glad to see me." - -"You ought to've had more sense." - -"I know," Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. "I'm on my own -now, you know, and Phil, I can't stand being poor. Then came this darn -girl. She sort of fell in love with me for a while and, though I never -intended to get so involved, I'd always seem to run into her -somewhere. You can imagine the sort of work I was doing for those -exporting people--of course, I always intended to draw; do -illustrating for magazines; there's a pile of money in it." - -"Why didn't you? You've got to buckle down if you want to make good," -suggested Dean with cold formalism. - -"I tried, a little, but my stuff's crude. I've got talent, Phil; I can -draw--but I just don't know how. I ought to go to art school and I -can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just -as I was down to about my last dollar this girl began bothering me. -She wants some money; claims she can make trouble for me if she -doesn't get it." - -"Can she?" - -"I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job--she kept calling -up the office all the time, and that was sort of the last straw down -there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's -got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her." - -There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched -by his side. - -"I'm all in," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'm half crazy, -Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming East, I think I'd have killed -myself. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars." - -Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly -quiet--and the curious uncertainty playing between the two became taut -and strained. - -After a second Gordon continued: - -"I've bled the family until I'm ashamed to ask for another nickel." - -Still Dean made no answer. - -"Jewel says she's got to have two hundred dollars." - -"Tell her where she can go." - -"Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I -wrote her. Unfortunately she's not at all the flabby sort of person -you'd expect." - -Dean made an expression of distaste. - -"I can't stand that sort of woman. You ought to have kept away." - -"I know," admitted Gordon wearily. - -"You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money -you've got to work and stay away from women." - -"That's easy for you to say," began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. -"You've got all the money in the world." - -"I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I -spend. Just because I have a little leeway I have to be extra careful -not to abuse it." - -He raised the blind and let in a further flood of sunshine. - -"I'm no prig, Lord knows," he went on deliberately. "I like -pleasure--and I like a lot of it on a vacation like this, but -you're--you're in awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way -before. You seem to be sort of bankrupt--morally as well as -financially." - -"Don't they usually go together?" - -Dean shook his head impatiently. - -"There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand. It's a sort -of evil." - -"It's an air of worry and poverty and sleepless nights," said Gordon, -rather defiantly. - -"I don't know." - -"Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But, my God, Phil, a -week's rest and a new suit and some ready money and I'd be like--like -I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak, and you know it. But half the -time I haven't had the money to buy decent drawing materials--and I -can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in. With a little -ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started." - -"How do I know you wouldn't use it on some other woman?" - -"Why rub it in?" said Gordon, quietly. - -"I'm not rubbing it in. I hate to see you this way." - -"Will you lend me the money, Phil?" - -"I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money and it'll be darn -inconvenient for me." - -"It'll be hell for me if you can't--I know I'm whining, and it's all -my own fault but--that doesn't change it." - -"When could you pay it back?" - -This was encouraging. Gordon considered. It was probably wisest to be -frank. - -"Of course, I could promise to send it back next month, but--I'd -better say three months. Just as soon as I start to sell drawings." - -"How do I know you'll sell any drawings?" - -A new hardness in Dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over -Gordon. Was it possible that he wouldn't get the money? - -"I supposed you had a little confidence in me." - -"I did have--but when I see you like this I begin to wonder." - -"Do you suppose if I wasn't at the end of my rope I'd come to you like -this? Do you think I'm enjoying it?" He broke off and bit his lip, -feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice. After -all, he was the suppliant. - -"You seem to manage it pretty easily," said Dean angrily. "You put me -in the position where, if I don't lend it to you, I'm a sucker--oh, -yes, you do. And let me tell you it's no easy thing for me to get hold -of three hundred dollars. My income isn't so big but that a slice like -that won't play the deuce with it." - -He left his chair and began to dress, choosing his clothes carefully. -Gordon stretched out his arms and clenched the edges of the bed, -fighting back a desire to cry out. His head was splitting and -whirring, his mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in -his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular counts like a slow -dripping from a roof. - -Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece -of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette -case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and -settled the case in his vest pocket. - -"Had breakfast?" he demanded. - -"No; I don't eat it any more." - -"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money -later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to have a good time. - -"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added -with an implied reproof: "You've given up your job. You've got nothing -else to do." - -"I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money," said Gordon pointedly. - -"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in -glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money." - -He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to -Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an -added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever. -For an instant before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that -instant each found something that made him lower his own glance -quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated -each other. - - -II - -Fifth Avenue and Forty-fourth Street swarmed with the noon crowd. The -wealthy, happy sun glittered in transient gold through the thick -windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and -strings of pearls in gray velvet cases; upon gaudy feather fans of -many colors; upon the laces and silks of expensive dresses; upon the -bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate show -rooms of interior decorators. - -Working-girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these -windows, choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display -which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the -bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their -engagement rings, and their wedding rings and their platinum wrist -watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera -cloaks; meanwhile digesting the sandwiches and sundaes they had eaten -for lunch. - -All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great -fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from -Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and -finding the great city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they -were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the -weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley Dean and Gordon -wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity -at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had -been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and -dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to -Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless. - -In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who -greeted the visiting Dean vociferously. Sitting in a semicircle of -lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around. - -Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched -together _en masse_, warmed with liquor as the afternoon began. -They were all going to the Gamma Psi dance that night--it promised to -be the best party since the war. - -"Edith Bradin's coming," said some one to Gordon. "Didn't she used to -be an old flame of yours? Aren't you both from Harrisburg?" - -"Yes." He tried to change the subject. "I see her brother -occasionally. He's sort of a socialistic nut. Runs a paper or -something here in New York." - -"Not like his gay sister, eh?" continued his eager informant. "Well, -she's coming to-night--with a junior named Peter Himmel." - -Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock--he had promised to -have some money for her. Several times he glanced nervously at his -wrist watch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he -was going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as -they left the Club another of the party joined them, to Gordon's great -dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the -evening's party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers' he chose a dozen -neckties, selecting each one after long consultations with the other -man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back? And wasn't it a shame -that Rivers couldn't get any more Welsh Margotson collars? There never -was a collar like the "Covington." - -Gordon was in something of a panic. He wanted the money immediately. -And he was now inspired also with a vague idea of attending the Gamma -Psi dance. He wanted to see Edith--Edith whom he hadn't met since one -romantic night at the Harrisburg Country Club just before he went to -France. The affair had died, drowned in the turmoil of the war and -quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture -of her, poignant, debonnaire, immersed in her own inconsequential -chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and brought a hundred memories -with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college -with a sort of detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to -draw her--around his room had been a dozen sketches of her--playing -golf, swimming--he could draw her pert, arresting profile with his -eyes shut. - -They left Rivers' at five-thirty and parsed for a moment on the -sidewalk. - -"Well," said Dean genially, "I'm all set now. Think I'll go back to -the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and massage." - -"Good enough," said the other man, "I think I'll join you." - -Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty he -restrained himself from turning to the man and snarling out, "Go on -away, damn you!" In despair he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken -to him, was keeping him along in order to avoid a dispute about the -money. - -They went into the Biltmore--a Biltmore alive with girls--mostly from -the West and South, the stellar dbutantes of many cities gathered for -the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon -they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last -appeal, was about to come out with he knew not what, when Dean -suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm led -him aside. - -"Gordy," he said quickly, "I've thought the whole thing over carefully -and I've decided that I can't lend you that money. I'd like to oblige -you, but I don't feel I ought to--it'd put a crimp in me for a month." - -Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed -how much those upper teeth projected. - -"I'm--mighty sorry, Gordon," continued Dean, "but that's the way it -is." - -He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventy-five -dollars in bills. - -"Here," he said, holding them out, "here's seventy-five; that makes -eighty all together. That's all the actual cash I have with me, -besides what I'll actually spend on the trip." - -Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it -were a tongs he was holding, and clenched it again on the money. - -"I'll see you at the dance," continued Dean. "I've got to get along to -the barber shop." - -"So-long," said Gordon in a strained and husky voice. - -"So-long." - -Dean, began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly -and disappeared. - -But Gordon stood there, his handsome face awry with distress, the roll -of bills clenched tightly in his hand. Then, blinded by sudden tears, -he stumbled clumsily down the Biltmore steps. - - -III - -About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a -cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, -devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without -even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; -they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a -strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from -their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They -were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the -shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New -Jersey, landed three days before. - -The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his -veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran -blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long, -chinless face, the dull, watery eyes, and high cheek-bones, without -finding suggestion of either ancestral worth or native resourcefulness. - -His companion was swart and bandy-legged, with rat-eyes and a -much-broken hooked nose. His defiant air was obviously a pretense, a -weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of -physical bluff and physical menace, in which he had always lived. His -name was Gus Rose. - -Leaving the caf they sauntered down Sixth Avenue, wielding toothpicks -with great gusto and complete detachment. - -"Where to?" asked Rose, in a tone which implied that he would not be -surprised if Key suggested the South Sea Islands. - -"What you say we see if we can getta holda some liquor?" Prohibition -was not yet. The ginger in the suggestion was caused by the law -forbidding the selling of liquor to soldiers. - -Rose agreed enthusiastically. - -"I got an idea," continued Key, after a moment's thought, "I got a -brother somewhere." - -"In New York?" - -"Yeah. He's an old fella." He meant that he was an elder brother. -"He's a waiter in a hash joint." - -"Maybe he can get us some." - -"I'll say he can!" - -"B'lieve me, I'm goin' to get this darn uniform off me to-morra. Never -get me in it again, neither. I'm goin' to get me some regular -clothes." - -"Say, maybe I'm not." - -As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this -intention can be taken largely as a pleasant game of words, harmless -and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they -reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personages high in -biblical circles, adding such further emphasis as "Oh, boy!" "You -know!" and "I'll say so!" repeated many times over. - -The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended -nasal comment extended through the years upon the institution--army, -business, or poorhouse--which kept them alive, and toward their -immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning the -institution had been the "government" and the immediate superior had -been the "Cap'n"--from these two they had glided out and were now in -the vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next -bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and somewhat ill at ease. -This they hid by pretending an elaborate relief at being out of the -army, and by assuring each other that military discipline should never -again rule their stubborn, liberty-loving wills. Yet, as a matter of -fact, they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this -new-found and unquestionable freedom. - -Suddenly Key increased his gait. Rose, looking up and following his -glance, discovered a crowd that was collecting fifty yards down the -street. Key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd; -Rose thereupon also chuckled and his short bandy legs twinkled beside -the long, awkward strides of his companion. - -Reaching the outskirts of the crowd they immediately became an -indistinguishable part of it. It was composed of ragged civilians -somewhat the worse for liquor, and of soldiers representing many -divisions and many stages of sobriety, all clustered around a -gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving his -arms and delivering an excited but succinct harangue. Key and Rose, -having wedged themselves into the approximate parquet, scrutinized him -with acute suspicion, as his words penetrated their common -consciousness. - -"--What have you got outa the war?" he was crying fiercely. "Look -arounja, look arounja! Are you rich? Have you got a lot of money -offered you?--no; you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs; -you're lucky if you came back an' find your wife ain't gone off with -some other fella that had the money to buy himself out of the war! -That's when you're lucky! Who got anything out of it except J. P. -Morgan an' John D. Rockerfeller?" - -At this point the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile -impact of a fist upon the point of his bearded chin and he toppled -backward to a sprawl on the pavement. - -"God damn Bolsheviki!" cried the big soldier-blacksmith, who had -delivered the blow. There was a rumble of approval, the crowd closed -in nearer. - -The Jew staggered to his feet, and immediately went down again before -a half-dozen reaching-in fists. This time he stayed down, breathing -heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and -without. - -There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found -themselves flowing with the jumbled crowd down Sixth Avenue under the -leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier -who had summarily ended the oration. The crowd had marvellously -swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of more non-committal -citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support -by intermittent huzzas. - -"Where we goin'?" yelled Key to the man nearest him - -His neighbor pointed up to the leader in the slouch hat. - -"That guy knows where there's a lot of 'em! We're goin' to show 'em!" - -"We're goin' to show 'em!" whispered Key delightedly to Rose, who -repeated the phrase rapturously to a man on the other side. - -Down Sixth Avenue swept the procession, joined here and there by -soldiers and marines, and now and then by civilians, who came up with -the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves, as -if presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed Sporting and -Amusement Club. - -Then the procession swerved down a cross street and headed for Fifth -Avenue and the word filtered here and there that they were bound for a -Red meeting at Tolliver Hall. - -"Where is it?" - -The question went up the line and a moment later the answer floated -hack. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth Street. There was a bunch of -other sojers who was goin' to break it up and was down there now! - -But Tenth Street had a faraway sound and at the word a general groan -went up and a score of the procession dropped out. Among these were -Rose and Key, who slowed down to a saunter and let the more -enthusiastic sweep on by. - -"I'd rather get some liquor," said Key as they halted and made their -way to the sidewalk amid cries of "Shell hole!" and "Quitters!" - -"Does your brother work around here?" asked Rose, assuming the air of -one passing from the superficial to the eternal. - -"He oughta," replied Key. "I ain't seen him for a coupla years. I been -out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he don't work at night anyhow. It's -right along here. He can get us some o'right if he ain't gone." - -They found the place after a few minutes' patrol of the street--a -shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth Avenue and Broadway. Here -Key went inside to inquire for his brother George, while Rose waited -on the sidewalk. - -"He ain't here no more," said Key emerging. "He's a waiter up to -Delmonico's." - -Rose nodded wisely, as if he'd expected as much. One should not be -surprised at a capable man changing jobs occasionally. He knew a -waiter once--there ensued a long conversation as they waited as to -whether waiters made more in actual wages than in tips--it was decided -that it depended on the social tone of the joint wherein the waiter -labored. After having given each other vivid pictures of millionaires -dining at Delmonico's and throwing away fifty-dollar bills after their -first quart of champagne, both men thought privately of becoming -waiters. In fact, Key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask -his brother to get him a job. - -"A waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellas leave in -bottles," suggested Rose with some relish, and then added as an -afterthought, "Oh, boy!" - -By the time they reached Delmonico's it was half past ten, and they -were surprised to see a stream of taxis driving up to the door one -after the other and emitting marvelous, hatless young ladies, each one -attended by a stiff young gentleman in evening clothes. - -"It's a party," said Rose with some awe. "Maybe we better not go in. -He'll be busy." - -"No, he won't. He'll be o'right." - -After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the -least elaborate door and, indecision falling upon them immediately, -stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small -dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps -and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them and both -started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a -comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through -another door on the other side. - -There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers -mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them -suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if -prepared at any moment to turn and flee. - -"Say," began Key, "say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here." - -"His name is Key," annotated Rose. - -Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was up-stairs, he thought. There was a -big dance going on in the main ballroom. He'd tell him. - -Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the -utmost suspicion; his first and most natural thought being that he was -going to be asked for money. - -George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his -brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were not dull, they were alert and -twinkling, and his manner was suave, in-door, and faintly superior. -They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. -He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol -had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol. - -"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been -disposed of, "we want to get some booze, and they won't sell us none. -Can you get us some?" - -George considered. - -"Sure. Maybe I can. It may be half an hour, though." - -"All right," agreed Carrol, "we'll wait" - -At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed -to his feet by the indignant George. - -"Hey! Watch out, you! Can't sit down here! This room's all set for a -twelve o'clock banquet." - -"I ain't goin' to hurt it," said Rose resentfully. "I been through the -delouser." - -"Never mind," said George sternly, "if the head waiter seen me here -talkin' he'd romp all over me." - -"Oh." - -The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; -they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a -suggestion. - -"I tell you," said George, after a pause, "I got a place you can wait; -you just come here with me." - -They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a -pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room -chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, -and illuminated by a single dim electric light. There he left them, -after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour -with a quart of whiskey. - -"George is makin' money, I bet," said Key gloomily as he seated -himself on an inverted pail. "I bet he's making fifty dollars a week." - -Rose nodded his head and spat. - -"I bet he is, too." - -"What'd he say the dance was of?" - -"A lot of college fellas. Yale College." - -They, both nodded solemnly at each other. - -"Wonder where that crowda sojers is now?" - -"I don't know. I know that's too damn long to walk for me." - -"Me too. You don't catch me walkin' that far." - -Ten minutes later restlessness seized them. - -"I'm goin' to see what's out here," said Rose, stepping cautiously -toward the other door. - -It was a swinging door of green baize and he pushed it open a cautious -inch. - -"See anything?" - -For answer Rose drew in his breath sharply. - -"Doggone! Here's some liquor I'll say!" - -"Liquor?" - -Key joined Rose at the door, and looked eagerly. - -"I'll tell the world that's liquor," he said, after a moment of -concentrated gazing. - -It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in--and in it -was prepared a radiant feast of spirits. There were long walls of -alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, -brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention -an array of syphons and two great empty punch bowls. The room was as -yet uninhabited. - -"It's for this dance they're just starting," whispered Key; "hear the -violins playin'? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind havin' a dance." - -They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual -comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out. - -"I'd like to get my hands on a coupla those bottles," said Rose -emphatically. - -"Me too." - -"Do you suppose we'd get seen?" - -Key considered. - -"Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin' 'em. They got 'em all -laid out now, and they know how many of them there are." - -They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting -his hands on a bottle now and tucking it under his coat before anyone -came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. He was afraid he -might get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the -bottles were opened it'd be all right to take one, and everybody'd -think it was one of the college fellas. - -While they were still engaged in argument George Key hurried through -the room and, barely grunting at them, disappeared by way of the green -baize door. A minute later they heard several corks pop, and then the -sound of cracking ice and splashing liquid. George was mixing the -punch. - -The soldiers exchanged delighted grins. - -"Oh, boy!" whispered Rose. - -George reappeared. - -"Just keep low, boys," he said quickly. "Ill have your stuff for you -in five minutes." - -He disappeared through the door by which he had come. - -As soon as his footsteps receded down the stairs, Rose, after a -cautious look, darted into the room of delights and reappeared with a -bottle in his hand. - -"Here's what I say," he said, as they sat radiantly digesting their -first drink. "We'll wait till he comes up, and we'll ask him if we -can't just stay here and drink what he brings us--see. We'll tell him -we haven't got any place to drink it--see. Then we can sneak in there -whenever there ain't nobody in that there room and tuck a bottle under -our coats. We'll have enough to last us a coupla days--see?" - -"Sure," agreed Rose enthusiastically. "Oh, boy! And if we want to we -can sell it to sojers any time we want to." - -They were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea. Then Key -reached up and unhooked the collar of his O. D. coat. - -"It's hot in here, ain't it?" - -Rose agreed earnestly. - -"Hot as hell." - - -IV - -She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressing-room and -crossed the intervening parlor of politeness that opened onto the -hall--angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, -the merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had -occurred on this particular night. She had no quarrel with herself. -She had acted with that correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity -which she always employed. She had succinctly and deftly snubbed him. - -It had happened when their taxi was leaving the Biltmore--hadn't gone -half a block. He had lifted his right arm awkwardly--she was on his -right side--and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson -fur-trimmed opera cloak she wore. This in itself had been a mistake. -It was inevitably more graceful for a young man attempting to embrace -a young lady of whose acquiescence he was not certain, to first put -his far arm around her. It avoided that awkward movement of raising -the near arm. - -His second _faux pas_ was unconscious. She had spent the -afternoon at the hairdresser's; the idea of any calamity overtaking -her hair was extremely repugnant--yet as Peter made his unfortunate -attempt the point of his elbow had just faintly brushed it. That was -his second _faux pas_. Two were quite enough. - -He had begun to murmur. At the first murmur she had decided that he -was nothing but a college boy--Edith was twenty-two, and anyhow, this -dance, first of its kind since the war, was reminding her, with the -accelerating rhythm of its associations, of something else--of another -dance and another man, a man for whom her feelings had been little -more than a sad-eyed, adolescent mooniness. Edith Bradin was falling -in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett. - -So she came out of the dressing-room at Delmonico's and stood for a -second in the doorway looking over the shoulders of a black dress in -front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified -black moths around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left -drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to and fro of many -scented young beauties--rich perfumes and the fragile memory-laden -dust of fragrant powders. This odor drifting out acquired the tang of -cigarette smoke in the hall, and then settled sensuously down the -stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Psi dance was to be -held. It was an odor she knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly -sweet--the odor of a fashionable dance. - -She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were -powdered to a creamy white. She knew they looked very soft and would -gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them -to-night. The hairdressing had been a success; her reddish mass of -hair was piled and crushed and creased to an arrogant marvel of mobile -curves. Her lips were finely made of deep carmine; the irises of her -eyes were delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a -complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty, flowing -in an even line from a complex coiffure to two small slim feet. - -She thought of what she would say to-night at this revel, faintly -prestiged already by the sounds of high and low laughter and slippered -footsteps, and movements of couples up and down the stairs. She would -talk the language she had talked for many years--her line--made up of -the current expressions, bits of journalese and college slang strung -together into an intrinsic whole, careless, faintly provocative, -delicately sentimental. She stalled faintly as she heard a girl -sitting on the stairs near her say: "You don't know the half of it, -dearie!" - -And as she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes -she drew in a deep breath of pleasure. She dropped her arms to her -side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered -and suggested her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much -nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms. - -"I smell sweet," she said to herself simply, and then came another -thought "I'm made for love." - -She liked the sound of this and thought it again; then inevitable -succession came her new-born riot of dreams about Gordon. The twist of -her imagination which, two months before, had disclosed to her her -unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up -to this dance, this hour. - -For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slow-thinking girl. There -was a streak in her of that same desire to ponder, of that adolescent -idealism that had turned her brother socialist and pacifist. Henry -Bradin had left Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economies, -and had come to New York to pour the latest cures for incurable evils -into the columns of a radical weekly newspaper. - -Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon -Sterrett. There was a quality of weakness in Gordon that she wanted to -take care of; there was a helplessness in him that she wanted to -protect. And she wanted someone she had known a long while, someone -who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired; she wanted to -get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as -many memories, and this weariness, she had decided that next time she -saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed. She would say -something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her -evening. All evenings were her evenings. - -Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a -hurt look and an air of strained formality who presented himself -before her and bowed unusually low. It was the man she had come with, -Peter Himmel. He was tall and humorous, with horned-rimmed glasses and -an air of attractive whimsicality. She suddenly rather disliked -him--probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her. - -"Well," she began, "are you still furious at me?" - -"Not at all." - -She stepped forward and took his arm. - -"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I snapped out that -way. I'm in a bum humor to-night for some strange reason. I'm sorry." - -"S'all right," he mumbled, "don't mention it." - -He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his -late failure? - -"It was a mistake," she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. -"We'll both forget it." For this he hated her. - -A few minutes later they drifted out on the floor while the dozen -swaying, sighing members of the specially hired jazz orchestra -informed the crowded ballroom that "if a saxophone and me are left -alone why then two is com-pan-ee!" - -A man with a mustache cut in. - -"Hello," he began reprovingly. "You don't remember me." - -"I can't just think of your name," she said lightly--"and I know you -so well." - -"I met you up at--" His voice trailed disconsolately off as a man with -very fair hair cut in. Edith murmured a conventional "Thanks, -loads--cut in later," to the _inconnu_. - -The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She -placed him as one of the numerous Jims of her acquaintance--last name -a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in -dancing and found as they started that she was right. - -"Going to be here long?" he breathed confidentially. - -She leaned back and looked up at him. - -"Couple of weeks." - -"Where are you?" - -"Biltmore. Call me up some day." - -"I mean it," he assured her. "I will. We'll go to tea." - -"So do I--Do." - -A dark man cut in with intense formality. - -"You don't remember me, do you?" he said gravely. - -"I should say I do. Your name's Harlan." - -"No-ope. Barlow." - -"Well, I knew there were two syllables anyway. You're the boy that -played the ukulele so well up at Howard Marshall's house party. - -"I played--but not--" - -A man with prominent teeth cut in. Edith inhaled a slight cloud of -whiskey. She liked men to have had something to drink; they were so -much more cheerful, and appreciative and complimentary--much easier to -talk to. - -"My name's Dean, Philip Dean," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember -me, I know, but you used to come up to New Haven with a fellow I -roomed with senior year, Gordon Sterrett." - -Edith looked up quickly. - -"Yes, I went up with him twice--to the Pump and Slipper and the Junior -prom." - -"You've seen him, of course," said Dean carelessly. "He's here -to-night. I saw him just a minute ago." - -Edith started. Yet she had felt quite sure he would be here. - -"Why, no, I haven't--" - -A fat man with red hair cut in. - -"Hello, Edith," he began. - -"Why--hello there--" - -She slipped, stumbled lightly. - -"I'm sorry, dear," she murmured mechanically. - -She had seen Gordon--Gordon very white and listless, leaning against -the side of a doorway, smoking, and looking into the ballroom. Edith -could see that his face was thin and wan--that the hand he raised to -his lips with a cigarette, was trembling. They were dancing quite -close to him now. - -"--They invite so darn many extra fellas that you--" the short man was -saying. - -"Hello, Gordon," called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart -was pounding wildly. - -His large dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her -direction. Her partner turned her away--she heard his voice -bleating---- - -"--but half the stags get lit and leave before long, so--" Then a low -tone at her side. - -"May I, please?" - -She was dancing suddenly with Gordon; one of his arms was around her; -she felt it tighten spasmodically; felt his hand on her back with the -fingers spread. Her hand holding the little lace handkerchief was -crushed in his. - -"Why Gordon," she began breathlessly. - -"Hello, Edith." - -She slipped again--was tossed forward by her recovery until her face -touched the black cloth of his dinner coat. She loved him--she knew -she loved him--then for a minute there was silence while a strange -feeling of uneasiness crept over her. Something was wrong. - -Of a sudden her heart wrenched, and turned over as she realized what -it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a little drunk, and miserably -tired. - -"Oh--" she cried involuntarily. - -His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were -blood-streaked and rolling uncontrollably. - -"Gordon," she murmured, "we'll sit down; I want to sit down." - -They were nearly in mid-floor, but she had seen two men start toward -her from opposite sides of the room, so she halted, seized Gordon's -limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, -her face a little pale under her rouge, her eyes trembling with tears. - -She found a place high up on the soft-carpeted stairs, and he sat down -heavily beside her. - -"Well," he began, staring at her unsteadily, "I certainly am glad to -see you, Edith." - -She looked at him without answering. The effect of this on her was -immeasurable. For years she had seen men in various stages of -intoxication, from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs, and her -feelings had varied from amusement to disgust, but here for the first -time she was seized with a new feeling--an unutterable horror. - -"Gordon," she said accusingly and almost crying, "you look like the -devil." - -He nodded, "I've had trouble, Edith." - -"Trouble?" - -"All sorts of trouble. Don't you say anything to the family, but I'm -all gone to pieces. I'm a mess, Edith." - -His lower lip was sagging. He seemed scarcely to see her. - -"Can't you--can't you," she hesitated, "can't you tell me about it, -Gordon? You know I'm always interested in you." - -She bit her lip--she had intended to say something stronger, but found -at the end that she couldn't bring it out. - -Gordon shook his head dully. "I can't tell you. You're a good woman. I -can't tell a good woman the story." - -"Rot," she said, defiantly. "I think it's a perfect insult to call any -one a good woman in that way. It's a slam. You've been drinking, -Gordon." - -"Thanks." He inclined his head gravely. "Thanks for the information." - -"Why do you drink?" - -"Because I'm so damn miserable." - -"Do you think drinking's going to make it any better?" - -"What you doing--trying to reform me?" - -"No; I'm trying to help you, Gordon. Can't you tell me about it?" - -"I'm in an awful mess. Best thing you can do is to pretend not to know -me." - -"Why, Gordon?" - -"I'm sorry I cut in on you--its unfair to you. You're pure woman--and -all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get some one else to dance with -you." - -He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down -beside her on the stairs. - -"Here, Gordon. You're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting -like a--like a crazy man--" - -"I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. -There's something left me. It doesn't matter." - -"It does, tell me." - -"Just that. I was always queer--little bit different from other boys. -All right in college, but now it's all wrong. Things have been -snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress, and -it's about to come off when a few more hooks go. I'm very gradually -going loony." - -He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away -from him. - -"What _is_ the matter?" - -"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a -dream to me--this Delmonico's--" - -As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light -and gay and careless--a great lethargy and discouragement had come -over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising -boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void. - -"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. -Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith. Don't know why I'm telling -you this." - -She nodded absently. - -"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He -laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've become a damn beggar, a -leech on my friends. I'm a failure. I'm poor as hell." - -Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her -first possible cue to rise. - -Suddenly Gordon's eyes filled with tears. - -"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong -effort at self-control, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know -there's one person left who's interested in me." - -He reached out and patted her hand, and involuntarily she drew it -away. - -"It's mighty fine of you," he repeated. - -"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always -glad to see an old friend--but I'm sorry to see you like this, -Gordon." - -There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary -eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her -face quite expressionless. - -"Shall we dance?" she suggested, coolly. - ---Love is fragile--she was thinking--but perhaps the pieces are saved, -the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new -love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next -lover. - - -V - -Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being -snubbed; having been snubbed, he was hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed -of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery -terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and -explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental -correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He -searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this -attitude in the matter of a simple kiss. - -Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the mustache he went -out into the hall and, making up a sentence, said it over to himself -several times. Considerably deleted, this was it: - -"Well, if any girl ever led a man on and then jolted him, she did--and -she has no kick coming if I go out and get beautifully boiled." - -So he walked through the supper room into a small room adjoining it, -which he had located earlier in the evening. It was a room in which -there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He -took a seat beside the table which held the bottles. - -At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the -turbidity of events, sank into a vague background before which -glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves, -things lay quietly on their shelves; the troubles of the day arranged -themselves in trim formation and at his curt wish of dismissal, -marched off and disappeared. And with the departure of worry came -brilliant, permeating symbolism. Edith became a flighty, negligible -girl, not to be worried over; rather to be laughed at. She fitted like -a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him. He -himself became in a measure symbolic, a type of the continent -bacchanal, the brilliant dreamer at play. - -Then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his -imagination yielded to the warm glow and he lapsed into a state -similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this -point that he noticed that a green baize door near him was open about -two inches, and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were watching -him intently. - -"Hm," murmured Peter calmly. - -The green door closed--and then opened again--a bare half inch this -time. - -"Peek-a-boo," murmured Peter. - -The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of -tense intermittent whispers. - -"One guy." - -"What's he doin'?" - -"He's sittin' lookin'." - -"He better beat it off. We gotta get another li'l' bottle." - -Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness. - -"Now this," he thought, "is most remarkable." - -He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a -mystery. Affecting an elaborate carelessness he arose and waited -around the table--then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door, -precipitating Private Rose into the room. - -Peter bowed. - -"How do you do?" he said. - -Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for -fight, flight, or compromise. - -"How do you do?" repeated Peter politely. - -"I'm o'right." - -"Can I offer you a drink?" - -Private Rose looked at him searchingly, suspecting possible sarcasm. - -"O'right," he said finally. - -Peter indicated a chair. - -"Sit down." - -"I got a friend," said Rose, "I got a friend in there." He pointed to -the green door. - -"By all means let's have him in." - -Peter crossed over, opened the door and welcomed in Private Key, very -suspicious and uncertain and guilty. Chairs were found and the three -took their seats around the punch bowl. Peter gave them each a -highball and offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted -both with some diffidence. - -"Now," continued Peter easily, "may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to -lounge away your leisure hours in a room which is chiefly furnished, -as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race -has progressed to the stage where seventeen thousand chairs are -manufactured on every day except Sunday--" he paused. Rose and Key -regarded him vacantly. "Will you tell me," went on Peter, "why you -choose to rest yourselves on articles, intended for the transportation -of water from one place to another?" - -At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation. - -"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a -building beautifully hung with enormous candelabra, you prefer to -spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?" - -Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed -uproariously; they found it was impossible to look at each other -without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man--they were -laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was -either raving drunk or raving crazy. - -"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and -preparing another. - -They laughed again. - -"Na-ah." - -"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of -the university known as the Sheffield Scientific School." - -"Na-ah." - -"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to -preserve your incognito in this--this paradise of violet blue, as the -newspapers say." - -"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody." - -"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses, "very -interestin'. Had a date with a scrublady, eh?" - -They both denied this indignantly. - -"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A -scrublady's as good as any lady in the world." - -Kipling says 'Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'" - -"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose. - -"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got -a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn girl I ever saw. Refused -to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure -I want to kiss you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger -generation comin' to?" - -"Say tha's hard luck," said Key--"that's awful hard luck." - -"Oh, boy!" said Rose. - -"Have another?" said Peter. - -"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but -it was too far away." - -"A fight?--tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. -"Fight 'em all! I was in the army." - -"This was with a Bolshevik fella." - -"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's, what I say! -Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!" - -"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. - -"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americans! -Have another." - -They had another. - - -VI - -At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special -orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its members, seating -themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of -providing music for the Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a -famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for his feat of -standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played -the latest jazz on his flute. During his performance the lights were -extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another -roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic -colors over the massed dancers. - -Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only -with dbutantes, a state equivalent to the glow of a noble soul after -several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her -music; her partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the -colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it seemed as if days -had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary -subjects with many men. She had been kissed once and made love to six -times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates had danced -with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her -own entourage--that is, half a dozen gallants had singled her out or -were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty; -they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession. - -Several times she had seen Gordon--he had been sitting a long time on -the stairway with his palm to his head, his dull eyes fixed at an -infinite spark on the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and -quite drunk--but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All -that seemed long ago; her mind was passive now, her senses were lulled -to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in -hazy sentimental banter. - -But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral -indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her, sublimely and happily -drunk. She gasped and looked up at him. - -"Why, _Peter_!" - -"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith." - -"Why, Peter, you're a _peach_, you are! Don't you think it's a -bum way of doing--when you're with me?" - -Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish -sentimentality varied with a silly spasmodic smile. - -"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?" - -"You tell it well." - -"I love you--and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly. - -His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful -girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful eyes, like stars above. He wanted -to 'pologize--firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for -drinking--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was -mad at him---- - -The red-fat man cut in, and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly. - -"Did you bring any one?" she asked. - -No. The red-fat man was a stag. - -"Well, would you mind--would it be an awful bother for you to--to take -me home to-night?" (this extreme diffidence was a charming affectation -on Edith's part--she knew that the red-fat man would immediately -dissolve into a paroxysm of delight). - -"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn -glad to." - -"Thanks _loads_! You're awfully sweet." - -She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said -"half-past one" to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her -brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his -newspaper until after one-thirty every evening. - -Edith turned suddenly to her current partner. - -"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?" - -"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course." - -"I mean, what cross street?" - -"Why--let's see--it's on Forty-fourth Street." - -This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the -street and just around the corner, and it occurred to her immediately -that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on -him, a shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him -up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith revelled in doing--an -unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her -imagination--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. - -"My hair is just about to tumble entirely down," she said pleasantly -to her partner; "would you mind if I go and fix it?" - -"Not at all." - -"You're a peach." - -A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted -down a side-stairs, her cheeks glowing with excitement at her little -adventure. She ran by a couple who stood at the door--a weak-chinned -waiter and an over-rouged young lady, in hot dispute--and opening the -outer door stepped into the warm May night. - -VII - -The over-rouged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter -glance--then turned again to the weak-chinned waiter and took up her -argument. - -"You better go up and tell him I'm here," she said defiantly, "or I'll -go up myself." - -"No, you don't!" said George sternly. - -The girl smiled sardonically. - -"Oh, I don't, don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college -fellas and more of 'em know me, and are glad to take me out on a -party, than you ever saw in your whole life." - -"Maybe so--" - -"Maybe so," she interrupted. "Oh, it's all right for any of 'em like -that one that just ran out--God knows where _she_ went--it's all -right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like--but -when I want to see a friend they have some cheap, ham-slinging, -bring-me-a-doughnut waiter to stand here and keep me out." - -"See here," said the elder Key indignantly, "I can't lose my job. -Maybe this fella you're talkin' about doesn't want to see you." - -"Oh, he wants to see me all right." - -"Anyways, how could I find him in all that crowd?" - -"Oh, he'll be there," she asserted confidently. "You just ask anybody -for Gordon Sterrett and they'll point him out to you. They all know -each other, those fellas." - -She produced a mesh bag, and taking out a dollar bill handed it to -George. - -"Here," she said, "here's a bribe. You find him and give him my -message. You tell him if he isn't here in five minutes I'm coming up." - -George shook his head pessimistically, considered the question for a -moment, wavered violently, and then withdrew. - -In less than the allotted time Gordon came down-stairs. He was drunker -than he had been earlier in the evening and in a different way. The -liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust. He was heavy and -lurching--almost incoherent when he talked. - -"'Lo, Jewel," he said thickly. "Came right away, Jewel, I couldn't get -that money. Tried my best." - -"Money nothing!" she snapped. "You haven't been near me for ten days. -What's the matter?" - -He shook his head slowly. - -"Been very low, Jewel. Been sick." - -"Why didn't you tell me if you were sick. I don't care about the money -that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began -neglecting me." - -Again he shook his head. - -"Haven't been neglecting you. Not at all." - -"Haven't! You haven't been near me for three weeks, unless you been so -drunk you didn't know what you were doing." - -"Been sick. Jewel," he repeated, turning his eyes upon her wearily. - -"You're well enough to come and play with your society friends here -all right. You told me you'd meet me for dinner, and you said you'd -have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up." - -"I couldn't get any money." - -"Haven't I just been saying that doesn't matter? I wanted to see -_you_, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your somebody else." - -He denied this bitterly. - -"Then get your hat and come along," she suggested. Gordon -hesitated--and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms -around his neck. - -"Come on with me, Gordon," she said in a half whisper. "We'll go over -to Devineries' and have a drink, and then we can go up to my -apartment." - -"I can't, Jewel,----" - -"You can," she said intensely. - -"I'm sick as a dog!" - -"Well, then, you oughtn't to stay here and dance." - -With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, -Gordon hesitated; then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him -with soft, pulpy lips. - -"All right," he said heavily. "I'll get my hat." - - -VII - -When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night she found the -Avenue deserted. The windows of the big shops were dark; over their -doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs -of the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward Forty-second Street -she saw a commingled blur of lights from the all-night restaurants. -Over on Sixth Avenue the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the -street between the glimmering parallels of light at the station and -streaked along into the crisp dark. But at Forty-fourth Street it was -very quiet. - -Pulling her cloak close about her Edith darted across the Avenue. She -started nervously as a solitary man passed her and said in a hoarse -whisper--"Where bound, kiddo?" She was reminded of a night in her -childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a -dog had howled at her from a mystery-big back yard. - -In a minute she had reached her destination, a two-story, -comparatively old building on Forty-fourth, in the upper window of -which she thankfully detected a wisp of light. It was bright enough -outside for her to make out the sign beside the window--the _New -York Trumpet_. She stepped inside a dark hall and after a second -saw the stairs in the corner. - -Then she was in a long, low room furnished with many desks and hung on -all sides with file copies of newspapers. There were only two -occupants. They were sitting at different ends of the room, each -wearing a green eye-shade and writing by a solitary desk light. - -For a moment she stood uncertainly in the doorway, and then both men -turned around simultaneously and she recognized her brother. - -"Why, Edith!" He rose quickly and approached her in surprise, removing -his eye-shade. He was tall, lean, and dark, with black, piercing eyes -under very thick glasses. They were far-away eyes that seemed always -fixed just over the head of the person to whom he was talking. - -He put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek. - -"What is it?" he repeated in some alarm. - -"I was at a dance across at Delmonico's, Henry," she said excitedly, -"and I couldn't resist tearing over to see you." - -"I'm glad you did." His alertness gave way quickly to a habitual -vagueness. "You oughtn't to be out alone at night though, ought you?" - -The man at the other end of the room had been looking at them -curiously, but at Henry's beckoning gesture he approached. He was -loosely fat with little twinkling eyes, and, having removed his collar -and tie, he gave the impression of a Middle-Western farmer on a Sunday -afternoon. - -"This is my sister," said Henry. "She dropped in to see me." - -"How do you do?" said the fat man, smiling. "My name's Bartholomew, -Miss Bradin. I know your brother has forgotten it long ago." - -Edith laughed politely. - -"Well," he continued, "not exactly gorgeous quarters we have here, are -they?" - -Edith looked around the room. - -"They seem very nice," she replied. "Where do you keep the bombs?" - -"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good--the -bombs. Did you hear her, Henry? She wants to know where we keep the -bombs. Say, that's pretty good." - -Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over -the edge. Her brother took a seat beside her. - -"Well," he asked, absent-mindedly, "how do you like New York this -trip?" - -"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday. -Can't you come to luncheon to-morrow?" - -He thought a moment. - -"I'm especially busy," he objected, "and I hate women in groups." - -"All right," she agreed, unruffled. "Let's you and me have luncheon -together." - -"Very well." - -"I'll call for you at twelve." - -Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but -apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some -parting pleasantry. - -"Well"--he began awkwardly. - -They both turned to him. - -"Well, we--we had an exciting time earlier in the evening." - -The two men exchanged glances. - -"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat -encouraged. "We had a regular vaudeville." - -"Did you really?" - -"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in -the street and began to yell at the sign." - -"Why?" she demanded. - -"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl. -They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd -probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up." - -"Yes," said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith, "you should have been -here." - -He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he -turned abruptly and went back to his desk. - -"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of -her brother. "I mean do they attack you violently and all that?" - -Henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned. - -"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of -us are throw-backs; the soldiers don't know what they want, or what -they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies, -and they seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be -against us. There've been riots all over the city to-night. It's May -Day, you see." - -"Was the disturbance here pretty serious?" - -"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twenty-five of them stopped in -the street about nine o'clock, and began to bellow at the moon." - -"Oh"--She changed the subject. "You're glad to see me, Henry?" - -"Why, sure." - -"You don't seem to be." - -"I am." - -"I suppose you think I'm a--a waster. Sort of the World's Worst -Butterfly." - -Henry laughed. - -"Not at all. Have a good time while you're young. Why? Do I seem like -the priggish and earnest youth?" - -"No--" she paused,"--but somehow I began thinking how absolutely -different the party I'm on is from--from all your purposes. It seems -sort of--of incongruous, doesn't it?--me being at a party like that, -and you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party -impossible ever any more, if your ideas work." - -"I don't think of it that way. You're young, and you're acting just as -you were brought up to act. Go ahead--have a good time?" - -Her feet, which had been idly swinging, stopped and her voice dropped -a note. - -"I wish you'd--you'd come back to Harrisburg and have a good time. Do -you feel sure that you're on the right track----" - -"You're wearing beautiful stockings," he interrupted. "What on earth -are they?" - -"They're embroidered," she replied, glancing down; "Aren't they -cunning?" She raised her skirts and uncovered slim, silk-sheathed -calves. "Or do you disapprove of silk stockings?" - -He seemed slightly exasperated, bent his dark eyes on her piercingly. - -"Are you trying to make me out as criticizing you in any way, Edith?" - -"Not at all-----" - -She paused. Bartholomew had uttered a grunt. She turned and saw that -he had left his desk and was standing at the window. - -"What is it?" demanded Henry. - -"People," said Bartholomew, and then after an instant: "Whole jam of -them. They're coming from Sixth Avenue." - -"People?" - -The fat man pressed his nose to the pane. - -"Soldiers, by God!" he said emphatically. "I had an idea they'd come -back." - -Edith jumped to her feet, and running over joined Bartholomew at the -window. - -"There's a lot of them!" she cried excitedly. "Come here, Henry!" - -Henry readjusted his shade, but kept his seat. - -"Hadn't we better turn out the lights?" suggested Bartholomew. - -"No. They'll go away in a minute." - -"They're not," said Edith, peering from the window. "They're not even -thinking of going away. There's more of them coming. Look--there's a -whole crowd turning the corner of Sixth Avenue," - -By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp she could see -that the sidewalk was crowded with men. They were mostly in uniform, -some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an -incoherent clamor and shouting. - -Henry rose, and going to the window exposed himself as a long -silhouette against the office lights. Immediately the shouting became -a steady yell, and a rattling fusillade of small missiles, corners of -tobacco plugs, cigarette-boxes, and even pennies beat against the -window. The sounds of the racket now began floating up the stairs as -the folding doors revolved. - -"They're coming up!" cried Bartholomew. - -Edith turned anxiously to Henry. - -"They're coming up, Henry." - -From down-stairs in the lower hall their cries were now quite audible. - -"--God Damn Socialists!" - -"Pro-Germans! Boche-lovers!" - -"Second floor, front! Come on!" - -"We'll get the sons--" - -The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the -clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, -that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had -seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then -the door opened and an overflow of men were forced into the room--not -the leaders, but simply those who happened to be in front. - -"Hello, Bo!" - -"Up late, ain't you!" - -"You an' your girl. Damn _you_!" - -She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the -front, where they wobbled fatuously--one of them was short and dark, -the other was tall and weak of chin. - -Henry stepped forward and raised his hand. - -"Friends!" he said. - -The clamor faded into a momentary stillness, punctuated with -mutterings. - -"Friends!" he repeated, his far-away eyes fixed over the heads of the -crowd, "you're injuring no one but yourselves by breaking in here -to-night. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you -in all fairness--" - -"Pipe down!" - -"I'll say you do!" - -"Say, who's your lady friend, buddy?" - -A man in civilian clothes, who had been pawing over a table, suddenly -held up a newspaper. - -"Here it is!" he shouted, "They wanted the Germans to win the war!" - -A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in and of a sudden the -room was full of men all closing around the pale little group at the -back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in -front. The short dark one had disappeared. - -She edged slightly backward, stood close to the open window, through -which came a clear breath of cool night air. - -Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging -forward, glimpsed the fat man swinging a chair over his -head--instantly the lights went out and she felt the push of warm -bodies under rough cloth, and her ears were full of shouting and -trampling and hard breathing. - -A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, -and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window -with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of -the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on -the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall -soldier with tie weak chin. - -Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged -blindly toward the thickest of the scuffling. She heard grunts, -curses, the muffled impact of fists. - -"Henry!" she called frantically, "Henry!" - -Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other -figures in the room. She heard a voice, deep, bullying, authoritative; -she saw yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. -The cries became more scattered. The scuffling increased and then -stopped. - -Suddenly the lights were on and the room was full of policemen, -clubbing left and right. The deep voice boomed out: - -"Here now! Here now! Here now!" - -And then: - -"Quiet down and get out! Here now!" - -The room seemed to empty like a wash-bowl. A policeman fast-grappled -in the corner released his hold on his soldier antagonist and started -him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith -perceived now that it came from a bull-necked police captain standing -near the door. - -"Here now! This is no way! One of your own sojers got shoved out of -the back window an' killed hisself!" - -"Henry!" called Edith, "Henry!" - -She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her; -she brushed between two others; fought, shrieked, and beat her way to -a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk. - -"Henry," she cried passionately, "what's the matter? What's the -matter? Did they hurt you?" - -His eyes were shut. He groaned and then looking up said disgustedly-- - -"They broke my leg. My God, the fools!" - -"Here now!" called the police captain. "Here now! Here now!" - - -IX - -"Childs', Fifty-ninth Street," at eight o'clock of any morning differs -from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the -degree of polish on the frying-pans. You will see there a crowd of -poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes, trying to look -straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor -people. But Childs', Fifty-ninth, four hours earlier is quite unlike -any Childs' restaurant from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine. -Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus -girls, college boys, debutantes, rakes, _filles de joie_--a not -unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway, and even of Fifth -Avenue. - -In the early morning of May the second it was unusually full. Over the -marble-topped tables were bent the excited faces of flappers whose -fathers owned individual villages. They were eating buckwheat cakes -and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto, an accomplishment that it -would have been utterly impossible for them to repeat in the same -place four hours later. - -Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Psi dance at Delmonico's -except for several chorus girls from a midnight revue who sat at a -side table and wished they'd taken off a little more make-up after the -show. Here and there a drab, mouse-like figure, desperately out of -place, watched the butterflies with a weary, puzzled curiosity. But -the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, -and celebration was still in the air. - -Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab -figures. How he had got himself from Forty-fourth Street to -Fifty-ninth Street after the riot was only a hazy half-memory. He had -seen the body of Carrol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and -then he had started up town with two or three soldiers. Somewhere -between Forty-fourth Street and Fifty-ninth Street the other soldiers -had met some women and disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus -Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of Childs' to minister to his -craving for coffee and doughnuts. He walked in and sat down. - -All around him floated airy, inconsequential chatter and high-pitched -laughter. At first he failed to understand, but after a puzzled five -minutes he realized that this was the aftermath of some gay party. -Here and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally -and familiarly between the tables, shaking hands indiscriminately and -pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters, -bearing cakes and eggs aloft, swore at him silently, and bumped him -out of the way. To Rose, seated at the most inconspicuous and least -crowded table, the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and -riotous pleasure. - -He became gradually aware, after a few moments, that the couple seated -diagonally across from him with their backs to the crowd, were not the -least interesting pair in the room. The man was drunk. He wore a -dinner coat with a dishevelled tie and shirt swollen by spillings of -water and wine. His eyes, dim and blood-shot, roved unnaturally from -side to side. His breath came short between his lips. - -"He's been on a spree!" thought Rose. - -The woman was almost if not quite sober. She was pretty, with dark -eyes and feverish high color, and she kept her active eyes fixed on -her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she -would lean and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by -inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish and repellent -wink. - -Rose scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes until the woman gave him -a quick, resentful look; then he shifted his gaze to two of the most -conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted -circuit of the tables. To his surprise he recognized in one of them -the young man by whom he had been so ludicrously entertained at -Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague -sentimentality, not unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen -thirty-five feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoa-nut. - -"He was a darn good guy," thought Rose mournfully. "He was a darn good -guy, o'right. That was awful hard luck about him." - -The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table -and the next, addressing friends and strangers alike with jovial -familiarity. Suddenly Rose saw the fair-haired one with the prominent -teeth stop, look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then -begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to side. - -The man with the blood-shot eyes looked up. - -"Gordy," said the promenader with the prominent teeth, "Gordy." - -"Hello," said the man with the stained shirt thickly. - -Prominent teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair, giving -the woman a glance of aloof condemnation. - -"What'd I tell you Gordy?" - -Gordon stirred in his seat. - -"Go to hell!" he said. - -Dean continued to stand there shaking his finger. The woman began to -get angry, - -"You go way!" she cried fiercely. "You're drunk, that's what you are!" - -"So's he," suggested Dean, staying the motion of his finger and -pointing it at Gordon. - -Peter Himmel ambled up, owlish now and oratorically inclined. - -"Here now," he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute -between children. "Wha's all trouble?" - -"You take your friend away," said Jewel tartly. "He's bothering us." - -"What's at?" - -"You heard me!" she said shrilly. "I said to take your drunken friend -away." - -Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a -waiter came hurrying up. - -"You gotta be more quiet!" - -"That fella's drunk," she cried. "He's insulting us." - -"Ah-ha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned -to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends. Been tryin' help him, haven't I, -Gordy?" - -Gordy looked up. - -"Help me? Hell, no!" - -Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm assisted him to his -feet. - -"Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half -whisper. "Let's us get out of here. This fella's got a mean drunk on." - -Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the -door. Jewel turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their -flight. - -"I know all about _you_!" she said fiercely. "Nice friend, you -are, I'll say. He told me about you." - -Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through -the curious crowd, paid their check, and went out. - -"You'll have to sit down," said the waiter to Peter after they had -gone. - -"What's 'at? Sit down?" - -"Yes--or get out." - -Peter turned to Dean. - -"Come on," he suggested. "Let's beat up this waiter." - -"All right." - -They advanced toward him, their faces grown stern. The waiter -retreated. - -Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and -picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a -languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by. - -"Hey! Ease up!" - -"Put him out!" - -"Sit down, Peter!" - -"Cut out that stuff!" - -Peter laughed and bowed. - -"Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will -lend me some more hash and a tall hat we will go on with the act." - -The bouncer bustled up. - -"You've gotta get out!" he said to Peter. - -"Hell, no!" - -"He's my friend!" put in Dean indignantly. - -A crowd of waiters were gathering. "Put him out!" - -"Better go, Peter." - -There was a short, struggle and the two were edged and pushed toward -the door. - -"I got a hat and a coat here!" cried Peter. - -"Well, go get 'em and be spry about it!" - -The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air -of extreme cunning, rushed immediately around to the other table, -where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the -exasperated waiters. - -"Think I just better wait a l'il longer," he announced. - -The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and four -another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another -struggle took place before the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he -was finally pinioned after overturning a sugar-bowl and several cups -of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk, where Peter -attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at -policemen. - -But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another -phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary -"Oh-h-h!" from every person in the restaurant. - -The great plate-glass front had turned to a deep blue, the color of a -Maxfield Parrish moonlight--a blue that seemed to press close upon the -pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in -Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouetting the great -statue of the immortal Christopher, and mingling in a curious and -uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside. - - -X - -Mr. In and Mr. Out are not listed by the census-taker. You will search -for them in vain through the social register or the births, marriages, -and deaths, or the grocer's credit list. Oblivion has swallowed them -and the testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy, -and inadmissible in a court of law. Yet I have it upon the best -authority that for a brief space Mr. In and Mr. Out lived, breathed, -answered to their names and radiated vivid personalities of their own. - -During the brief span of their lives they walked in their native -garments down the great highway of a great nation; were laughed at, -sworn at, chased, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no -more. - -They were already taking form dimly, when a taxi cab with the top open -breezed down Broadway in the faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car -sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out discussing with amazement the blue -light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of -Christopher Columbus, discussing with bewilderment the old, gray faces -of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown -bits of paper on a gray lake. They were agreed on all things, from the -absurdity of the bouncer in Childs' to the absurdity of the business -of life. They were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the -morning had awakened in their glowing souls. Indeed, so fresh and -vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt it should be -expressed by loud cries. - -"Ye-ow-ow!" hooted Peter, making a megaphone with his hands--and Dean -joined in with a call that, though equally significant and symbolic, -derived its resonance from its very inarticulateness. - -"Yo-ho! Yea! Yoho! Yo-buba!" - -Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; -Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a -yell of, "Look where you're aimin'!" in a pained and grieved voice. At -Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a -very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: - -"Some party, boys!" - -At Forty-ninth Street Peter turned to Dean. "Beautiful morning," he -said gravely, squinting up his owlish eyes. - -"Probably is." - -"Go get some breakfast, hey?" - -Dean agreed--with additions. - -"Breakfast and liquor." - -"Breakfast and liquor," repeated Peter, and they looked at each other, -nodding. "That's logical," - -Then they both burst into loud laughter. - -"Breakfast and liquor! Oh, gosh!" - -"No such thing," announced Peter. - -"Don't serve it? Ne'mind. We force 'em serve it Bring pressure bear." - -"Bring logic bear." - -The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed along a cross street, and -stopped in front of a heavy tomb-like building in Fifth Avenue. - -"What's idea?" - -The taxi-driver informed them that this was Delmonico's. - -This was somewhat puzzling. They were forced to devote several minutes -to intense concentration, for if such an order had been given there -must have been a reason for it. - -"Somep'm 'bouta coat," suggested the taxi-man. - -That was it. Peter's overcoat and hat. He had left them at -Delmonico's. Having decided this, they disembarked from the taxi and -strolled toward the entrance arm in arm. - -"Hey!" said the taxi-driver. - -"Huh?" - -"You better pay me." - -They shook their heads in shocked negation. - -"Later, not now--we give orders, you wait." - -The taxi-driver objected; he wanted his money now. With the scornful -condescension of men exercising tremendous self-control they paid him. - -Inside Peter groped in vain through a dim, deserted check-room in -search of his coat and derby. - -"Gone, I guess. Somebody stole it." - -"Some Sheff student." - -"All probability." - -"Never mind," said Dean, nobly. "I'll leave mine here too--then we'll -both be dressed the same." - -He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his -roving glance was caught and held magnetically by two large squares of -cardboard tacked to the two coat-room doors. The one on the left-hand -door bore the word "In" in big black letters, and the one on the -right-hand door flaunted the equally emphatic word "Out." - -"Look!" he exclaimed happily--- - -Peter's eyes followed his pointing finger. - -"What?" - -"Look at the signs. Let's take 'em." - -"Good idea." - -"Probably pair very rare an' valuable signs. Probably come in handy." - -Peter removed the left-hand sign from the door and endeavored to -conceal it about his person. The sign being of considerable -proportions, this was a matter of some difficulty. An idea flung -itself at him, and with an air of dignified mystery he turned his -back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around, and stretching -out his arms displayed himself to the admiring Dean. He had inserted -the sign in his vest, completely covering his shirt front. In effect, -the word "In" had been painted upon his shirt in large black letters. - -"Yoho!" cheered Dean. "Mister In." - -He inserted his own sign in like manner. - -"Mister Out!" he announced triumphantly. "Mr. In meet Mr. Out." - -They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they -rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth. - -"Yoho!" - -"We probably get a flock of breakfast." - -"We'll go--go to the Commodore." - -Arm in arm they sallied out the door, and turning east in Forty-fourth -Street set out for the Commodore. - -As they came out a short dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had -been wandering listlessly along the sidewalk, turned to look at them. - -He started over as though to address them, but as they immediately -bent on him glances of withering unrecognition, he waited until they -had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about -forty paces, chuckling to himself and saying, "Oh, boy!" over and over -under his breath, in delighted, anticipatory tones. - -Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning -their future plans. - -"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and -indivisible." - -"We want both 'em!" - -"Both 'em!" - -It was quite light now, and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on -the pair. Obviously they were engaged in a discussion, which afforded -each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter -would seize upon them so violently that, still with their arms -interlocked, they would bend nearly double. - -Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the -sleepy-eyed doorman, navigated the revolving door with some -difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but -startled lobby to the dining-room, where a puzzled waiter showed them -an obscure table in a corner. They studied the bill of fare -helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles. - -"Don't see any liquor here," said Peter reproachfully. - -The waiter became audible but unintelligible. - -"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems -to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon bill of -fare." - -"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the -waiter--"Bring us--bring us--" he scanned the bill of fare anxiously. -"Bring us a quart of champagne and a--a--probably ham sandwich." - -The waiter looked doubtful. - -"Bring it!" roared Mr. In and Mr. Out in chorus. - -The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during -which they were subjected without their knowledge to a careful -scrutiny by the head-waiter. Then the champagne arrived, and at the -sight of it Mr. In and Mr. Out became jubilant. - -"Imagine their objecting to us having, champagne for breakfast--jus' -imagine." - -They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, -but the feat was too much for them. It was impossible for their joint -imaginations to conjure up a world where any one might object any one -else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an -enormous _pop_ and their glasses immediately foamed with pale -yellow froth. - -"Here's health, Mr. In." - -"Here's same to you, Mr. Out." - -The waiter withdrew; the minutes passed; the champagne became low in -the bottle. - -"It's--it's mortifying," said Dean suddenly. - -"Wha's mortifying?" - -"The idea their objecting us having champagne breakfast." - -"Mortifying?" Peter considered. "Yes, tha's word--mortifying." - -Again they collapsed into laughter, howled, swayed, rocked back and -forth in their chairs, repeating the word "mortifying" over and over -to each other--each repetition seeming to make it only more -brilliantly absurd. - -After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another quart. Their -anxious waiter consulted his immediate superior, and this discreet -person gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be -served. Their check was brought. - -Five minutes later, arm in arm, they left the Commodore and made their -way through a curious, staring crowd along Forty-second Street, and up -Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they -rose to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast and -standing unnaturally erect. - -Once in the dining-room they repeated their performance. They were -torn between intermittent convulsive laughter and sudden spasmodic -discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their -dispositions. Their watches told them that it was now nine o'clock, -and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a memorable party, -something that they would remember always. They lingered over the -second bottle. Either of them had only to mention the word -"mortifying" to send them both into riotous gasps. The dining-room was -whirring and shifting now; a curious lightness permeated and rarefied -the heavy air. - -They paid their check and walked out into the lobby. - -It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved for the -thousandth time that morning, and admitted into the lobby a very pale -young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a -much-rumpled evening dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, -obviously not an appropriate escort. - -At the top of the stairs this couple encountered Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -"Edith," began Mr. In, stepping toward her hilariously and making a -sweeping bow, "darling, good morning." - -The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her -permission to throw this man summarily out of the way. - -"'Scuse familiarity," added Peter, as an afterthought. "Edith, -good-morning." - -He seized Dean's elbow and impelled him into the foreground. - -"Meet Mr. In, Edith, my bes' frien'. Inseparable. Mr. In and Mr. Out." - -Mr. Out advanced and bowed; in fact, he advanced so far and bowed so -low that he tipped slightly forward and only kept his balance by -placing a hand lightly on Edith's shoulder. - -"I'm Mr. Out, Edith," he mumbled pleasantly. "S'misterin Misterout." - -"'Smisterinanout," said Peter proudly. - -But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite -speck in the gallery above her. She nodded slightly to the stout man, -who advanced bull-like and with a sturdy brisk gesture pushed Mr. In -and Mr. Out to either side. Through this alley he and Edith walked. - -But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again--stopped and pointed to a -short, dark soldier who was eying the crowd in general, and the -tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular, with a sort of puzzled, -spell-bound awe. - -"There," cried Edith. "See there!" - -Her voice rose, became somewhat shrill. Her pointing finger shook -slightly. - -"There's the soldier who broke my brother's leg." - -There were a dozen exclamations; a man in a cutaway coat left his -place near the desk and advanced alertly; the stout person made a sort -of lightning-like spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the -lobby closed around the little group and blotted them from the sight -of Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -But to Mr. In and Mr. Out this event was merely a particolored -iridescent segment of a whirring, spinning world. - -They heard loud voices; they saw the stout man spring; the picture -suddenly blurred. - -Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. - -"What floor, please?" said the elevator man. - -"Any floor," said Mr. In. - -"Top floor," said Mr. Out. - -"This is the top floor," said the elevator man. - -"Have another floor put on," said Mr. Out. - -"Higher," said Mr. In. - -"Heaven," said Mr. Out. - - -XI - -In a bedroom of a small hotel just off Sixth Avenue Gordon Sterrett -awoke with a pain in the back of his head and a sick throbbing in all -his veins. He looked at the dusky gray shadows in the corners of the -room and at a raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where -it had long been in use. He saw clothes, dishevelled, rumpled clothes -on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The -windows were tight shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thrown a -dust-filled beam across the sill--a beam broken by the head of the -wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet--comatose, -drugged, his eyes wide, his mind clicking wildly like an unoiled -machine. - -It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with -the dust on it and the rip on the large leather chair that he had the -sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds -after that before that he realized that he was irrevocably married to -Jewel Hudson. - -He went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting -goods store. Then he took a took a taxi to the room where he had been -living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table -that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just -behind the temple. - - - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK - - -_room in the down-stairs of a summer cottage. High around the wall -runs an art frieze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and -a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet -and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his -feet and so on. In one place on the frieze there is an overlapping--here -we have half a fisherman with half a pile of nets at his foot, -crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. -The frieze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could -continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects -in the room--a blue porcelain bath-tub. It has character, this -bath-tub. It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small with a -high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump; discouraged, -however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its -environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. But it grumpily refuses -to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs--which brings us -neatly to the second object in the room:_ - -_is a girl--clearly an appendage to the bath-tub, only her head and -throat--beautiful girls have throats instead of necks--and a -suggestion of shoulder appearing above the side. For the first ten -minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she -really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether -it is being cheated and she is dressed._ - -_The girl's name is_ JULIE MARVIS. _From the proud way she sits -up in the bath-tub we deduce that she is not very tall and that she -carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper tip rolls a little -and reminds you of an Easter Bunny, She is within whispering distance -of twenty years old._ - -_One thing more--above and to the right of the bath-tub is a window. -It is narrow and has a wide sill; it lets in much sunshine, but -effectually prevents any one who looks in from seeing the bath-tub. -You begin to suspect the plot?_ - -_We open, conventionally enough, with a song, but, as the startled -gasp of the audience quite drowns out the first half, we will give -only the last of it:_ - -JULIE: (_In an airy sophrano--enthusiastico_) - - When Caesar did the Chicago - He was a graceful child, - Those sacred chickens - Just raised the dickens - The Vestal Virgins went wild. - Whenever the Nervii got nervy - He gave them an awful razz - They shook is their shoes - With the Consular blues - The Imperial Roman Jazz - -(_During the wild applause that follows_ JULIE _modestly moves -her arms and makes waves on the surface of the water--at least we -suppose she does. Then the door on the left opens and_ LOIS MARVIS -_enters, dressed but carrying garments and towels._ LOIS _is a -year older than_ JULIE _and is nearly her double in face and -voice, but in her clothes and expression are the marks of the -conservative. Yes, you've guessed it. Mistaken identity is the old -rusty pivot upon which the plot turns._) - -LOIS: (_Starting_) Oh, 'scuse me. I didn't know you were here. - -JULIE: Oh, hello. I'm giving a little concert-- - -LOIS: (_Interrupting_) Why didn't you lock the door? - -JULIE: Didn't I? - -LOIS: Of course you didn't. Do you think I just walked through it? - -JULIE: I thought you picked the lock, dearest. - -LOIS: You're _so_ careless. - -JULIE: No. I'm happy as a garbage-man's dog and I'm giving a little -concert. - -LOIS: (_Severely_) Grow up! - -JULIE: (_Waving a pink arm around the room_) The walls reflect -the sound, you see. That's why there's something very beautiful about -singing in a bath-tub. It gives an effect of surpassing loveliness. -Can I render you a selection? - -LOIS: I wish you'd hurry out of the tub. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head thoughtfully_) Can't be hurried. This -is my kingdom at present, Godliness. - -LOIS: Why the mellow name? - -JULIE: Because you're next to Cleanliness. Don't throw anything -please! - -LOIS: How long will you be? - -JULIE: (_After some consideration_) Not less than fifteen nor -more than twenty-five minutes. - -LOIS: As a favor to me will you make it ten? - -JULIE: (_Reminiscing_) Oh, Godliness, do you remember a day in -the chill of last January when one Julie, famous for her Easter-rabbit -smile, was going out and there was scarcely any hot water and young -Julie had just filled the tub for her own little self when the wicked -sister came and did bathe herself therein, forcing the young Julie to -perform her ablutions with cold cream--which is expensive and a darn -lot of troubles? - -LOIS: (_Impatiently_) Then you won't hurry? - -JULIE: Why should I? - -LOIS: I've got a date. - -JULIE: Here at the house? - -LOIS: None of your business. - -(_JULIE shrugs the visible tips of her shoulders and stirs the water -into ripples._) - -JULIE: So be it. - -LOIS: Oh, for Heaven's sake, yes! I have a date here, at the house--in -a way. - -JULIE: In a way? - -LOIS: He isn't coming in. He's calling for me and we're walking. - -JULIE: (_Raising her eyebrows_) Oh, the plot clears. It's that -literary Mr. Calkins. I thought you promised mother you wouldn't -invite him in. - -LOIS: (_Desperately_) She's so idiotic. She detests him because -he's just got a divorce. Of course she's had more expedience than I -have, but-- - -JULIE: (_Wisely_) Don't let her kid you! Experience is the -biggest gold brick in the world. All older people have it for sale. - -LOIS: I like him. We talk literature. - -JULIE: Oh, so that's why I've noticed all these weighty, books around -the house lately. - -LOIS: He lends them to me. - -JULIE: Well, you've got to play his game. When in Rome do as the -Romans would like to do. But I'm through with books. I'm all educated. - -LOIS: You're very inconsistent--last summer you read every day. - -JULIE: If I were consistent I'd still be living on warm milk out of a -bottle. - -LOIS: Yes, and probably my bottle. But I like Mr. Calkins. - -JULIE: I never met him. - -LOIS: Well, will you hurry up? - -JULIE: Yes. (_After a pause_) I wait till the water gets tepid -and then I let in more hot. - -LOIS: (_Sarcastically_) How interesting! - -JULIE: 'Member when we used to play "soapo"? - -LOIS: Yes--and ten years old. I'm really quite surprised that you -don't play it still. - -JULIE: I do. I'm going to in a minute. - -LOIS: Silly game. - -JULIE: (_Warmly_) No, it isn't. It's good for the nerves. I'll -bet you've forgotten how to play it. - -LOIS: (_Defiantly_) No, I haven't. You--you get the tub all full -of soapsuds and then you get up on the edge and slide down. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head scornfully_) Huh! That's only part of -it. You've got to slide down without touching your hand or feet-- - -LOIS:(_Impatiently_) Oh, Lord! What do I care? I wish we'd either -stop coming here in the summer or else get a house with two bath-tubs. - -JULIE: You can buy yourself a little tin one, or use the hose----- - -LOIS: Oh, shut up! - -JULIE: (_Irrelevantly_) Leave the towel. - -LOIS: What? - -JULIE: Leave the towel when you go. - -LOIS: This towel? - -JULIE: (_Sweetly_) Yes, I forgot my towel. - -LOIS: (_Looking around for the first time_) Why, you idiot! You -haven't even a kimono. - -JULIE: (_Also looking around_) Why, so I haven't. - -LOIS: (_Suspicion growing on her_) How did you get here? - -JULIE: (_Laughing_) I guess I--I guess I whisked here. You know--a -white form whisking down the stairs and-- - -LOIS: (_Scandalized_) Why, you little wretch. Haven't you any -pride or self-respect? - -JULIE: Lots of both. I think that proves it. I looked very well. I -really am rather cute in my natural state. - -LOIS: Well, you-- - -JULIE: (_Thinking aloud_) I wish people didn't wear any clothes. -I guess I ought to have been a pagan or a native or something. - -LOIS: You're a-- - -JULIE: I dreamt last night that one Sunday in church a small boy -brought in a magnet that attracted cloth. He attracted the clothes -right off of everybody; put them in an awful state; people were crying -and shrieking and carrying on as if they'd just discovered their skins -for the first time. Only _I_ didn't care. So I just laughed. I -had to pass the collection plate because nobody else would. - -LOIS: (_Who has turned a deaf ear to this speech_) Do you mean to -tell me that if I hadn't come you'd have run back to your -room--un--unclothed? - -JULIE: _Au naturel_ is so much nicer. - -LOIS: Suppose there had been some one in the living-room. - -JULIE: There never has been yet. - -LOIS: Yet! Good grief! How long-- - -JULIE: Besides, I usually have a towel. - -LOIS: (_Completely overcome_) Golly! You ought to be spanked. I -hope, you get caught. I hope there's a dozen ministers in the -living-room when you come out--and their wives, and their daughters. - -JULIE: There wouldn't be room for them in the living-room, answered -Clean Kate of the Laundry District. - -LOIS: All right. You've made your own--bath-tub; you can lie in it. - -(_LOIS starts determinedly for the door._) - -JULIE: (_In alarm_) Hey! Hey! I don't care about the k'mono, but -I want the towel. I can't dry myself on a piece of soap and a wet -wash-rag. - -LOIS: (_Obstinately_). I won't humor such a creature. You'll have -to dry yourself the best way you can. You can roll on the floor like -the animals do that don't wear any clothes. - -JULIE: (_Complacent again_) All right. Get out! - -LOIS: (_Haughtily_) Huh! - -(JULIE _turns on the cold water and with her finger directs a -parabolic stream at LOIS. LOIS retires quickly, slamming the door -after her. JULIE laughs and turns off the water_) - -JULIE: (Singing) - - When the Arrow-collar man - Meets the D'jer-kiss girl - On the smokeless Sante F - Her Pebeco smile - Her Lucile style - De dum da-de-dum one day-- - -(_She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps, -but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for -a moment--then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a -telephone_) - -JULIE: Hello! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_) -Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do -you want? (_No answer_) I believe you're a ghost. Are you? (_No -answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on -the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to -the spigot_) If you're the plumber that's a mean trick. Turn it on -for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don't argue! I want -water--water! _Water_! - -(_A young man's head appears in the window--a head decorated with a -slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they -can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean, -they decide him to speak_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted? - -JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water's no good for fits. - -JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits! - -THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping - -JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not! - -THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go -out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody -will gossip? - -JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It'd be more than -gossip--it'd be a regular scandal. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you're going it a little strong. Your family -might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are -suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old -women. Come on. - -JULIE: You don't know what you ask. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us? - -JULIE: A crowd? There'd be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving -New York hourly. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning? - -JULIE: Why? - -THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls. - -JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or -tapestry or panelling or something. - -JULIE: There's not even any furniture in here. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house! - -JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It's so nice talking to you like -this--when you're merely a voice. I'm rather glad I can't see you. - -JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing? - -JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess -it's a sort of pinkish white. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you? - -JULIE: Very. It's--it's old. I've had it for a long while. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes. - -JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear -it. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I'll bet it's divine. Is it in -style? - -JULIE: Quite. It's very simple, standard model. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut -my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And -I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand -there, water stretching on both sides of you-- - -(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young -man blinks_) - -YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it? - -JULIE: Yes. You're--you're very poetic, aren't you? - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when -I am stirred. - -JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon-- - -THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day -the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was "Evangeline." - -JULIE: That's a fib. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say "Evangeline"? I meant "The Skeleton in -Armor." - -JULIE: I'm a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one -verse: - - Parker and Davis - Sittin' on a fence - Tryne to make a dollar - Outa fif-teen cents. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature? - -JULIE: If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way -with people. I usually like 'em not too ancient or complicated or -depressing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I've read enormously. You told me last night -that you were very fond of Walter Scott. - -JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let's see. Yes, I've read "Ivanhoe" -and "The Last of the Mohicans." - -THE YOUNG MAN: That's by Cooper. - -JULIE: (_Angrily_) "Ivanhoe" is? You're crazy! I guess I know. I -read it. THE YOUNG MAN: "The Last of the Mohicans" is by Cooper. - -JULIE: What do I care! I like O. Henry. I don't see how he ever wrote -those stories. Most of them he wrote in prison. "The Ballad of Reading -Gaol" he made up in prison. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Biting his lip_) Literature--literature! How -much it has meant to me! - -JULIE: Well, as Gaby Deslys said to Mr. Bergson, with my looks and -your brains there's nothing we couldn't do. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Laughing_) You certainly are hard to keep up -with. One day you're awfully pleasant and the next you're in a mood. -If I didn't understand your temperament so well-- - -JULIE: (_Impatiently_) Oh, you're one of these amateur -character-readers, are you? Size people up in five minutes and then -look wise whenever they're mentioned. I hate that sort of thing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I don't boast of sizing you up. You're most mysterious, -I'll admit. - -JULIE: There's only two mysterious people in history. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Who are they? - -JULIE: The Man with the Iron Mask and the fella who says "ug uh-glug -uh-glug uh-glug" when the line is busy. - -THE YOUNG MAN: You _are_ mysterious, I love you. You're -beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that's the rarest known -combination. - -JULIE: You're a historian. Tell me if there are any bath-tubs in -history. I think they've been frightfully neglected. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Bath-tubs! Let's see. Well, Agamemnon was stabbed in -his bath-tub. And Charlotte Corday stabbed Marat in his bath-tub. - -JULIE: (_Sighing_) Way back there! Nothing new besides the sun, -is there? Why only yesterday I picked up a musical-comedy score that -mast have been at least twenty years old; and there on the cover it -said "The Shimmies of Normandy," but shimmie was spelt the old way, -with a "C." - -THE YOUNG MAN: I loathe these modern dances. Oh, Lois, I wish I could -see you. Come to the window. - -(_There is a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the flow -starts from the open taps. Julie turns them off quickly_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Puzzled_) What on earth was that? - -JULIE: (_Ingeniously_) I heard something, too. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Sounded like running water. - -JULIE: Didn't it? Strange like it. As a matter of fact I was filling -the gold-fish bowl. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Still puzzled_) What was that banging noise? - -JULIE: One of the fish snapping his golden jaws. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_With sudden resolution_) Lois, I love you. I am -not a mundane man but I am a forger--- - -JULIE: (_Interested at once_) Oh, how fascinating. - -THE YOUNG MAN:--a forger ahead. Lois, I want you. - -JULIE: (_Skeptically_) Huh! What you really want is for the world -to come to attention and stand there till you give "Rest!" - -THE YOUNG MAN: Lois I--Lois I-- - -(_He stops as Lois opens the door, comes in, and bangs it behind -her. She looks peevishly at _JULIE _and then suddenly catches -sight of the young man in the window_) - -LOIS: (_In horror_) Mr. Calkins! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Surprised_) Why I thought you said you were -wearing pinkish white! - -(_After one despairing stare _LOIS _ shrieks, throws up her -hands in surrender, and sinks to the floor._) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_In great alarm_) Good Lord! She's fainted! I'll -be right in. - -(JULIE'S _eyes light on the towel which has slipped from_ LOIS'S -_inert hand._) - -JULIE: In that case I'll be right out. - -(_She puts her hands on the side of the tub to lift herself out and -a murmur, half gasp, half sigh, ripples from the audience. - -A Belasco midnight comes guickly down and blots out the stage._) - -CURTAIN. - - - - -_FANTASIES_ - - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ - -1 - - -John T. Unger came from a family that had been well known in Hades--a -small town on the Mississippi River--for several generations. John's -father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated -contest; Mrs. Unger was known "from hot-box to hot-bed," as the local -phrase went, for her political addresses; and young John T. Unger, who -had just turned sixteen, had danced all the latest dances from New -York before he put on long trousers. And now, for a certain time, he -was to be away from home. That respect for a New England education -which is the bane of all provincial places, which drains them yearly -of their most promising young men, had seized upon his parents. -Nothing would suit them but that he should go to St. Midas's School -near Boston--Hades was too small to hold their darling and gifted son. - -Now in Hades--as you know if you ever have been there--the names of -the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean very -little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that, -though they make a show of keeping up-to-date in dress and manners and -literature, they depend to a great extent on hearsay, and a function -that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed -by a Chicago beef-princess as "perhaps a little tacky." - -John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with maternal -fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric fans, and -Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocket-book stuffed with -money. - -"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be sure, -boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning." - -"I know," answered John huskily. - -"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued his -father proudly, "and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an -Unger--from Hades." - -So the old man and the young shook hands, and John walked away with -tears streaming from his eyes. Ten minutes later he had passed outside -the city limits and he stopped to glance back for the last time. Over -the gates the old-fashioned Victorian motto seemed strangely -attractive to him. His father had tried time and time again to have it -changed to something with a little more push and verve about it, such -as "Hades--Your Opportunity," or else a plain "Welcome" sign set over -a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights. The old motto was a -little depressing, Mr. Unger had thought--but now .... - -So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his -destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the -sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty. - - * * * * * - -St. Midas's School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce -motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one, except -John T. Unger, had ever arrived there save in a Rolls-Pierce and -probably no one ever will again. St. Midas's is the most expensive and -the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the world. - -John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the -boys were money-kings, and John spent his summer visiting at -fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he -visited, their fathers struck him as being much of a piece, and in his -boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness. When he told -them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down -there?" and John would muster a faint smile and answer, "It certainly -is." His response would have been heartier had they not all made this -joke--at best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you down there?" -which he hated just as much. - -In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy -named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The new-comer was -pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well dressed even for St. -Midas's, but for some reason he kept aloof from the other boys. The -only person with whom he was intimate was John T. Unger, but even to -John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his -family. That he was wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such -deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised rich -confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the -summer at his home "in the West." He accepted, without hesitation. - -It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the -first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating lunch -in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of several -of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and made an -abrupt remark. - -"My father," he said, "is by far the richest man in the world." - -"Oh," said John politely. He could think of no answer to make to this -confidence. He considered "That's very nice," but it sounded hollow -and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since it would -seem to question Percy's statement. And such an astounding statement -could scarcely be questioned. - -"By far the richest," repeated Percy. - -"I was reading in the _World Almanac_," began John, "that there -was one man in America with an income of over five million a years and -four men with incomes of over three million a year, and---" - -"Oh, they're nothing." Percy's mouth was a half-moon of scorn. -"Catch-penny capitalists, financial small-fry, petty merchants and -money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done -it." - -"But how does he---" - -"Why haven't they put down _his_ income-tax? Because he doesn't -pay any. At least he pays a little one--but he doesn't pay any on his -_real_ income." - -"He must be very rich," said John simply, "I'm glad. I like very rich -people. - -"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of -passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I visited the -Schnlitzer-Murphys last Easter. Vivian Schnlitzer-Murphy had rubies as -big as hen's eggs, and sapphires that were like globes with lights -inside them---" - -"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I wouldn't -want any one at school to know about it, but I've got quite a -collection myself. I used to collect them instead of stamps." - -"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The Schnlitzer-Murphys had -diamonds as big as walnuts---" - -"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a -low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My father has a diamond bigger -than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - - -2 - -The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise -from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned sky. An -immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish, minute, -dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the -village of Fish, twelve sombre and inexplicable souls who sucked a -lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious -populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, -these twelve men of Fish, like some species developed by an early whim -of nature, which on second thought had abandoned them to struggle and -extermination. - -Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of -moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men of -Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of -the seven o'clock train, the Transcontinental Express from Chicago. -Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through some -inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and when -this occurred a figure or so would disembark, mount into a buggy that -always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off toward the bruised -sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon -had become a sort of cult among the men of Fish. To observe, that was -all; there remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion -which would make them wonder or speculate, else a religion might have -grown up around these mysterious visitations. But the men of Fish were -beyond all religion--the barest and most savage tenets of even -Christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rock--so there was -no altar, no priest, no sacrifice; only each night at seven the silent -concourse by the shanty depot, a congregation who lifted up a prayer -of dim, anaemic wonder. - -On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified any -one, they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist, had -ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or -inhuman) deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Washington -and John T. Unger disembarked, hurried past the spellbound, the agape, -the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into a buggy -which had obviously appeared from nowhere, and drove away. - -After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the -silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body somewhere -ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned upon -them a luminous disc which regarded them like a malignant eye out of -the unfathomable night. As they came closer, John saw that it was the -tail-light of an immense automobile, larger and more magnificent than -any he had ever seen. Its body was of gleaming metal richer than -nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the wheels were -studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellow--John -did not dare to guess whether they were glass or jewel. - -Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pictures -of royal processions in London, were standing at attention beside the -car and, as the two young men dismounted from the buggy, they were -greeted in some language which the guest could not understand, but -which seemed to be an extreme form of the Southern negro's dialect. - -"Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to the -ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we had to bring you this far in -that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train -or those God-forsaken fellas in Fish to see this automobile." - -"Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its interior. -John saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute and -exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries, and -set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats in -which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled -duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colours of the ends of ostrich -feathers. - -"What a car!" cried John again, in amazement. - -"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for a -station wagon." - -By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the -break between the two mountains. - -"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the -clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to be like anything you -ever saw before." - -If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared -to be astonished indeed. The simple piety prevalent in Hades has the -earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its -creed--had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his -parents would have turned away in horror at the blasphemy. - -They had now reached and were entering the break between the two -mountains and almost immediately the way became much rougher. - -"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch," -said Percy, trying to peer out of the window. He spoke a few words -into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a -searchlight and swept the hillsides with an immense beam. - -"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an -hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew the -way. You notice we're going uphill now." - -They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car was -crossing a high rise, where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon newly -risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures -took shape out of the dark beside it--these were negroes also. Again -the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recognisable dialect; -then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from -overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jewelled -wheels. At a resounding "Hey-yah!" John felt the car being lifted -slowly from the ground--up and up--clear of the tallest rocks on both -sides--then higher, until he could see a wavy, moonlit valley -stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks -that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rock--and -then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around. - -It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-blade of -stone, projecting perpendicularly into the air. In a moment they were -going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon -the smooth earth. - -"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's only -five miles from here, and our own road--tapestry brick--all the way. -This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father -says." - -"Are we in Canada?" - -"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But you are -now on the only five square miles of land in the country that's never -been surveyed." - -"Why hasn't it? Did they forget it?" - -"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The -first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the State -survey; the second time he had the official maps of the United States -tinkered with--that held them for fifteen years. The last time was -harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the -strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set -of surveying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow -for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones -that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what -looked like a village up on its banks--so that they'd see it, and -think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one -thing my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the -world that could be used to find us out." - -"What's that?" - -Percy sank his voice to a whisper. - -"Aeroplanes," he breathed. "We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft guns -and we've arranged it so far--but there've been a few deaths and a -great many prisoners. Not that we mind _that_, you know, father -and I, but it upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the -chance that some time we won't be able to arrange it." - -Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green moon's -heaven, were passing the green moon like precious Eastern stuffs -paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to John that -it was day, and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in -the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine circulars, with -their messages of hope for despairing, rock-bound hamlets. It seemed -to him that he could see them look down out of the clouds and -stare--and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place -whither he was bound--What then? Were they induced to land by some -insidious device to be immured far from patent medicines and from -tracts until the judgment day--or, should they fail to fall into the -trap, did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp round of a splitting -shell bring them drooping to earth--and "upset" Percy's mother and -sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued -silently from his parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden -here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre Croesus? What terrible and -golden mystery?... - -The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and, outside the Montana -night was bright as day the tapestry brick of the road was smooth to -the tread of the great tyres as they rounded a still, moonlit lake; -they passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and -cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn, and John's -exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn "We're -home." - -Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite chteau rose from the -borders of the lake, climbed in marble radiance half the height of an -adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in -translucent feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of -pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the sloping parapets, -the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs -and hectagons and triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of -the intersecting planes of star-shine and blue shade, all trembled on -John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the -tallest, the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights -at the top made a sort of floating fairyland--and as John gazed up in -warm enchantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in -a rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever beard before. Then -in a moment the car stepped before wide, high marble steps around -which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At the top of -the steps two great doors swung silently open and amber light flooded -out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady -with black, high-piled hair, who held out her arms toward them. - -"Mother," Percy was saying, "this is my friend, John Unger, from -Hades." - -Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many colours, -of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love, and of -the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces. There -was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-hued cordial from a -crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was a girl with a flowery -face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There -was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the -pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic conception -of the ultimate prison--ceiling, floor, and all, it was lined with an -unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every size and shape, until, -lit with tail violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a -whiteness that could be compared only with itself, beyond human wish, -or dream. - -Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes the -floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from lighting -below, patterns of barbaric clashing colours, of pastel delicacy, of -sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some -mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal -he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and -growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of -every texture and colour or along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken -as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct -before the age of man .... - -Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinner--where -each plate was of two almost imperceptible layers of solid diamond -between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a -shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, -drifted down through far corridors--his chair, feathered and curved -insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he -drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question -that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that clasped his body -added to the illusion of sleep--jewels, fabrics, wines, and metals -blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist .... - -"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough -for me down there." - -He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement, without -resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an iced dessert -that was pink as a dream .... He fell asleep. - -When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great -quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination that was too -faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was standing -over him. - -"You fell asleep at dinner," Percy was saying. "I nearly did, too--it -was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school. -Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping." - -"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percy--before you go, -I want to apologise." - -"For what?" - -"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the -Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - -Percy smiled. - -"I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know." - -"What mountain?" - -"The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big, for a mountain. -But except about fifty feet of sod and gravel on top it's solid -diamond. _One_ diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you -listening? Say----" - -But John T. Unger had again fallen asleep. - - -3 - -Morning. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at the -same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panels of one wall -had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half open to -the day. A large negro in a white uniform stood beside his bed. - -"Good-evening," muttered John, summoning his brains from the wild -places. - -"Good-morning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't get -up--I'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton your pyjamas--there. -Thank you, sir." - -John lay quietly as his pyjamas were removed--he was amused and -delighted; he expected to be lifted like a child by this black -Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened; -instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side--he began to roll, -startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached -the wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a -fleecy incline he plumped gently into water the same temperature as -his body. - -He looked about him. The runway or rollway on which he had arrived had -folded gently back into place. He had been projected into another -chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the -level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and -the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue aquarium, and -gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he could see fish -swimming among amber lights and even gliding without curiosity past -his outstretched toes, which were separated from them only by the -thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight came down through -sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John. discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it. - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -4 - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding the room and the sides and bottom of the bath -itself was a blue aquarium, and gazing through the crystal surface on -which he sat, he could see fish swimming among amber lights and even -gliding without curiosity past his outstretched toes, which were -separated from them only by the thickness of the crystal. From -overhead, sunlight came down through sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please,"; Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it." - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly, He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous chair while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -4 - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West, He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without food he -began to grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was forced to -pursue a squirrel, and, in the course of the pursuit, he noticed that -it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it vanished -into its hole--for Providence did not intend that this squirrel should -alleviate his hunger--it dropped its burden. Sitting down to consider -the situation Fitz-Norman's eye was caught by a gleam in the grass -beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his appetite and -gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel, which had refused -with annoying persistence to become food, had made him a present of a -large and perfect diamond. - -Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all -the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole digging -furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered -a rhinestone mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever seen even -a small diamond before, they believed him, without question. When the -magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him, he found himself in -a quandary. The mountain was _a_ diamond--it was literally -nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle bags full of -glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul. There he -managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones--when he tried a -larger one a storekeeper fainted and Fitz-Norman was arrested as a -public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for New -York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received in -exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did not -dare to produce any exceptional gems--in fact, he left New York just -in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in jewellery circles, -not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the -city from mysterious sources. Wild rumours became current that a -diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on the Jersey -coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excursion trains, -packed with men carrying picks and shovels, began to leave New York -hourly, bound for various neighbouring El Dorados. But by that time -young Fitz-Norman was on his way back to Montana. - -By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the -mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the -diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any -regular computation, however, for it was _one solid diamond_--and -if it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the -market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual -arithmetical progression, there would not be enough gold in the world -to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do with a diamond -that size? - -It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest man -that ever lived--and yet was he worth anything at all? If his secret -should transpire there was no telling to what measures the Government -might resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well as in -jewels. They might take over the claim immediately and institute a -monopoly. - -There was no alternative--he must market his mountain in secret. He -sent South for his younger brother and put him in charge of his -coloured following, darkies who had never realised that slavery was -abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he -had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reorganised the -shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched -battle. The negroes believed him implicitly. They passed a vote -declaring it a good thing and held revival services immediately. - -Fitz-Norman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred -thousand dollars and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all -sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk, and six months after -his departure from Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure -lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller, announcing -that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St. Petersburg for -two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered, living from lodging -to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or four -times during the whole fortnight. - -On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he -was allowed to leave for India. Before he left, however, the Court -Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum of -fifteen million dollars--under four different aliases. - -He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two -years. He had visited the capitals of twenty-two countries and talked -with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan, and a -sultan. At that time Fitz-Norman estimated his own wealth at one -billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the disclosure -of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public -eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough -fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it from the -days of the first Babylonian Empire. - -From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman -Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of -course--he evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he -had a single son, and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate -complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of -drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times -endangered their safety. But very other murders stained these happy -years of progress and exspansion. - -Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few -million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk, -which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, -marked as bric-a-brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington, followed -this policy on an even more tensive scale. The minerals were converted -into the rarest of all elements--radium--so that the equivalent of a -billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no bigger than -a cigar box. - -When Fitz-Norman had been dead three years his son, Braddock, decided -that the business had gone far enough. The amount of wealth that he -and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact -computation. He kept a note-book in cipher in which he set down the -approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand banks he -patronised, and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he -did a very simple thing--he sealed up the mine. - -He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all -the Washingtons yet to be born in unparalleled luxury for generations. -His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the -possible panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced with -all the property-holders in the world to utter poverty. - -This was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the -story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning after his -arrival. - - -5 - -After breakfast, John found his way out the great marble entrance, and -looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from the -diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still -gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine -sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of elms -made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough -masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark-blue -green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file patter -out from one clump about a half-mile away and disappear with awkward -gaiety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would not -have been surprised to see a goat-foot piping his way among the trees -or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin and flying yellow hair -between the greenest of the green leaves. - -In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing -faintly the sleep of two silky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and -set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no -particular direction. - -He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity -as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, -but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly -imagined future--flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only -prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young -dream. - -John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air -with heavy scent, and struck off across a park toward a patch of moss -under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted to see -whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an -adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass. She -was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. - -She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, -and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound -up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she -came. She was younger than John--not more than sixteen. - -"Hallo," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine." - -She was much more than that to John already. He advanced toward her, -scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes. - -"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, "Oh, -but you've missed a great deal!"... "You met my sister, Jasmine, last -night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her soft voice, and -her eye continued, "and when I'm sick I'm sweet--and when I'm well." - -"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes, "and -I'm not so slow myself"--"How do you do?" said his voice. "I hope -you're better this morning."--"You darling," added his eyes -tremulously. - -John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her -suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of which -he failed to determine. - -He was critical about women. A single defect--a thick ankle, a hoarse -voice, a glass eye--was enough to make him utterly indifferent. And -here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to -him the incarnation of physical perfection. - -"Are you from the East?" asked Kismine with charming interest. - -"No," answered John simply. "I'm from Hades." - -Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant -comment to make upon it, for she did not discuss it further. - -"I'm going East to school this fall" she said. "D'you think I'll like -it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's. It's very strict, but you -see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in our -New York house, because father heard that the girls had to go walking -two by two." - -"Your father wants you to be proud," observed John. - -"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity. "None of us has -ever been punished. Father said we never should be. Once when my -sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just -got up and limped away. - -"Mother was--well, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when she -heard that you were from--from where you _are_ from, you know. -She said that when she was a young girl--but then, you see, she's a -Spaniard and old-fashioned." - -"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the fact -that he was somewhat hurt by this remark. It seemed an unkind allusion -to his provincialism. - -"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next summer -Jasmine is going to Newport. She's coming out in London a year from -this fall. She'll be presented at court." - -"Do you know," began John hesitantly, "you're much more sophisticated -than I thought you were when I first saw you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think of -being. I think that sophisticated young people are _terribly_ -common, don't you? I'm not all, really. If you say I am, I'm going to -cry." - -She was so distressed that her lip was trembling. John was impelled to -protest: - -"I didn't mean that; I only said it to tease you." - -"Because I wouldn't mind if I _were_," she persisted, "but I'm -not. I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke, or drink, or read -anything except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry. -I dress _very_ simply--in fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think -sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me. I believe that -girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way." - -"I do, too," said John, heartily, - -Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a still-born tear -dripped from the comer of one blue eye. - -"I like you," she whispered intimately. "Are you going to spend all -your time with Percy while you're here, or will you be nice to me? -Just think--I'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in love -with me in all my life. I've never been allowed even to _see_ -boys alone--except Percy. I came all the way out here into this grove -hoping to run into you, where the family wouldn't be around." - -Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught at -dancing school in Hades. - -"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with mother -at eleven. You haven't asked me to kiss you once. I thought boys -always did that nowadays" - -John drew himself up proudly. - -"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that sort -of thing--in Hades." - -Side by side they walked back toward the house. - - -6 - -John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight. The -elder man was about forty, with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent -eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses--the -best horses. He carried a plain walking-stick of gray birch with a -single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing John around. - -"The slaves' quarters are there." His walking-stick indicated a -cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful Gothic along the -side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from -the business of life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time -they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one of their -rooms with a tile bath." - -"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they -used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy told me that -once he---" - -"The opinions of Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy are of little importance, I -should imagine," interrupted Braddock Washington coldly. "My slaves -did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe every -day, and they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sulphuric -acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite another reason. -Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for certain -races--except as a beverage." - -John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement. -Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable. - -"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North -with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that -they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect -has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them -up to speak English--my secretary and two or three of the house -servants. - -"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the -velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you see--no fairway, no rough, -no hazards." - -He smiled pleasantly at John. - -"Many men in the cage, father?" asked Percy suddenly. - -Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary curse. - -"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darkly--and then added -after a moment, "We've had difficulties." - -"Mother was telling me," exclaimed Percy, "that Italian teacher---" - -"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of course -there's a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he fell -somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's -always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be -believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men looking for him in -different towns around here." - -"And no luck?" - -"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent they'd each killed a man -answering to that description, but of course it was probably only the -reward they were after---" - -He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the -circumference of a merry-go-round, and covered by a strong iron -grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane -down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. -Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below. - -"Come on down to Hell!" - -"Hallo, kiddo, how's the air up there?" - -"Hey! Throw us a rope!" - -"Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches?" - -"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show you -a quick disappearance scene." - -"Paste him one for me, will you?" - -It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell -from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices -that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited -type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the -grass, and the scene below sprang into light. - -"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to -discover El Dorado," he remarked. - -Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like -the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of -polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two -dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their -upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with -cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the -exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a -well-fed, healthy lot. - -Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat -down. - -"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially. - -A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too -dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock -Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had -died away he spoke again. - -"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?" - -From here and there among them a remark floated up. - -"We decided to stay here for love!" - -"Bring us up there and we'll find us a way!" - -Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said: - -"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here, I wish to heaven -I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that -you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be -glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to -digging tunnels--yes, I know about the new one you've started--you -won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with -all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the type who -worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have taken up -aviation." - -A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to call -his captor's attention to what he was about to say. - -"Let me ask you a few questions!" he cried. "You pretend to be a -fair-minded man." - -"How absurd. How could a man of _my_ position be fair-minded -toward you? You might as well speak of a Spaniard being fair-minded -toward a piece of steak." - -At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen fell, but the -tall man continued: - -"All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a -humanitarian and you're not fair-minded, but you're human--at least -you say you are--and you ought to be able to put yourself in our place -for long enough to think how--how--how--" - -"How what?" demanded Washington, coldly. - -"--how unnecessary--" - -"Not to me." - -"Well--how cruel--" - -"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where self-preservation is -involved. You've been soldiers; you know that. Try another." - -"Well, then, how stupid." - -"There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think of -an alternative. I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly -executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives, sweethearts, -children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge -your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives. -If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have all -of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside of my -preserves. But that's as far as my ideas go." - -"How about trusting us not to peach on you?" cried some one. - -"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington, with -an expression of scorn. "I did take out one man to teach my daughter -Italian. Last week he got away." - -A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats and -a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog-danced and cheered and -yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal -spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they -could, and slid back to the bottom upon the natural cushions of their -bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined-- - - "_Oh, we'll hang the kaiser - On a sour apple-tree_--" - -Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was -over. - -"You see," he remarked, when he could gain a modicum of attention. "I -bear you no ill-will. I like to see you enjoying yourselves. That's -why I didn't tell you the whole story at once. The man--what was his -name? Critchtichiello?--was shot by some of my agents in fourteen -different places." - -Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of -rejoicing subsided immediately. - -"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried to -run away. Do you expect me to take chances with any of you after an -experience like that?" - -Again a series of ejaculations went up. - -"Sure!" - -"Would your daughter like to learn Chinese?" - -"Hey, I can speak Italian! My mother was a wop." - -"Maybe she'd like t'learna speak N'Yawk!" - -"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot -of things better than Italian." - -"I know some Irish songs--and I could hammer brass once't." - -Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the -button in the grass so that the picture below went out instantly, and -there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the -black teeth of the grating. - -"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away without -givin' us your blessing?" - -But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already strolling on -toward the ninth hole of the golf course, as though the pit and its -contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had -triumphed with ease. - - -7 - -July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket -nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love. He -did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend -_Pro deo et patria et St. Mida_) which he had given her rested on -a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her part -was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her -simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John's jewel box. - -Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they -spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she gave him such a -look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward him--then -hesitated. - -"Did you say 'Kismine'?" she asked softly, "or--" - -She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunderstood. - -Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour -it seemed to make little difference. - -The afternoon drifted away. That night, when a last breath of music -drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake, happily -dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be -married as soon as possible. - - -8 - -Every day Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting or fishing -in the deep forests or played golf around the somnolent course--games -which John diplomatically allowed his host to win--or swam in the -mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Washington a somewhat -exacting personality--utterly uninterested in any ideas or opinions -except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times. -She was apparently indifferent to her two daughters, and entirely -absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she held interminable -conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner. - -Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearance--except -that she was somewhat bow-legged, and terminated in large hands and -feet--but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favourite books -had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John -learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never recovered from the shock -and disappointment caused her by the termination of the World War, -just as she was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had -even pined away for a time, and Braddock Washington had taken steps to -promote a new war in the Balkans--but she had seen a photograph of -some wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole -proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed to have inherited the -arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A -chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pattern through their -every idea. - -John was enchanted by the wonders of the chteau and the valley. -Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped a -landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a -French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his -entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply them -with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work -out some ideas of their own. But one by one they had shown their -uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewailing his -separation, from the boulevards in spring--he made some vague remarks -about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that was of any -practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make the -whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects--a state of -things that the Washingtons would soon have grown tired of. And as for -the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought only in terms -of convention. They must make this like this and that like that. - -But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done with -them--they all went mad early one morning after spending the night in -a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain, and -were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at Westport, -Connecticut. - -"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful -reception rooms and halls, and approaches and bathrooms---?" - -"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a -moving-picture fella. He was the only man we found who was used to -playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his -napkin in his collar and couldn't read or write." - -As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon go -back to school. He and Kismine had decided to elope the following -June. - -"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but of -course I could never get father's permission to marry you at all. Next -to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be -married in America at present--they always have to send out bulletins -to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants, when -what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and some used -lace worn once by the Empress Eugenie." - -"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the -Schnlitzer-Murphys, the eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, married a man -whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what a -tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk--and -then she ended up by saying that 'Thank God, I have four good maids -anyhow, and that helps a little.'" - -"It's absurd," commented Kismine--"Think of the millions and millions -of people in the world, labourers and all, who get along with only two -maids." - -One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's changed the -face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state of terror. - -They were in their favourite grove, and between kisses John was -indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added -poignancy to their relations. - -"Sometimes I think we'll never marry," he said sadly. "You're too -wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other -girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale -hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her -half-million." - -"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," remarked -Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been contented with her. She was a -friend of my sister's. She visited here." - -"Oh, then you've had other guests?" exclaimed John in surprise. - -Kismine seemed to regret her words. - -"Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, "we've had a few." - -"But aren't you--wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside?" - -"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered, "Let's talk about -something pleasanter." - -But John's curiosity was aroused. - -"Something pleasanter!" he demanded. "What's unpleasant about that? -Weren't they nice girls?" - -To his great surprise Kismine began to weep. - -"Yes--th--that's the--the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite attached to -some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting them anyway. I -couldn't under_stand_ it." - -A dark suspicion was born in John's heart. - -"Do you mean that they _told_, and your father had -them--removed?" - -"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no chances--and -Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had _such_ a good -time!" - -She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief. - -Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there -open-mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many -sparrows perched upon his spinal column. - -"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming suddenly -and drying her dark blue eyes. - -"Do you mean to say that your father had them _murdered_ before -they left?" - -She nodded. - -"In August usually--or early in September. It's only natural for us to -get all the pleasure out of them that we can first." - -"How abominable! How--why, I must be going crazy! Did you really admit -that--" - -"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very -well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual -reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine -and me, because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that -way we avoided any farewell scene-" - -"So you murdered them! Uh!" cried John. - -"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were -asleep--and their families were always told that they died of scarlet -fever in Butte." - -"But--I fail to understand why you kept on inviting them!" - -"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did. And -they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest presents -toward the last. I shall probably have visitors too--I'll harden up to -it. We can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of -enjoying life while we have it. Think of how lonesome it'd be out here -if we never had _any_ one. Why, father and mother have sacrificed -some of their best friends just as we have." - -"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make love -to you and pretending to return it, and talking about marriage, all -the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here -alive---" - -"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first. You -were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days might as -well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, -and--and I'm honestly sorry you're going to--going to be put -away--though I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss another -girl." - -"Oh, you would, would you?" cried John ferociously. - -"Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun -with a man whom she knows she can never marry. Oh, why did I tell you? -I've probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we were really -enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things -sort of depressing for you." - -"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've heard -about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and decency than -to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much better than a -corpse, I don't want to have any more to with you!" - -"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a corpse! -I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse!" - -"I said nothing of the sort!" - -"You did! You said I kissed a corpse!" - -"I didn't!" - -Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both -subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the path -in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted -displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his -good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them. - -"Who kissed a corpse?" he demanded in obvious disapproval. - -"Nobody," answered Kismine quickly. "We were just joking." - -"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly. "Kismine, -you ought to be--to be reading or playing golf with your sister. Go -read! Go play golf! Don't let me find you here when I come back!" - -Then he bowed at John and went up the path. - -"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've -spoiled it all. We can never meet any more. He won't let me meet you. -He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love." - -"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his mind at -rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going to stay -around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains, if I -have to gnaw a passage through them, and on my way East." They had -both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put -her arm through his. - -"I'm going, too." - -"You must be crazy--" - -"Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently. - -"You most certainly are not. You--" - -"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father and talk it -over with him." - -Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile. - -"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affection, -"we'll go together." - -His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She was -his--she would go with him to share his dangers. He put his arms about -her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him; she had saved -him, in fact. - -Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the chteau. -They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them together -they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were -unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of -peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into the -turquoise and sable card-room and pounded on the back by one of the -under-butlers, which Percy considered a great joke. - - -9 - -Long after midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, he sat suddenly -upright, staring into the veils of somnolence that draped the room. -Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open windows, he -had heard a faint far-away sound that died upon a bed of wind before -identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy dreams. But the -sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the -room--the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper, he could not -tell; a hard lump gathered in the pit of his stomach, and his whole -body ached in the moment that he strained agonisingly to hear. Then -one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure -standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and blocked in upon -the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem -distorted, like a reflection seen in a dirty pane of glass. - -With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the button -by his bedside, and the next moment he was sitting in the green sunken -bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the -cold water which half filled it. - -He sprang out, and, his wet pyjamas scattering a heavy trickle of -water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led out on -to the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. -A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the -magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty. For -a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendour massed about -him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the -solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing. Then -simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sitting-room -swung open, precipitating three naked negroes into the hall--and, as -John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another door slid back -in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John saw Braddock -Washington standing in the lighted lift, wearing a fur coat and a pair -of riding boots which reached to his knees and displayed, above, the -glow of his rose-colored pyjamas. - -On the instant the three negroes--John had never seen any of them -before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the -professional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and -turned expectantly to the man in the lift, who burst out with an -imperious command: - -"Get in here! All three of you! Quick as hell!" - -Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage, the -oblong of light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut, and John -was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against an ivory -stair. - -It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, something -which, for the moment at least, had postponed his own petty disaster. -What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the aviators forced -aside the iron bars of the grating? Or had the men of Fish stumbled -blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak, joyless eyes upon the -gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint whir of air as the -lift whizzed up again, and then, a moment later, as it descended. It -was probable that Percy was hurrying to his father's assistance, and -it occurred to John that this was his opportunity to join Kismine and -plan an immediate escape. He waited until the lift had been silent for -several minutes; shivering a little with the night cool that whipped -in through his wet pyjamas, he returned to his room and dressed -himself quickly. Then he mounted a long flight of stairs and turned -down the corridor carpeted with Russian sable which led to Kismine's -suite. - -The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted. -Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near the window Of the room in a -listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward -him. - -"Oh, it's you!" she whispered, crossing the room to him. "Did you hear -them?" - -I heard your father's slaves in my---" - -"No," she interrupted excitedly. "Aeroplanes!" - -"Aeroplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me." - -"There're at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead against -the moon. The guard back by the cliff fired his rifle and that's what -roused father. We're going to open on them right away." - -"Are they here on purpose?" - -"Yes--it's that Italian who got away---" - -Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks -tumbled in through the open window. Kismine uttered a little cry, took -a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to -one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was in -darkness--she had blown out the fuse. - -"Come on!" she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden, and -watch it from there!" - -Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their way -out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she pressed -the button that shot them upward he put his arms around her in the -darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. -A minute later they had stepped out upon the star-white platform. -Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of -cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-winged bodies in a -constant circling course. From here and there in the valley flashes of -fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kismine -clapped her hands with pleasure, which, a moment later, turned to -dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal, began to release -their bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep -reverberate sound and lurid light. - -Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the -points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was -almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a -park of rose bushes. - -"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this -attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard -shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead---" - -"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her. -"You'll have to talk louder!" - -"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they -begin to shell the chateau!" - -Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a -geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments -of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake. - -"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at -pre-war prices. So few Americans have any respect for property." - -John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the -aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only two of -the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the -garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much longer. - -"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you -realise that those aviators will kill you without question if they -find you?" - -She consented reluctantly. - -"We'll have to wake Jasmine!" she said, as they hurried toward the -lift. Then she added in a sort of childish delight: "We'll be poor, -won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly -free. Free and poor! What fun!" She stopped and raised her lips to him -in a delighted kiss. - -"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People have -found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of the -two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel -box into your pockets." - -Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they -descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last time -through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a -moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the -flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on the other side of the -lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the -attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their -thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance shot -might annihilate its Ethiopian crew. - -John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply -to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound like a -garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily wooded spot -half-way up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe -the wild night in the valley--finally to make an escape, when it -should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully. - - -10 - -It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The -obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning -against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm -around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle -among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. -Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging -sound, and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though -the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling -closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the -beleaguered possessed no further resources they would land and the -dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over. - -With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of -the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in -the grass. The chteau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light -as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of -Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. -Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound -asleep. - -It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the -path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence -until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-point -he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of -human origin, and the dew was cold; be knew that the dawn would break -soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the -mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way to the -steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread -itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he -slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life -just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head -gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded; this is what he -saw: - -Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against -the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came up out of -the east, lending a gold green colour to the earth, it brought the -solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day, - -While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in -some inscrutable contemplation; then he signalled to the two negroes -who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As -they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck -through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled -diamond--and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air -like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its -weight for a moment--then their rippling muscles caught and hardened -under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again -motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens. - -After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms -in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd to -hear--but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain -and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The -figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an -inextinguishable pride. - -"You--out there---!" he cried in a trembling voice. - -"You--there-----!" He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held -attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his -eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain, but -the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking -flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a -moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed--there was something in -the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer. - -"Oh, you above there!" - -The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn -supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous -condescension. - -"You there---" Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing -one into the other .... John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase -here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off -again--now strong and argumentative, now coloured with a slow, puzzled -impatience, Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single -listener, and as realisation crept over him a spray of quick blood -rushed through his arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe -to God! - -That was it--there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves -was some advance sample, a promise of more to follow. - -That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his -sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten -sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of -Christ. For a while his discourse took the farm of reminding God of -this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men--great -churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and -gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of -children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and -goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been -offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of -alleviation from the Divine wrath--and now he, Braddock Washington, -Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of -splendour and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as princes before -him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride. - -He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, -the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many -more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the -whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger -than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many years. It would be -set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped -with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be -hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of iridescent, -decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any -worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer--and on this altar there -would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor any victim -He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most -powerful man alive. - -In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be -absurdly easy--only that matters should be as they were yesterday at -this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the -heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes--and then -close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and -well. - -There was no one else with whom he had ever needed: to treat or -bargain. - -He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His -price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said: He -must have His price. And the price would be rare--no cathedral whose -building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand -workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid. - -He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to -specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it -would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it -or leave it. - -As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and -uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to catch the -slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His -hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his -head high to the heavens like a prophet of old--magnificently mad. - -Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a -curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as though -the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden -murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets, a sighing like -the rustle of a great silken robe--for a time the whole of nature -round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the -trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of -dull, menacing thunder. - -That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The -dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent -hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The -leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bough -was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the -bribe. - -For another moment John, watched the triumph of the day. Then, -turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another -flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from -the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth. - -John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the -clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. -Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a -question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no -time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing a -moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the -tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind -them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of the -peacocks far away and the pleasant of morning. - -When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and -entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At the -highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested -upon the mountainside they had just left--oppressed by some dark sense -of tragic impendency. - -Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly descending -the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes, who -carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the -sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them--John could see that -they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon whose arm she leaned. The -aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in -front of the chateau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the -diamond mountain in skirmishing formation. - -But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was -engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of -rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a -trap-door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, -the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two -negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the -sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all. - -Kismine clutched John's arm. - -"Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they going to -do?" - -"It must be some underground way of escape--" - -A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence. - -"Don't you see?" sobbed Kismine hysterically. "The mountain is wired!" - -Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before -their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a -dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as -light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow -continued, and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared, -revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying -off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the -aviators there was left neither blood nor bone--they were consumed as -completely as the five souls who had gone inside. - -Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the chteau literally -threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as it rose, -and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay -projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire--what -smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few -minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great -featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no -more sound and the three people were alone in the valley. - - -9 - -At sunset John and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had -marked the boundaries of the Washington's dominion, and looking back -found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They sat down to -finish the food which Jasmine had brought with her in a basket, - -"There!" she said, as she spread the table-cloth and put the -sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look tempting? I always -think that food tastes better outdoors." - -"With that remark," remarked Kismine, "Jasmine enters the middle -class." - -"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what -jewels you brought along. If you made a good selection we three ought -to live comfortably all the rest of our lives." - -Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls -of glittering stones before him. "Not so bad," cried John -enthusiastically. "They aren't very big, but-Hallo!" His expression -changed as he held one of them up to the declining sun. "Why, these -aren't diamonds! There's something the matter! - -"By golly!" exclaimed Kismine, with a startled look. "What an idiot I -am!" - -"Why, these are rhinestones!" cried John. - -"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer. They -belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine. I got her to give -them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything but -precious stones before." - -"And this is what you brought?" - -"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I -like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds." - -"Very well," said John gloomily. "We'll have to live in Hades. And you -will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong drawer. -Unfortunately, your father's bank-books were consumed with him." - -"Well, what's the matter with Hades?" - -"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as -not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they say down there." - -Jasmine spoke up. - -"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own -handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and support you both." - -"Do they have washwomen in Hades?" asked Kismine innocently. - -"Of course," answered John. "It's just like anywhere else." - -"I thought--perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes." - -John laughed. - -"Just try it!" he suggested. "They'll run you out before you're half -started." - -"Will father be there?" she asked. - -John turned to her in astonishment. - -"Your father is dead," he replied sombrely. "Why should he go to -Hades? You have it confused with another place that was abolished long -ago." - -After supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their blankets -for the night. - -"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars. "How -strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless fiance! - -"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before. I -always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some -one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, -all my youth." - -"It _was_ a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a -dream, a form of chemical madness." - -"How pleasant then to be insane!" - -"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any -rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a -form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only -diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of -disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing -of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the -night's full of chill and you'll get pneumonia. His was a great sin -who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours." - -So wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep. - - - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON - -I - - -As long ago as 1860 it was the proper thing to be born at home. At -present, so I am told, the high gods of medicine have decreed that the -first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of -a hospital, preferably a fashionable one. So young Mr. and Mrs. Roger -Button were fifty years ahead of style when they decided, one day in -the summer of 1860, that their first baby should be born in a -hospital. Whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the -astonishing history I am about to set down will never be known. - -I shall tell you what occurred, and let you judge for yourself. - -The Roger Buttons held an enviable position, both social and -financial, in ante-bellum Baltimore. They were related to the This -Family and the That Family, which, as every Southerner knew, entitled -them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated -the Confederacy. This was their first experience with the charming old -custom of having babies--Mr. Button was naturally nervous. He hoped it -would be a boy so that he could be sent to Yale College in -Connecticut, at which institution Mr. Button himself had been known -for four years by the somewhat obvious nickname of "Cuff." - -On the September morning consecrated to the enormous event he arose -nervously at six o'clock dressed himself, adjusted an impeccable -stock, and hurried forth through the streets of Baltimore to the -hospital, to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in -new life upon its bosom. - -When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private -Hospital for Ladies and Gentlemen he saw Doctor Keene, the family -physician, descending the front steps, rubbing his hands together with -a washing movement--as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten -ethics of their profession. - -Mr. Roger Button, the president of Roger Button & Co., Wholesale -Hardware, began to run toward Doctor Keene with much less dignity than -was expected from a Southern gentleman of that picturesque period. -"Doctor Keene!" he called. "Oh, Doctor Keene!" - -The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious -expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face as Mr. Button drew -near. - -"What happened?" demanded Mr. Button, as he came up in a gasping rush. -"What was it? How is she" A boy? Who is it? What---" - -"Talk sense!" said Doctor Keene sharply, He appeared somewhat -irritated. - -"Is the child born?" begged Mr. Button. - -Doctor Keene frowned. "Why, yes, I suppose so--after a fashion." Again -he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button. - -"Is my wife all right?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it a boy or a girl?" - -"Here now!" cried Doctor Keene in a perfect passion of irritation," -I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous!" He snapped the -last word out in almost one syllable, then he turned away muttering: -"Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation? -One more would ruin me--ruin anybody." - -"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Button appalled. "Triplets?" - -"No, not triplets!" answered the doctor cuttingly. "What's more, you -can go and see for yourself. And get another doctor. I brought you -into the world, young man, and I've been physician to your family for -forty years, but I'm through with you! I don't want to see you or any -of your relatives ever again! Good-bye!" - -Then he turned sharply, and without another word climbed into his -phaeton, which was waiting at the curbstone, and drove severely away. - -Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from -head to foot. What horrible mishap had occurred? He had suddenly lost -all desire to go into the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and -Gentlemen--it was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later, -he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door. - -A nurse was sitting behind a desk in the opaque gloom of the hall. -Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her. - -"Good-morning," she remarked, looking up at him pleasantly. - -"Good-morning. I--I am Mr. Button." - -At this a look of utter terror spread itself over girl's face. She -rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall, restraining -herself only with the most apparent difficulty. - -"I want to see my child," said Mr. Button. - -The nurse gave a little scream. "Oh--of course!" she cried -hysterically. "Upstairs. Right upstairs. Go--_up!_" - -She pointed the direction, and Mr. Button, bathed in cool -perspiration, turned falteringly, and began to mount to the second -floor. In the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached -him, basin in hand. "I'm Mr. Button," he managed to articulate. "I -want to see my----" - -Clank! The basin clattered to the floor and rolled in the direction of -the stairs. Clank! Clank! I began a methodical decent as if sharing in -the general terror which this gentleman provoked. - -"I want to see my child!" Mr. Button almost shrieked. He was on the -verge of collapse. - -Clank! The basin reached the first floor. The nurse regained control -of herself, and threw Mr. Button a look of hearty contempt. - -"All _right_, Mr. Button," she agreed in a hushed voice. "Very -_well!_ But if you _knew_ what a state it's put us all in this -morning! It's perfectly outrageous! The hospital will never have -a ghost of a reputation after----" - -"Hurry!" he cried hoarsely. "I can't stand this!" - -"Come this way, then, Mr. Button." - -He dragged himself after her. At the end of a long hall they reached a -room from which proceeded a variety of howls--indeed, a room which, in -later parlance, would have been known as the "crying-room." They -entered. - -"Well," gasped Mr. Button, "which is mine?" - -"There!" said the nurse. - -Mr. Button's eyes followed her pointing finger, and this is what he -saw. Wrapped in a voluminous white blanket, and partly crammed into -one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently about seventy years -of age. His sparse hair was almost white, and from his chin dripped a -long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth, fanned -by the breeze coming in at the window. He looked up at Mr. Button with -dim, faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled question. - -"Am I mad?" thundered Mr. Button, his terror resolving into rage. "Is -this some ghastly hospital joke? - -"It doesn't seem like a joke to us," replied the nurse severely. "And -I don't know whether you're mad or not--but that is most certainly -your child." - -The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button's forehead. He closed -his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no -mistake--he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten--a _baby_ -of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the -crib in which it was reposing. - -The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and -then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice. "Are you my -father?" he demanded. - -Mr. Button and the nurse started violently. - -"Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd -get me out of this place--or, at least, get them to put a comfortable -rocker in here," - -"Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you?" burst out Mr. -Button frantically. - -"I can't tell you _exactly_ who I am," replied the querulous -whine, "because I've only been born a few hours--but my last name is -certainly Button." - -"You lie! You're an impostor!" - -The old man turned wearily to the nurse. "Nice way to welcome a -new-born child," he complained in a weak voice. "Tell him he's wrong, -why don't you?" - -"You're wrong. Mr. Button," said the nurse severely. "This is your -child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you -to take him home with you as soon as possible-some time to-day." - -"Home?" repeated Mr. Button incredulously. - -"Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know?" - -"I'm right glad of it," whined the old man. "This is a fine place to -keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling, I -haven't been able to get a wink of sleep. I asked for something to -eat"--here his voice rose to a shrill note of protest--"and they -brought me a bottle of milk!" - -Mr. Button, sank down upon a chair near his son and concealed his face -in his hands. "My heavens!" he murmured, in an ecstasy of horror. -"What will people say? What must I do?" - -"You'll have to take him home," insisted the nurse--"immediately!" - -A grotesque picture formed itself with dreadful clarity before the -eyes of the tortured man--a picture of himself walking through the -crowded streets of the city with this appalling apparition stalking by -his side. - -"I can't. I can't," he moaned. - -People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He -would have to introduce this--this septuagenarian: "This is my son, -born early this morning." And then the old man would gather his -blanket around him and they would plod on, past the bustling stores, -the slave market--for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately -that his son was black--past the luxurious houses of the residential -district, past the home for the aged.... - -"Come! Pull yourself together," commanded the nurse. - -"See here," the old man announced suddenly, "if you think I'm going to -walk home in this blanket, you're entirely mistaken." - -"Babies always have blankets." - -With a malicious crackle the old man held up a small white swaddling -garment. "Look!" he quavered. "_This_ is what they had ready for -me." - -"Babies always wear those," said the nurse primly. - -"Well," said the old man, "this baby's not going to wear anything in -about two minutes. This blanket itches. They might at least have given -me a sheet." - -"Keep it on! Keep it on!" said Mr. Button hurriedly. He turned to the -nurse. "What'll I do?" - -"Go down town and buy your son some clothes." - -Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the: hall: "And a -cane, father. I want to have a cane." - -Mr. Button banged the outer door savagely.... - - -2 - - -"Good-morning," Mr. Button said nervously, to the clerk in the -Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. "I want to buy some clothes for my -child." - -"How old is your child, sir?" - -"About six hours," answered Mr. Button, without due consideration. - -"Babies' supply department in the rear." - -"Why, I don't think--I'm not sure that's what I want. It's--he's an -unusually large-size child. Exceptionally--ah large." - -"They have the largest child's sizes." - -"Where is the boys' department?" inquired Mr. Button, shifting his -ground desperately. He felt that the clerk must surely scent his -shameful secret. - -"Right here." - -"Well----" He hesitated. The notion of dressing his son in men's -clothes was repugnant to him. If, say, he could only find a very large -boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white -hair brown, and thus manage to conceal the worst, and to retain -something of his own self-respect--not to mention his position in -Baltimore society. - -But a frantic inspection of the boys' department revealed no suits to -fit the new-born Button. He blamed the store, of course---in such -cases it is the thing to blame the store. - -"How old did you say that boy of yours was?" demanded the clerk -curiously. - -"He's--sixteen." - -"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six _hours_. You'll -find the youths' department in the next aisle." - -Mr. Button turned miserably away. Then he stopped, brightened, and -pointed his finger toward a dressed dummy in the window display. -"There!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that suit, out there on the dummy." - -The clerk stared. "Why," he protested, "that's not a child's suit. At -least it _is_, but it's for fancy dress. You could wear it -yourself!" - -"Wrap it up," insisted his customer nervously. "That's what I want." - -The astonished clerk obeyed. - -Back at the hospital Mr. Button entered the nursery and almost threw -the package at his son. "Here's your clothes," he snapped out. - -The old man untied the package and viewed the contents with a -quizzical eye. - -"They look sort of funny to me," he complained, "I don't want to be -made a monkey of--" - -"You've made a monkey of me!" retorted Mr. Button fiercely. "Never you -mind how funny you look. Put them on--or I'll--or I'll _spank_ -you." He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling -nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say. - -"All right, father"--this with a grotesque simulation of filial -respect--"you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say." - -As before, the sound of the word "father" caused Mr. Button to start -violently. - -"And hurry." - -"I'm hurrying, father." - -When his son was dressed Mr. Button regarded him with depression. The -costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse -with a wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish -beard, drooping almost to the waist. The effect was not good. - -"Wait!" - -Mr. Button seized a hospital shears and with three quick snaps -amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement -the ensemble fell far short of perfection. The remaining brush of -scraggly hair, the watery eyes, the ancient teeth, seemed oddly out of -tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was -obdurate--he held out his hand. "Come along!" he said sternly. - -His son took the hand trustingly. "What are you going to call me, -dad?" he quavered as they walked from the nursery--"just 'baby' for a -while? till you think of a better name?" - -Mr. Button grunted. "I don't know," he answered harshly. "I think -we'll call you Methuselah." - - -3 - -Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his hair cut -short and then dyed to a sparse unnatural black, had had his face -shaved so dose that it glistened, and had been attired in small-boy -clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for -Button to ignore the fact that his son was a excuse for a first family -baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button--for it was by this name -they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious -Methuselah--was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not -conceal this, nor did the clipping and dyeing of his eyebrows disguise -the fact that the eyes under--were faded and watery and tired. In -fact, the baby-nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house -after one look, in a state of considerable indignation. - -But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a -baby, and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if -Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether, -but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter, -and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a -rattle and, giving it to Benjamin, insisted in no uncertain terms that -he should "play with it," whereupon the old man took it with--a weary -expression and could be heard jingling it obediently at intervals -throughout the day. - -There can be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him, and that he -found other and more soothing amusements when he was left alone. For -instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week -be had smoked more cigars than ever before--a phenomenon, which was -explained a few days later when, entering the nursery unexpectedly, he -found the room full of faint blue haze and Benjamin, with a guilty -expression on his face, trying to conceal the butt of a dark Havana. -This, of course, called for a severe spanking, but Mr. Button found -that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his -son that he would "stunt his growth." - -Nevertheless he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead -soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals -made of cotton, and, to perfect the illusion which he was -creating--for himself at least--he passionately demanded of the clerk -in the toy-store whether "the paint would come oft the pink duck if -the baby put it in his mouth." But, despite all his father's efforts, -Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs -and return to the nursery with a volume of the Encyclopedia -Britannica, over which he would pore through an afternoon, while his -cotton cows and his Noah's ark were left neglected on the floor. -Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail. - -The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, prodigious. What the -mishap would have cost the Buttons and their kinsfolk socially cannot -be determined, for the outbreak of the Civil War drew the city's -attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite -racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents--and -finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby -resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of -decay common to all men of seventy, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs. -Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was -furiously insulted. - -Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. Several -small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a stiff-jointed -afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles--he even -managed, quite accidentally, to break a kitchen window with a stone -from a sling shot, a feat which secretly delighted his father. - -Thereafter Benjamin contrived to break something every day, but he did -these things only because they were expected of him, and because he -was by nature obliging. - -When his grandfather's initial antagonism wore off, Benjamin and that -gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would -sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and, -like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of -the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than -in his parents'--they seemed always somewhat in awe of him and, -despite the dictatorial authority they exercised over him, frequently -addressed him as "Mr." - -He was as puzzled as any one else at the apparently advanced age of -his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal, -but found that no such case had been previously recorded. At his -father's urging he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and -frequently he joined in the milder games--football shook him up too -much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would -refuse to knit. - -When he was five he was sent to kindergarten, where he initiated into -the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving coloured -maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to -drowse off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both -irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief she -complained to his parents, and he was removed from the school. The -Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young. - -By the time he was twelve years old his parents had grown used to him. -Indeed, so strong is the force of custom that they no longer felt that -he was different from any other child--except when some curious -anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his -twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made, or -thought he made, an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him, -or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to -iron-gray under its concealing dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his -face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier and firmer, with -even a touch of ruddy winter colour? He could not tell. He knew that -he no longer stooped, and that his physical condition had improved -since the early days of his life. - -"Can it be----?" he thought to himself, or, rather, scarcely dared to -think. - -He went to his father. "I am grown," he announced determinedly. "I -want to put on long trousers." - -His father hesitated. "Well," he said finally, "I don't know. Fourteen -is the age for putting on long trousers--and you are only twelve." - -"But you'll have to admit," protested Benjamin, "that I'm big for my -age." - -His father looked at him with illusory speculation. "Oh, I'm not so -sure of that," he said. "I was as big as you when I was twelve." - -This was not true-it was all part of Roger Button's silent agreement -with himself to believe in his son's normality. - -Finally a compromise was reached. Benjamin was to continue to dye his -hair. He was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own -age. He was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street. -In return for these concessions he was allowed his first suit of long -trousers.... - - -4 - -Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first -year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of -normal ungrowth. When Benjamin was eighteen he was erect as a man of -fifty; he had more hair and it was of a dark gray; his step was firm, -his voice had lost its cracked quaver and descended to a healthy -baritone. So his father sent him up to Connecticut to take -examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his -examination and became a member of the freshman class. - -On the third day following his matriculation he received a -notification from Mr. Hart, the college registrar, to call at his -office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror, -decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but -an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye -bottle was not there. Then he remembered--he had emptied it the day -before and thrown it away. - -He was in a dilemma. He was due at the registrar's in five minutes. -There seemed to be no help for it--he must go as he was. He did. - -"Good-morning," said the registrar politely. "You've come to inquire -about your son." - -"Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button----" began Benjamin, but -Mr. Hart cut him off. - -"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here -any minute." - -"That's me!" burst out Benjamin. "I'm a freshman." - -"What!" - -"I'm a freshman." - -"Surely you're joking." - -"Not at all." - -The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. "Why, I have -Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen." - -"That's my age," asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly. - -The registrar eyed him wearily. "Now surely, Mr. Button, you don't -expect me to believe that." - -Benjamin smiled wearily. "I am eighteen," he repeated. - -The registrar pointed sternly to the door. "Get out," he said. "Get -out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic." - -"I am eighteen." - -Mr. Hart opened the door. "The idea!" he shouted. "A man of your age -trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well, -I'll give you eighteen minutes to get out of town." - -Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room, and half a dozen -undergraduates, who were waiting in the hall, followed him curiously -with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced -the infuriated registrar, who was still standing in the door-way, and -repeated in a firm voice: "I am eighteen years old." - -To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates, -Benjamin walked away. - -But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy walk to -the railroad station he found that he was being followed by a group, -then by a swarm, and finally by a dense mass of undergraduates. The -word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance -examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of -eighteen. A fever of excitement permeated the college. Men ran hatless -out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined -the mob, professors' wives with bonnets awry and bustles out of -position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a -continual succession of remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of -Benjamin Button. - -"He must be the wandering Jew!" - -"He ought to go to prep school at his age!" - -"Look at the infant prodigy!" "He thought this was the old men's -home." - -"Go up to Harvard!" - -Benjamin increased his gait, and soon he was running. He would show -them! He _would_ go to Harvard, and then they would regret these -ill-considered taunts! - -Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the -window. "You'll regret this!" he shouted. - -"Ha-ha!" the undergraduates laughed. "Ha-ha-ha!" It was the biggest -mistake that Yale College had ever made.... - - -5 - -In 1880 Benjamin Button was twenty years old, and he signalised his -birthday by going to work for his father in Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware. It was in that same year that he began "going out -socially"--that is, his father insisted on taking him to several -fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son -were more and more companionable--in fact, since Benjamin had ceased -to dye his hair (which was still grayish) they appeared about the same -age, and could have passed for brothers. - -One night in August they got into the phaeton attired in their -full-dress suits and drove out to a dance at the Shevlins' country -house, situated just outside of Baltimore. It was a gorgeous evening. -A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless colour of platinum, -and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air -aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter. The open country, -carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent as in the -day. It was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty -of the sky--almost. - -"There's a great future in the dry-goods business," Roger Button was -saying. He was not a spiritual man--his aesthetic sense was -rudimentary. - -"Old fellows like me can't learn new tricks," he observed profoundly. -"It's you youngsters with energy and vitality that have the great -future before you." - -Far up the road the lights of the Shevlins' country house drifted into -view, and presently there was a sighing sound that crept persistently -toward them--it might have been the fine plaint of violins or the -rustle of the silver wheat under the moon. - -They pulled up behind a handsome brougham whose passengers were -disembarking at the door. A lady got out, then an elderly gentleman, -then another young lady, beautiful as sin. Benjamin started; an almost -chemical change seemed to dissolve and recompose the very elements of -his body. A rigour passed over him, blood rose into his cheeks, his -forehead, and there was a steady thumping in his ears. It was first -love. - -The girl was slender and frail, with hair that was ashen under the -moon and honey-coloured under the sputtering gas-lamps of the porch. -Over her shoulders was thrown a Spanish mantilla of softest yellow, -butterflied in black; her feet were glittering buttons at the hem of -her bustled dress. - -Roger Button leaned over to his son. "That," he said, "is young -Hildegarde Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief." - -Benjamin nodded coldly. "Pretty little thing," he said indifferently. -But when the negro boy had led the buggy away, he added: "Dad, you -might introduce me to her." - -They approached a group, of which Miss Moncrief was the centre. Reared -in the old tradition, she curtsied low before Benjamin. Yes, he might -have a dance. He thanked her and walked away--staggered away. - -The interval until the time for his turn should arrive dragged itself -out interminably. He stood close to the wall, silent, inscrutable, -watching with murderous eyes the young bloods of Baltimore as they -eddied around Hildegarde Moncrief, passionate admiration in their -faces. How obnoxious they seemed to Benjamin; how intolerably rosy! -Their curling brown whiskers aroused in him a feeling equivalent to -indigestion. - -But when his own time came, and he drifted with her out upon the -changing floor to the music of the latest waltz from Paris, his -jealousies and anxieties melted from him like a mantle of snow. Blind -with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning. - -"You and your brother got here just as we did, didn't you?" asked -Hildegarde, looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue -enamel. - -Benjamin hesitated. If she took him for his father's brother, would it -be best to enlighten her? He remembered his experience at Yale, so he -decided against it. It would be rude to contradict a lady; it would be -criminal to mar this exquisite occasion with the grotesque story of -his origin. Later, perhaps. So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy. - -"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so -idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and -how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to -appreciate women." - -Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he -choked back the impulse. "You're just the romantic age," she -continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be -pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole -cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is -the mellow age. I love fifty." - -Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be -fifty. - -"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man -of fifty and be taken care of than many a man of thirty and take care -of _him_." - -For Benjamin the rest of the evening was bathed in a honey-coloured -mist. Hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that -they were marvellously in accord on all the questions of the day. She -was to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they -would discuss all these questions further. - -Going home in the phaeton just before the crack of dawn, when the -first bees were humming and the fading moon glimmered in the cool dew, -Benjamin knew vaguely that his father was discussing wholesale -hardware. - -".... And what do you think should merit our biggest attention after -hammers and nails?" the elder Button was saying. - -"Love," replied Benjamin absent-mindedly. - -"Lugs?" exclaimed Roger Button, "Why, I've just covered the question -of lugs." - -Benjamin regarded him with dazed eyes just as the eastern sky was -suddenly cracked with light, and an oriole yawned piercingly in the -quickening trees... - - -6 - -When, six months later, the engagement of Miss Hildegarde Moncrief to -Mr. Benjamin Button was made known (I say "made known," for General -Moncrief declared he would rather fall upon his sword than announce -it), the excitement in Baltimore society reached a feverish pitch. The -almost forgotten story of Benjamin's birth was remembered and sent out -upon the winds of scandal in picaresque and incredible forms. It was -said that Benjamin was really the father of Roger Button, that he was -his brother who had been in prison for forty years, that he was John -Wilkes Booth in disguise--and, finally, that he had two small conical -horns sprouting from his head. - -The Sunday supplements of the New York papers played up the case with -fascinating sketches which showed the head of Benjamin Button attached -to a fish, to a snake, and, finally, to a body of solid brass. He -became known, journalistically, as the Mystery Man of Maryland. But -the true story, as is usually the case, had a very small circulation. - -However, every one agreed with General Moncrief that it was "criminal" -for a lovely girl who could have married any beau in Baltimore to -throw herself into the arms of a man who was assuredly fifty. In vain -Mr. Roger Button published Us son's birth certificate in large type in -the Baltimore _Blaze_. No one believed it. You had only to look -at Benjamin and see. - -On the part of the two people most concerned there was no wavering. So -many of the stories about her fianc were false that Hildegarde -refused stubbornly to believe even the true one. In vain General -Moncrief pointed out to her the high mortality among men of fifty--or, -at least, among men who looked fifty; in vain he told her of the -instability of the wholesale hardware business. Hildegarde had chosen -to marry for mellowness, and marry she did.... - - -7 - -In one particular, at least, the friends of Hildegarde Moncrief were -mistaken. The wholesale hardware business prospered amazingly. In the -fifteen years between Benjamin Button's marriage in 1880 and his -father's retirement in 1895, the family fortune was doubled--and this -was due largely to the younger member of the firm. - -Needless to say, Baltimore eventually received the couple to its -bosom. Even old General Moncrief became reconciled to his son-in-law -when Benjamin gave him the money to bring out his _History of the -Civil War_ in twenty volumes, which had been refused by nine -prominent publishers. - -In Benjamin himself fifteen years had wrought many changes. It seemed -to him that the blood flowed with new vigour through his veins. It -began to be a pleasure to rise in the morning, to walk with an active -step along the busy, sunny street, to work untiringly with his -shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. It was in 1890 that he -executed his famous business coup: he brought up the suggestion that -_all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped -are the property of the shippee_, a proposal which became a -statute, was approved by Chief Justice Fossile, and saved Roger Button -and Company, Wholesale Hardware, more than _six hundred nails every -year_. - -In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more -attracted by the gay side of life. It was typical of his growing -enthusiasm for pleasure that he was the first man in the city of -Baltimore to own and run an automobile. Meeting him on the street, his -contemporaries would stare enviously at the picture he made of health -and vitality. - -"He seems to grow younger every year," they would remark. And if old -Roger Button, now sixty-five years old, had failed at first to give a -proper welcome to his son he atoned at last by bestowing on him what -amounted to adulation. - -And here we come to an unpleasant subject which it will be well to -pass over as quickly as possible. There was only one thing that -worried Benjamin Button; his wife had ceased to attract him. - -At that time Hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five, with a son, -Roscoe, fourteen years old. In the early days of their marriage -Benjamin had worshipped her. But, as the years passed, her -honey-coloured hair became an unexciting brown, the blue enamel of her -eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery--moreover, and, most of all, -she had become too settled in her ways, too placid, too content, too -anaemic in her excitements, and too sober in her taste. As a bride it -been she who had "dragged" Benjamin to dances and dinners--now -conditions were reversed. She went out socially with him, but without -enthusiasm, devoured already by that eternal inertia which comes to -live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end. - -Benjamin's discontent waxed stronger. At the outbreak of the -Spanish-American War in 1898 his home had for him so little charm that -he decided to join the army. With his business influence he obtained a -commission as captain, and proved so adaptable to the work that he was -made a major, and finally a lieutenant-colonel just in time to -participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly -wounded, and received a medal. - -Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required -attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at -the station by a brass band and escorted to his house. - - -8 - -Hildegarde, waving a large silk flag, greeted him on the porch, and -even as he kissed her he felt with a sinking of the heart that these -three years had taken their toll. She was a woman of forty now, with a -faint skirmish line of gray hairs in her head. The sight depressed -him. - -Up in his room he saw his reflection in the familiar mirror--he went -closer and examined his own face with anxiety, comparing it after a -moment with a photograph of himself in uniform taken just before the -war. - -"Good Lord!" he said aloud. The process was continuing. There was no -doubt of it--he looked now like a man of thirty. Instead of being -delighted, he was uneasy--he was growing younger. He had hitherto -hoped that once he reached a bodily age equivalent to his age in -years, the grotesque phenomenon which had marked his birth would cease -to function. He shuddered. His destiny seemed to him awful, -incredible. - -When he came downstairs Hildegarde was waiting for him. She appeared -annoyed, and he wondered if she had at last discovered that there was -something amiss. It was with an effort to relieve the tension between -them that he broached the matter at dinner in what he considered a -delicate way. - -"Well," he remarked lightly, "everybody says I look younger than -ever." - -Hildegarde regarded him with scorn. She sniffed. "Do you think it's -anything to boast about?" - -"I'm not boasting," he asserted uncomfortably. She sniffed again. "The -idea," she said, and after a moment: "I should think you'd have enough -pride to stop it." - -"How can I?" he demanded. - -"I'm not going to argue with you," she retorted. "But there's a right -way of doing things and a wrong way. If you've made up your mind to be -different from everybody else, I don't suppose I can stop you, but I -really don't think it's very considerate." - -"But, Hildegarde, I can't help it." - -"You can too. You're simply stubborn. You think you don't want to be -like any one else. You always have been that way, and you always will -be. But just think how it would be if every one else looked at things -as you do--what would the world be like?" - -As this was an inane and unanswerable argument Benjamin made no reply, -and from that time on a chasm began to widen between them. He wondered -what possible fascination she had ever exercised over him. - -To add to the breach, he found, as the new century gathered headway, -that his thirst for gaiety grew stronger. Never a party of any kind in -the city of Baltimore but he was there, dancing with the prettiest of -the young married women, chatting with the most popular of the -debutantes, and finding their company charming, while his wife, a -dowager of evil omen, sat among the chaperons, now in haughty -disapproval, and now following him with solemn, puzzled, and -reproachful eyes. - -"Look!" people would remark. "What a pity! A young fellow that age -tied to a woman of forty-five. He must be twenty years younger than -his wife." They had forgotten--as people inevitably forget--that back -in 1880 their mammas and papas had also remarked about this same -ill-matched pair. - -Benjamin's growing unhappiness at home was compensated for by his many -new interests. He took up golf and made a great success of it. He went -in for dancing: in 1906 he was an expert at "The Boston," and in 1908 -he was considered proficient at the "Maxine," while in 1909 his -"Castle Walk" was the envy of every young man in town. - -His social activities, of course, interfered to some extent with his -business, but then he had worked hard at wholesale hardware for -twenty-five years and felt that he could soon hand it on to his son, -Roscoe, who had recently graduated from Harvard. - -He and his son were, in fact, often mistaken for each other. This -pleased Benjamin--he soon forgot the insidious fear which had come -over him on his return from the Spanish-American War, and grew to take -a nave pleasure in his appearance. There was only one fly in the -delicious ointment--he hated to appear in public with his wife. -Hildegarde was almost fifty, and the sight of her made him feel -absurd.... - - -9 - -One September day in 1910--a few years after Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware, had been handed over to young Roscoe Button--a -man, apparently about twenty years old, entered himself as a freshman -at Harvard University in Cambridge. He did not make the mistake of -announcing that he would never see fifty again, nor did he mention the -fact that his son had been graduated from the same institution ten -years before. - -He was admitted, and almost immediately attained a prominent position -in the class, partly because he seemed a little older than the other -freshmen, whose average age was about eighteen. - -But his success was largely due to the fact that in the football game -with Yale he played so brilliantly, with so much dash and with such a -cold, remorseless anger that he scored seven touchdowns and fourteen -field goals for Harvard, and caused one entire eleven of Yale men to -be carried singly from the field, unconscious. He was the most -celebrated man in college. - -Strange to say, in his third or junior year he was scarcely able to -"make" the team. The coaches said that he had lost weight, and it -seemed to the more observant among them that he was not quite as tall -as before. He made no touchdowns--indeed, he was retained on the team -chiefly in hope that his enormous reputation would bring terror and -disorganisation to the Yale team. - -In his senior year he did not make the team at all. He had grown so -slight and frail that one day he was taken by some sophomores for a -freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known -as something of a prodigy--a senior who was surely no more than -sixteen--and he was often shocked at the worldliness of some of his -classmates. His studies seemed harder to him--he felt that they were -too advanced. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the -famous preparatory school, at which so many of them had prepared for -college, and he determined after his graduation to enter himself at -St. Midas's, where the sheltered life among boys his own size would be -more congenial to him. - -Upon his graduation in 1914 he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard -diploma in his pocket. Hildegarde was now residing in Italy, so -Benjamin went to live with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed -in a general way there was obviously no heartiness in Roscoe's feeling -toward him--there was even perceptible a tendency on his son's part to -think that Benjamin, as he moped about the house in adolescent -mooniness, was somewhat in the way. Roscoe was married now and -prominent in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal to creep out in -connection with his family. - -Benjamin, no longer _persona grata_ with the dbutantes and -younger college set, found himself left much done, except for the -companionship of three or four fifteen-year-old boys in the -neighbourhood. His idea of going to St. Midas's school recurred to -him. - -"Say," he said to Roscoe one day, "I've told you over and over that I -want to go to prep, school." - -"Well, go, then," replied Roscoe shortly. The matter was distasteful -to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion. - -"I can't go alone," said Benjamin helplessly. "You'll have to enter me -and take me up there." - -"I haven't got time," declared Roscoe abruptly. His eyes narrowed and -he looked uneasily at his father. "As a matter of fact," he added, -"you'd better not go on with this business much longer. You better -pull up short. You better--you better"--he paused and his face -crimsoned as he sought for words--"you better turn right around and -start back the other way. This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't -funny any longer. You--you behave yourself!" - -Benjamin looked at him, on the verge of tears. - -"And another thing," continued Roscoe, "when visitors are in the house -I want you to call me 'Uncle'--not 'Roscoe,' but 'Uncle,' do you -understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my -first name. Perhaps you'd better call me 'Uncle' _all_ the time, -so you'll get used to it." - -With a harsh look at his father, Roscoe turned away.... - - -10 - -At the termination of this interview, Benjamin wandered dismally -upstairs and stared at himself in the mirror. He had not shaved for -three months, but he could find nothing on his face but a faint white -down with which it seemed unnecessary to meddle. When he had first -come home from Harvard, Roscoe had approached him with the proposition -that he should wear eye-glasses and imitation whiskers glued to his -cheeks, and it had seemed for a moment that the farce of his early -years was to be repeated. But whiskers had itched and made him -ashamed. He wept and Roscoe had reluctantly relented. - -Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, _The Boy Scouts in Bimini -Bay_, and began to read. But he found himself thinking persistently -about the war. America had joined the Allied cause during the -preceding month, and Benjamin wanted to enlist, but, alas, sixteen was -the minimum age, and he did not look that old. His true age, which was -fifty-seven, would have disqualified him, anyway. - -There was a knock at his door, and the butler appeared with a letter -bearing a large official legend in the corner and addressed to Mr. -Benjamin Button. Benjamin tore it open eagerly, and read the enclosure -with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had -served in the Spanish-American War were being called back into service -with a higher rank, and it enclosed his commission as brigadier-general -in the United States army with orders to report immediately. - -Benjamin jumped to his feet fairly quivering with enthusiasm. This was -what he had wanted. He seized his cap, and ten minutes later he had -entered a large tailoring establishment on Charles Street, and asked -in his uncertain treble to be measured for a uniform. - -"Want to play soldier, sonny?" demanded a clerk casually. - -Benjamin flushed. "Say! Never mind what I want!" he retorted angrily. -"My name's Button and I live on Mt. Vernon Place, so you know I'm good -for it." - -"Well," admitted the clerk hesitantly, "if you're not, I guess your -daddy is, all right." - -Benjamin was measured, and a week later his uniform was completed. He -had difficulty in obtaining the proper general's insignia because the -dealer kept insisting to Benjamin that a nice V.W.C.A. badge would -look just as well and be much more fun to play with. - -Saying nothing to Roscoe, he left the house one night and proceeded by -train to Camp Mosby, in South Carolina, where he was to command an -infantry brigade. On a sultry April day he approached the entrance to -the camp, paid off the taxicab which had brought him from the station, -and turned to the sentry on guard. - -"Get some one to handle my luggage!" he said briskly. - -The sentry eyed him reproachfully. "Say," he remarked, "where you -goin' with the general's duds, sonny?" - -Benjamin, veteran of the Spanish-American War, whirled upon him with -fire in his eye, but with, alas, a changing treble voice. - -"Come to attention!" he tried to thunder; he paused for breath--then -suddenly he saw the sentry snap his heels together and bring his rifle -to the present. Benjamin concealed a smile of gratification, but when -he glanced around his smile faded. It was not he who had inspired -obedience, but an imposing artillery colonel who was approaching on -horseback. - -"Colonel!" called Benjamin shrilly. - -The colonel came up, drew rein, and looked coolly down at him with a -twinkle in his eyes. "Whose little boy are you?" he demanded kindly. - -"I'll soon darn well show you whose little boy I am!" retorted -Benjamin in a ferocious voice. "Get down off that horse!" - -The colonel roared with laughter. - -"You want him, eh, general?" - -"Here!" cried Benjamin desperately. "Read this." And he thrust his -commission toward the colonel. The colonel read it, his eyes popping -from their sockets. "Where'd you get this?" he demanded, slipping the -document into his own pocket. "I got it from the Government, as you'll -soon find out!" "You come along with me," said the colonel with a -peculiar look. "We'll go up to headquarters and talk this over. Come -along." The colonel turned and began walking his horse in the -direction of headquarters. There was nothing for Benjamin to do but -follow with as much dignity as possible--meanwhile promising himself a -stern revenge. But this revenge did not materialise. Two days later, -however, his son Roscoe materialised from Baltimore, hot and cross -from a hasty trip, and escorted the weeping general, _sans_ -uniform, back to his home. - - -II - -In 1920 Roscoe Button's first child was born. During the attendant -festivities, however, no one thought it "the thing" to mention, that -the little grubby boy, apparently about ten years of age who played -around the house with lead soldiers and a miniature circus, was the -new baby's own grandfather. - -No one disliked the little boy whose fresh, cheerful face was crossed -with just a hint of sadness, but to Roscoe Button his presence was a -source of torment. In the idiom of his generation Roscoe did not -consider the matter "efficient." It seemed to him that his father, in -refusing to look sixty, had not behaved like a "red-blooded -he-man"--this was Roscoe's favourite expression--but in a curious and -perverse manner. Indeed, to think about the matter for as much as a -half an hour drove him to the edge of insanity. Roscoe believed that -"live wires" should keep young, but carrying it out on such a scale -was--was--was inefficient. And there Roscoe rested. - -Five years later Roscoe's little boy had grown old enough to play -childish games with little Benjamin under the supervision of the same -nurse. Roscoe took them both to kindergarten on the same day, and -Benjamin found that playing with little strips of coloured paper, -making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most -fascinating game in the world. Once he was bad and had to stand in the -corner--then he cried--but for the most part there were gay hours in -the cheerful room, with the sunlight coming in the windows and Miss -Bailey's kind hand resting for a moment now and then in his tousled -hair. - -Roscoe's son moved up into the first grade after a year, but Benjamin -stayed on in the kindergarten. He was very happy. Sometimes when other -tots talked about what they would do when they grew up a shadow would -cross his little face as if in a dim, childish way he realised that -those were things in which he was never to share. - -The days flowed on in monotonous content. He went back a third year to -the kindergarten, but he was too little now to understand what the -bright shining strips of paper were for. He cried because the other -boys were bigger than he, and he was afraid of them. The teacher -talked to him, but though he tried to understand he could not -understand at all. - -He was taken from the kindergarten. His nurse, Nana, in her starched -gingham dress, became the centre of his tiny world. On bright days -they walked in the park; Nana would point at a great gray monster and -say "elephant," and Benjamin would say it after her, and when he was -being undressed for bed that night he would say it over and over aloud -to her: "Elyphant, elyphant, elyphant." Sometimes Nana let him jump on -the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right it would -bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said "Ah" for a long time -while you jumped you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect. - -He loved to take a big cane from the hat-rack and go around hitting -chairs and tables with it and saying: "Fight, fight, fight." When -there were people there the old ladies would cluck at him, which -interested him, and the young ladies would try to kiss him, which he -submitted to with mild boredom. And when the long day was done at five -o'clock he would go upstairs with Nana and be fed on oatmeal and nice -soft mushy foods with a spoon. - -There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep; no token -came to him of his brave days at college, of the glittering years when -he flustered the hearts of many girls. There were only the white, safe -walls of his crib and Nana and a man who came to see him sometimes, -and a great big orange ball that Nana pointed at just before his -twilight bed hour and called "sun." When the sun went his eyes were -sleepy--there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him. - -The past--the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the -first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk -down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days -before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old -Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded -like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. -He did not remember. - -He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his -last feeding or how the days passed--there was only his crib and -Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was -hungry he cried--that was all. Through the noons and nights he -breathed and over him there were soft mumblings and murmurings that he -scarcely heard, and faintly differentiated smells, and light and -darkness. - -Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved -above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether -from his mind. - - - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE - - -Running footsteps--light, soft-soled shoes made of curious leathery -cloth brought from Ceylon setting the pace; thick flowing boots, two -pairs, dark blue and gilt, reflecting the moonlight in blunt gleams -and splotches, following a stone's throw behind. - -Soft Shoes flashes through a patch of moonlight, then darts into a -blind labyrinth of alleys and becomes only an intermittent scuffle -ahead somewhere in the enfolding darkness. In go Flowing Boots, with -short swords lurching and long plumes awry, finding a breath to curse -God and the black lanes of London. - -Soft Shoes leaps a shadowy gate and crackles through a hedgerow. -Flowing Boots leap the gate and crackles through the hedgerow--and -there, startlingly, is the watch ahead--two murderous pikemen of -ferocious cast of mouth acquired in Holland and the Spanish marches. - -But there is no cry for help. The pursued does not fall panting at the -feet of the watch, clutching a purse; neither do the pursuers raise a -hue and cry. Soft Shoes goes by in a rush of swift air. The watch -curse and hesitate, glance after the fugitive, and then spread their -pikes grimly across the road and wait for Flowing Boots. Darkness, -like a great hand, cuts off the even flow the moon. - -The hand moves off the moon whose pale caress finds again the eaves -and lintels, and the watch, wounded and tumbled in the dust. Up the -street one of Flowing Boots leaves a black trail of spots until he -binds himself, clumsily as he runs, with fine lace caught from his -throat. - -It was no affair for the watch: Satan was at large tonight and Satan -seemed to be he who appeared dimly in front, heel over gate, knee over -fence. Moreover, the adversary was obviously travelling near home or -at least in that section of London consecrated to his coarser whims, -for the street narrowed like a road in a picture and the houses bent -over further and further, cooping in natural ambushes suitable for -murder and its histrionic sister, sudden death. - -Down long and sinuous lanes twisted the hunted and the harriers, -always in and out of the moon in a perpetual queen's move over a -checker-board of glints and patches. Ahead, the quarry, minus his -leather jerkin now and half blinded by drips of sweat, had taken to -scanning his ground desperately on both sides. As a result he suddenly -slowed short, and retracing his steps a bit scooted up an alley so -dark that it seemed that here sun and moon had been in eclipse since -the last glacier slipped roaring over the earth. Two hundred yards -down he stopped and crammed himself into a niche in the wall where he -huddled and panted silently, a grotesque god without bulk or outline -in the gloom. - -Flowing Boots, two pairs, drew near, came up, went by, halted twenty -yards beyond him, and spoke in deep-lunged, scanty whispers: - -"I was attune to that scuffle; it stopped." - -"Within twenty paces." - -"He's hid." - -"Stay together now and we'll cut him up." - -The voice faded into a low crunch of a boot, nor did Soft Shoes wait -to hear more--he sprang in three leaps across the alley, where he -bounded up, flapped for a moment on the top of the wall like a huge -bird, and disappeared, gulped down by the hungry night at a mouthful. - - -II - - "He read at wine, he read in bed, - He read aloud, had he the breath, - His every thought was with the dead, - And so he read himself to death." - -Any visitor to the old James the First graveyard near Peat's Hill may -spell out this bit of doggerel, undoubtedly one of the worst recorded -of an Elizabethan, on the tomb of Wessel Caster. - -This death of his, says the antiquary, occurred when he was -thirty-seven, but as this story is concerned with the night of a -certain chase through darkness, we find him still alive, still -reading. His eyes were somewhat dim, his stomach somewhat obvious-he -was a mis-built man and indolent--oh, Heavens! But an era is an era, -and in the reign of Elizabeth, by the grace of Luther, Queen of -England, no man could help but catch the spirit of enthusiasm. Every -loft in Cheapside published its _Magnum Folium_ (or magazine)--of -its new blank verse; the Cheapside Players would produce anything on -sight as long as it "got away from those reactionary miracle plays," -and the English Bible had run through seven "very large" printings in, -as many months. - -So Wessel Caxter (who in his youth had gone to sea) was now a reader -of all on which he could lay his hands--he read manuscripts In holy -friendship; he dined rotten poets; he loitered about the shops where -the _Magna Folia_ were printed, and he listened tolerantly while -the young playwrights wrangled and bickered among them-selves, and -behind each other's backs made bitter and malicious charges of -plagiarism or anything else they could think of. - -To-night he had a book, a piece of work which, though inordinately -versed, contained, he thought, some rather excellent political satire. -"The Faerie Queene" by Edmund Spenser lay before him under the -tremulous candle-light. He had ploughed through a canto; he was -beginning another: - -THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS OR OF CHASTITY - - _It falls me here to write of Chastity. - The fayrest vertue, far above the rest_.... - -A sudden rush of feet on the stairs, a rusty swing-open of the thin -door, and a man thrust himself into the room, a man without a jerkin, -panting, sobbing, on the verge of collapse. - -"Wessel," words choked him, "stick me away somewhere, love of Our -Lady!" - -Caxter rose, carefully closing his book, and bolted the door in some -concern. - -"I'm pursued," cried out Soft Shoes. "I vow there's two short-witted -blades trying to make me into mincemeat and near succeeding. They saw -me hop the back wall!" - -"It would need," said Wessel, looking at him curiously, "several -battalions armed with blunderbusses, and two or three Armadas, to keep -you reasonably secure from the revenges of the world." - -Soft Shoes smiled with satisfaction. His sobbing gasps were giving way -to quick, precise breathing; his hunted air had faded to a faintly -perturbed irony. - -"I feel little surprise," continued Wessel. - -"They were two such dreary apes." - -"Making a total of three." - -"Only two unless you stick me away. Man, man, come alive, they'll be -on the stairs in a spark's age." - -Wessel took a dismantled pike-staff from the corner, and raising it to -the high ceiling, dislodged a rough trap-door opening into a garret -above. - -"There's no ladder." - -He moved a bench under the trap, upon which Soft Shoes mounted, -crouched, hesitated, crouched again, and then leaped amazingly upward. -He caught at the edge of the aperture and swung back and forth, for a -moment, shifting his hold; finally doubled up and disappeared into the -darkness above. There was a scurry, a migration of rats, as the -trap-door was replaced;... silence. - -Wessel returned to his reading-table, opened to the Legend of -Britomartis or of Chastity--and waited. Almost a minute later there -was a scramble on the stairs and an intolerable hammering at the door. -Wessel sighed and, picking up his candle, rose. - -"Who's there?" - -"Open the door!" - -"Who's there?" - -An aching blow frightened the frail wood, splintered it around the -edge. Wessel opened it a scarce three inches, and held the candle -high. His was to play the timorous, the super-respectable citizen, -disgracefully disturbed. - -"One small hour of the night for rest. Is that too much to ask from -every brawler and---" - -"Quiet, gossip! Have you seen a perspiring fellow?" - -The shadows of two gallants fell in immense wavering outlines over the -narrow stairs; by the light Wessel scrutinized them closely. -Gentlemen, they were, hastily but richly dressed--one of them wounded -severely in the hand, both radiating a sort of furious horror. Waving -aside Wessel's ready miscomprehension, they pushed by him into the -room and with their swords went through the business of poking -carefully into all suspected dark spots in the room, further extending -their search to Wessel's bedchamber. - -"Is he hid here?" demanded the wounded man fiercely. - -"Is who here?" - -"Any man but you." - -"Only two others that I know of." - -For a second Wessel feared that he had been too damned funny, for the -gallants made as though to prick him through. - -"I heard a man on the stairs," he said hastily, "full five minutes -ago, it was. He most certainly failed to come up." - -He went on to explain his absorption in "The Faerie Queene" but, for -the moment at least, his visitors, like the great saints, were -anaesthetic to culture. - -"What's been done?" inquired Wessel. - -"Violence!" said the man with the wounded hand. Wessel noticed that -his eyes were quite wild. "My own sister. Oh, Christ in heaven, give -us this man!" - -Wessel winced. - -"Who is the man?" - -"God's word! We know not even that. What's that trap up there?" he -added suddenly. - -"It's nailed down. It's not been used for years." He thought of the -pole in the corner and quailed in his belly, but the utter despair of -the two men dulled their astuteness. - -"It would take a ladder for any one not a tumbler," said the wounded -man listlessly. - -His companion broke into hysterical laughter. - -"A tumbler. Oh, a tumbler. Oh---" - -Wessel stared at them in wonder. - -"That appeals to my most tragic humor," cried the man, "that no -one--oh, no one--could get up there but a tumbler." - -The gallant with the wounded hand snapped his good fingers -impatiently. - -"We must go next door--and then on--" - -Helplessly they went as two walking under a dark and storm-swept sky. - -Wessel closed and bolted the door and stood a moment by it, frowning -in pity. - -A low-breathed "Ha!" made him look up. Soft Shoes had already raised -the trap and was looking down into the room, his rather elfish face -squeezed into a grimace, half of distaste, half of sardonic amusement. - -"They take off their heads with their helmets," he remarked in a -whisper, "but as for you and me, Wessel, we are two cunning men." - -"Now you be cursed," cried Wessel vehemently. "I knew you for a dog, -but when I hear even the half of a tale like this, I know you for such -a dirty cur that I am minded to club your skull." - -Soft Shoes stared at him, blinking. - -"At all events," he replied finally, "I find dignity impossible in -this position." - -With this he let his body through the trap, hung for an instant, and -dropped the seven feet to the floor. - -"There was a rat considered my ear with the air of a gourmet," he -continued, dusting his hands on his breeches. "I told him in the rat's -peculiar idiom that I was deadly poison, so he took himself off." - -"Let's hear of this night's lechery!" insisted Wessel angrily. - -Soft Shoes touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled the fingers -derisively at Wessel. - -"Street gamin!" muttered Wessel. - -"Have you any paper?" demanded Soft Shoes irrelevantly, and then -rudely added, "or can you write?" - -"Why should I give you paper?" - -"You wanted to hear of the night's entertainment. So you shall, an you -give me pen, ink, a sheaf of paper, and a room to myself." - -Wessel hesitated. - -"Get out!" he said finally. - -"As you will. Yet you have missed a most intriguing story." - -Wessel wavered--he was soft as taffy, that man--gave in. Soft Shoes -went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and -precisely closed the door. Wessel grunted and returned to "The Faerie -Queene"; so silence came once more upon the house. - - -III - -Three o'clock went into four. The room paled, the dark outside was -shot through with damp and chill, and Wessel, cupping his brain in his -hands, bent low over his table, tracing through the pattern of knights -and fairies and the harrowing distresses of many girls. There were -dragons chortling along the narrow street outside; when the sleepy -armorer's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clink and -clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching -cavalcade. - -A fog shut down at the first flare of dawn, and the room was grayish -yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and -pulled open the door. His guest turned on him a face pale as parchment -in which two distraught eyes burned like great red letters. He had -drawn a chair close to Wessel's _prie-dieu_ which he was using as -a desk; and on it was an amazing stack of closely written pages. With -a long sigh Wessel withdrew and returned to his siren, calling himself -fool for not claiming his bed here at dawn. - -The dump of boots outside, the croaking of old beldames from attic to -attic, the dull murmur of morning, unnerved him, and, dozing, he -slumped in his chair, his brain, overladen with sound and color, -working intolerably over the imagery that stacked it. In this restless -dream of his he was one of a thousand groaning bodies crushed near the -sun, a helpless bridge for the strong-eyed Apollo. The dream tore at -him, scraped along his mind like a ragged knife. When a hot hand -touched his shoulder, he awoke with what was nearly a scream to find -the fog thick in the room and his guest, a gray ghost of misty stuff, -beside him with a pile of paper in his hand. - -"It should be a most intriguing tale, I believe, though it requires -some going over. May I ask you to lock it away, and in God's name let -me sleep?" - -He waited for no answer, but thrust the pile at Wessel, and literally -poured himself like stuff from a suddenly inverted bottle upon a couch -in the corner, slept, with his breathing regular, but his brow -wrinkled in a curious and somewhat uncanny manner. - -Wessel yawned sleepily and, glancing at the scrawled, uncertain first -page, he began reading aloud very softly: - - _The Rape of Lucrece - - "From the besieged Ardea all in post, - Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, - Lust-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman host--"_ - - - - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - - -Merlin Grainger was employed by the Moonlight Quill Bookshop, which -you may have visited, just around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton on -Forty-seventh Street. The Moonlight Quill is, or rather was, a very -romantic little store, considered radical and admitted dark. It was -spotted interiorly with red and orange posters of breathless exotic -intent, and lit no less by the shiny reflecting bindings of special -editions than by the great squat lamp of crimson satin that, lighted -through all the day, swung overhead. It was truly a mellow bookshop. -The words "Moonlight Quill" were worked over the door in a sort of -serpentine embroidery. The windows seemed always full of something -that had passed the literary censors with little to spare; volumes -with covers of deep orange which offer their titles on little white -paper squares. And over all there was the smell of the musk, which the -clever, inscrutable Mr. Moonlight Quill ordered to be sprinkled -about-the smell half of a curiosity shop in Dickens' London and half -of a coffee-house on the warm shores of the Bosphorus. - -From nine until five-thirty Merlin Grainger asked bored old ladies in -black and young men with dark circles under their eyes if they "cared -for this fellow" or were interested in first editions. Did they buy -novels with Arabs on the cover, or books which gave Shakespeare's -newest sonnets as dictated psychically to Miss Sutton of South Dakota? -he sniffed. As a matter of fact, his own taste ran to these latter, -but as an employee at the Moonlight Quill he assumed for the working -day the attitude of a disillusioned connoisseur. - -After he had crawled over the window display to pull down the front -shade at five-thirty every afternoon, and said good-bye to the -mysterious Mr. Moonlight Quill and the lady clerk, Miss McCracken, and -the lady stenographer, Miss Masters, he went home to the girl, -Caroline. He did not eat supper with Caroline. It is unbelievable that -Caroline would have considered eating off his bureau with the collar -buttons dangerously near the cottage cheese, and the ends of Merlin's -necktie just missing his glass of milk--he had never asked her to eat -with him. He ate alone. He went into Braegdort's delicatessen on Sixth -Avenue and bought a box of crackers, a tube of anchovy paste, and some -oranges, or else a little jar of sausages and some potato salad and a -bottled soft drink, and with these in a brown package he went to his -room at Fifty-something West Fifty-eighth Street and ate his supper -and saw Caroline. - -Caroline was a very young and gay person who lived with some older -lady and was possibly nineteen. She was like a ghost in that she never -existed until evening. She sprang into life when the lights went on in -her apartment at about six, and she disappeared, at the latest, about -midnight. Her apartment was a nice one, in a nice building with a -white stone front, opposite the south side of Central Park. The back -of her apartment faced the single window of the single room occupied -by the single Mr. Grainger. - -He called her Caroline because there was a picture that looked like -her on the jacket of a book of that name down at the Moonlight Quill. - -Now, Merlin Grainger was a thin young man of twenty-five, with dark -hair and no mustache or beard or anything like that, but Caroline was -dazzling and light, with a shimmering morass of russet waves to take -the place of hair, and the sort of features that remind you of -kisses--the sort of features you thought belonged to your first love, -but know, when you come across an old picture, didn't. She dressed in -pink or blue usually, but of late she had sometimes put on a slender -black gown that was evidently her especial pride, for whenever she -wore it she would stand regarding a certain place on the wall, which -Merlin thought most be a mirror. She sat usually in the profile chair -near the window, but sometimes honored the _chaise longue_ by the -lamp, and often she leaned 'way back and smoked a cigarette with -posturings of her arms and hands that Merlin considered very graceful. - -At another time she had come to the window and stood in it -magnificently, and looked out because the moon had lost its way and -was dripping the strangest and most transforming brilliance into the -areaway between, turning the motif of ash-cans and clothes-lines into -a vivid impressionism of silver casks and gigantic gossamer cobwebs. -Merlin was sitting in plain sight, eating cottage cheese with sugar -and milk on it; and so quickly did he reach out for the window cord -that he tipped the cottage cheese into his lap with his free hand--and -the milk was cold and the sugar made spots on his trousers, and he was -sure that she had seen him after all. - -Sometimes there were callers--men in dinner coats, who stood and -bowed, hat in hand and coat on arm, as they talked to Caroline; then -bowed some more and followed her out of the light, obviously bound for -a play or for a dance. Other young men came and sat and smoked -cigarettes, and seemed trying to tell Caroline something--she sitting -either in the profile chair and watching them with eager intentness or -else in the _chaise longue_ by the lamp, looking very lovely and -youthfully inscrutable indeed. - -Merlin enjoyed these calls. Of some of the men he approved. Others won -only his grudging toleration, one or two he loathed--especially the -most frequent caller, a man with black hair and a black goatee and a -pitch-dark soul, who seemed to Merlin vaguely familiar, but whom he -was never quite able to recognize. - -Now, Merlin's whole life was not "bound up with this romance he had -constructed"; it was not "the happiest hour of his day." He never -arrived in time to rescue Caroline from "clutches"; nor did he even -marry her. A much stranger thing happened than any of these, and it is -this strange thing that will presently be set down here. It began one -October afternoon when she walked briskly into the mellow interior of -the Moonlight Quill. - -It was a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, -and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York -afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, whisking -along battered newspapers and pieces of things, and little lights were -pricking out all the windows--it was so desolate that one was sorry -for the tops of sky-scrapers lost up there in the dark green and gray -heaven, and felt that now surely the farce was to close, and presently -all the buildings would collapse like card houses, and pile up in a -dusty, sardonic heap upon all the millions who presumed to wind in and -out of them. - -At least these were the sort of musings that lay heavily upon the soul -of Merlin Grainger, as he stood by the window putting a dozen books -back in a row after a cyclonic visit by a lady with ermine trimmings. -He looked out of the window full of the most distressing thoughts--of -the early novels of H. G. Wells, of the boot of Genesis, of how Thomas -Edison had said that in thirty years there would be no dwelling-houses -upon the island, but only a vast and turbulent bazaar; and then he set -the last book right side up, turned--and Caroline walked coolly into -the shop. - -She was dressed in a jaunty but conventional walking costume--he -remembered this when he thought about it later. Her skirt was plaid, -pleated like a concertina; her jacket was a soft but brisk tan; her -shoes and spats were brown and her hat, small and trim, completed her -like the top of a very expensive and beautifully filled candy box. - -Merlin, breathless and startled, advanced nervously toward her. - -"Good-afternoon--" he said, and then stopped--why, he did not know, -except that it came to him that something very portentous in his life -was about to occur, and that it would need no furbishing but silence, -and the proper amount of expectant attention. And in that minute -before the thing began to happen he had the sense of a breathless -second hanging suspended in time: he saw through the glass partition -that bounded off the little office the malevolent conical head of his -employer, Mr. Moonlight Quill, bent over his correspondence. He saw -Miss McCracken and Miss Masters as two patches of hair drooping over -piles of paper; he saw the crimson lamp overhead, and noticed with a -touch of pleasure how really pleasant and romantic it made the -book-store seem. - -Then the thing happened, or rather it began to happen. Caroline picked -up a volume of poems lying loose upon a pile, fingered it absently -with her slender white hand, and suddenly, with an easy gesture, -tossed it upward toward the ceiling where it disappeared in the -crimson lamp and lodged there, seen through the illuminated silk as a -dark, bulging rectangle. This pleased her--she broke into young, -contagious laughter, in which Merlin found himself presently joining. - -"It stayed up!" she cried merrily. "It stayed up, didn't it?" To both -of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity. Their laughter -mingled, filled the bookshop, and Merlin was glad to find that her -voice was rich and full of sorcery. - -"Try another," he found himself suggesting--"try a red one." - -At this her laughter increased, and she had to rest her hands upon the -stack to steady herself. - -"Try another," she managed to articulate between spasms of mirth. "Oh, -golly, try another!" - -"Try two." - -"Yes, try two. Oh, I'll choke if I don't stop laughing. Here it goes." - -Suiting her action to the word, she picked up a red book and sent it -in a gentle hyperbola toward the ceiling, where it sank into the lamp -beside the first. It was a few minutes before either of them could do -more than rock back and forth in helpless glee; but then by mutual -agreement they took up the sport anew, this time in unison. Merlin -seized a large, specially bound French classic and whirled it upward. -Applauding his own accuracy, he took a best-seller in one hand and a -book on barnacles in the other, and waited breathlessly while she made -her shot. Then the business waxed fast and furious--sometimes they -alternated, and, watching, he found how supple she was in every -movement; sometimes one of them made shot after shot, picking up the -nearest book, sending it off, merely taking time to follow it with a -glance before reaching for another. Within three minutes they had -cleared a little place on the table, and the lamp of crimson satin was -so bulging with books that it was near breaking. - -"Silly game, basket-ball," she cried scornfully as a book left her -hand. "High-school girls play it in hideous bloomers." - -"Idiotic," he agreed. - -She paused in the act of tossing a book, and replaced it suddenly in -its position on the table. - -"I think we've got room to sit down now," she said gravely. - -They had; they had cleared an ample space for two. With a faint touch -of nervousness Merlin glanced toward Mr. Moonlight Quill's glass -partition, but the three heads were still bent earnestly over their -work, and it was evident that they had not seen what had gone on in -the shop. So when Caroline put her hands on the table and hoisted -herself up Merlin calmly imitated her, and they sat side by side -looking very earnestly at each other. - -"I had to see you," she began, with a rather pathetic expression in -her brown eyes. - -"I know." - -"It was that last time," she continued, her voice trembling a little, -though she tried to keep it steady. "I was frightened. I don't like -you to eat off the dresser. I'm so afraid you'll--you'll swallow a -collar button." - -"I did once--almost," he confessed reluctantly, "but it's not so easy, -you know. I mean you can swallow the flat part easy enough or else the -other part--that is, separately--but for a whole collar button you'd -have to have a specially made throat." He was astonishing himself by -the debonnaire appropriateness of his remarks. Words seemed for the -first time in his life to ran at him shrieking to be used, gathering -themselves into carefully arranged squads and platoons, and being -presented to him by punctilious adjutants of paragraphs. - -"That's what scared me," she said. "I knew you had to have a specially -made throat--and I knew, at least I felt sure, that you didn't have -one." - -He nodded frankly. - -"I haven't. It costs money to have one--more money unfortunately than -I possess." - -He felt no shame in saying this--rather a delight in making the -admission--he knew that nothing he could say or do would be beyond her -comprehension; least of all his poverty, and the practical -impossibility of ever extricating himself from it. - -Caroline looked down at her wrist watch, and with a little cry slid -from the table to her feet. - -"It's after five," she cried. "I didn't realize. I have to be at the -Ritz at five-thirty. Let's hurry and get this done. I've got a bet on -it." - -With one accord they set to work. Caroline began the matter by seizing -a book on insects and sending it whizzing, and finally crashing -through the glass partition that housed Mr. Moonlight Quill. The -proprietor glanced up with a wild look, brushed a few pieces of glass -from his desk, and went on with his letters. Miss McCracken gave no -sign of having heard--only Miss Masters started and gave a little -frightened scream before she bent to her task again. - -But to Merlin and Caroline it didn't matter. In a perfect orgy of -energy they were hurling book after book in all directions until -sometimes three or four were in the air at once, smashing against -shelves, cracking the glass of pictures on the walls, falling in -bruised and torn heaps upon the floor. It was fortunate that no -customers happened to come in, for it is certain they would never have -come in again--the noise was too tremendous, a noise of smashing and -ripping and tearing, mixed now and then with the tinkling of glass, -the quick breathing of the two throwers, and the intermittent -outbursts of laughter to which both of them periodically surrendered. - -At five-thirty Caroline tossed a last book at the lamp, and gave the -final impetus to the load it carried. The weakened silk tore and -dropped its cargo in one vast splattering of white and color to the -already littered floor. Then with a sigh of relief she turned to -Merlin and held out her hand. - -"Good-by," she said simply. - -"Are you going?" He knew she was. His question was simply a lingering -wile to detain her and extract for another moment that dazzling -essence of light he drew from her presence, to continue his enormous -satisfaction in her features, which were like kisses and, he thought, -like the features of a girl he had known back in 1910. For a minute he -pressed the softness of her hand--then she smiled and withdrew it and, -before he could spring to open the door, she had done it herself and -was gone out into the turbid and ominous twilight that brooded -narrowly over Forty-seventh Street. - -I would like to tell you how Merlin, having seen how beauty regards -the wisdom of the years, walked into the little partition of Mr. -Moonlight Quill and gave up his job then and there; thence issuing out -into the street a much finer and nobler and increasingly ironic man. -But the truth is much more commonplace. Merlin Grainger stood up and -surveyed the wreck of the bookshop, the ruined volumes, the torn silk -remnants of the once beautiful crimson lamp, the crystalline -sprinkling of broken glass which lay in iridescent dust over the whole -interior--and then he went to a corner where a broom was kept and -began cleaning up and rearranging and, as far as he was able, -restoring the shop to its former condition. He found that, though some -few of the books were uninjured, most of them had suffered in varying -extents. The backs were off some, the pages were torn from others, -still others were just slightly cracked in the front, which, as all -careless book returners know, makes a book unsalable, and therefore -second-hand. - -Nevertheless by six o'clock he had done much to repair the damage. He -had returned the books to their original places, swept the floor, and -put new lights in the sockets overhead. The red shade itself was -ruined beyond redemption, and Merlin thought in some trepidation that -the money to replace it might have to come out of his salary. At six, -therefore, having done the best he could, he crawled over the front -window display to pull down the blind. As he was treading delicately -back, he saw Mr. Moonlight Quill rise from his desk, put on his -overcoat and hat, and emerge into the shop. He nodded mysteriously at -Merlin and went toward the door. With his hand on the knob he paused, -turned around, and in a voice curiously compounded of ferocity and -uncertainty, he said: - -"If that girl comes in here again, you tell her to behave." - -With that he opened the door, drowning Merlin's meek "Yessir" in its -creak, and went out. - -Merlin stood there for a moment, deciding wisely not to worry about -what was for the present only a possible futurity, and then he went -into the back of the shop and invited Miss Masters to have supper with -him at Pulpat's French Restaurant, where one could still obtain red -wine at dinner, despite the Great Federal Government. Miss Masters -accepted. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly," she said. - -Merlin laughed inwardly as he compared her to Caroline, or rather as -he didn't compare her. There was no comparison. - - -II - -Mr. Moonlight Quill, mysterious, exotic, and oriental in temperament -was, nevertheless, a man of decision. And it was with decision that he -approached the problem of his wrecked shop. Unless he should make an -outlay equal to the original cost of his entire stock--a step which -for certain private reasons he did not wish to take--it would be -impossible for him to continue in business with the Moonlight Quill as -before. There was but one thing to do. He promptly turned his -establishment from an up-to-the-minute book-store into a second-hand -bookshop. The damaged books were marked down from twenty-five to fifty -per cent, the name over the door whose serpentine embroidery had once -shone so insolently bright, was allowed to grow dim and take on the -indescribably vague color of old paint, and, having a strong penchant -for ceremonial, the proprietor even went so far as to buy two -skull-caps of shoddy red felt, one for himself and one for his clerk, -Merlin Grainger. Moreover, he let his goatee grow until it resembled -the tail-feathers of an ancient sparrow and substituted for a once -dapper business suit a reverence-inspiring affair of shiny alpaca. - -In fact, within a year after Caroline's catastrophic visit to the -bookshop the only thing in it that preserved any semblance of being up -to date was Miss Masters. Miss McCracken had followed in the footsteps -of Mr. Moonlight Quill and become an intolerable dowd. - -For Merlin too, from a feeling compounded of loyalty and listlessness, -had let his exterior take on the semblance of a deserted garden. He -accepted the red felt skull-cap as a symbol of his decay. Always a -young man known, as a "pusher," he had been, since the day of his -graduation from the manual training department of a New York High -School, an inveterate brusher of clothes, hair, teeth, and even -eyebrows, and had learned the value of laying all his clean socks toe -upon toe and heel upon heel in a certain drawer of his bureau, which -would be known as the sock drawer. - -These things, he felt, had won him his place in the greatest splendor -of the Moonlight Quill. It was due to them that he was not still -making "chests useful for keeping things," as he was taught with -breathless practicality in High School, and selling them to whoever -had use of such chests--possibly undertakers. Nevertheless when the -progressive Moonlight Quill became the retrogressive Moonlight Quill -he preferred to sink with it, and so took to letting his suits gather -undisturbed the wispy burdens of the air and to throwing his socks -indiscriminately into the shirt drawer, the underwear drawer, and even -into no drawer at all. It was not uncommon in his new carelessness to -let many of his clean clothes go directly back to the laundry without -having ever been worn, a common eccentricity of impoverished -bachelors. And this in the face of his favorite magazines, which at -that time were fairly staggering with articles by successful authors -against the frightful impudence of the condemned poor, such as the -buying of wearable shirts and nice cuts of meat, and the fact that -they preferred good investments in personal jewelry to respectable -ones in four per cent saving-banks. - -It was indeed a strange state of affairs and a sorry one for many -worthy and God-fearing men. For the first time in the history of the -Republic almost any negro north of Georgia could change a one-dollar -bill. But as at that time the cent was rapidly approaching the -purchasing power of the Chinese ubu and was only a thing you got back -occasionally after paying for a soft drink, and could use merely in -getting your correct weight, this was perhaps not so strange a -phenomenon as it at first seems. It was too curious a state of things, -however, for Merlin Grainger to take the step that he did take--the -hazardous, almost involuntary step of proposing to Miss Masters. -Stranger still that she accepted him, - -It was at Pulpat's on Saturday night and over a $1.75 bottle of water -diluted with _vin ordinaire_ that the proposal occurred. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly, doesn't it you?" chattered Miss -Masters gaily. - -"Yes," answered Merlin absently; and then, after a long and pregnant -pause: "Miss Masters--Olive--I want to say something to you if you'll -listen to me." - -The tingliness of Miss Masters (who knew what was coming) increased -until it seemed that she would shortly be electrocuted by her own -nervous reactions. But her "Yes, Merlin," came without a sign or -flicker of interior disturbance. Merlin swallowed a stray bit of air -that he found in his mouth. - -"I have no fortune," he said with the manner of making an -announcement. "I have no fortune at all." - -Their eyes met, locked, became wistful, and dreamy and beautiful. - -"Olive," he told her, "I love you." - -"I love you too, Merlin," she answered simply. "Shall we have another -bottle of wine?" - -"Yes," he cried, his heart beating at a great rate. "Do you mean--" - -"To drink to our engagement," she interrupted bravely. "May it be a -short one!" - -"No!" he almost shouted, bringing his fist fiercely down upon the -table. "May it last forever!" - -"What?" - -"I mean--oh, I see what you mean. You're right. May it be a short -one." He laughed and added, "My error." - -After the wine arrived they discussed the matter thoroughly. - -"We'll have to take a small apartment at first," he said, "and I -believe, yes, by golly, I know there's a small one in the house where -I live, a big room and a sort of a dressing-room-kitchenette and the -use of a bath on the same floor." - -She clapped her hands happily, and he thought how pretty she was -really, that is, the upper part of her face--from the bridge of the -nose down she was somewhat out of true. She continued enthusiastically: - -"And as soon as we can afford it we'll take a real swell apartment, -with an elevator and a telephone girl." - -"And after that a place in the country--and a car." - -"I can't imagine nothing more fun. Can you?" - -Merlin fell silent a moment. He was thinking that he would have to -give up his room, the fourth floor rear. Yet it mattered very little -now. During the past year and a half--in fact, from the very date of -Caroline's visit to the Moonlight Quill--he had never seen her. For a -week after that visit her lights had failed to go on--darkness brooded -out into the areaway, seemed to grope blindly in at his expectant, -uncurtained window. Then the lights had appeared at last, and instead -of Caroline and her callers they stowed a stodgy family--a little man -with a bristly mustache and a full-bosomed woman who spent her -evenings patting her hips and rearranging bric--brac. After two days -of them Merlin had callously pulled down his shade. - -No, Merlin could think of nothing more fun than rising in the world -with Olive. There would be a cottage in a suburb, a cottage painted -blue, just one class below the sort of cottages that are of white -stucco with a green roof. In the grass around the cottage would be -rusty trowels and a broken green bench and a baby-carriage with a -wicker body that sagged to the left. And around the grass and the -baby-carriage and the cottage itself, around his whole world there -would be the arms of Olive, a little stouter, the arms of her -neo-Olivian period, when, as she walked, her cheeks would tremble up -and down ever so slightly from too much face-massaging. He could hear -her voice now, two spoons' length away: - -"I knew you were going to say this to-night, Merlin. I could see--" - -She could see. Ah--suddenly he wondered how much she could see. Could -she see that the girl who had come in with a party of three men and -sat down at the next table was Caroline? Ah, could she see that? Could -she see that the men brought with them liquor far more potent than -Pulpat's red ink condensed threefold?... - -Merlin stared breathlessly, half-hearing through an auditory ether -Olive's low, soft monologue, as like a persistent honey-bee she sucked -sweetness from her memorable hour. Merlin was listening to the -clinking of ice and the fine laughter of all four at some -pleasantry--and that laughter of Caroline's that he knew so well -stirred him, lifted him, called his heart imperiously over to her -table, whither it obediently went. He could see her quite plainly, and -he fancied that in the last year and a half she had changed, if ever -so slightly. Was it the light or were her cheeks a little thinner and -her eyes less fresh, if more liquid, than of old? Yet the shadows were -still purple in her russet hair; her mouth hinted yet of kisses, as -did the profile that came sometimes between his eyes and a row of -books, when it was twilight in the bookshop where the crimson lamp -presided no more. - -And she had been drinking. The threefold flush in her cheeks was -compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic--that he could tell. -She was making great amusement for the young man on her left and the -portly person on her right, and even for the old fellow opposite her, -for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly -reproachful cackles of another generation. Merlin caught the words of -a song she was intermittently singing-- - - _"Just snap your fingers at care, - Don't cross the bridge 'til you're there--"_ - -The portly person filled her glass with chill amber. A waiter after -several trips about the table, and many helpless glances at Caroline, -who was maintaining a cheerful, futile questionnaire as to the -succulence of this dish or that, managed to obtain the semblance of an -order and hurried away.... - -Olive was speaking to Merlin-- - -"When, then?" she asked, her voice faintly shaded with disappointment. -He realized that he had just answered no to some question she had -asked him. - -"Oh, sometime." - -"Don't you--care?" - -A rather pathetic poignancy in her question brought his eyes back to -her. - -"As soon as possible, dear," he replied with surprising tenderness. -"In two months--in June." - -"So soon?" Her delightful excitement quite took her breath away. - -"Oh, yes, I think we'd better say June. No use waiting." - -Olive began to pretend that two months was really too short a time for -her to make preparations. Wasn't he a bad boy! Wasn't he impatient, -though! Well, she'd show him he mustn't be too quick with _her_. -Indeed he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to -marry him at all. - -"June," he repeated sternly. - -Olive sighed and smiled and drank her coffee, her little finger lifted -high above the others in true refined fashion. A stray thought came to -Merlin that he would like to buy five rings and throw at it. - -"By gosh!" he exclaimed aloud. Soon he _would_ be putting rings -on one of her fingers. - -His eyes swung sharply to the right. The party of four had become so -riotous that the head-waiter had approached and spoken to them. -Caroline was arguing with this head-waiter in a raised voice, a voice -so clear and young that it seemed as though the whole restaurant would -listen--the whole restaurant except Olive Masters, self-absorbed in -her new secret. - -"How do you do?" Caroline was saying. "Probably the handsomest -head-waiter in captivity. Too much noise? Very unfortunate. -Something'll have to be done about it. Gerald"--she addressed the man -on her right--"the head-waiter says there's too much noise. Appeals to -us to have it stopped. What'll I say?" - -"Sh!" remonstrated Gerald, with laughter. "Sh!" and Merlin heard him -add in an undertone: "All the bourgeoisie will be aroused. This is -where the floorwalkers learn French." - -Caroline sat up straight in sudden alertness. - -"Where's a floorwalker?" she cried. "Show me a floorwalker." This -seemed to amuse the party, for they all, including Caroline, burst -into renewed laughter. The head-waiter, after a last conscientious but -despairing admonition, became Gallic with his shoulders and retired -into the background. - -Pulpat's, as every one knows, has the unvarying respectability of the -table d'hte. It is not a gay place in the conventional sense. One -comes, drinks the red wine, talks perhaps a little more and a little -louder than usual under the low, smoky ceilings, and then goes home. -It closes up at nine-thirty, tight as a drum; the policeman is paid -off and given an extra bottle of wine for the missis, the coat-room -girl hands her tips to the collector, and then darkness crushes the -little round tables out of sight and life. But excitement was prepared -for Pulpat's this evening--excitement of no mean variety. A girl with -russet, purple-shadowed hair mounted to her table-top and began to -dance thereon. - -"_Sacr nom de Dieu!_ Come down off there!" cried the -head-waiter. "Stop that music!" - -But the musicians were already playing so loud that they could pretend -not to hear his order; having once been young, they played louder and -gayer than ever, and Caroline danced with grace and vivacity, her -pink, filmy dress swirling about her, her agile arms playing in -supple, tenuous gestures along the smoky air. - -A group of Frenchmen at a table near by broke into cries of applause, -in which other parties joined--in a moment the room was full of -clapping and shouting; half the diners were on their feet, crowding -up, and on the outskirts the hastily summoned proprietor was giving -indistinct vocal evidences of his desire to put an end to this thing -as quickly as possible. - -"... Merlin!" cried Olive, awake, aroused at last; "she's such a -wicked girl! Let's get out--now!" - -The fascinated Merlin protested feebly that the check was not paid. - -"It's all right. Lay five dollars on the table. I despise that girl. I -can't _bear_ to look at her." She was on her feet now, tagging at -Merlin's arm. - -Helplessly, listlessly, and then with what amounted to downright -unwillingness, Merlin rose, followed Olive dumbly as she picked her -way through the delirious clamor, now approaching its height and -threatening to become a wild and memorable riot. Submissively he took -his coat and stumbled up half a dozen steps into the moist April air -outside, his ears still ringing with the sound of light feet on the -table and of laughter all about and over the little world of the cafe. -In silence they walked along toward Fifth Avenue and a bus, - -It was not until next day that she told him about the wedding--how she -had moved the date forward: it was much better that they should be -married on the first of May. - - -III - -And married they were, in a somewhat stuffy manner, under the -chandelier of the flat where Olive lived with her mother. After -marriage came elation, and then, gradually, the growth of weariness. -Responsibility descended upon Merlin, the responsibility of making his -thirty dollars a week and her twenty suffice to keep them respectably -fat and to hide with decent garments the evidence that they were. - -It was decided after several weeks of disastrous and well-nigh -humiliating experiments with restaurants that they would join the -great army of the delicatessen-fed, so he took up his old way of life -again, in that he stopped every evening at Braegdort's delicatessen -and bought potatoes in salad, ham in slices, and sometimes even -stuffed tomatoes in bursts of extravagance. - -Then he would trudge homeward, enter the dark hallway, and climb three -rickety flights of stairs covered by an ancient carpet of long -obliterated design. The hall had an ancient smell--of the vegetables -of 1880, of the furniture polish in vogue when "Adam-and Eve" Bryan -ran against William McKinley, of portieres an ounce heavier with dust, -from worn-out shoes, and lint from dresses turned long since into -patch-work quilts. This smell would pursue him up the stairs, -revivified and made poignant at each landing by the aura of -contemporary cooking, then, as he began the next flight, diminishing -into the odor of the dead routine of dead generations. - -Eventually would occur the door of his room, which slipped open with -indecent willingness and closed with almost a sniff upon his "Hello, -dear! Got a treat for you to-night." - -Olive, who always rode home on the bus to "get a morsel of air," would -be making the bed and hanging up things. At his call she would come up -to him and give him a quick kiss with wide-open eyes, while be held -her upright like a ladder, his hands on her two arms, as though she -were a thing without equilibrium, and would, once he relinquished -hold, fall stiffly backward to the floor. This is the kiss that comes -in with the second year of marriage, succeeding the bridegroom kiss -(which is rather stagey at best, say those who know about such things, -and apt to be copied from passionate movies). - -Then came supper, and after that they went out for a walk, up two -blocks and through Central Park, or sometimes to a moving picture, -which taught them patiently that they were the sort of people for whom -life was ordered, and that something very grand and brave and -beautiful would soon happen to them if they were docile and obedient -to their rightful superiors and kept away from pleasure. - -Such was their day for three years. Then change came into their lives: -Olive had a baby, and as a result Merlin had a new influx of material -resources. In the third week of Olive's confinement, after an hour of -nervous rehearsing, he went into the office of Mr. Moonlight Quill and -demanded an enormous increase in salary. - -"I've been here ten years," he said; "since I was nineteen. I've -always tried to do my best in the interests of the business." - -Mr. Moonlight Quill said that he would think it over. Next morning he -announced, to Merlin's great delight, that he was going to put into -effect a project long premeditated--he was going to retire from active -work in the bookshop, confining himself to periodic visits and leaving -Merlin as manager with a salary of fifty dollars a week and a -one-tenth interest in the business. When the old man finished, -Merlin's cheeks were glowing and his eyes full of tears. He seized his -employer's hand and shook it violently, saying over and over again: - -"It's very nice of you, sir. It's very white of you. It's very, very -nice of you." - -So after ten years of faithful work in the store he had won out at -last. Looking back, he saw his own progress toward this hill of -elation no longer as a sometimes sordid and always gray decade of -worry and failing enthusiasm and failing dreams, years when the -moonlight had grown duller in the areaway and the youth had faded out -of Olive's face, but as a glorious and triumphant climb over obstacles -which he had determinedly surmounted by unconquerable will-power. The -optimistic self-delusion that had kept him from misery was seen now in -the golden garments of stern resolution. Half a dozen times he had -taken steps to leave the Moonlight Quill and soar upward, but through -sheer faintheartedness he had stayed on. Strangely enough he now -thought that those were times when he had exerted tremendous -persistence and had "determined" to fight it out where he was. - -At any rate, let us not for this moment begrudge Merlin his new and -magnificent view of himself. He had arrived. At thirty he had reached -a post of importance. He left the shop that evening fairly radiant, -invested every penny in his pocket in the most tremendous feast that -Braegdort's delicatessen offered, and staggered homeward with the -great news and four gigantic paper bags. The fact that Olive was too -sick to eat, that he made himself faintly but unmistakably ill by a -struggle with four stuffed tomatoes, and that most of the food -deteriorated rapidly in an iceless ice-box: all next day did not mar -the occasion. For the first time since the week of his marriage Merlin -Grainger lived under a sky of unclouded tranquillity. - -The baby boy was christened Arthur, and life became dignified, -significant, and, at length, centered. Merlin and Olive resigned -themselves to a somewhat secondary place in their own cosmos; but what -they lost in personality they regained in a sort of primordial pride. -The country house did not come, but a month in an Asbury Park -boarding-house each summer filled the gap; and during Merlin's two -weeks' holiday this excursion assumed the air of a really merry -jaunt--especially when, with the baby asleep in a wide room opening -technically on the sea, Merlin strolled with Olive along the thronged -board-walk puffing at his cigar and trying to look like twenty -thousand a year. - -With some alarm at the slowing up of the days and the accelerating of -the years, Merlin became thirty-one, thirty-two--then almost with a -rush arrived at that age which, with all its washing and panning, can -only muster a bare handful of the precious stuff of youth: he became -thirty-five. And one day on Fifth Avenue he saw Caroline. - -It was Sunday, a radiant, flowerful Easter morning and the avenue was -a pageant of lilies and cutaways and happy April-colored bonnets. -Twelve o'clock: the great churches were letting out their people--St. -Simon's, St. Hilda's, the Church of the Epistles, opened their doors -like wide mouths until the people pouring forth surely resembled happy -laughter as they met and strolled and chattered, or else waved white -bouquets at waiting chauffeurs. - -In front of the Church of the Epistles stood its twelve vestrymen, -carrying out the time-honored custom of giving away Easter eggs full -of face-powder to the church-going debutantes of the year. Around them -delightedly danced the two thousand miraculously groomed children of -the very rich, correctly cute and curled, shining like sparkling -little jewels upon their mothers' fingers. Speaks the sentimentalist -for the children of the poor? Ah, but the children of the rich, -laundered, sweet-smelling, complexioned of the country, and, above -all, with soft, in-door voices. - -Little Arthur was five, child of the middle class. Undistinguished, -unnoticed, with a nose that forever marred what Grecian yearnings his -features might have had, he held tightly to his mother's warm, sticky -hand, and, with Merlin on his other side, moved, upon the home-coming -throng. At Fifty-third Street, where there were two churches, the -congestion was at its thickest, its richest. Their progress was of -necessity retarded to such an extent that even little Arthur had not -the slightest difficulty in keeping up. Then it was that Merlin -perceived an open landaulet of deepest crimson, with handsome nickel -trimmings, glide slowly up to the curb and come to a stop. In it sat -Caroline. - -She was dressed in black, a tight-fitting gown trimmed with lavender, -flowered at the waist with a corsage of orchids. Merlin started and -then gazed at her fearfully. For the first time in the eight years -since his marriage he was encountering the girl again. But a girl no -longer. Her figure was slim as ever--or perhaps not quite, for a -certain boyish swagger, a sort of insolent adolescence, had gone the -way of the first blooming of her cheeks. But she was beautiful; -dignity was there now, and the charming lines of a fortuitous -nine-and-twenty; and she sat in the car with such perfect -appropriateness and self-possession that it made him breathless to -watch her. - -Suddenly she smiled--the smile of old, bright as that very Easter and -its flowers, mellower than ever--yet somehow with not quite the -radiance and infinite promise of that first smile back there in the -bookshop nine years before. It was a steelier smile, disillusioned and -sad. - -But it was soft enough and smile enough to make a pair of young men in -cutaway coats hurry over, to pull their high hats off their wetted, -iridescent hair; to bring them, flustered and bowing, to the edge of -her landaulet, where her lavender gloves gently touched their gray -ones. And these two were presently joined by another, and then two -more, until there was a rapidly swelling crowd around the landaulet. -Merlin would hear a young man beside him say to his perhaps -well-favored companion: - -"If you'll just pardon me a moment, there's some one I _have_ to -speak to. Walk right ahead. I'll catch up." - -Within three minutes every inch of the landaulet, front, back, and -side, was occupied by a man--a man trying to construct a sentence -clever enough to find its way to Caroline through the stream of -conversation. Luckily for Merlin a portion of little Arthur's clothing -had chosen the opportunity to threaten a collapse, and Olive had -hurriedly rushed him over against a building for some extemporaneous -repair work, so Merlin was able to watch, unhindered, the salon in the -street. - -The crowd swelled. A row formed in back of the first, -two more behind that. In the midst, an orchid rising from a black -bouquet, sat Caroline enthroned in her obliterated car, nodding and -crying salutations and smiling with such true happiness that, of a -sudden, a new relay of gentlemen had left their wives and consorts and -were striding toward her. - -The crowd, now phalanx deep, began to be augmented by the merely -curious; men of all ages who could not possibly have known Caroline -jostled over and melted into the circle of ever-increasing diameter, -until the lady in lavender was the centre of a vast impromptu -auditorium. - -All about her were faces--clean-shaven, bewhiskered, old, young, -ageless, and now, here and there, a woman. The mass was rapidly -spreading to the opposite curb, and, as St. Anthony's around the -corner let out its box-holders, it overflowed to the sidewalk and -crushed up against the iron picket-fence of a millionaire across the -street. The motors speeding along the avenue were compelled to stop, -and in a jiffy were piled three, five, and six deep at the edge of the -crowd; auto-busses, top-heavy turtles of traffic, plunged into the -jam, their passengers crowding to the edges of the roofs in wild -excitement and peering down into the centre of the mass, which -presently could hardly be seen from the mass's edge. - -The crush had become terrific. No fashionable audience at a -Yale-Princeton football game, no damp mob at a world's series, could -be compared with the panoply that talked, stared, laughed, and honked -about the lady in black and lavender. It was stupendous; it was -terrible. A quarter mile down the block a half-frantic policeman -called his precinct; on the same corner a frightened civilian crashed -in the glass of a fire-alarm and sent in a wild paean for all the -fire-engines of the city; up in an apartment high in one of the tall -buildings a hysterical old maid telephoned in turn for the prohibition -enforcement agent; the special deputies on Bolshevism, and the -maternity ward of Bellevue Hospital. - -The noise increased. The first fire-engine arrived, filling the Sunday -air with smoke, clanging and crying a brazen, metallic message down -the high, resounding walls. In the notion that some terrible calamity -had overtaken the city, two excited deacons ordered special services -immediately and set tolling the great bells of St. Hilda's and St. -Anthony's, presently joined by the jealous gongs of St. Simon's and -the Church of the Epistles. Even far off in the Hudson and the East -River the sounds of the commotion were heard, and the ferry-boats and -tugs and ocean liners set up sirens and whistles that sailed in -melancholy cadence, now varied, now reiterated, across the whole -diagonal width of the city from Riverside Drive to the gray -water-fronts of the lower East Side.... - -In the centre of her landaulet sat the lady in black and lavender, -chatting pleasantly first with one, then with another of that -fortunate few in cutaways who had found their way to speaking distance -in the first rush. After a while she glanced around her and beside her -with a look of growing annoyance. - -She yawned and asked the man nearest her if he couldn't run in -somewhere and get her a glass of water. The man apologized in some -embarrassment. He could not have moved hand or foot. He could not have -scratched his own ear.... - -As the first blast of the river sirens keened along the air, Olive -fastened the last safety-pin in little Arthur's rompers and looked up. -Merlin saw her start, stiffen slowly like hardening stucco, and then -give a little gasp of surprise and disapproval. - -"That woman," she cried suddenly. "Oh!" - -She flashed a glance at Merlin that mingled reproach and pain, and -without another word gathered up little Arthur with one hand, grasped -her husband by the other, and darted amazingly in a winding, bumping -canter through the crowd. Somehow people gave way before her; somehow -she managed to-retain her grasp on her son and husband; somehow she -managed to emerge two blocks up, battered and dishevelled, into an -open space, and, without slowing up her pace, darted down a -side-street. Then at last, when uproar had died away into a dim and -distant clamor, did she come to a walk and set little Arthur upon his -feet. - -"And on Sunday, too! Hasn't she disgraced herself enough?" This was -her only comment. She said it to Arthur, as she seemed to address her -remarks to Arthur throughout the remainder of the day. For some -curious and esoteric reason she had never once looked at her husband -during the entire retreat. - - -IV - -The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the -passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they -are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted -first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing -and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds -of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the -certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and -women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from -life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad -amusements and curiosities of youth, to a line with less, when we peel -down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, -our friends to a few to whom we are anaesthetic; ending up at last in -a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, where the shells -now whistle abominably, now are but half-heard as, by turns frightened -and tired, we sit waiting for death. - -At forty, then, Merlin was no different from himself at thirty-five; a -larger paunch, a gray twinkling near his ears, a more certain lack of -vivacity in his walk. His forty-five differed from his forty by a like -margin, unless one mention a slight deafness in his left ear. But at -fifty-five the process had become a chemical change of immense -rapidity. Yearly he was more and more an "old man" to his -family--senile almost, so far as his wife was concerned. He was by -this time complete owner of the bookshop. The mysterious Mr. Moonlight -Quill, dead some five years and not survived by his wife, had deeded -the whole stock and store to him, and there he still spent his days, -conversant now by name with almost all that man has recorded for three -thousand years, a human catalogue, an authority upon tooling and -binding, upon folios and first editions, an accurate inventory of a -thousand authors whom he could never have understood and had certainly -never read. - -At sixty-five he distinctly doddered. He had assumed the melancholy -habits of the aged so often portrayed by the second old man in -standard Victorian comedies. He consumed vast warehouses of time -searching for mislaid spectacles. He "nagged" his wife and was nagged -in turn. He told the same jokes three or four times a year at the -family table, and gave his son weird, impossible directions as to his -conduct in life. Mentally and materially he was so entirely different -from the Merlin Grainger of twenty-five that it seemed incongruous -that he should bear the same name. - -He worked still In the bookshop with the assistance of a youth, whom, -of course, he considered very idle, indeed, and a new young woman, -Miss Gaffney. Miss McCracken, ancient and unvenerable as himself, -still kept the accounts. Young Arthur was gone into Wall Street to -sell bonds, as all the young men seemed to be doing in that day. This, -of course, was as it should be. Let old Merlin get what magic he could -from his books--the place of young King Arthur was in the -counting-house. - -One afternoon at four when he had slipped noiselessly up to the front -of the store on his soft-soled slippers, led by a newly formed habit, -of which, to be fair, he was rather ashamed, of spying upon the young -man clerk, he looked casually out of the front window, straining his -faded eyesight to reach the street. A limousine, large, portentous, -impressive, had drawn to the curb, and the chauffeur, after -dismounting and holding some sort of conversation with persons in the -interior of the car, turned about and advanced in a bewildered fashion -toward the entrance of the Moonlight Quill. He opened the door, -shuffled in, and, glancing uncertainly at the old man in the -skull-cap, addressed him in a thick, murky voice, as though his words -came through a fog. - -"Do you--do you sell additions?" - -Merlin nodded. - -"The arithmetic books are in the back of the store." - -The chauffeur took off his cap and scratched a close-cropped, fuzzy -head. - -"Oh, naw. This I want's a detecatif story." He jerked a thumb back -toward the limousine. "She seen it in the paper. Firs' addition." - -Merlin's interest quickened. Here was possibly a big sale. - -"Oh, editions. Yes, we've advertised some firsts, but-detective -stories, I-don't-believe-What was the title?" - -"I forget. About a crime." - -"About a crime. I have-well, I have 'The Crimes of the Borgias'-full -morocco, London 1769, beautifully--" - -"Naw," interrupted the chauffeur, "this was one fella did this crime. -She seen you had it for sale in the paper." He rejected several -possible titles with the air of connoisseur. - -"'Silver Bones,'" he announced suddenly out of a slight pause. - -"What?" demanded Merlin, suspecting that the stiffness of his sinews -were being commented on. - -"Silver Bones. That was the guy that done the crime." - -"Silver Bones?" - -"Silver Bones. Indian, maybe." - -Merlin, stroked his grizzly cheeks. "Gees, Mister," went on the -prospective purchaser, "if you wanna save me an awful bawln' out jes' -try an' think. The old lady goes wile if everything don't run smooth." - -But Merlin's musings on the subject of Silver Bones were as futile as -his obliging search through the shelves, and five minutes later a very -dejected charioteer wound his way back to his mistress. Through the -glass Merlin could see the visible symbols of a tremendous uproar -going on in the interior of the limousine. The chauffeur made wild, -appealing gestures of his innocence, evidently to no avail, for when -he turned around and climbed back into the driver's seat his -expression was not a little dejected. - -Then the door of the limousine opened and gave forth a pale and -slender young man of about twenty, dressed in the attenuation of -fashion and carrying a wisp of a cane. He entered the shop, walked -past Merlin, and proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it. -Merlin approached him. - -"Anything I can do for you, sir?" - -"Old boy," said the youth coolly, "there are seveereal things; You can -first let me smoke my ciggy in here out of sight of that old lady in -the limousine, who happens to be my grandmother. Her knowledge as to -whether I smoke it or not before my majority happens to be a matter of -five thousand dollars to me. The second thing is that you should look -up your first edition of the 'Crime of Sylvester Bonnard' that you -advertised in last Sunday's _Times_. My grandmother there happens -to want to take it off your hands." - -Detecatif story! Crime of somebody! Silver Bones! All was explained. -With a faint deprecatory chuckle, as if to say that he would have -enjoyed this had life put him in the habit of enjoying anything, -Merlin doddered away to the back of his shop where his treasures were -kept, to get this latest investment which he had picked up rather -cheaply at the sale of a big collection. - -When he returned with it the young man was drawing on his cigarette -and blowing out quantities of smoke with immense satisfaction. - -"My God!" he said, "She keeps me so close to her the entire day -running idiotic errands that this happens to be my first puff in six -hours. What's the world coming to, I ask you, when a feeble old lady -in the milk-toast era can dictate to a man as to his personal vices. I -happen to be unwilling to be so dictated to. Let's see the book." - -Merlin passed it to him tenderly and the young man, after opening it -with a carelessness that gave a momentary jump to the book-dealer's -heart, ran through the pages with his thumb. - -"No illustrations, eh?" he commented. "Well, old boy, what's it worth? -Speak up! We're willing to give you a fair price, though why I don't -know." - -"One hundred dollars," said Merlin with a frown. - -The young man gave a startled whistle. - -"Whew! Come on. You're not dealing with somebody from the cornbelt. I -happen to be a city-bred man and my grandmother happens to be a -city-bred woman, though I'll admit it'd take a special tax -appropriation to keep her in repair. We'll give you twenty-five -dollars, and let me tell you that's liberal. We've got books in our -attic, up in our attic with my old play-things, that were written -before the old boy that wrote this was born." - -Merlin stiffened, expressing a rigid and meticulous horror. - -"Did your grandmother give you twenty-five dollars to buy this with?" - -"She did not. She gave me fifty, but she expects change. I know that -old lady." - -"You tell her," said Merlin with dignity, "that she has missed a very -great bargain." - -"Give you forty," urged the young man. "Come on now--be reasonable and -don't try to hold us up----" - -Merlin had wheeled around with the precious volume under his arm and -was about to return it to its special drawer in his office when there -was a sudden interruption. With unheard-of magnificence the front door -burst rather than swung open, and admitted in the dark interior a -regal apparition in black silk and fur which bore rapidly down upon -him. The cigarette leaped from the fingers of the urban young man and -he gave breath to an inadvertent "Damn!"--but it was upon Merlin that -the entrance seemed to have the most remarkable and incongruous -effect--so strong an effect that the greatest treasure of his shop -slipped from his hand and joined the cigarette on the floor. Before -him stood Caroline. - -She was an old woman, an old woman remarkably preserved, unusually -handsome, unusually erect, but still an old woman. Her hair was a -soft, beautiful white, elaborately dressed and jewelled; her face, -faintly rouged la grande dame, showed webs of wrinkles at the edges -of her eyes and two deeper lines in the form of stanchions connected -her nose with the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were dim, ill -natured, and querulous. - -But it was Caroline without a doubt: Caroline's features though in -decay; Caroline's figure, if brittle and stiff in movement; Caroline's -manner, unmistakably compounded of a delightful insolence and an -enviable self assurance; and, most of all, Caroline's voice, broken -and shaky, yet with a ring in it that still could and did make -chauffeurs want to drive laundry wagons and cause cigarettes to fall -from the fingers of urban grandsons. - -She stood and sniffed. Her eyes found the cigarette upon the floor. - -"What's that?" she cried. The words were not a question--they were an -entire litany of suspicion, accusation, confirmation, and decision. -She tarried over them scarcely an instant. "Stand up!" she said to her -grandson, "stand up and blow that nicotine out of your lungs!" - -The young man looked at her in trepidation. - -"Blow!" she commanded. - -He pursed his lips feebly and blew into the air. - -"Blow!" she repeated, more peremptorily than before. - -He blew again, helplessly, ridiculously. - -"Do you realize," she went on briskly, "that you've forfeited five -thousand dollars in five minutes?" - -Merlin momentarily expected the young man to fall pleading upon his -knees, but such is the nobility of human nature that he remained -standing--even blew again into the air, partly from nervousness, -partly, no doubt, with some vague hope of reingratiating himself. - -"Young ass!" cried Caroline. "Once more, just once more and you leave -college and go to work." - -This threat had such an overwhelming effect upon the young man that he -took on an even paler pallor than was natural to him. But Caroline was -not through. - -"Do you think I don't know what you and your brothers, yes, and your -asinine father too, think of me? Well, I do. You think I'm senile. You -think I'm soft. I'm not!" She struck herself with her-fist as though -to prove that she was a mass of muscle and sinew. "And I'll have more -brains left when you've got me laid out in the drawing-room some sunny -day than you and the rest of them were born with." - -"But Grandmother----" - -"Be quiet. You, a thin little stick of a boy, who if it weren't for my -money might have risen to be a journeyman barber out in the Bronx--Let -me see your hands. Ugh! The hands of a barber--_you_ presume to -be smart with _me_, who once had three counts and a bona-fide -duke, not to mention half a dozen papal titles pursue me from the city -of Rome to the city of New York." She paused, took breath. "Stand up! -Blow'!" - -The young man obediently blew. Simultaneously the door opened and an -excited gentleman of middle age who wore a coat and hat trimmed with -fur, and seemed, moreover, to be trimmed with the same sort of fur -himself on upper lip and chin, rushed into the store and up to -Caroline. - -"Found you at last," he cried. "Been looking for you all over town. -Tried your house on the 'phone and your secretary told me he thought -you'd gone to a bookshop called the Moonlight--" - -Caroline turned to him irritably. - -"Do I employ you for your reminiscences?" she snapped. "Are you my -tutor or my broker?" - -"Your broker," confessed the fur-trimmed man, taken somewhat aback. "I -beg your pardon. I came about that phonograph stock. I can sell for a -hundred and five." - -"Then do it" - -"Very well. I thought I'd better--" - -"Go sell it. I'm talking to my grandson." - -"Very well. I--" - -"Good-by." - -"Good-by, Madame." The fur-trimmed man made a slight bow and hurried -in some confusion from the shop. - -"As for you," said Caroline, turning to her grandson, "you stay just -where you are and be quiet." - -She turned to Merlin and included his entire length in a not -unfriendly survey. Then she smiled and he found himself smiling too. -In an instant they had both broken into a cracked but none the less -spontaneous chuckle. She seized his arm and hurried him to the other -side of the store. There they stopped, faced each other, and gave vent -to another long fit of senile glee. - -"It's the only way," she gasped in a sort of triumphant malignity. -"The only thing that keeps old folks like me happy is the sense that -they can make other people step around. To be old and rich and have -poor descendants is almost as much fun as to be young and beautiful -and have ugly sisters." - -"Oh, yes," chuckled Merlin. "I know. I envy you." - -She nodded, blinking. - -"The last time I was in here, forty years ago," she said, "you were a -young man very anxious to kick up your heels." - -"I was," he confessed. - -"My visit must have meant a good deal to you." - -"You have all along," he exclaimed. "I thought--I used to think at -first that you were a real person--human, I mean." - -She laughed. - -"Many men have thought me inhuman." - -"But now," continued Merlin excitedly, "I understand. Understanding is -allowed to us old people--after nothing much matters. I see now that -on a certain night when you danced upon a table-top you were nothing -but my romantic yearning for a beautiful and perverse woman." - -Her old eyes were far away, her voice no more than the echo of a -forgotten dream. - -"How I danced that night! I remember." - -"You were making an attempt at me. Olive's arms were closing about me -and you warned me to be free and keep my measure of youth and -irresponsibility. But it seemed like an effect gotten up at the last -moment. It came too late." - -"You are very old," she said inscrutably. "I did not realize." - -"Also I have not forgotten what you did to me when I was thirty-five. -You shook me with that traffic tie-up. It was a magnificent effort. -The beauty and power you radiated! You became personified even to my -wife, and she feared you. For weeks I wanted to slip out of the house -at dark and forget the stuffiness of life with music and cocktails and -a girl to make me young. But then--I no longer knew how." - -"And now you are so very old." - -With a sort of awe she moved back and away from him. - -"Yes, leave me!" he cried. "You are old also; the spirit withers with -the skin. Have you come here only to tell me something I had best -forget: that to be old and poor is perhaps more wretched than to be -old and rich; to remind me that _my_ son hurls my gray failure in -my face?" - -"Give me my book," she commanded harshly. "Be quick, old man!" - -Merlin looked at her once more and then patiently obeyed. He picked up -the book and handed it to her, shaking his head when she offered him a -bill. - -"Why go through the farce of paying me? Once you made me wreck these -very premises." - -"I did," she said in anger, "and I'm glad. Perhaps there had been -enough done to ruin _me_." - -She gave him a glance, half disdain, half ill-concealed uneasiness, -and with a brisk word to her urban grandson moved toward the door. - -Then she was gone--out of his shop--out of his life. The door clicked. -With a sigh he turned and walked brokenly back toward the glass -partition that enclosed the yellowed accounts of many years as well as -the mellowed, wrinkled Miss McCracken. - -Merlin regarded her parched, cobwebbed face with an odd sort of pity. -She, at any rate, had had less from life than he. No rebellious, -romantic spirit popping out unbidden had, in its memorable moments, -given her life a zest and a glory. - -Then Miss McGracken looked up and spoke to him: - -"Still a spunky old piece, isn't she?" - -Merlin started. - -"Who?" - -"Old Alicia Dare. Mrs. Thomas Allerdyce she is now, of course; has -been, these thirty years." - -"What? I don't understand you." Merlin sat down suddenly in his swivel -chair; his eyes were wide. - -"Why, surely, Mr. Grainger, you can't tell me that you've forgotten -her, when for ten years she was the most notorious character in New -York. Why, one time when she was the correspondent in the Throckmorton -divorce case she attracted so much attention on Fifth Avenue that -there was a traffic tie-up. Didn't you read about it in the papers." - -"I never used to read the papers." His ancient brain was whirring. - -"Well, you can't have forgotten the time she came in here and ruined -the business. Let me tell you I came near asking Mr. Moonlight Quill -for my salary, and clearing out." - -"Do you mean, that--that you _saw_ her?" - -"Saw. her! How could I help, it with the racket that went on. Heaven -knows Mr. Moonlight Quill didn't like it either but of course _he_ -didn't say anything. He was daffy about her and she could twist him -around her little finger. The second he opposed one of her whims she'd -threaten to tell his wife on him. Served him right. The idea of that -man falling for a pretty adventuress! Of course he was never rich -enough for _her_ even though the shop paid well in those days." - -"But when I saw her." stammered Merlin, "that is, when I -_thought_ saw her, she lived with her mother." - -"Mother, trash!". said Miss McCracken indignantly. "She had a woman -there she called 'Aunty', who was no more related to her than I am. -Oh, she was a bad one--but clever. Right after the Throckmorton -divorce case she married Thomas Allerdyce, and made herself secure for -life." - -"Who was she?" cried Merlin. "For God's sake what was she--a witch?" - -"Why, she was Alicia Dare, the dancer, of course. In those days you -couldn't pick up a paper without finding her picture." - -Merlin sat very quiet, his brain suddenly fatigued and stilled. He was -an old man now indeed, so old that it was impossible for him to dream -of ever having been young, so old that the glamour was gone out of the -world, passing not into the faces of children and into the persistent -comforts of warmth and life, but passing out of the range of sight and -feeling. He was never to smile again or to sit in a long reverie when -spring evenings wafted the cries of children in at his window until -gradually they became the friends of his boyhood out there, urging him -to come and play before the last dark came down. He was too old now -even for memories. - -That night he sat at supper with his wife and son, who had used him -for their blind purposes. Olive said: - -"Don't sit there like a death's-head. Say something." - -"Let him sit quiet," growled Arthur. "If you encourage him he'll tell -us a story we've heard a hundred times before." - -Merlin went up-stairs very quietly at nine o'clock. When he was in his -room and had closed the door tight he stood by it for a moment, his -thin limbs trembling. He knew now that he had always been a fool. - -"O Russet Witch!" - -But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many -temptations. There was nothing left but heaven, where he would meet -only those who, like him, had wasted earth. - - - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS - - -If you should look through the files of old magazines for the first -years of the present century you would find, sandwiched in between the -stories of Richard Harding Davis and Frank Norris and others long -since dead, the work of one Jeffrey Curtain: a novel or two, and -perhaps three or four dozen short stories. You could, if you were -interested, follow them along until, say, 1908, when they suddenly -disappeared. - -When you had read them all you would have been quite sure that here -were no masterpieces--here were passably amusing stories, a bit out of -date now, but doubtless the sort that would then have whiled away a -dreary half hour in a dental office. The man who did them was of good -intelligence, talented, glib, probably young. In the samples of his -work you found there would have been nothing to stir you to more than -a faint interest in the whims of life--no deep interior laughs, no -sense of futility or hint of tragedy. - -After reading them you would yawn and put the number back in the -files, and perhaps, if you were in some library reading-room, you -would decide that by way of variety you would look at a newspaper of -the period and see whether the Japs had taken Port Arthur. But if by -any chance the newspaper you had chosen was the right one and had -crackled open at the theatrical page, your eyes would have been -arrested and held, and for at least a minute you would have forgotten -Port Arthur as quickly as you forgot Chteau Thierry. For you would, -by this fortunate chance, be looking at the portrait of an exquisite -woman. - -Those were tie days of "Florodora" and of sextets, of pinched-in -waists and blown-out sleeves, of almost bustles and absolute ballet -skirts, but here, without doubt, disguised as she might be by the -unaccustomed stiffness and old fashion of her costume, was a butterfly -of butterflies. Here was the gayety of the period--the soft wine of -eyes, the songs that flurried hearts, the toasts and tie bouquets, the -dances and the dinners. Here was a Venus of the hansom, cab, the -Gibson girl in her glorious prime. Here was... - -...here was you. Find by looking at the name beneath, one Roxanne -Milbank, who had been chorus girl and understudy in "The Daisy Chain," -but who, by reason of an excellent performance when the star was -indisposed, had gained a leading part. - -You would look again--and wonder. Why you had never heard of her. Why -did her name not linger in popular songs and vaudeville jokes and -cigar bands, and the memory of that gay old uncle of yours along with -Lillian Russell and Stella Mayhew and Anna Held? Roxanne -Milbank-whither had she gone? What dark trap-door had opened suddenly -and swallowed her up? Her name was certainly not in last Sunday's -supplement on the list of actresses married to English noblemen. No -doubt she was dead--poor beautiful young lady--and quite forgotten. - -I am hoping too much. I am having you stumble on Jeffrey Curtains's -stories and Roxanne Milbank's picture. It would be incredible that you -should find a newspaper item six months later, a single item two -inches by four, which informed the public of the marriage, very -quietly, of Miss Roxanne Milbank, who had been on tour with "The Daisy -Chain," to Mr. Jeffrey Curtain, the popular author. "Mrs. Curtain," it -added dispassionately, "will retire from the stage." - -It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; -she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs -they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together. Yet had -Jeffrey Curtain kept at scrivening for twoscore years he could not -have put a quirk into one of his stories weirder than the quirk that -came into his own life. Had Roxanne Milbank played three dozen parts -and filled five thousand houses she could never have had a role with -more happiness and more despair than were in the fate prepared for -Roxanne Curtain. - -For a year they lived in hotels, travelled to California, to Alaska, -to Florida, to Mexico, loved and quarrelled gently, and gloried in the -golden triflings of his wit with her beauty--they were young and -gravely passionate; they demanded everything and then yielded -everything again in ecstasies of unselfishness and pride. She loved -the swift tones of his voice and his frantic, if unfounded jealousy. -He loved her dark radiance, the white irises of her eyes, the warm, -lustrous enthusiasm of her smile. - -"Don't you like her?" he would demand rather excitedly and shyly. -"Isn't she wonderful? Did you ever see--" - -"Yes," they would answer, grinning. "She's a wonder. You're lucky." - -The year passed. They tired of hotels. They bought an old house and -twenty acres near the town of Marlowe, half an hour from Chicago; -bought a little car, and moved out riotously with a pioneering -hallucination that would have confounded Balboa. - -"Your room will be here!" they cried in turn. - ---And then: - -"And my room here!" - -"And the nursery here when we have children." - -"And we'll build a sleeping porch--oh, next year." - -They moved out in April. In July Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry -Cromwell same to spend a week--they met him at the end of the long -lawn and hurried him proudly to the house. - -Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before -and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had -gathered from Jeffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as -Harry--Jeffrey had met her once and considered her--"shallow." But -Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparantly happy, so -Jeffrey guessed that she was probably all right. - -"I'm making biscuits," chattered Roxanne gravely. "Can you wife make -biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know -how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can -make biscuits can surely do no----" - -"You'll have to come out here and live," said Jeffrey. "Get a place -out in the country like us, for you and Kitty." - -"You don't know Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her -theatres and vaudevilles." - -"Bring her out," repeated Jeffrey. "We'll have a colony. There's an -awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out!" - -They were at the porch steps now and Roxanne made a brisk gesture -toward a dilapidated structure on the right. - -"The garage," she announced. "It will also be Jeffrey's writing-room -within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I -will mix a cocktail." - -The two men ascended to the second floor--that is, they ascended -half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest's -suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed: - -"For God's sake, Harry, how do you like her?" - -"We will go up-stairs," answered his guest, "and we will shut the -door." - -Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library -Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of -biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose. - -"They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely. - -"Exquisite," murmured Harry. - -Roxanne beamed. - -"Taste one. I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all -and I can't bear to take them back until I find what they taste like." - -"Like manna, darling." - -Simultaneously the two men raised the biscuits to their lips, nibbled -tentatively. Simultaneously they tried to change the subject. But -Roxanne undeceived, set down the pan and seized a biscuit. After a -second her comment rang out with lugubrious finality: - -"Absolutely bum!" - -"Really----" - -"Why, I didn't notice----" - -Roxanne roared. - -"Oh, I'm useless," she cried laughing. "Turn me out, Jeffrey--I'm a -parasite; I'm no goal----" - -Jeffrey put his arm around her. - -"Darling, I'll eat your biscuits." - -"They're beautiful, anyway," insisted Roxanne. - -"They're-they're decorative," suggested Harry. - -Jeffrey took him up wildly. - -"That's the word. They're decorative; they're masterpieces. We'll use -them." - -He rushed to the kitchen and returned with a hammer and a handful of -nails. - -"We'll use them, by golly, Roxanne! We'll make a frieze out of them." - -"Don't!" wailed Roxanne. "Our beautiful house." - -"Never mind. We're going to have the library repapered in October. -Don't you remember?" - -"Well----" - -Bang! The first biscuit was impaled to the wall, where it quivered for -a moment like a live thing. - -Bang!... - -When Roxanne returned, with a second round of cocktails the biscuits -were in a perpendicular row, twelve of them, like a collection of -primitive spear-heads. - -"Roxanne," exclaimed Jeffrey, "you're an artist! Cook?--nonsense! You -shall illustrate my books!" - -During dinner the twilight faltered into dusk, and later it was a -starry dark outside, filled and permeated with the frail gorgeousness -of Roxanne's white dress and her tremulous, low laugh. - ---Such a little girl she is, thought Harry. Not as old as Kitty. - -He compared the two. Kitty--nervous without being sensitive, -temperamental without temperament, a woman who seemed to flit and -never light--and Roxanne, who was as young as spring night, and summed -up in her own adolescent laughter. - ---A good match for Jeffrey, he thought again. Two very young people, -the sort who'll stay very young until they suddenly find themselves -old. - -Harry thought these things between his constant thoughts about Kitty, -He was depressed about Kitty. It seemed to him that she was well -enough to come back to Chicago and bring his little son. He was -thinking vaguely of Kitty when he said good-night to his friend's wife -and his friend at the foot of the stairs. - -"You're our first real house guest," called Roxanne after him. "Aren't -you thrilled and proud?" - -When he was out of sight around the stair corner she turned to -Jeffrey, who was standing beside her resting his hand on the end of -the banister. - -"Are you tired, my dearest?" - -Jeffrey rubbed the centre of his forehead with his fingers. - -"A little. How did you know?" - -"Oh, how could I help knowing about you?" - -"It's a headache," he said moodily. "Splitting. I'll take some -aspirin." - -She reached over and snapped out the light, and with his arm tight -about her waist they walked up the stairs together. - - -II - -Harry's week passed. They drove about the dreaming lanes or idled in -cheerful inanity upon lake or lawn. In the evening Roxanne, sitting -inside, played to them while the ashes whitened on the glowing ends of -their cigars. Then came a telegram from Kitty saying that she wanted -Harry to come East and get her, so Roxanne and Jeffrey were left alone -in that privacy of which they never seemed to tire. - -"Alone" thrilled them again. They wandered about the house, each -feeling intimately the presence of the other; they sat on the same -side of the table like honeymooners; they were intensely absorbed, -intensely happy. - -The town of Marlowe, though a comparatively old settlement, had only -recently acquired a "society." Five or six years before, alarmed at -the smoky swelling of Chicago, two or three young married couples, -"bungalow people," had moved out; their friends had followed. The -Jeffrey Curtains found an already formed "set" prepared to welcome: -them; a country club, ballroom, and golf links yawned for them, and -there were bridge parties, and poker parties, and parties where they -drank beer, and parties where they drank nothing at all. - -It was at a poker party that they found themselves a week after -Harry's departure. There were two tables, and a good proportion of the -young wives were smoking and shouting their bets, and being very -daringly mannish for those days. - -Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation; she -wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice--beer gave -her a headache--and then passed from table to table, looking over -shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffrey and being pleasantly -unexcited and content. Jeffrey, with intense concentration, was -raising a pile of chips of all colors, and Roxanne knew by the -deepened wrinkle between his eyes that he was interested. She liked to -see him interested in small things. - -She crossed over quietly and sat down on the arm of his chair. - -She sat there five minutes, listening to the sharp intermittent -comments of the men and the chatter of the women, which rose from the -table like soft smoke--and yet scarcely hearing either. Then quite -innocently she reached out her hand, intending to place it on -Jeffrey's shoulder--as it touched him he started of a sudden, gave a -short grunt, and, sweeping back his arm furiously, caught her a -glancing blow on her elbow. - -There was a general gasp. Roxanne regained her balance, gave a little -cry, and rose quickly to her feet. It had been the greatest shock of -her life. This, from Jeffrey, the heart of kindness, of -consideration--this instinctively brutal gesture. - -The gasp became a silence. A dozen eyes were turned on Jeffrey, who -looked up as though seeing Roxanne for the first time. An expression -of bewilderment settled on his face. - -"Why--Roxanne----" he said haltingly. - -Into a dozen minds entered a quick suspicion, a rumor of scandal. -Could it be that behind the scenes with this couple, apparently so in -love, lurked some curious antipathy? Why else this streak of fire, -across such a cloudless heaven? - -"Jeffrey!"--Roxanne's voice was pleading--startled and horrified, she -yet knew that it was a mistake. Not once did it occur to her to blame -him or to resent it. Her word was a trembling supplication--"Tell me, -Jeffrey," it said, "tell Roxanne, your own Roxanne." - -"Why, Roxanne--" began Jeffrey again. The bewildered look changed to -pain. He was clearly as startled as she. "I didn't intend that," he -went on; "you startled me. You--I felt as if some one were attacking -me. I--how--why, how idiotic!" - -"Jeffrey!" Again the word was a prayer, incense offered up to a high -God through this new and unfathomable darkness. - -They were both on their feet, they were saying good-by, faltering, -apologizing, explaining. There was no attempt to pass it off easily. -That way lay sacrilege. Jeffrey had not been feeling well, they said. -He had become nervous. Back of both their minds was the unexplained -horror of that blow--the marvel that there had been for an instant -something between them--his anger and her fear--and now to both a -sorrow, momentary, no doubt, but to be bridged at once, at once, while -there was yet time. Was that swift water lashing under their feet--the -fierce glint of some uncharted chasm? - -Out in their car under the harvest moon he talked brokenly. It was -just--incomprehensible to him, he said. He had been thinking of the -poker game--absorbed--and the touch on his shoulder had seemed like an -attack. An attack! He clung to that word, flung it up as a shield. He -had hated what touched him. With the impact of his hand it had gone, -that--nervousness. That was all he knew. - -Both their eyes filled with tears and they whispered love there under -the broad night as the serene streets of Marlowe sped by. Later, when -they went to bed, they were quite calm. Jeffrey was to take a week off -all work--was simply to loll, and sleep, and go on long walks until -this nervousness left him. When they had decided this safety settled -down upon Roxanne. The pillows underhead became soft and friendly; the -bed on which they lay seemed wide, and white, and sturdy beneath the -radiance that streamed in at the window. - -Five days later, in the first cool of late afternoon, Jeffrey picked -up an oak chair and sent it crashing through his own front window. -Then he lay down on the couch like a child, weeping piteously and -begging to die. A blood clot the size of a marble had broken his -brain. - - -III - -There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one -has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue -and a new sun, that the quality of the life around has changed. It is -a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then -leading is a branch shoot of life and is related to life only as a -moving picture or a mirror--that the people, and streets, and houses -are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past. It was in such -a state that Roxanne found herself during the first months of -Jeffrey's illness. She slept only when she was utterly exhausted; she -awoke under a cloud. The long, sober-voiced consultations, the faint -aura of medicine in the halls, the sudden tiptoeing in a house that -had echoed to many cheerful footsteps, and, most of ail, Jeffrey's -white face amid the pillows of the bed they had shared--these things -subdued her and made her indelibly older. The doctors held out hope, -but that was all. A long rest, they said, and quiet. So responsibility -came to Roxanne. It was she who paid the bills, pored over his -bank-book, corresponded with his publishers. She was in the kitchen -constantly. She learned from the nurse how to prepare his meals and -after the first month took complete charge of the sick-room. She had -had to let the nurse go for reasons of economy. One of the two colored -girls left at the same time. Roxanne was realizing that they had been -living from short story to short story. - -The most frequent visitor was Harry Cromwell. He had been shocked and -depressed by the news, and though his wife was now living with him in -Chicago he found time to come out several times a month. Roxanne found -his sympathy welcome--there was some quality of suffering in the man, -some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. -Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with -Jeffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most -of all she needed and should have had. - -It was six months after Jeffrey's collapse and when the nightmare had -faded, leaving not the old world but a new one, grayer and colder, -that she wait to see Harry's wife. Finding herself in Chicago with an -extra hour before train time, she decided out of courtesy to call. - -As she stepped inside the door she had an immediate impression that -the apartment was very like some place she had seen before--and almost -instantly she remembered a round-the-corner bakery of her childhood, a -bakery full of rows and rows of pink frosted cakes--a stuffy pink, -pink as a food, pink triumphant, vulgar, and odious. - -And this apartment was like that. It was pink. It smelled pink! - -Mrs. Cromwell, attired in a wrapper of pink and black, opened the -door. Her hair was yellow, heightened, Roxanne imagined by a dash of -peroxide in the rinsing water every week. Her eyes were a thin waxen -blue--she was pretty and too consciously graceful. Her cordiality was -strident and intimate, hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that -it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice--never touching -nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. - -But to Roxanne these things were secondary; her eyes were caught and -held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean. -From its lowest hem up four inches it was sheerly dirty with the blue -dust of the floor; for the next three inches it was gray--then it -shaded off into its natural color, which, was--pink. It was dirty at -the sleeves, too, and at the collar--and when the woman turned to lead -the way into the parlor, Roxanne was sure that her neck was dirty. - -A one-sided rattle of conversation began. Mrs. Cromwell became -explicit about her likes and dislikes, her head, her stomach, her -teeth, her apartment--avoiding with a sort of insolent meticulousness -any inclusion of Roxanne with life, as if presuming that Roxanne, -having been dealt a blow, wished life to be carefully skirted. - -Roxanne smiled. That kimono! That neck! - -After five minutes a little boy toddled into the parlor--a dirty -little boy clad in dirty pink rompers. His face was smudgy--Roxanne -wanted to take him into her lap and wipe his nose; other parts in the -of his head needed attention, his tiny shoes were kicked out at the -toes. Unspeakable! - -"What a darling little boy!" exclaimed Roxanne, smiling radiantly. -"Come here to me." - -Mrs. Cromwell looked coldly at her son. - -"He will get dirty. Look at that face!" She held her head on one side -and regarded it critically. - -"Isn't he a _darling?_" repeated Roxanne. - -"Look at his rompers," frowned Mrs. Cromwell. - -"He needs a change, don't you, George?" - -George stared at her curiously. To his mind the word rompers -connotated a garment extraneously smeared, as this one. - -"I tried to make him look respectable this morning," complained Mrs. -Cromwell as one whose patience had been sorely tried, "and I found he -didn't have any more rompers--so rather than have him go round without -any I put him back in those--and his face--" - -"How many pairs has he?" Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious, "How -many feather fans have you?" she might have asked. - -"Oh,--" Mrs. Cromwell considered, wrinkling her pretty brow. "Five, I -think. Plenty, I know." - -"You can get them for fifty cents a pair." - -Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise--and the faintest superiority. -The price of rompers! - -"Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have plenty, but I haven't -had a minute all week to send the laundry out." Then, dismissing the -subject as irrelevant--"I must show you some things--" - -They rose and Roxanne followed her past an open bathroom door whose -garment-littered floor showed indeed that the laundry hadn't been sent -out for some time, into another room that was, so to speak, the -quintessence of pinkness. This was Mrs. Cromwell's room. - -Here the Hostess opened a closet door and displayed before' Roxanne's -eyes an amazing collection of lingerie. - -There were dozens of filmy marvels of lace and silk, all clean, -unruffled, seemingly not yet touched. On hangers beside them were -three new evening dresses. - -"I have some beautiful things," said Mrs. Cromwell, "but not much of a -chance to wear them. Harry doesn't care about going out." Spite crept -into her voice. "He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and -housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening." - -Roxanne smiled again. - -"You've got some beautiful clothes here." - -"Yes, I have. Let me show you----" - -"Beautiful," repeated Roxanne, interrupting, "but I'll have to run if -I'm going to catch my train." - -She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this -woman and shake her--shake her. She wanted her locked up somewhere and -set to scrubbing floors. - -"Beautiful," she repeated, "and I just came in for a moment." - -"Well, I'm sorry Harry isn't here." - -They moved toward the door. - -"--and, oh," said Roxanne with an effort--yet her voice was still -gentle and her lips were smiling--"I think it's Argile's where you can -get those rompers. Good-by." - -It was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to -Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six -months that her mind had been off Jeffrey. - - -IV - -A week later Harry appeared at Marlowe, arrived unexpectedly at five -o'clock, and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of -exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The -doctors were coming at five-thirty, bringing a celebrated nerve -specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed, -but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him. - -"What's the matter?" - -"Nothing, Roxanne," he denied. "I came to see how Jeff was doing. -Don't you bother about me." - -"Harry," insisted Roxanne, "there's something the matter." - -"Nothing," he repeated. "How's Jeff?" - -Anxiety darkened her face. - -"He's a little worse, Harry. Doctor Jewett has come on from New York. -They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try -and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original -blood clot." - -Harry rose. - -"Oh, I'm sorry," he said jerkily. "I didn't know you expected a -consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your -porch for an hour--" - -"Sit down," she commanded. - -Harry hesitated. - -"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped -him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet. -I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer." - -All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his -hands. - -"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried. -This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been getting my -breakfast down town--and--well, just after I went to the office she -left the house, went East to her mother's with George and a suitcase -full of lace underwear." - -"Harry!" - -"And I don't know---" - -There was a crunch on the gravel, a car turning into the drive. -Roxanne uttered a little cry. - -"It's Doctor Jewett." - -"Oh, I'll---" - -"You'll wait, won't you?" she interrupted abstractedly. He saw that -his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind. - -There was an embarrassing minute of vague, elided introductions and -then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the -stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa. - -For an hour he watched the sun creep up the patterned folds of the -chintz curtains. In the deep quiet a trapped wasp buzzing on the -inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From -time to time another buzzing drifted down from up-stairs, resembling -several more larger wasps caught on larger window-panes. He heard low -footfalls, the clink of bottles, the clamor of pouring water. - -What had he and Roxanne done that life should deal these crashing -blows to them? Up-stairs there was taking place a living inquest on -the soul of his friend; he was sitting here in a quiet room listening -to the plaint of a wasp, just as when he was a boy he had been -compelled by a strict aunt to sit hour-long on a chair and atone for -some misbehavior. But who had put him here? What ferocious aunt had -leaned out of the sky to make him atone for--what? - -About Kitty he felt a great hopelessness. She was too expensive--that -was the irremediable difficulty. Suddenly he hated her. He wanted to -throw her down and kick at her--to tell her she was a cheat and a -leech--that she was dirty. Moreover, she must give him his boy. - -He rose and began pacing up and down the room. Simultaneously he heard -some one begin walking along the hallway up-stairs in exact time with -him. He found himself wondering if they would walk in time until the -person reached the end of the hall. - -Kitty had gone to her mother. God help her, what a mother to go to! He -tried to imagine the meeting: the abused wife collapsing upon the -mother's breast. He could not. That Kitty was capable of any deep -grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as -something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of -course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider -this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped; a picture -flashed before him--of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he -could not see, of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was -surely: passion. - -"God!" he cried aloud. "God! God! God!" - -Then the pictures came thick and fast. The Kitty of this morning -faded; the soiled kimono rolled up and disappeared; the pouts, and -rages, and tears all were washed away. Again she was Kitty Carr--Kitty -Carr with yellow hair and great baby eyes. Ah, she had loved him, she -had loved him. - -After a while he perceived that something was amiss with him, -something that had nothing to do with Kitty or Jeff, something of a -different genre. Amazingly it burst on him at last; he was hungry. -Simple enough! He would go into the kitchen in a moment and ask the -colored cook for a sandwich. After that he must go back to the city. - -He paused at the wall, jerked at something round, and, fingering it -absently, put it to his mouth and tasted it as a baby tastes a bright -toy. His teeth closed on it--Ah! - -She'd left that damn kimono, that dirty pink kimono. She might have -had the decency to take it with her, he thought. It would hang in the -house like the corpse of their sick alliance. He would try to throw it -away, but he would never be able to bring himself to move it. It would -be like Kitty, soft and pliable, withal impervious. You couldn't move -Kitty; you couldn't reach Kitty. There was nothing there to reach. He -understood that perfectly--he had understood it all along. - -He reached to the wall for another biscuit and with an effort pulled -it out, nail and all. He carefully removed the nail from the centre, -wondering idly if he had eaten the nail with the first biscuit. -Preposterous! He would have remembered--it was a huge nail. He felt -his stomach. He must be very hungry. He considered--remembered-- -yesterday he had had no dinner. It was the girl's day out and Kitty -had lain in her room eating chocolate drops. She had said she felt -"smothery" and couldn't bear having him near her. He had given -George a bath and put him to bed, and then lain down on the couch -intending to rest a minute before getting his own dinner. There -he had fallen asleep and awakened about eleven, to find that -there was nothing in the ice-box except a spoonful of potato salad. -This he had eaten, together with some chocolate drops that he found on -Kitty's bureau. This morning he had breakfasted hurriedly down town -before going to the office. But at noon, beginning to worry about -Kitty, he had decided to go home and take her out to lunch. After that -there had been the note on his pillow. The pile of lingerie in the -closet was gone--and she had left instructions for sending her trunk. - -He had never been so hungry, he thought. - -At five o'clock, when the visiting nurse tiptoed down-stairs, he was -sitting on the sofa staring at the carpet. - -"Mr. Cromwell?" - -"Yes?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Curtain won't be able to see you at dinner. She's not well -She told me to tell you that the cook will fix you something and that -there's a spare bedroom." - -"She's sick, you say?" - -"She's lying down in her room. The consultation is just over." - -"Did they--did they decide anything?" - -"Yes," said the nurse softly. "Doctor Jewett says there's no hope. Mr. -Curtain may live indefinitely, but he'll never see again or move again -or think. He'll just breathe." - -"Just breathe?" - -"Yes." - -For the first time the nurse noted that beside the writing-desk where -she remembered that she had seen a line of a dozen curious round -objects she had vaguely imagined to be some exotic form of decoration, -there was now only one. Where the others had been, there was now a -series of little nail-holes. - -Harry followed her glance dazedly and then rose to his feet. - -"I don't believe I'll stay. I believe there's a train." - -She nodded. Harry picked up his hat. - -"Good-by," she said pleasantly. - -"Good-by," he answered, as though talking to himself and, evidently -moved by some involuntary necessity, he paused on his way to the door -and she saw him pluck the last object from the wall and drop it into -his pocket. - -Then he opened the screen door and, descending the porch steps, passed -out of her sight. - - -V - -After a while the coat of clean white paint on the Jeffrey Curtain -house made a definite compromise with the suns of many Julys and -showed its good faith by turning gray. It scaled--huge peelings of -very brittle old paint leaned over backward like aged men practising -grotesque gymnastics and finally dropped to a moldy death in the -overgrown grass beneath. The paint on the front pillars became -streaky; the white ball was knocked off the left-hand door-post; the -green blinds darkened, then lost all pretense of color. - -It began to be a house that was avoided by the tender-minded--some -church bought a lot diagonally opposite for a graveyard, and this, -combined with "the place where Mrs. Curtain stays with that living -corpse," was enough to throw a ghostly aura over that quarter of the -road. Not that she was left alone. Men and women came to see her, met -her down town, where she went to do her marketing, brought her home in -their cars--and came in for a moment to talk and to rest, in the -glamour that still played in her smile. But men who did not know her -no longer followed her with admiring glances in the street; a -diaphanous veil had come down over her beauty, destroying its -vividness, yet bringing neither wrinkles nor fat. - -She acquired a character in the village--a group of little stories -were told of her: how when the country was frozen over one winter so -that no wagons nor automobiles could travel, she taught herself to -skate so that she could make quick time to the grocer and druggist, -and not leave Jeffrey alone for long. It was said that every night -since his paralysis she slept in a small bed beside his bed, holding -his hand. - -Jeffrey Curtain was spoken of as though he were already dead. As the -years dropped by those who had known him died or moved away--there -were but half a dozen of the old crowd who had drunk cocktails -together, called each other's wives by their first names, and thought -that Jeff was about the wittiest and most talented fellow that Marlowe -had ever known. How, to the casual visitor, he was merely the reason -that Mrs. Curtain excused herself sometimes and hurried upstairs; he -was a groan or a sharp cry borne to the silent parlor on the heavy air -of a Sunday afternoon. - -He could not move; he was stone blind, dumb and totally unconscious. -All day he lay in his bed, except for a shift to his wheel-chair every -morning while she straightened the room. His paralysis was creeping -slowly toward his heart. At first-for the first year--Roxanne had -received the faintest answering pressure sometimes when she held his -hand--then it had gone, ceased one evening and never come back, and -through two nights Roxanne lay wide-eyed, staring into the dark and -wondering what had gone, what fraction of his soul had taken flight, -what last grain of comprehension those shattered broken nerves still -carried to the brain. - -After that hope died. Had it not been for her unceasing care the last -spark would have gone long before. Every morning she shaved and bathed -him, shifted him with her own hands from bed to chair and back to bed. -She was in his room constantly, bearing medicine, straightening a -pillow, talking to him almost as one talks to a nearly human dog, -without hope of response or appreciation, but with the dim persuasion -of habit, a prayer when faith has gone. - -Not a few people, one celebrated nerve specialist among them, gave her -a plain impression that it was futile to exercise so much care, that -if Jeffrey had been conscious he would have wished to die, that if his -spirit were hovering in some wider air it would agree to no such -sacrifice from her, it would fret only for the prison of its body to -give it full release. - -"But you see," she replied, shaking her head gently, "when I married -Jeffrey it was--until I ceased to love him." - -"But," was protested, in effect, "you can't love that." - -"I can love what it once was. What else is there for me to do?" - -The specialist shrugged his shoulders and went away to say that Mrs. -Curtain was a remarkable woman and just about as sweet as an -angel--but, he added, it was a terrible pity. - -"There must be some man, or a dozen, just crazy to take care of -her...." - -Casually--there were. Here and there some one began in hope--and ended -in reverence. There was no love in the woman except, strangely enough, -for life, for the people in the world, from the tramp to whom she gave -food she could ill afford to the butcher who sold her a cheap cut of -steak across the meaty board. The other phase was sealed up somewhere -in that expressionless mummy who lay with his face turned ever toward -the light as mechanically as a compass needle and waited dumbly for -the last wave to wash over his heart. - -After eleven years he died in the middle of a May night, when the -scent of the syringa hung upon the window-sill and a breeze wafted in -the shrillings of the frogs and cicadas outside. Roxanne awoke at two, -and realized with a start she was alone in the house at last. - - -VI - -After that she sat on her weather-beaten porch through many -afternoons, gazing down across the fields that undulated in a slow -descent to the white and green town. She was wondering what she would -do with her life. She was thirty-six--handsome, strong, and free. The -years had eaten up Jeffrey's insurance; she had reluctantly parted -with the acres to right and left of her, and had even placed a small -mortgage on the house. - -With her husband's death had come a great physical restlessness. She -missed having to care for him in the morning, she missed her rush to -town, and the brief and therefore accentuated neighborly meetings in -the butcher's and grocer's; she missed the cooking for two, the -preparation of delicate liquid food for him. One day, consumed with -energy, she went out and spaded up the whole garden, a thing that had -not been done for years. - -And she was alone at night in the room that had seen the glory of her -marriage and then the pain. To meet Jeff again she went back in spirit -to that wonderful year, that intense, passionate absorption and -companionship, rather than looked forward to a problematical meeting -hereafter; she awoke often to lie and wish for that presence beside -her--inanimate yet breathing--still Jeff. - -One afternoon six months after his death she was sitting on the porch, -in a black dress which took away the faintest suggestion of plumpness -from her figure. It was Indian summer--golden brown all about her; a -hush broken by the sighing of leaves; westward a four o'clock sun -dripping streaks of red and yellow over a flaming sky. Most of the -birds had gone--only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the -cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent cheeping varied by -occasional fluttering sallies overhead. Roxanne moved her chair to -where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of -the afternoon. - -Harry Cromwell was coming out from Chicago to dinner. Since his -divorce over eight years before he had been a frequent visitor. They -had kept up what amounted to a tradition between them: when he arrived -they would go to look at Jeff; Harry would sit down on the edge of the -bed and in a hearty voice ask: - -"Well, Jeff, old man, how do you feel to-day?" - -Roxanne, standing beside, would look intently at Jeff, dreaming that -some shadowy recognition of this former friend had passed across that -broken mind--but the head, pale, carven, would only move slowly in its -sole gesture toward the light as if something behind the blind eyes -were groping for another light long since gone out. - -These visits stretched over eight years--at Easter, Christmas, -Thanksgiving, and on many a Sunday Harry had arrived, paid his call on -Jeff, and then talked for a long while with Roxanne on the porch. He -was devoted to her. He made no pretense of hiding, no attempt to -deepen, this relation. She was his best friend as the mass of flesh on -the bed there had been his best friend. She was peace, she was rest; -she was the past. Of his own tragedy she alone knew. - -He had been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he -worked had shifted him to the East and only a business trip had -brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written him to -come when he could--after a night in the city he had caught a train -out. - -They shook hands and he helped her move two rockers together. - -"How's George?" - -"He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school." - -"Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him." - -"Of course---" - -"You miss him horribly, Harry?" - -"Yes--I do miss him. He's a funny boy---" - -He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring -him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her -life--a child in dirty rompers. - -She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner--she had -four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She -put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they -continued their talk about George. - -"If I had a child--" she would say. - -Afterward, Harry having given her what slender advice he could about -investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to -recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court -had lain.... - -"Do you remember--" - -Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences: the day they had taken -all the snap-shots and Jeff had been photographed astride the calf; -and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne, lying sprawled in -the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a -covered lattice connecting the barn-studio with the house, so that -Jeff could get there on wet days--the lattice had been started, but -nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered -to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop. - -"And those mint juleps!" - -"And Jeff's note-book! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when -we'd get it out of his pocket and read aloud a page of material. And -how frantic he used to get?" - -"Wild! He was such a kid about his writing." - -They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said: - -"We were to have a place out here, too. Do you remember? We were to -buy the adjoining twenty acres. And the parties we were going to -have!" - -Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from -Roxanne. - -"Do you ever hear of her, Harry?" - -"Why--yes," he admitted placidly. "She's in Seattle. She's married -again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great deal -older than she is, I believe." - -"And she's behaving?" - -"Yes--that is, I've heard so. She has everything, you see. Nothing -much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time." - -"I see." - -Without effort he changed the subject. - -"Are you going to keep the house?" - -"I think so," she said, nodding. "I've lived here so long, Harry, it'd -seem terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course -that'd mean leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady." - -"Live in one?" - -"No. Keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady? -Anyway I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer -and two or three, if I can get them, in the winter. Of course I'll -have to have the house repainted and gone over inside." - -Harry considered. - -"Roxanne, why--naturally you know best what you can do, but it does -seem a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride." - -"Perhaps," she said, "that's why I don't mind remaining here as a -boarding-house lady." - -"I remember a certain batch of biscuits." - -"Oh, those biscuits," she cried. "Still, from all I heard about the -way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was _so_ -low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those -biscuits." - -"I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still in the library wall -where Jeff drove them." - -"Yes." - -It was getting very dark now, a crispness settled in the air; a little -gust of wind sent down a last spray of leaves. Roxanne shivered -slightly. - -"We'd better go in." - -He looked at his watch. - -"It's late. I've got to be leaving. I go East tomorrow." - -"Must you?" - -They lingered for a moment just below the stoop, watching a moon that -seemed full of snow float out of the distance where the lake lay. -Summer was gone and now Indian summer. The grass was cold and there -was no mist and no dew. After he left she would go in and light the -gas and close the shatters, and he would go down the path and on to -the village. To these two life had come quickly and gone, leaving not -bitterness, but pity; not disillusion, but only pain. There was -already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the -gathered kindness in the other's eyes. - - - - -MR. ICKY - -THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT - - -_The Scene is the Exterior of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a -desperately Arcadian afternoon in August._ MR. ICKY, _quaintly -dressed in the costume of an Elizabethan peasant, is pottering and -doddering among the pots and dods. He is an old man, well past the -prime of life, no longer young, From the fact that there is a burr in -his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrongside -out, we surmise that he is either above or below the ordinary -superficialities of life._ - -_Near him on the grass lies _PETER_, a little boy. -_PETER_, of course, has his chin on his palm like the pictures -of the young Sir Walter Raleigh. He has a complete set of features, -including serious, sombre, even funereal, gray eyes--and radiates that -alluring air of never having eaten food. This air can best be radiated -during the afterglow of a beef dinner. Be is looking at _MR. -ICKY_, fascinated._ - -_Silence. . . . The song of birds._ - -PETER: Often at night I sit at my window and regard the stars. -Sometimes I think they're my stars.... (_Gravely_) I think I -shall be a star some day.... - -ME. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) Yes, yes ... yes.... - -PETER: I know them all: Venus, Mars, Neptune, Gloria Swanson. - -MR. ICKY: I don't take no stock in astronomy.... I've been thinking o' -Lunnon, laddie. And calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for to -be a typewriter.... (_He sighs._) - -PETER: I liked Ulsa, Mr. Icky; she was so plump, so round, so buxom. - -MR. ICKY: Not worth the paper she was padded with, laddie. (_He -stumbles over a pile of pots and dods._) - -PETER: How is your asthma, Mr. Icky? - -MR. ICKY: Worse, thank God!...(_Gloomily.)_ I'm a hundred years -old... I'm getting brittle. - -PETER: I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty -arson. - -MR. ICKY: Yes... yes.... You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty I -reformed once--in prison. - -PETER: You went wrong again? - -MR. ICKY: Worse than that. The week before my term expired they -insisted on transferring to me the glands of a healthy young prisoner -they were executing. - -PETER: And it renovated you? - -MR. ICKY: Renovated me! It put the Old Nick back into me! This young -criminal was evidently a suburban burglar and a kleptomaniac. What was -a little playful arson in comparison! - -PETER: (_Awed_) How ghastly! Science is the bunk. - -MR. ICKY: (_Sighing_) I got him pretty well subdued now. 'Tisn't -every one who has to tire out two sets o' glands in his lifetime. I -wouldn't take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan -asylum. - -PETER: (_Considering_) I shouldn't think you'd object to a nice -quiet old clergyman's set. - -MR. ICKY: Clergymen haven't got glands--they have souls. - -(_There is a low, sonorous honking off stage to indicate that a -large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity. Then a young -man handsomely attired in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat -comes onto the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the -spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first -row of the balcony. This is_ RODNEY DIVINE.) - -DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky. - -(MR. ICKY _rises and stands tremulously between two dods._) - -MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon. - -DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her. - -(_He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel that hangs at -his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches -it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights._) - -DIVINE: I shall wait. - -(_He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an -occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among -themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks -by_ DIVINE _or a tumbling act, as desired._) - -DIVINE: It's very quiet here. - -MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet.... - -(_Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It -is _ULSA ICKY._ On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to -early Italian painting._) - -ULSA: (_In a coarse, worldly voice_) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did -what? - -MR. ICKY: (_Tremulously_) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (_They embrace -each other's torsos._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Hopefully_) You've come back to help with the -ploughing. - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) No, feyther; ploughing's such a beyther. I'd -reyther not. - -(_Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and -clean._) - -DIVINE: (_Conciliatingly_) See here, Ulsa. Let's come to an -understanding. - -(_He advances toward her with the graceful, even stride that made -him captain of the striding team at Cambridge._) - -ULSA: You still say it would be Jack? - -MR. ICKY: What does she mean? - -DIVINE: (_Kindly_) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It -couldn't be Frank. - -MR. ICKY: Frank who? - -ULSA: It _would_ be Frank! - -(_Some risqu joke can be introduced here._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting... - -DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement -that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You'd better marry me. - -ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn't let me in through the -servants' entrance of your house. - -DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn't! Never fear--you shall come in -through the mistress' entrance. - -ULSA: Sir! - -DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean? - -MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little -Ulsa?... - -DIVINE: I do. - -MR. ICKY: Your record is clean. - -DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world--- - -ULSA: And the worst by-laws. - -DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to -Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force--- - -MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?... - -DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections -every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a -converted tank. I have seats at the opera--- - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can't sleep except in a box. And I've heard -that you were cashiered from your club. - -MR. ICKY: A cashier? ... - -DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered. - -ULSA: What for? - -DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo bails one day for a -joke. - -MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape? - -DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair. After all what is brilliance? Merely -the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is. - -ME. ICKY; Be careful. ... I will-not marry my daughter to an epigram.... - -DIVINE: (_More gloomily_) I assure you I'm a mere platitude. I -often descend to the level of an innate idea. - -ULSA: (_Dully_) None of what you're saying matters. I can't marry -a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would-- - -DIVINE: (_Interrupting_) Nonsense! - -ULSA: (_Emphatically_) You're a fool! - -MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! ... One should not judge ... Charity, my girl. What -was it Nero said?--"With malice toward none, with charity toward -all---" - -PETER: That wasn't Nero. That was John Drinkwater. - -MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack? - - -DIVINE: (_Morosely_) Gotch. - -ULSA: Dempsey. - -DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in -a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that -Jack Dempsey would take one--- - -ULSA: (_Angrily_) Rot! He wouldn't have a--- - -DIVINE: (_Quickly_) You win. - -ULSA: Then I love you again. - -MR. ICKY: So I'm going to lose my little daughter... - -ULSA: You've still got a houseful of children, - -(CHARLES, ULSA'S _brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed -as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an -anchor is hanging from his neck._) - -CHARLES: (_Not seeing them_) I'm going to sea! I'm going to sea! - -(_His voice is triumphant._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Sadly_) You went to seed long ago. - -CHARLES: I've been reading "Conrad." - -PETER: (_Dreamily_) "Conrad," ah! "Two Years Before the Mast," by -Henry James. - -CHARLES: What? - -PETER: Walter Pater's version of "Robinson Crusoe." - -CHARLES: (_To his feyther_) I can't stay here and rot with you. I -want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. - -MR. ICKY: I will be here... when you come back.... - -CHARLES: (_Contemptuously_) Why, the worms are licking their -chops already when they hear your name. - -(_It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for -some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a -spirited saxophone number._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Mournfully_) These vales, these hills, these -McCormick harvesters--they mean nothing to my children. I understand. - -CHARLES: (_More gently_) Then you'll think of me kindly, feyther. -To understand is to forgive. - -MR. ICKY: No...no....We never forgive those we can understand....We -can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all.... - -CHARLES: (_Impatiently_) I'm so beastly sick of your human nature -line. And, anyway, I hate the hours around here. - -(_Several dozen more of _MR. ICKY'S_ children trip out of the -house, trip over the grass, and trip over the pots and dods. They are -muttering "We are going away," and "We are leaving you."_) - -MR. ICKY: (_His heart breaking_) They're all deserting me. I've -been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of -a Bismarck. - -(_There is a honking outside--probably _DIVINE'S_ chauffeur -growing impatient for his master._) - -MR. ICKY: (_In misery_) They do not love the soil! They have been -faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (_He picks up a handful of -soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts._) Oh, -Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke! - - _"No motion has she now, no force; - She does not hear or feel; - Roll'd round on earth's diurnal course - In some one's Oldsmobile."_ - -(_They all groan and shouting "Life" and "Jazz" move slowly toward -the wings._) - -CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I've been trying to turn my back to -the soil for ten years! - -ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who -wants to be a backbone? - -ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce of my country if I can -eat the salad! - -ALL: Life! Psychic Research! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: (_Struggling with himself_) I must be quaint. That's -all there is. It's not life that counts, it's the quaintness you bring -to it.... - -ALL: We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for -Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at -random. One always finds something that bears on the situation. - -(_He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random -begins to read._) - -"Ahab and Istemo and Anim, Goson and Olon and Gilo, eleven cities and -their villages. Arab, and Ruma, and Esaau--" - -CHARLES: (_Cruelly_) Buy ten more rings and try again. - -MR. ICKY: (_Trying again_) "How beautiful art thou my love, how -beautiful art thou! Thy eyes are dove's eyes, besides what is hid -within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats which come up from Mount -Galaad--Hm! Rather a coarse passage...." - -(_His children laugh at him rudely, shouting "Jazz!" and "All life -is primarily suggestive!"_) - -MR. ICKY: (_Despondently_) It won't work to-day. -(_Hopefully_) Maybe it's damp. (_He feels it_) Yes, it's -damp.... There was water in the dod.... It won't work. - -ALL: It's damp! It won't work! Jazz! - -ONE OF THE CHILDREN: Come, we must catch the six-thirty. - -(_Any other cue may be inserted here._) - -MR. ICKY: Good-by.... - -(_ They all go out._ MR. ICKY _is left alone. He sighs and -walking over to the cottage steps, lies down, and closes his eyes._) - -_Twilight has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as -never was on land or sea. There is no sound except a sheep-herder's -wife in the distance playing an aria from Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, -on a mouth-organ. The great white and gray moths swoop down and light -on the old man until he is completely covered by them. But he does not -stir._ - -_The curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse of -several minutes. A good comedy effect can be obtained by having -_MR. ICKY_ cling to the curtain and go up and down with it. -Fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this -point._ - -_Then _PETER_ appears, a look of almost imbecile sweetness on -his face. In his hand he clutches something and from time to time -glances at it in a transport of ecstasy. After a struggle with himself -he lays it on the old man's body and then quietly withdraws._ - -_The moths chatter among themselves and then scurry away in sudden -fright. And as night deepens there still sparkles there, small, white -and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Issacshire breeze, -_PETER'S_ gift of love--a moth-ball._ - -(_The play can end at this point or can go on indefinitely._) - - - - -JEMINA, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL - -This don't pretend to be "Literature." This is just a tale for -red-blooded folks who want a _story_ and not just a lot of -"psychological" stuff or "analysis." Boy, you'll love it! Read it -here, see it in the movies, play it on the phonograph, run it through -the sewing-machine. - - -A WILD THING - -It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all -sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the -mountains. - -Jemima Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family -still. - -She was a typical mountain girl. - -Her feet were bare. Her hands, large and powerful, hung down below her -knees. Her face showed the ravages of work. Although but sixteen, she -had for over a dozen years been supporting her aged pappy and mappy by -brewing mountain whiskey. From time to time she would pause in her -task, and, filling a dipper full of the pure, invigorating liquid, -would drain it off--then pursue her work with renewed vigor. - -She would place the rye in the vat, thresh it out with her feet and, -in twenty minutes, the completed product would be turned out. - -A sudden cry made her pause in the act of draining a dipper and look -up. - -"Hello," said a voice. It came from a man clad in hunting boots -reaching to his neck, who had emerged. - -"Can you tell me the way to the Tantrums' cabin?" - -"Are you uns from the settlements down thar?" - -She pointed her hand down to the bottom of the hill, where Louisville -lay. She had never been there; but once, before she was born, her -great-grandfather, old Gore Tantrum, had gone into the settlements in -the company of two marshals, and had never come back. So the Tantrums -from generation to generation, had learned to dread civilization. - -The man was amused. He laughed a light tinkling laugh, the laugh of a -Philadelphian. Something in the ring of it thrilled her. She drank off -another dipper of whiskey. - -"Where is Mr. Tantrum, little girl?" he asked, not without kindness. - -She raised her foot and pointed her big toe toward the woods. "Thar in -the cabing behind those thar pines. Old Tantrum air my old man." - -The man from the settlements thanked her and strode off. He was fairly -vibrant with youth and personality. As he walked along he whistled and -sang and turned handsprings and flapjacks, breathing in the fresh, -cool air of the mountains. - -The air around the still was like wine. - -Jemina Tantrum watched him entranced. No one like him had ever come -into her life before. - -She sat down on the grass and counted her toes. She counted eleven. -She had learned arithmetic in the mountain school. - - -A MOUNTAIN FEUD - -Ten years before a lady from the settlements had opened a school on -the mountain. Jemina had no money, but she had paid her way in -whiskey, bringing a pailful to school every morning and leaving it on -Miss Lafarge's desk. Miss Lafarge had died of delirium tremens after a -year's teaching, and so Jemina's education had stopped. - -Across the still stream, still another still was standing; It was that -of the Doldrums. The Doldrums and the Tantrums never exchanged calls. - -They hated each other. - -Fifty years before old Jem Doldrum and old Jem Tantrum had quarrelled -in the Tantrum cabin over a game of slapjack. Jem Doldrum had thrown -the king of hearts in Jem Tantrum's face, and old Tantrum, enraged, -had felled the old Doldrum with the nine of diamonds. Other Doldrums -and Tantrums had joined in and the little cabin was soon filled with -flying cards. Harstrum Doldrum, one of the younger Doldrums, lay -stretched on the floor writhing in agony, the ace of hearts crammed -down his throat. Jem Tantrum, standing in the doorway; ran through -suit after suit, his face alight with fiendish hatred. Old Mappy -Tantrum stood on the table wetting down the Doldrums with hot whiskey. -Old Heck Doldrum, having finally run out of trumps, was backed out of -the cabin, striking left and right with his tobacco pouch, and -gathering around him the rest of his clan. Then they mounted their -steers and galloped furiously home. - -That night old man Doldrum and his sons, vowing vengeance, had -returned, put a ticktock on the Tantrum window, stuck a pin in the -doorbell, and beaten a retreat. - -A week later the Tantrums had put Cod Liver Oil in the Doldrums' -still, and so, from year to year, the feud had continued, first one -family being entirely wiped out, then the other. - - -THE BIRTH OF LOVE - -Every day little Jemina worked the still on her side of the stream, -and Boscoe Doldrum worked the still on his side. - -Sometimes, with automatic inherited hatred, the feudists would throw -whiskey at each other, and Jemina would come home smelling like a -French table d'hte. - -But now Jemina was too thoughtful to look across the stream. - -How wonderful the stranger had been and how oddly he was dressed! In -her innocent way she had never believed that there were any civilized -settlements at all, and she had put the belief in them down to the -credulity of the mountain people. - -She turned to go up to the cabin, and, as she turned something struck -her in the neck. It was a sponge, thrown by Boscoe Doldrum--a sponge -soaked in whiskey from his still on the other side of the stream. - -"Hi, thar, Boscoe Doldrum," she shouted in her deep bass voice. - -"Yo! Jemina Tantrum. Gosh ding yo'!" he returned. - -She continued her way to the cabin. - -The stranger was talking to her father. Gold had been discovered on -the Tantrum land, and the stranger, Edgar Edison, was trying to buy -the land for a song. He was considering what song to offer. - -She sat upon her hands and watched him. - -He was wonderful. When he talked his lips moved. - -She sat upon the stove and watched him. - -Suddenly there came a blood-curdling scream. The Tantrums rushed to -the windows. - -It was the Doldrums. - -They had hitched their steers to trees and concealed themselves behind -the bushes and flowers, and soon a perfect rattle of stones and bricks -beat against the windows, bending them inward. - -"Father! father!" shrieked Jemina. - -Her father took down his slingshot from his slingshot rack on the wall -and ran his hand lovingly over the elastic band. He stepped to a -loophole. Old Mappy Tantrum stepped to the coalhole. - - -A MOUNTAIN BATTLE - -The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at the Doldrums, he -tried to escape from the house by crawling up the chimney. Then he -thought there might be a door under the bead, but Jemina told him -there was not. He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each -time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no doors there. -Furious with anger, he beat upon the door and hollered at the -Doldrums. They did not answer him, but kept up their fusillade of -bricks and stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew that just -as soon as they were able to affect an aperture they would pour in and -the fight would be over. - -Then old Heck Doldrum, foaming at the mouth and expectorating on the -ground, left and right, led the attack. - -The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not been without their -effect. A master shot had disabled one Doldrum, and another Doldrum, -shot almost incessantly through the abdomen, fought feebly on. - -Nearer and nearer they approached the house. - -"We must fly," shouted the stranger to Jemina. "I will sacrifice -myself and bear you away." - -"No," shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed. "You stay here and fit -on. I will bar Jemina away. I will bar Mappy away. I will bar myself -away." - -The man from the settlements, pale and trembling with anger, turned to -Ham Tantrum, who stood at the door throwing loophole after loophole at -the advancing Doldrums. - -"Will you cover the retreat?" - -But Ham said that he too had Tantrums to bear away, but that he would -leave himself here to help the stranger cover the retreat, if he could -think of a way of doing it. - -Soon smoke began to filter through the floor and ceiling. Shem Doldrum -had come up and touched a match to old Japhet Tantrum's breath as he -leaned from a loophole, and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides. - -The whiskey in the bathtub caught fire. The walls began to fall in. - -Jemina and the man from the settlements looked at each other. - -"Jemina," he whispered. - -"Stranger," she answered, - -"We will die together," he said. "If we had lived I would have taken -you to the city and married you. With your ability to hold liquor, -your social success would have been assured." - -She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes softly to -herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left leg was on fire. - -She was a human alcohol lamp. - -Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall fell on them and -blotted them out. - -"As One." - -When the Doldrums burst through the ring of flame, they found them -dead where they had fallen, their arms about each other. - -Old Jem Doldrum was moved. - -He took off his hat. - -He filled it with whiskey and drank it off. - -"They air dead," he said slowly, "they hankered after each other. The -fit is over now. We must not part them." - -So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they -made were as one. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - -This file should be named 8tjzz10.txt or 8tjzz10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8tjzz11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8tjzz10a.txt - -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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Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. 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: Tales of the Jazz Age - -Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald - -Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6695] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on January 14, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - - - - -Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team. This file was produced from images generously made -available by the Digital & Multimedia Center, Michigan State University -Libraries. - - - - - - -TALES FROM THE JAZZ AGE - - -BY - -F. SCOTT FITZGERALD - -1922 - - - - -A TABLE OF CONTENTS - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - -THE JELLY-BEAN - -This is a Southern story, with the scene laid in the small Lily of -Tarleton, Georgia. I have a profound affection for Tarleton, but -somehow whenever I write a story about it I receive letters from all -over the South denouncing me in no uncertain terms. "The Jelly-Bean," -published in "The Metropolitan," drew its full share of these -admonitory notes. - -It was written under strange circumstances shortly after my first -novel was published, and, moreover, it was the first story in which I -had a collaborator. For, finding that I was unable to manage the -crap-shooting episode, I turned it over to my wife, who, as a Southern -girl, was presumably an expert on the technique and terminology of -that great sectional pastime. - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - -I suppose that of all the stories I have ever written this one cost me -the least travail and perhaps gave me the most amusement. As to the -labor involved, it was written during one day in the city of New -Orleans, with the express purpose of buying a platinum and diamond -wrist watch which cost six hundred dollars. I began it at seven in the -morning and finished it at two o'clock the same night. It was -published in the "Saturday Evening Post" in 1920, and later included -in the O. Henry Memorial Collection for the same year. I like it least -of all the stories in this volume. - -My amusement was derived from the fact that the camel part of the -story is literally true; in fact, I have a standing engagement with -the gentleman involved to attend the next fancy-dress party to which -we are mutually invited, attired as the latter part of the camel--this -as a sort of atonement for being his historian. - - -MAY DAY. - -This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the "Smart -Set" in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the -spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great -impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general -hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my -story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a -pattern--a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New -York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the -younger generation. - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK. - -"And do you write for any other magazines?" inquired the young lady. - -"Oh, yes," I assured her. "I've had some stories and plays in the -'Smart Set,' for instance------" - -The young lady shivered. - -"The 'Smart Set'!" she exclaimed. "How can you? Why, they publish -stuff about girls in blue bathtubs, and silly things like that" - -And I had the magnificent joy of telling her that she was referring to -"Porcelain and Pink," which had appeared there several months before. - - -FANTASIES - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ. - -These next stories are written in what, were I of imposing stature, I -should call my "second manner." "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," -which appeared last summer in the "Smart Set," was designed utterly -for my own amusement. I was in that familiar mood characterized by a -perfect craving for luxury, and the story began as an attempt to feed -that craving on imaginary foods. - -One well-known critic has been pleased to like this extravaganza -better than anything I have written. Personally I prefer "The Offshore -Pirate." But, to tamper slightly with Lincoln: If you like this sort -of thing, this, possibly, is the sort of thing you'll like. - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. - -This story was inspired by a remark of Mark Twain's to the effect that -it was a pity that the best part of life came at the beginning and the -worst part at the end. By trying the experiment upon only one man in a -perfectly normal world I have scarcely given his idea a fair trial. -Several weeks after completing it, I discovered an almost identical -plot in Samuel Butler's "Note-books." - -The story was published in "Collier's" last summer and provoked this -startling letter from an anonymous admirer in Cincinnati: - -"Sir-- - -I have read the story Benjamin Button in Colliers and I wish to say -that as a short story writer you would make a good lunatic I have seen -many peices of cheese in my life but of all the peices of cheese I -have ever seen you are the biggest peice. I hate to waste a peice of -stationary on you but I will." - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE. - -Written almost six years ago, this story is a product of undergraduate -days at Princeton. Considerably revised, it was published in the -"Smart Set" in 1921. At the time of its conception I had but one -idea--to be a poet--and the fact that I was interested in the ring of -every phrase, that I dreaded the obvious in prose if not in plot, -shows throughout. Probably the peculiar affection I feel for it -depends more upon its age than upon any intrinsic merit. - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - -When this was written I had just completed the first draft of my -second novel, and a natural reaction made me revel in a story wherein -none of the characters need be taken seriously. And I'm afraid that I -was somewhat carried away by the feeling that there was no ordered -scheme to which I must conform. After due consideration, however, I -have decided to let it stand as it is, although the reader may find -himself somewhat puzzled at the time element. I had best say that -however the years may have dealt with Merlin Grainger, I myself was -thinking always in the present. It was published in the -"Metropolitan." - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS. - -Of this story I can say that it came to me in an irresistible form, -crying to be written. It will be accused perhaps of being a mere piece -of sentimentality, but, as I saw it, it was a great deal more. If, -therefore, it lacks the ring of sincerity, or even, of tragedy, the -fault rests not with the theme but with my handling of it. - -It appeared in the "Chicago Tribune," and later obtained, I believe, -the quadruple gold laurel leaf or some such encomium from one of the -anthologists who at present swarm among us. The gentleman I refer to -runs as a rule to stark melodramas with a volcano or the ghost of John -Paul Jones in the role of Nemesis, melodramas carefully disguised by -early paragraphs in Jamesian manner which hint dark and subtle -complexities to follow. On this order: - -"The case of Shaw McPhee, curiously enough, had no hearing on the -almost incredible attitude of Martin Sulo. This is parenthetical and, -to at least three observers, whose names for the present I must -conceal, it seems improbable, etc., etc., etc.," until the poor rat of -fiction is at last forced out into the open and the melodrama begins. - - -MR. ICKY - -This has the distinction of being the only magazine piece ever written -in a New York hotel. The business was done in a bedroom in the -Knickerbocker, and shortly afterward that memorable hostelry closed -its doors forever. - -When a fitting period of mourning had elapsed it was published in the -"Smart Set." - - -JEMINA. - -Written, like "Tarquin of Cheapside," while I was at Princeton, this -sketch was published years later in "Vanity Fair." For its technique I -must apologize to Mr. Stephen Leacock. - -I have laughed over it a great deal, especially when I first wrote it, -but I can laugh over it no longer. Still, as other people tell me it -is amusing, I include it here. It seems to me worth preserving a few -years--at least until the ennui of changing fashions suppresses me, my -books, and it together. - -With due apologies for this impossible Table of Contents, I tender -these tales of the Jazz Age into the hands of those who read as they -run and run as they read. - - - - -MY LAST FLAPPERS - - - -THE JELLY-BEAN. - - -Jim Powell was a Jelly-bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing -character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that -point. He was a bred-in-the-bone, dyed-in-the-wool, ninety-nine -three-quarters per cent Jelly-bean and he grew lazily all during -Jelly-bean season, which is every season, down in the land of the -Jelly-beans well below the Mason-Dixon line. - -Now if you call a Memphis man a Jelly-bean he will quite possibly pull -a long sinewy rope from his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient -telegraph-pole. If you Call a New Orleans man a Jelly-bean he will -probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras -ball. The particular Jelly-bean patch which produced the protagonist -of this history lies somewhere between the two--a little city of forty -thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern -Georgia occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something -about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone -else has forgotten long ago. - -Jim was a Jelly-bean. I write that again because it has such a -pleasant sound--rather like the beginning of a fairy story--as if Jim -were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of him with a round, -appetizing face and all sort of leaves and vegetables growing out of -his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from stooping -over pool-tables, and he was what might have been known in the -indiscriminating North as a corner loafer. "Jelly-bean" is the name -throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life -conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular--I am -idling, I have idled, I will idle. - -Jim was born in a white house on a green corner, It had four -weather-beaten pillars in front and a great amount of lattice-work in -the rear that made a cheerful criss-cross background for a flowery -sun-drenched lawn. Originally the dwellers in the white house had -owned the ground next door and next door to that and next door to -that, but this had been so long ago that even Jim's father, scarcely -remembered it. He had, in fact, thought it a matter of so little -moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he -neglected even to tell little Jim, who was five years old and -miserably frightened. The white house became a boarding-house run by a -tight-lipped lady from Macon, whom Jim called Aunt Mamie and detested -with all his soul. - -He became fifteen, went to high school, wore his hair in black snarls, -and was afraid of girls. He hated his home where four women and one -old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about -what lots the Powell place had originally included and what sorts of -flowers would be out next. Sometimes the parents of little girls in -town, remembering Jim's. mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark -eyes and hair, invited him to parties, but parties made him shy and he -much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in Tilly's Garage, -rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. -For pocket money, he picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that -he stopped going to parties. At his third party little Marjorie Haight -had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a -boy who brought the groceries sometimes. So instead of the two-step -and polka, Jim had learned to throw, any number he desired on the dice -and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred -in the surrounding country during the past fifty years. - -He became eighteen. The war broke out and he enlisted as a gob and -polished brass in the Charleston Navy-yard for a year. Then, by way of -variety, he went North and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navy-yard -for a year. - -When the war was over he came home, He was twenty-one, has trousers -were too short and too tight. His buttoned shoes were long and narrow. -His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink marvellously -scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very -good old cloth, long exposed to the sun. - -In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down -along the cottonfields and over the sultry town, he was a vague figure -leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim -above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently -on a problem that had held his attention for an. The Jelly-bean had -been invited to a party. - -Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark -Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in school. But, while Jim's social -aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had -alternately fallen in and out of love, gone to college, taken to -drink, given it up, and, in short, become one of the best beaux of the -town. Nevertheless Clark and Jim had retained a friendship that, -though casual, was perfectly definite. That afternoon Clark's ancient -Ford had slowed up beside Jim, who was on the sidewalk and, out of a -clear sky, Clark invited him to a party at the country club. The -impulse that made him do this was no stranger than the impulse which -made Jim accept. The latter was probably an unconscious ennui, a -half-frightened sense of adventure. And now Jim was soberly thinking -it over. - -He began to sing, drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the -sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in time to the low throaty tune: - - "One smile from Home in Jelly-bean town, - Lives Jeanne, the Jelly-bean Queen. - She loves her dice and treats 'em nice; - No dice would treat her mean." - -He broke off and agitated the sidewalk to a bumpy gallop. - -"Daggone!" he muttered, half aloud. They would all be there--the old -crowd, the crowd to which, by right of the white house, sold long -since, and the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantel, Jim -should have belonged. But that crowd had grown up together into a -tight little set as gradually as the girls' dresses had lengthened -inch by inch, as definitely as the boys' trousers had dropped suddenly -to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppy -loves Jim was an outsider--a running mate of poor whites. Most of the -men knew him, condescendingly; he tipped his hat to three or four -girls. That was all. - -When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he -walked through the hot, pleasantly pungent town to Jackson Street. The -stores were closing and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as -if borne on the dreamy revolution of a slow merry-go-round. A -street-fair farther down a brilliant alley of varicolored booths and -contributed a blend of music to the night--an oriental dance on a -calliope, a melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful -rendition of "Back Home in Tennessee" on a hand-organ. - -The Jelly-bean stopped in a store and bought a collar. Then he -sauntered along toward Soda Sam's, where he found the usual three or -four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies -running back and forth with sundaes and lemonades. - -"Hello, Jim." - -It was a voice at his elbow--Joe Ewing sitting in an automobile with -Marylyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a strange man were in the back seat. - -The Jelly-bean tipped his hat quickly. - -"Hi Ben--" then, after an almost imperceptible pause--"How y' all?" - -Passing, he ambled on toward the garage where he had a room up-stairs. -His "How y'all" had been said to Nancy Lamar, to whom he had not -spoken in fifteen years. - -Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and -blue-black hair inherited from her mother who had been born in -Budapest. Jim passed her often on the street, walking small-boy -fashion with her hands in her pockets and he knew that with her -inseparable Sally Carrol Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts -from Atlanta to New Orleans. - -For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed -and as he reached his door began to sing softly to himself: - - "Her Jelly Roll can twist your soul, - Her eyes are big and brown, - She's the Queen of the Queens of the Jelly-beans-- - My Jeanne of Jelly-bean Town." - - -II - -At nine-thirty, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started -for the Country Club in Clark's Ford. "Jim," asked Clark casually, as -they rattled through the jasmine-scented night, "how do you keep -alive?" - -The Jelly-bean paused, considered. - -"Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him -some with the cars in the afternoon an' he gives it to me free. -Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a little thataway. I -get fed up doin' that regular though." - -"That all?" - -"Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the day--Saturdays -usually--and then there's one main source of revenue I don't generally -mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'm about the champion crap-shooter -of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now because once I get the -feel of a pair of dice they just roll for me." - -Clark grinned appreciatively, - -"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish -you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar some day and take all her money away from -her. She will roll 'em with the boys and she loses more than her daddy -can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last -month to pay a debt." - -The Jelly-bean was noncommittal. - -"The white house on Elm Street still belong to you?" - -Jim shook his head. - -"Sold. Got a pretty good price, seein' it wasn't in a good part of -town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into Liberty bonds. But Aunt -Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to -keep her up at Great Farms Sanitarium. - -"Hm." - -"I got an old uncle up-state an' I reckin I kin go up there if ever I -get sure enough pore. Nice farm, but not enough niggers around to work -it. He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take -much to it. Too doggone lonesome--" He broke off suddenly. "Clark, I -want to tell you I'm much obliged to you for askin' me out, but I'd be -a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here an' let me walk -back into town." - -"Shucks!" Clark grunted. "Do you good to step out. You don't have to -dance--just get out there on the floor and shake." - -"Hold on," exclaimed. Jim uneasily, "Don't you go leadin' me up to any -girls and leavin' me there so I'll have to dance with 'em." - -Clark laughed. - -"'Cause," continued Jim desperately, "without you swear you won't do -that I'm agoin' to get out right here an' my good legs goin' carry me -back to Jackson street." - -They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was -to view the spectacle from a secluded settee in the corner where Clark -would join him whenever he wasn't dancing. - -So ten o'clock found the Jelly-bean with his legs crossed and his arms -conservatively folded, trying to look casually at home and politely -uninterested in the dancers. At heart he was torn between overwhelming -self-consciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on -around him. He saw the girls emerge one by one from the dressing-room, -stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over -their powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance -around to take in the room and, simultaneously, the room's reaction to -their entrance--and then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in -the sober arms of their waiting escorts. Sally Carrol Hopper, blonde -and lazy-eyed, appeared clad in her favorite pink and blinking like an -awakened rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the -girls he had seen loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled -and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights, were -miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and -gold, fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried. - -He had been there half an hour, totally uncheered by Clark's jovial -visits which were each one accompanied by a "Hello, old boy, how you -making out?" and a slap at his knee. A dozen males had spoken to him -or stopped for a moment beside him, but he knew that they were each -one surprised at finding him there and fancied that one or two were -even slightly resentful. But at half past ten his embarrassment -suddenly left him and a pull of breathless interest took him -completely out of himself--Nancy Lamar had come out of the -dressing-room. - -She was dressed in yellow organdie, a costume of a hundred cool -corners, with three tiers of ruffles and a big bow in back until she -shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent lustre. -The Jelly-bean's eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat. For -she stood beside the door until her partner hurried up. Jim recognized -him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that -afternoon. He saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low -voice, and laugh. The man laughed too and Jim experienced the quick -pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the -pair, a shaft of beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment -since. The Jelly-bean felt suddenly like a weed in a shadow. - -A minute later Clark approached him, bright-eyed and glowing. - -"Hi, old man" he cried with some lack of originality. "How you making -out?" - -Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected. - -"You come along with me," commanded Clark. "I've got something that'll -put an edge on the evening." - -Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the -locker-room where Clark produced a flask of nameless yellow liquid. - -"Good old corn." - -Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as "good old corn" -needed some disguise beyond seltzer. - -"Say, boy," exclaimed Clark breathlessly, "doesn't Nancy Lamar look -beautiful?" - -Jim nodded. - -"Mighty beautiful," he agreed. - -"She's all dolled up to a fare-you-well to-night," continued Clark. -"Notice that fellow she's with?" - -"Big fella? White pants?" - -"Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes -the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her. Been chasing, -after her all year. - -"She's a wild baby," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does -everybody. But she sure does do crazy stunts. She usually gets out -alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or -another she's done." - -"That so?" Jim passed over his glass. "That's good corn." - -"Not so bad. Oh, she's a wild one. Shoot craps, say, boy! And she do -like her high-balls. Promised I'd give her one later on." - -"She in love with this--Merritt?" - -"Damned if I know. Seems like all the best girls around here marry -fellas and go off somewhere." - -He poured himself one more drink and carefully corked the bottle. - -"Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just -stick this corn right on your hip as long as you're not dancing. If a -man notices I've had a drink he'll come up and ask me and before I -know it it's all gone and somebody else is having my good time." - -So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become -the private property of an individual in white trousers--and all -because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his -neighbor. As they descended the stairs Jim found the idea inexplicably -depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a vague and -romantic yearning. A picture of her began to form in his -imagination--Nancy walking boylike and debonnaire along the street, -taking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruit-dealer, charging a -dope on a mythical account, at Soda Sam's, assembling a convoy of -beaux and then driving off in triumphal state for an afternoon of -splashing and singing. - -The Jelly-bean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark -between the moon on the lawn and the single lighted door of the -ballroom. There he found a chair and, lighting a cigarette, drifted -into the thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a -reverie made sensuous by the night and by the hot smell of damp powder -puffs, tucked in the fronts of low dresses and distilling a thousand -rich scents, to float out through the open door. The music itself, -blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a languorous -overtone to the scraping of many shoes and slippers. - -Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was -obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come out of the dressing-room -and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a -low-breathed "doggone" and then she turned and saw him. It was Nancy -Lamar. - -Jim rose to his feet. - -"Howdy?" - -"Hello--" she paused, hesitated and then approached. "Oh, it's--Jim -Powell." - -He bowed slightly, tried to think of a casual remark. - -"Do you suppose," she began quickly, "I mean--do you know anything -about gum?" - -"What?" "I've got gum on my shoe. Some utter ass left his or her gum -on the floor and of course I stepped in it." - -Jim blushed, inappropriately. - -"Do you know how to get it off?" she demanded petulantly. "I've tried -a knife. I've tried every damn thing in the dressing-room. I've tried -soap and water--and even perfume and I've ruined my powder-puff trying -to make it stick to that." - -Jim considered the question in some agitation. - -"Why--I think maybe gasolene--" - -The words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and -pulled him at a run off the low veranda, over a flower bed and at a -gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first -hole of the golf course. - -"Turn on the gasolene," she commanded breathlessly. - -"What?" - -"For the gum of course. I've got to get it off. I can't dance with gum -on." - -Obediently Jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a -view to obtaining the desired solvent. Had she demanded a cylinder he -would have done his best to wrench one out. - -"Here," he said after a moment's search. "'Here's one that's easy. Got -a handkerchief?" - -"It's up-stairs wet. I used it for the soap and water." - -Jim laboriously explored his pockets. - -"Don't believe I got one either." - -"Doggone it! Well, we can turn it on and let it run on the ground." - -He turned the spout; a dripping began. - -"More!" - -He turned it on fuller. The dripping became a flow and formed an oily -pool that glistened brightly, reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on -its quivering bosom. - -"Ah," she sighed contentedly, "let it all out. The only thing to do is -to wade in it." - -In desperation he turned on the tap full and the pool suddenly widened -sending tiny rivers and trickles in all directions. - -"That's fine. That's something like." - -Raising her skirts she stepped gracefully in. - -"I know this'll take it off," she murmured. - -Jim smiled. - -"There's lots more cars." - -She stepped daintily out of the gasolene and began scraping her -slippers, side and bottom, on the running-board of the automobile. The -jelly-bean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive -laughter and after a second she joined in. - -"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" she asked as they walked -back toward the veranda. - -"Yes." - -"You know where he is now?" - -"Out dancin', I reckin." - -"The deuce. He promised me a highball." - -"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right -here in my pocket." - -She smiled at him radiantly. - -"I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale though," he added. - -"Not me. Just the bottle." - -"Sure enough?" - -She laughed scornfully. - -"Try me. I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down." - -She perched herself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of -the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork she held the flask -to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated. - -"Like it?" - -She shook her head breathlessly. - -"No, but I like the way it makes me feel. I think most people are that -way." - -Jim agreed. - -"My daddy liked it too well. It got him." - -"American men," said Nancy gravely, "don't know how to drink." - -"What?" Jim was startled. - -"In fact," she went on carelessly, "they don't know how to do anything -very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in -England." - -"In England?" - -"Yes. It's the one regret of my life that I wasn't." - -"Do you like it over there?" "Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in -person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the -army, Oxford and Cambridge men--you know, that's like Sewanee and -University of Georgia are here--and of course I've read a lot of -English novels." - -Jim was interested, amazed. - -"D' you ever hear of Lady Diana Manner?" she asked earnestly. - -No, Jim had not. - -"Well, she's what I'd like to be. Dark, you know, like me, and wild as -sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral -or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it -afterwards." - -Jim nodded politely. He was out of his depths. - -"Pass the bottle," suggested Nancy. "I'm going to take another little -one. A little drink wouldn't hurt a baby. - -"You see," she continued, again breathless after a draught. "People -over there have style, Nobody has style here. I mean the boys here -aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. -Don't you know?" - -"I suppose so--I mean I suppose not," murmured Jim. - -"And I'd like to do 'em an' all. I'm really the only girl in town that -has style." - -She stretched, out her arms and yawned pleasantly. - -"Pretty evening." - -"Sure is," agreed Jim. - -"Like to have boat" she suggested dreamily. "Like to sail out on a -silver lake, say the Thames, for instance. Have champagne and caviare -sandwiches along. Have about eight people. And one of the men would -jump overboard to amuse the party, and get drowned like a man did with -Lady Diana Manners once." - -"Did he do it to please her?" "Didn't mean drown himself to please -her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh," - -"I reckin they just died laughin' when he drowned." - -"Oh, I suppose they laughed a little," she admitted. "I imagine she -did, anyway. She's pretty hard, I guess--like I am." - -"You hard?" - -"Like nails." She yawned again and added, "Give me a little more from -that bottle." - -Jim hesitated but she held out her hand defiantly, "Don't treat me -like a girl;" she warned him. "I'm not like any girl _you_ ever -saw," She considered. "Still, perhaps you're right. You got--you got -old head on young shoulders." - -She jumped to her feet and moved toward the door. The Jelly-bean rose -also. - -"Good-bye," she said politely, "good-bye. Thanks, Jelly-bean." - -Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch. - - - -III - -At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the -women's dressing-room and, each one pairing with a coated beau like -dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with -sleepy happy laughter--through the door into the dark where autos -backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered -around the water-cooler. - -Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at -eleven; then Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered -into the soft-drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was -deserted except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two -boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was -about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark -looked up. - -"Hi, Jim" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I -guess there's not much left, but there's one all around." - -Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling -and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim's eye and winked at him -humorously. - -They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited -for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned -his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the -two boys at the next table. - -"Bring them over here," suggested Clark. - -Joe looked around. - -"We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules. - -"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up -and down, like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out -of his car." - -There was a general laugh. - -"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park -when she's around." - -"O Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you!" - -Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't -seen his silly little flivver in two weeks." - -Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of -uncertain age standing in the doorway. - -Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment. - -"Won't you join us Mr. Taylor?" - -"Thanks." - -Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I -guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got -funny with my car." - -His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim -wondered what he had heard from the doorway--tried to remember what -had been said. - -"I'm right to-night," Nancy sang out, "and my four bits is in the -ring." - -"Faded!" snapped Taylor suddenly. - -"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed -to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They -had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely -discouraged a series of rather pointed advances. - -"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." -Nancy was _cooing_ to the dice. She rattled them with a brave -underhand flourish, and rolled them out on the table. - -"Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up." - -Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it -personal, and after each success Jim watched triumph flutter across -her face. She was doubling with each throw--such luck could scarcely -last. "Better go easy," he cautioned her timidly. - -"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and -she called her number. - -"Little Ada, this time we're going South." - -Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and -half-hysterical, but her luck was holding. - -She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming -with his fingers on the table but he was in to stay. - -Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them -avidly. He shot in silence, and in the hush of excitement the clatter -of one pass after another on the table was the only sound. - -Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour passed. -Back and forth it went. Taylor had been at it again--and again and -again. They were even at last--Nancy lost her ultimate five dollars. - -"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll -shoot it all?" Her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as -she reached to the money. - -Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing. Taylor -shot again. He had Nancy's check. - -"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll do--money -everywhere as a matter of fact." - -Jim understood---the "good old corn" he had given her--the "good old -corn" she had taken since. He wished he dared interfere--a girl of -that age and position would hardly have two bank accounts. When the -clock struck two he contained himself no longer. - -"May I--can't you let me roll 'em for you?" he suggested, his low, -lazy voice a little strained. - -Suddenly sleepy and listless, Nancy flung the dice down before him. - -"All right--old boy! As Lady Diana Manners says, 'Shoot 'em, -Jelly-bean'--My luck's gone." - -"Mr. Taylor," said Jim, carelessly, "we'll shoot for one of those -there checks against the cash." - -Half an hour later Nancy swayed forward and clapped him on the back. - -"Stole my luck, you did." She was nodding her head sagely. - -Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them -into confetti and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing -and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "Ladies--that's you Marylyn. I -want to tell the world that Mr. Jim Powell, who is a well-known -Jelly-bean of this city, is an exception to the great rule--'lucky in -dice--unlucky in love.' He's lucky in dice, and as matter of fact I--I -_love_ him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, famous dark-haired -beauty often featured in the _Herald_ as one the most popular -members of younger set as other girls are often featured in this -particular case; Wish to announce--wish to announce, anyway, -Gentlemen--" She tipped suddenly. Clark caught her and restored her -balance. - -"My error," she laughed, "she--stoops to--stoops to--anyways--We'll -drink to Jelly-bean ... Mr. Jim Powell, King of the Jelly-beans." - -And a few minutes later as Jim waited hat in hand for Clark in the -darkness of that same corner of the porch where she had come searching -for gasolene, she appeared suddenly beside him. - -"Jelly-bean," she said, "are you here, Jelly-bean? I think--" and her -slight unsteadiness seemed part of an enchanted dream--"I think you -deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jelly-bean." - -For an instant her arms were around his neck--her lips were pressed to -his. - -"I'm a wild part of the world, Jelly-bean, but you did me a good -turn." - -Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricket-loud lawn. Jim saw -Merritt come out the front door and say something to her angrily--saw -her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. -Marylyn and Joe followed, singing a drowsy song about a Jazz baby. - -Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "All pretty lit, I guess," -he yawned. "Merritt's in a mean mood. He's certainly off Nancy." - -Over east along the golf course a faint rug of gray spread itself -across the feet of the night. The party in the car began to chant a -chorus as the engine warmed up. - -"Good-night everybody," called Clark. - -"Good-night, Clark." - -"Good-night." - -There was a pause, and then a soft, happy voice added, - -"Good-night, Jelly-bean." - -The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across -the way took up a solitary mournful crow, and behind them, a last -negro waiter turned out the porch light, Jim and Clark strolled over -toward the Ford, their, shoes crunching raucously on the gravel drive. - -"Oh boy!" sighed Clark softly, "how you can set those dice!" - -It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin -cheeks--or to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar shame. - - - -IV - -Over Tilly's garage a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and -snorting down-stairs and the singing of the negro washers as they -turned the hose on the cars outside. It was a cheerless square of a -room, punctuated with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a -dozen books--Joe Miller's "Slow Train thru Arkansas," "Lucille," in an -old edition very much annotated in an old-fashioned hand; "The Eyes of -the World," by Harold Bell Wright, and an ancient prayer-book of the -Church of England with the name Alice Powell and the date 1831 written -on the fly-leaf. - -The East, gray when Jelly-bean entered the garage, became a rich and -vivid blue as he turned on his solitary electric light. He snapped it -out again, and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and -stared into the deepening morning. With the awakening of his emotions, -his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter -grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging -him in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare -room. And with his perception of this wall all that had been the -romance of his existence, the casualness, the light-hearted -improvidence, the miraculous open-handedness of life faded out. The -Jelly-bean strolling up Jackson Street humming a lazy song, known at -every shop and street stand, cropful of easy greeting and local wit, -sad sometimes for only the sake of sadness and the flight of -time--that Jelly-bean was suddenly vanished. The very name was a -reproach, a triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt -must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn would have -awakened not jealousy but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering -herself. And on his part the Jelly-bean had used for her a dingy -subterfuge learned from the garage. He had been her moral laundry; the -stains were his. - -As the gray became blue, brightened and filled the room, he crossed to -his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely. - -"I love her," he cried aloud, "God!" - -As he said this something gave way within him like a lump melting in -his throat. The air cleared and became radiant with dawn, and turning -over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow. - -In the sunshine of three o'clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along -Jackson Street was hailed by the Jelly-bean, who stood on the curb -with his fingers in his vest pockets. - -"Hi!" called Clark, bringing his Ford to an astonishing stop -alongside. "Just get up?" - -The Jelly-bean shook his head. - -"Never did go to bed. Felt sorta restless, so I took a long walk this -morning out in the country. Just got into town this minute." - -"Should think you _would_ feel restless. I been feeling thataway -all day--" - -"I'm thinkin' of leavin' town" continued the Jelly-bean, absorbed by -his own thoughts. "Been thinkin' of goin' up on the farm, and takin' a -little that work off Uncle Dun. Reckin I been bummin' too long." - -Clark was silent and the Jelly-bean continued: - -"I reckin maybe after Aunt Mamie dies I could sink that money of mine -in the farm and make somethin' out of it. All my people originally -came from that part up there. Had a big place." - -Clark looked at him curiously. - -"That's funny," he said. "This--this sort of affected me the same -way." - -The Jelly-bean hesitated. - -"I don't know," he began slowly, "somethin' about--about that girl -last night talkin' about a lady named Diana Manners--an English lady, -sorta got me thinkin'!" He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark, -"I had a family once," he said defiantly. - -Clark nodded. - -"I know." - -"And I'm the last of 'em," continued the Jelly-bean his voice rising -slightly, "and I ain't worth shucks. Name they call me by means -jelly--weak and wobbly like. People who weren't nothin' when my folks -was a lot turn up their noses when they pass me on the street." - -Again Clark was silent. - -"So I'm through, I'm goin' to-day. And when I come back to this town -it's going to be like a gentleman." - -Clark took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp brow. - -"Reckon you're not the only one it shook up," he admitted gloomily. -"All this thing of girls going round like they do is going to stop -right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it thataway." - -"Do you mean," demanded Jim in surprise, "that all that's leaked out?" - -"Leaked out? How on earth could they keep it secret. It'll be -announced in the papers to-night. Doctor Lamar's got to save his name -somehow." - -Jim put his hands on the sides of the car and tightened his long -fingers on the metal. - -"Do you mean Taylor investigated those checks?" - -It was Clark's turn to be surprised. - -"Haven't you heard what happened?" - -Jim's startled eyes were answer enough. - -"Why," announced Clark dramatically, "those four got another bottle of -corn, got tight and decided to shock the town--so Nancy and that fella -Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning." - -A tiny indentation appeared in the metal under the Jelly-bean's -fingers. - -"Married?" - -"Sure enough. Nancy sobered up and rushed back into town, crying and -frightened to death--claimed it'd all been a mistake. First Doctor -Lamar went wild and was going to kill Merritt, but finally they got it -patched up some way, and Nancy and Merritt went to Savannah on the -two-thirty train." - -Jim closed his eyes and with an effort overcame a sudden sickness. - -"It's too bad," said Clark philosophically. "I don't mean the -wedding--reckon that's all right, though I don't guess Nancy cared a -darn about him. But it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her -family that way." - -The Jelly-bean let go the car and turned away. Again something was -going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change. - -"Where you going?" asked Clark. - -The Jelly-bean turned and looked dully back over his shoulder. - -"Got to go," he muttered. "Been up too long; feelin' right sick." - -"Oh." - - * * * * * - -The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust -seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth again as a world-old joke -forever played on an eternity of afternoons. But at half past four a -first layer of quiet fell and the shades lengthened under the awnings -and heavy foliaged trees. In this heat nothing mattered. All life was -weather, a waiting through the hot where events had no significance -for the cool that was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a -tired forehead. Down in Georgia there is a feeling--perhaps -inarticulate--that this is the greatest wisdom of the South--so after -a while the Jelly-bean turned into a poolhall on Jackson Street where -he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old -jokes--the ones he knew. - - - - -THE CAMEL'S BACK - - -The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above -title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup -and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything, -to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story Is the -exception. It has to do with a material, visible and large-as-life -camel's back. - -Starting from the neck we shall work toward the tail. I want you to -meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twenty-eight, lawyer, native of Toledo. -Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle. -You have met him before--in Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, -Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker Brothers, New York, -pause on their semi-annual trip through the West to clothe him; -Montmorency & Co. dispatch a young man post-haste every three months -to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his -shoes. He has a domestic roadster now, will have a French roadster if -he lives long enough, and doubtless a Chinese tank if it comes into -fashion. He looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his -sunset-colored chest with liniment and goes East every other year to -his class reunion. - -I want you to meet his Love. Her name is Betty Medill, and she would -take well in the movies. Her father gives her three hundred a month to -dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five -colors. I shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Medill. Though he is -to all appearances flesh and blood, he is, strange to say, commonly -known in Toledo as the Aluminum Man. But when he sits in his club -window with two or three Iron Men, and the White Pine Man, and the -Brass Man, they look very much as you and I do, only more so, if you -know what I mean. - -Now during the Christmas holidays of 1919 there took place in Toledo, -counting only the people with the italicized _the_, forty-one -dinner parties, sixteen dances, six luncheons, male and female, twelve -teas, four stag dinners, two weddings, and thirteen bridge parties. It -was the cumulative effect of all this that moved Perry Parkhurst on -the twenty-ninth day of December to a decision. - -This Medill girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him. She was -having such a good time that she hated to take such a definite step. -Meanwhile, their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as -if any day it might break off of its own weight. A little man named -Warburton, who knew it all, persuaded Perry to superman her, to get a -marriage license and go up to the Medill house and tell her she'd have -to marry him at once or call it off forever. So he presented himself, -his heart, his license, and his ultimatum, and within five minutes -they were in the midst of a violent quarrel, a burst of sporadic open -fighting such as occurs near the end of all long wars and engagements. -It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people who -are in love pull up sharp, look at each other coolly and think it's -all been a mistake. Afterward they usually kiss wholesomely and assure -the other person it was all their fault. Say it all was my fault! Say -it was! I want to hear you say it! - -But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in -a measure, stalling it off, so that they might the more voluptuously -and sentimentally enjoy it when it came, they were permanently -interrupted by a twenty-minute phone call for Betty from a garrulous -aunt. At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst, urged on by -pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, -picked up his light brown soft hat, and stalked out the door, - -"It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into -first. "It's all over--if I have to choke you for an hour, damn you!". -The last to the car, which had been standing some time and was quite -cold. - -He drove downtown--that is, he got into a snow rut that led him -downtown. He sat slouched down very low in his seat, much too -dispirited to care where he went. - -In front of the Clarendon Hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a -bad man named Baily, who had big teeth and lived at the hotel and had -never been in love. - -"Perry," said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him -at the, curb, "I've got six quarts of the doggonedest still champagne -you ever tasted. A third of it's yours, Perry, if you'll come -up-stairs and help Martin Macy and me drink it." - -"Baily," said Perry tensely, "I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink -every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me." - -"Shut up, you nut!" said the bad man gently. "They don't put wood -alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff that proves the world is more -than six thousand years old. It's so ancient that the cork is -petrified. You have to pull it with a stone drill." - -"Take me up-stairs," said Perry moodily. "If that cork sees my heart -it'll fall out from pure mortification." - -The room up-stairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little -girls eating apples and sitting in swings and talking to dogs. The -other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper -devoted to ladies in pink tights. - -"When you have to go into the highways and byways----" said the pink -man, looking reproachfully at Baily and Perry. - -"Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age -champagne?" - -"What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a -party." - -Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. - -Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six -handsome bottles. - -"Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe -you'd like to have us open all the windows." - -"Give me champagne," said Perry. - -"Going to the Townsends' circus ball to-night?" - -"Am not!" - -"'Vited?" - -"Uh-huh." - -"Why not go?" - -"Oh, I'm sick of parties," exclaimed Perry. "I'm sick of 'em. I've -been to so many that I'm sick of 'em." - -"Maybe you're going to the Howard Tates' party?" - -"No, I tell you; I'm sick of 'em." - -"Well," said Macy consolingly, "the Tates' is just for college kids -anyways." - -"I tell you----" - -"I thought you'd be going to one of 'em anyways. I see by the papers -you haven't missed a one this Christmas." - -"Hm," grunted Perry morosely. - -He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his -mind--that side of his life was closed, closed. Now when a man says -"closed, closed" like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has -double-closed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other -classical thought, about how cowardly suicide is. A noble thought that -one---warm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if -suicide were not so cowardly! - -An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to -the young man in the liniment advertisement. He looked like a rough -draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singing--an impromptu song of -Baily's improvisation: - - _"One Lump Perry, the parlor snake, - Famous through the city for the way he drinks his tea; - Plays with it, toys with it - Makes no noise with it, - Balanced on a napkin on his well-trained knee--"_ - -"Trouble is," said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Baily's -comb and was tying an orange tie round it to get the effect of Julius -Caesar, "that you fellas can't sing worth a damn. Soon's I leave the -air and start singing tenor you start singin' tenor too," - -"'M a natural tenor," said Macy gravely. "Voice lacks cultivation, -tha's all. Gotta natural voice, m'aunt used say. Naturally good -singer." - -"Singers, singers, all good singers," remarked Baily, who was at the -telephone. "No, not the cabaret; I want night egg. I mean some -dog-gone clerk 'at's got food--food! I want----" - -"Julius Caesar," announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. "Man -of iron will and stern 'termination" - -"Shut up!" yelled Baily. "Say, iss Mr. Baily Sen' up enormous supper. -Use y'own judgment. Right away." - -He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then -with his lips closed and an expression of solemn intensity in his eyes -went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open. - -"Lookit!" he commanded. In his hands he held a truncated garment of -pink gingham. - -"Pants," he exclaimed gravely. "Lookit!" - -This was a pink blouse, a red tie, and a Buster Brown collar. - -"Lookit!" he repeated. "Costume for the Townsends' circus ball. I'm -li'l' boy carries water for the elephants." - -Perry was impressed in spite of himself. - -"I'm going to be Julius Caesar," he announced after a moment of -concentration. - -"Thought you weren't going!" said Macy. - -"Me? Sure I'm goin', Never miss a party. Good for the nerves--like -celery." - -"Caesar!" scoffed Baily. "Can't be Caesar! He is not about a circus. -Caesar's Shakespeare. Go as a clown." - -Perry shook his head. - -"Nope; Caesar," - -"Caesar?" - -"Sure. Chariot." - -Light dawned on Baily. - -"That's right. Good idea." - -Perry looked round the room searchingly. - -"You lend me a bathrobe and this tie," he said finally. Baily -considered. - -"No good." - -"Sure, tha's all I need. Caesar was a savage. They can't kick if I -come as Caesar, if he was a savage." - -"No," said Baily, shaking his head slowly. "Get a costume over at a -costumer's. Over at Nolak's." - -"Closed up." - -"Find out." - -After a puzzling five minutes at the phone a small, weary voice -managed to convince Perry that it was Mr. Nolak speaking, and that -they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. -Thus assured, Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his -third of the last bottle of champagne. At eight-fifteen the man in the -tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to -start his roadster. - -"Froze up," said Perry wisely. "The cold froze it. The cold air." - -"Froze, eh?" - -"Yes. Cold air froze it." - -"Can't start it?" - -"Nope. Let it stand here till summer. One those hot ole August days'll -thaw it out awright." - -"Goin' let it stand?" - -"Sure. Let 'er stand. Take a hot thief to steal it. Gemme taxi." - -The man in the tall hat summoned a taxi. - -"Where to, mister?" - -"Go to Nolak's--costume fella." - - -II - -Mrs. Nolak was short and ineffectual looking, and on the cessation of -the world war had belonged for a while to one of the new -nationalities. Owing to unsettled European conditions she had never -since been quite sure what she was. The shop in which she and her -husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and peopled -with suits of armor and Chinese mandarins, and enormous papier-mâché -birds suspended from the ceiling. In a vague background many rows of -masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases full -of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers, and -paints, and crape hair, and wigs of all colors. - -When Perry ambled into the shop Mrs. Nolak was folding up the last -troubles of a strenuous day, so she thought, in a drawer full of pink -silk stockings. - -"Something for you?" she queried pessimistically. "Want costume of -Julius Hur, the charioteer." - -Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented -long ago. Was it for the Townsends' circus ball? - -It was. - -"Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's -really circus." - -This was an obstacle. - -"Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. "If you've got a, piece -of canvas I could go's a tent." - -"Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware store is where -you'd have to go to. We have some very nice Confederate soldiers." - -"No. No soldiers." - -"And I have a very handsome king." - -He shook his head. - -"Several of the gentlemen" she continued hopefully, "are wearing -stovepipe hats and swallow-tail coats and going as ringmasters--but -we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a -mustache." - -"Want somep'n 'stinctive." - -"Something--let's see. Well, we have a lion's head, and a goose, and a -camel--" - -"Camel?" The idea seized Perry's imagination, gripped it fiercely. - -"Yes, but It needs two people." - -"Camel, That's the idea. Lemme see it." - -The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first -glance he appeared to consist entirely of a very gaunt, cadaverous -head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to -possess a dark brown, unwholesome-looking body made of thick, cottony -cloth. - -"You see it takes two people," explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel -in frank admiration. "If you have a friend he could be part of it. You -see there's sorta pants for two people. One pair is for the fella in -front, and the other pair for the fella in back. The fella in front -does the lookin' out through these here eyes, an' the fella in back -he's just gotta stoop over an' folla the front fella round." - -"Put it on," commanded Perry. - -Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabby-cat face inside the camel's head -and turned it from side to side ferociously. - -Perry was fascinated. - -"What noise does a camel make?" - -"What?" asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "Oh, -what noise? Why, he sorta brays." - -"Lemme see it in a mirror." - -Before a wide mirror Perry tried on the head and turned from side to -side appraisingly. In the dim light the effect was distinctly -pleasing. The camel's face was a study in pessimism, decorated with -numerous abrasions, and it must be admitted that his coat was in that -state of general negligence peculiar to camels--in fact, he needed to -be cleaned and pressed--but distinctive he certainly was. He was -majestic. He would have attracted attention in any gathering, if only -by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking round -his shadowy eyes. - -"You see you have to have two people," said Mrs. Nolak again. - -Perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about -him, tying the hind legs as a girdle round his waist. The effect on -the whole was bad. It was even irreverent--like one of those mediaeval -pictures of a monk changed into a beast by the ministrations of Satan. -At the very best the ensemble resembled a humpbacked cow sitting on -her haunches among blankets. - -"Don't look like anything at all," objected Perry gloomily. - -"No," said Mrs. Nolak; "you see you got to have two people." - -A solution flashed upon Perry. - -"You got a date to-night?" - -"Oh, I couldn't possibly----" - -"Oh, come on," said Perry encouragingly. "Sure you can! Here! Be good -sport, and climb into these hind legs." - -With difficulty he located them, and extended their yawning depths -ingratiatingly. But Mrs. Nolak seemed loath. She backed perversely -away. - -"Oh, no----" - -"C'mon! You can be the front if you want to. Or we'll flip a coin." - -"Make it worth your while." - -Mrs. Nolak set her lips firmly together. - -"Now you just stop!" she said with no coyness implied. "None of the -gentlemen ever acted up this way before. My husband----" - -"You got a husband?" demanded Perry. "Where is he?" - -"He's home." - -"Wha's telephone number?" - -After considerable parley he obtained the telephone number pertaining -to the Nolak penates and got into communication with that small, weary -voice he had heard once before that day. But Mr. Nolak, though taken -off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of -logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He refused firmly, but with -dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a -camel. - -Having rung off, or rather having been rung off on, Perry sat down on -a three-legged stool to think it over. He named over to himself those -friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty -Medill's name hazily and sorrowfully occurred to him. He had a -sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love affair was over, but -she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to -ask--to help him keep up his end of social obligation for one short -night. And if she insisted, she could be the front part of the camel -and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind -even turned to rosy-colored dreams of a tender reconciliation inside -the camel--there hidden away from all the world.... - -"Now you'd better decide right off." - -The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and -roused him to action. He went to the phone and called up the Medill -house. Miss Betty was out; had gone out to dinner. - -Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into -the store. He was a dilapidated individual with a cold in his head and -a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down low -on his head, and his chin was pulled down low on his chest, his coat -hung down to his shoes, he looked run-down, down at the heels, -and--Salvation Army to the contrary--down and out. He said that he was -the taxicab-driver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon -Hotel. He had been instructed to wait outside, but he had waited some -time, and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone -out the back way with purpose to defraud him--gentlemen sometimes -did--so he had come in. He sank down onto the three-legged stool. - -"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. - -"I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep -my job." - -"It's a very good party." - -"'S a very good job." - -"Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See--it's pretty!" He held -the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. - -"Huh!" - -Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth. - -"See!" he cried enthusiastically, holding up a selection of folds. -"This is your part. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is -to walk--and sit down occasionally. You do all the sitting down. Think -of it. I'm on my feet all the time and _you_ can sit down some of -the time. The only time _I_ can sit down is when we're lying -down, and you can sit down when--oh, any time. See?" - -"What's 'at thing?" demanded the individual dubiously. "A shroud?" - -"Not at all," said Perry indignantly. "It's a camel." - -"Huh?" - -Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the -land of grunts and assumed a practical tinge. Perry and the -taxi-driver tried on the camel in front of the mirror. - -"You can't see it," explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the -eyeholes, "but honestly, ole man, you look sim'ly great! Honestly!" - -A grunt from the hump acknowledged this somewhat dubious compliment. - -"Honestly, you look great!" repeated Perry enthusiastically. "Move -round a little." - -The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge cat-camel -hunching his back preparatory to a spring. - -"No; move sideways." - -The camel's hips went neatly out of joint; a hula dancer would have -writhed in envy. - -"Good, isn't it?" demanded Perry, turning to Mrs. Nolak for approval. - -"It looks lovely," agreed Mrs. Nolak. - -"We'll take it," said Perry. - -The bundle was stowed under Perry's arm and they left the shop. - -"Go to the party!" he commanded as he took his seat in the back. - -"What party?" - -"Fanzy-dress party." - -"Where'bouts is it?" - -This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names -of all those who had given parties during the holidays danced -confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking -out the window he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already -faded out, a little black smudge far down the snowy street. - -"Drive uptown," directed Perry with fine confidence. "If you see a -party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we get there." - -He fell into a hazy daydream and his thoughts wandered again to -Betty--he imagined vaguely that they had had a disagreement because -she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was -just slipping off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the -taxi-driver opening the door and shaking him by the arm. - -"Here we are, maybe." - -Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a -spreading gray stone house, from which issued the low drummy whine of -expensive jazz. He recognized the Howard Tate house. - -"Sure," he said emphatically; "'at's it! Tate's party to-night. Sure, -everybody's goin'." - -"Say," said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, -"you sure these people ain't gonna romp on me for comin' here?" - -Perry drew himself up with dignity. - -"'F anybody says anything to you, just tell 'em you're part of my -costume." - -The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to -reassure the individual. - -"All right," he said reluctantly. - -Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling -the camel. - -"Let's go," he commanded. - -Several minutes later a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting -clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump, -might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate -residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and -heading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom. The -beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an uncertain -lockstep and a stampede--but can best be described by the word -"halting." The camel had a halting gait--and as he walked he -alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina. - - - -III - -The Howard Tates are, as every one who lives in Toledo knows, the most -formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before -she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that -conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American -aristocracy. The Tates have reached the stage where they talk about -pigs and farms and look at you icy-eyed if you are not amused. They -have begun to prefer retainers rather than friends as dinner guests, -spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and, having lost all sense of -competition, are in process of growing quite dull. - -The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all -ages were represented, the dancers were mostly from school and -college--the younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball -up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside tie -ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes, and beaming -whenever she caught her bye. Beside her were two middle-aged -sycophants, who were saying what a perfectly exquisite child Millicent -was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the -skirt and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself -with an "Oof!" into her mother's arms. - -"Why, Emily, what's the trouble?" - -"Mamma," said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble, "there's something out on -the stairs." - -"What?" - -"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog, -mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog." - -"What do you mean, Emily?" - -The sycophants waved their heads sympathetically. - -"Mamma, it looks like a--like a camel." - -Mrs. Tate laughed. - -"You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all." - -"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mamma--big. I was going -down-stairs to see if there were any more people, and this dog or -something, he was coming up-stairs. Kinda funny, mamma, like he was -lame. And then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped -at the top of the landing, and I ran." - -Mrs. Tate's laugh faded. - -"The child must have seen something," she said. - -The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen something--and -suddenly all three women took an instinctive step away from the door -as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside. - -And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark brown form rounded -the corner, and they saw what was apparently a huge beast looking down -at them hungrily. - -"Oof!" cried Mrs. Tate. - -"O-o-oh!" cried the ladies in a chorus. - -The camel suddenly humped his back, and the gasps turned to shrieks. - -"Oh--look!" - -"What is it?" - -The dancing stopped, bat the dancers hurrying over got quite a -different impression of the invader; in fact, the young people -immediately suspected that it was a stunt, a hired entertainer come to -amuse the party. The boys in long trousers looked at it rather -disdainfully, and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets, -feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls -uttered little shouts of glee. - -"It's a camel!" - -"Well, if he isn't the funniest!" - -The camel stood there uncertainly, swaying slightly from side to aide, -and seeming to take in the room in a careful, appraising glance; then -as if he had come to an abrupt decision, he turned and ambled swiftly -out the door. - -Mr. Howard Tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor, -and was standing chatting with a young man in the hall. Suddenly they -heard the noise of shouting up-stairs, and almost immediately a -succession of bumping sounds, followed by the precipitous appearance -at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast that seemed to be -going somewhere in a great hurry. - -"Now what the devil!" said Mr. Tate, starting. - -The beast picked itself up not without dignity and, affecting an air -of extreme nonchalance, as if he had just remembered an important -engagement, started at a mixed gait toward the front door. In fact, -his front legs began casually to run. - -"See here now," said Mr. Tate sternly. "Here! Grab it, Butterfield! -Grab it!" - -The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling -arms, and, realizing that further locomotion was impossible, the front -end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some -agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring -down-stairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything from an ingenious -burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man: - -"Hold him! Lead him in here; we'll soon see." - -The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after -locking the door, took a revolver from a table drawer and instructed -the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and -returned the revolver to its hiding-place. - -"Well, Perry Parkhurst!" he exclaimed in amazement. - -"Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate," said Perry sheepishly. "Hope I didn't -scare you." - -"Well--you gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him. -"You're bound for the Townsends' circus ball." - -"That's the general idea." - -"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst." Then turning to -Perry; "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days." - -"I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry." - -"Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a -clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while." He turned to -Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us." - -The young man demurred. He was going to bed. - -"Have a drink, Perry?" suggested Mr. Tate. - -"Thanks, I will." - -"And, say," continued Tate quickly, "I'd forgotten all about -your--friend here." He indicated the rear part of the camel. "I didn't -mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out." - -"It's not a friend," explained Perry hurriedly. "I just rented him." - -"Does he drink?" - -"Do you?" demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously round. - -There was a faint sound of assent. - -"Sure he does!" said Mr. Tate heartily. "A really efficient camel -ought to be able to drink enough so it'd last him three days." - -"Tell you," said Perry anxiously, "he isn't exactly dressed up enough -to come out. If you give me the bottle I can hand it back to him and -he can take his inside." - -From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound -inspired by this suggestion. When a butler had appeared with bottles, -glasses, and siphon one of the bottles was handed back; thereafter the -silent partner could be heard imbibing long potations at frequent -intervals. - -Thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd -better be starting. He donned his clown's costume; Perry replaced the -camel's head, arid side by side they traversed on foot the single -block between the Tate house and the Tallyho Club. - -The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up -inside the ballroom and round the walls had been built rows of booths -representing the various attractions of a circus side show, but these -were now vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing -medley of youth and color--downs, bearded ladies, acrobats, bareback -riders, ringmasters, tattooed men, and charioteers. The Townsends had -determined to assure their party of success, so a great quantity of -liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their house and was -now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall completely round -the ballroom, with pointing arrows alongside and signs which -instructed the uninitiated to "Follow the green line!" The green line -led down to the bar, where waited pure punch and wicked punch and -plain dark-green bottles. - -On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and -under it the slogan: "Now follow this!" - -But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented, -there, the entrance of the camel created something of a stir, and -Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd -attempting to penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the -wide doorway eying the dancers with his hungry, melancholy gaze. - -And then Perry saw Betty standing in front of a booth, talking to a -comic policeman. She was dressed in the costume of an Egyptian -snake-charmer: her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass -rings, the effect crowned with a glittering Oriental tiara. Her fair -face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arms and the half -moon of her back writhed painted serpents with single eyes of venomous -green. Her feet were in sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees, -so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim serpents -painted just above her bare ankles. Wound about her neck was a -glittering cobra. Altogether a charming costume--one that caused the -more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her when she -passed, and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about -"shouldn't be allowed" and "perfectly disgraceful." - -But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only -her face, radiant, animated, and glowing with excitement, and her arms -and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the -outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination -exercised a sobering effect on him. With a growing clarity the events -of the day came back--rage rose within him, and with a half-formed -intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her--or -rather he elongated slightly, for he had neglected to issue the -preparatory command necessary to locomotion. - -But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him -bitterly and sardonically, decided to reward him in full for the -amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the -snake-charmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man -beside her and say, "Who's that? That camel?" - -"Darned if I know." - -But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary -to hazard an opinion: - -"It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it's probably Warren -Butterfield, the architect from New York, who's visiting the Tates." - -Something stirred in Betty Medill--that age-old interest of the -provincial girl in the visiting man. - -"Oh," she said casually after a slight pause. - -At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within -a few feet of the camel. With the informal audacity that was the -key-note of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's -nose. - -"Hello, old camel." - -The camel stirred uneasily. - -"You 'fraid of me?" said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. -"Don't be. You see I'm a snake-charmer, but I'm pretty good at camels -too." - -The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about -beauty and the beast. - -Mrs. Townsend approached the group. - -"Well, Mr. Butterfield," she said helpfully, "I wouldn't have -recognised you." - -Perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask. - -"And who is this with you?" she inquired. - -"Oh," said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite -unrecognizable, "he isn't a fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He's just part of -my costume." - -Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty, - -"So," he thought, "this is how much she cares! On the very day of our -final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man--an absolute -stranger." - -On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his -head suggestively toward the hall, making it clear that he desired her -to leave her partner and accompany him. - -"By-by, Rus," she called to her partner. "This old camel's got me. -Where we going, Prince of Beasts?" - -The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the -direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs. - -There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of -confusion which included gruff orders and sounds of a heated dispute -going on in his interior, placed himself beside her--his hind legs -stretching out uncomfortably across two steps. - -"Well, old egg," said Betty cheerfully, "how do you like our happy -party?" - -The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head -ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his hoofs. - -"This is the first time that I ever had a tête-à-tête with a man's -valet 'round"--she pointed to the hind legs--"or whatever that is." - -"Oh," mumbled Perry, "he's deaf and blind." - -"I should think you'd feel rather handicapped--you can't very well -toddle, even if you want to." - -The camel hang his head lugubriously. - -"I wish you'd say something," continued Betty sweetly. "Say you like -me, camel. Say you think I'm beautiful. Say you'd like to belong to a -pretty snake-charmer." - -The camel would. - -"Will you dance with me, camel?" - -The camel would try. - -Betty devoted half an hour to the camel. She devoted at least half an -hour to all visiting men. It was usually sufficient. When she -approached a new man the current débutantes were accustomed to scatter -right and left like a close column deploying before a machine-gun. And -so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique privilege of seeing his -love as others saw her. He was flirted with violently! - - -IV - -This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a -general ingress to the ballroom; the cotillion was beginning. Betty -and the camel joined the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his -shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption of him. - -When they entered the couples were already seating themselves at -tables round the walls, and Mrs. Townsend, resplendent as a super -bareback rider with rather too rotund calves, was standing in the -centre with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to -the band every one rose and began to dance. - -"Isn't it just slick!" sighed Betty. "Do you think you can possibly -dance?" - -Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly exuberant. After all, -he was here incognito talking to his love---he could wink -patronizingly at the world. - -So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that is stretching -the word far beyond the wildest dreams of the jazziest terpsichorean. -He suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and -pull him here and there over the floor while he hung his huge head -docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy motions with his -feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by -hopping first on one foot and then on the other. Never being sure -whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by -going through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So -the spectacle was frequently presented of the front part of the camel -standing at ease and the rear keeping up a constant energetic motion -calculated to rouse a sympathetic perspiration in any soft-hearted -observer. - -He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered -with straw who announced jovially that she was a bale of hay and coyly -begged him not to eat her. - -"I'd like to; you're so sweet," said the camel gallantly. - -Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men up!" he lumbered -ferociously for Betty with the cardboard wienerwurst or the photograph -of the bearded lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes he -reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and -resulted in intense interior arguments. - -"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl, fiercely between his clenched -teeth, "get a little pep! I could have gotten her that time if you'd -picked your feet up." - -"Well, gimme a little warnin'!" - -"I did, darn you." - -"I can't see a dog-gone thing in here." - -"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging a load of -sand round to walk with you." - -"Maybe you wanta try back hare." - -"You shut up! If these people found you in this room they'd give you -the worst beating you ever had. They'd take your taxi license away -from you!" - -Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous -threat, but it seemed to have a soporific influence on his companion, -for he gave out an "aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence. - -The ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and waved his hand for -silence. - -"Prizes!" he cried. "Gather round!" - -"Yea! Prizes!" - -Self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who -had mustered the nerve to come as a bearded lady trembled with -excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The -man who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him -skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously when any one told -him he was sure to get it. - -"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced the ringmaster -jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had -by all. We will now bestow honor where honor is due by bestowing the -prizes. Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prices. Now, fellow -performers, the first prize is for that lady who has displayed this -evening the most striking, becoming"--at this point the bearded lady -sighed resignedly--"and original costume." Here the bale of hay -pricked up her ears. "Now I am sure that the decision which has been -agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present. The first prize -goes to Miss Betty Medill, the charming Egyptian snake-charmer." There -was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Medill, -blushing beautifully through her olive paint, was passed up to receive -her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a -huge bouquet of orchids. - -"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the other prize is for -that man who has the most amusing and original costume. This prize -goes without dispute to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is -visiting here but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry--in -short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his hungry -look and his brilliant dancing throughout the evening." - -He ceased and there was a violent clapping, and yeaing, for it was a -popular choice. The prize, a large box of cigars, was put aside for -the camel, as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person. - -"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will wind up the cotillion -with the marriage of Mirth to Folly! - -"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful snake-charmer and the -noble camel in front!" - -Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm round the -camel's neck. Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little -girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men -of Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all -of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color -round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under -bizarre wigs and barbaric paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding -march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a delirious blend from -the trombones and saxophones--and the march began. - -"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. -"Aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong -to the nice snake-charmer ever afterward?" - -The camel's front legs pranced, expressing excessive joy. - -"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried voices out of the -revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?" - -The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tally-ho Club for many -years, appeared rashly through a half-opened pantry door. - -"Oh, Jumbo!" - -"Get old Jumbo. He's the fella!" - -"Come on, Jumbo. How 'bout marrying us a couple?" - -"Yea!" - -Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron, and -escorted to a raised daïs at the head of the ball. There his collar -was removed and replaced back side forward with ecclesiastical effect. -The parade separated into two lines, leaving an aisle for the bride -and groom. - -"Lawdy, man," roared Jumbo, "Ah got ole Bible 'n' ev'ythin', sho -nuff." - -He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket. - -"Yea! Jumbo's got a Bible!" - -"Razor, too, I'll bet!" - -Together the snake-charmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle -and stopped in front of Jumbo. - -"Where's yo license, camel?" - -A man near by prodded Perry. - -"Give him a piece of paper. Anything'll do." - -Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and -pushed it out through the camel's mouth. Holding it upside down Jumbo -pretended to scan it earnestly. - -"Dis yeah's a special camel's license," he said. "Get you ring ready, -camel." - -Inside the camel Perry turned round and addressed his worse half. - -"Gimme a ring, for Heaven's sake!" - -"I ain't got none," protested a weary voice. - -"You have. I saw it." - -"I ain't goin' to take it offen my hand." - -"If you don't I'll kill you." - -There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass -inserted into his hand. - -Again he was nudged from the outside. - -"Speak up!" - -"I do!" cried Perry quickly. - -He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this -burlesque the sound thrilled him. - -Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat -and was slipping it on her finger, muttering ancient and historic -words after Jumbo. He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His -one idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for -Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A dignified young man, -Perry--and this might injure his infant law practice. - -"Embrace the bride!" - -"Unmask, camel, and kiss her!" - -Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly -and began to strike the card-board muzzle. He felt his self-control -giving way, he longed to surround her with his arms and declare his -identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot away--when -suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a curious -hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo -had given vent to a huge "Hello!" in such a startled voice that all -eyes were bent on him. - -"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage -license, which he had been holding upside down, produced spectacles, -and was studying it agonizingly. - -"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence his words were heard -plainly by every one in the room, "this yeah's a sho-nuff marriage -permit." - -"What?" - -"Huh?" - -"Say it again, Jumbo!" - -"Sure you can read?" - -Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood burned to fire in his -veins as he realized the break he had made. - -"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a sho-nuff license, and the -pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis yeah young lady, Miz Betty Medill, -and th' other's Mistah Perry Pa'khurst." - -There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out as all eyes fell -on the camel. Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes -giving out sparks of fury. - -"Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?" - -Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. -He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment, his cardboard face still -hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo. - -"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty -serious mattah. Outside mah duties at this club ah happens to be a -sho-nuff minister in the Firs' Cullud Baptis' Church. It done look to -me as though y'all is gone an' got married." - - -V - -The scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the -Tallyho Club. Stout matrons fainted, one hundred per cent Americans -swore, wild-eyed débutantes babbled in lightning groups instantly -formed and instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent -yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic ballroom. Feverish -youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or some one, -and the Baptis' preacheh was besieged by a tempestuous covey of -clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making threats, demanding -precedents, ordering the bonds annulled, and especially trying to -ferret out any hint of prearrangement in what had occurred. - -In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. -Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to comfort her; they were -exchanging "all my fault's" volubly and voluminously. Outside on a -snow-covered walk Mr. Cyrus Medill, the Aluminum Man, was being paced -slowly up and down between two brawny charioteers, giving vent now to -a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let -him get at Jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild -man of Borneo, and the most exacting stage-manager would have -acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite -impossible. - -Meanwhile the two principals held the real centre of the stage. Betty -Medill--or was it Betty Parkhurst?--storming furiously, was surrounded -by the plainer girls--the prettier ones were too busy talking about -her to pay much attention to her--and over on the other side of the -hall stood the camel, still intact except for his headpiece, which -dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in -making protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry, puzzled men. -Every few minutes, just as he had apparently proved his case, some one -would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would -begin again. - -A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second best belle of Toledo, -changed the gist of the situation by a remark she made to Betty. - -"Well," she said maliciously, "it'll all blow over, dear. The courts -will annul it without question." - -Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes, her lips shut -tight together, and she looked stonily at Marion. Then she rose and, -scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the -room to Perry, who stared at her in terror. Again silence crept down -upon the room. - -"Will you have the decency to grant me five minutes' conversation--or -wasn't that included in your plans?" - -He nodded, his mouth unable to form words. - -Indicating coldly that he was to follow her she walked out into the -hall with her chin uptilted and headed for the privacy of one of the -little card-rooms. - -Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the -failure of his hind legs to function. - -"You stay here!" he commanded savagely. - -"I can't," whined a voice from the hump, "unless you get out first and -let me get out." - -Perry hesitated, but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the -curious crowd he muttered a command and the camel moved carefully from -the room on its four legs. - -Betty was waiting for him. - -"Well," she began furiously, "you see what you've done! You and that -crazy license! I told you you shouldn't have gotten it!" - -"My dear girl, I--" - -"Don't say 'dear girl' to me! Save that for your real wife if you ever -get one after this disgraceful performance. And don't try to pretend -it wasn't all arranged. You know you gave that colored waiter money! -You know you did! Do you mean to say you didn't try to marry me?" - -"No--of course--" - -"Yes, you'd better admit it! You tried it, and now what are you going -to do? Do you know my father's nearly crazy? It'll serve you right if -he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold steel in -you. Even if this wed--this _thing_ can be annulled it'll hang -over me all the rest of my life!" - -Perry could not resist quoting softly: "'Oh, camel, wouldn't you like -to belong to the pretty snake-charmer for all your--" - -"Shut-up!" cried Betty. - -There was a pause. - -"Betty," said Perry finally, "there's only one thing to do that will -really get us out clear. That's for you to marry me." - -"Marry you!" - -"Yes. Really it's the only--" - -"You shut up! I wouldn't marry you if--if--" - -"I know. If I were the last man on earth. But if you care anything -about your reputation--" - -"Reputation!" she cried. "You're a nice one to think about my -reputation _now_. Why didn't you think about my reputation before -you hired that horrible Jumbo to--to--" - -Perry tossed up his hands hopelessly. - -"Very well. I'll do anything you want. Lord knows I renounce all -claims!" - -"But," said a new voice, "I don't." - -Perry and Betty started, and she put her hand to her heart. - -"For Heaven's sake, what was that?" - -"It's me," said the camel's back. - -In a minute Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a lax, limp -object, his clothes hanging on him damply, his hand clenched tightly -on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them. - -"Oh," cried Betty, "you brought that object in here to frighten me! -You told me he was deaf--that awful person!" - -The camel's back sat down on a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. - -"Don't talk 'at way about me, lady. I ain't no person. I'm your -husband." - -"Husband!" - -The cry was wrung simultaneously from Betty and Perry. - -"Why, sure. I'm as much your husband as that gink is. The smoke didn't -marry you to the camel's front. He married you to the whole camel. -Why, that's my ring you got on your finger!" - -With a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it -passionately at the floor. - -"What's all this?" demanded Perry dazedly. - -"Jes' that you better fix me an' fix me right. If you don't I'm -a-gonna have the same claim you got to bein' married to her!" - -"That's bigamy," said Perry, turning gravely to Betty. - -Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance -on which he risked his fortunes. He rose and looked first at Betty, -where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the -individual who swayed from side to side on his chair, uncertainly, -menacingly. - -"Very well," said Perry slowly to the individual, "you can have her. -Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as far as I'm concerned our -marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my -rights to have you as my wife, and give you to--to the man whose ring -you wear--your lawful husband." - -There was a pause and four horror-stricken eyes were turned on him, - -"Good-by, Betty," he said brokenly. "Don't forget me in your new-found -happiness. I'm going to leave for the Far West on the morning train. -Think of me kindly, Betty." - -With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest -as his hand touched the door-knob. - -"Good-by," he repeated. He turned the door-knob. - -But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated -themselves violently toward him. - -"Oh, Perry, don't leave me! Perry, Perry, take me with you!" - -Her tears flowed damply on his neck. Calmly he folded his arms about -her. - -"I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a -minister at this hour and have it done over again I'll go West with -you." - -Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part -of the camel--and they exchanged a particularly subtle, esoteric sort -of wink that only true camels can understand. - - - - -MAY DAY - - -There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the -conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with -thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring -days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the -strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the brasses, while -merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding -to the windows, turned their white-bunched faces gravely upon the -passing battalions. - -Never had there been such splendor in the great city, for the -victorious war had brought plenty in its train, and the merchants had -flocked thither from the South and West with their households to taste -of all the luscious feasts and witness the lavish entertainments -prepared--and to buy for their women furs against the next winter and -bags of golden mesh and varicolored slippers of silk and silver and -rose satin and cloth of gold. - -So gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by -the scribes and poets of the conquering people that more and more -spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of -excitement, and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their -trinkets and slippers until they sent up a mighty cry for more -trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter -what was demanded of them. Some even of them flung up their hands -helplessly, shouting: - -"Alas! I have no more slippers! and alas! I have no more trinkets! May -heaven help me for I know not what I shall do!" - -But no one listened to their great outcry, for the throngs were far -too busy--day by day, the foot-soldiers trod jauntily the highway and -all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave, sound -of tooth and pink of cheek, and the young women of the land were -virgins and comely both of face and of figure. - -So during all this time there were many adventures that happened in -the great city, and, of these, several--or perhaps one--are here set -down. - -I - -At nine o'clock on the morning of the first of May, 1919, a young man -spoke to the room clerk at the Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip -Dean were registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr. -Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He -was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above -with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of -ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which -colored his face like a low, incessant fever. - -Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone -at the side. - -After a second his connection was made; a sleepy voice hello'd from -somewhere above. - -"Mr. Dean?"--this very eagerly--"it's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon -Sterrett. I'm down-stairs. I heard you were in New York and I had a -hunch you'd be here." - -The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, -old boy! Well, he certainly was surprised and tickled! Would Gordy -come right up, for Pete's sake! - -A few minutes later Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened -his door and the two young men greeted each other with a -half-embarrassed exuberance. They were both about twenty-four, Yale -graduates of the year before the war; but there the resemblance -stopped abruptly. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged under his thin -pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He -smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. - -"I was going to look you up," he cried enthusiastically. "I'm taking a -couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a sec I'll be right with you. -Going to take a shower." - -As he vanished into the bathroom his visitor's dark eyes roved -nervously around the room, resting for a moment on a great English -travelling bag in the corner and on a family of thick silk shirts -littered on the chairs amid impressive neckties and soft woollen -socks. - -Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute -examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow, with a pale blue -stripe--and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared -involuntarily at his own shirt-cuffs--they were ragged and linty at -the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held -his coat-sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they -were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself -with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded -and thumb-creased--it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes -of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three -years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections -at college for being the best-dressed man in his class. - -Dean emerged from the bathroom polishing his body. - -"Saw an old friend of yours last night," he remarked. -"Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my -neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year." - -Gordon started. - -"Edith Bradin? That whom you mean?" - -"'At's the one. Damn good looking. She's still sort of a pretty -doll--you know what I mean: as if you touched her she'd smear." - -He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled -faintly, exposing a section of teeth. - -"She must be twenty-three anyway," he continued. - -"Twenty-two last month," said Gordon absently. - -"What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Psi -dance. Did you know we're having a Yale Gamma Psi dance to-night at -Delmonico's? You better come up, Gordy. Half of New Haven'll probably -be there. I can get you an invitation." - -Draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear, Dean lit a cigarette -and sat down by the open window, inspecting his calves and knees under -the morning sunshine which poured into the room. - -"Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about what you've -been doing and what you're doing now and everything." - -Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and -spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his -face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic. - -"What's the matter?" asked Dean quickly. - -"Oh, God!" - -"What's the matter?" - -"Every God damn thing in the world," he said miserably, "I've -absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in." - -"Huh?" - -"I'm all in." His voice was shaking. - -Dean scrutinized him more closely with appraising blue eyes. - -"You certainly look all shot." - -"I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything." He paused. "I'd -better start at the beginning--or will it bore you?" "Not at all; go -on." There was, however, a hesitant note in Dean's voice. This trip -East had been planned for a holiday--to find Gordon Sterrett in -trouble exasperated him a little. - -"Go on," he repeated, and then added half under his breath, "Get it -over with." - -"Well," began Gordon unsteadily, "I got back from France in February, -went home to Harrisburg for a month, and then came down to New York to -get a job. I got one--with an export company. They fired me -yesterday." - -"Fired you?" - -"I'm coming to that, Phil. I want to tell you frankly. You're about -the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I -just tell you frankly, will you, Phil?" - -Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew -perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he was being unfairly saddled with -responsibility; he was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though -never surprised at finding Gordon Sterrett in mild difficulty, there -was something in this present misery that repelled him and hardened -him, even though it excited his curiosity. - -"Go on." - -"It's a girl." - -"Hm." Dean resolved that nothing was going to spoil his trip. If -Gordon was going to be depressing, then he'd have to see less of -Gordon. - -"Her name is Jewel Hudson," went on the distressed voice from the bed. -"She used to be 'pure,' I guess, up to about a year ago." Lived here -in New York--poor family. Her people are dead now and she lives with -an old aunt. You see it was just about the time I met her that -everybody began to come back from France in droves--and all I did was -to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with 'em. That's the -way it started, Phil, just from being glad to see everybody and having -them glad to see me." - -"You ought to've had more sense." - -"I know," Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. "I'm on my own -now, you know, and Phil, I can't stand being poor. Then came this darn -girl. She sort of fell in love with me for a while and, though I never -intended to get so involved, I'd always seem to run into her -somewhere. You can imagine the sort of work I was doing for those -exporting people--of course, I always intended to draw; do -illustrating for magazines; there's a pile of money in it." - -"Why didn't you? You've got to buckle down if you want to make good," -suggested Dean with cold formalism. - -"I tried, a little, but my stuff's crude. I've got talent, Phil; I can -draw--but I just don't know how. I ought to go to art school and I -can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just -as I was down to about my last dollar this girl began bothering me. -She wants some money; claims she can make trouble for me if she -doesn't get it." - -"Can she?" - -"I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job--she kept calling -up the office all the time, and that was sort of the last straw down -there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's -got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her." - -There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched -by his side. - -"I'm all in," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'm half crazy, -Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming East, I think I'd have killed -myself. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars." - -Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly -quiet--and the curious uncertainty playing between the two became taut -and strained. - -After a second Gordon continued: - -"I've bled the family until I'm ashamed to ask for another nickel." - -Still Dean made no answer. - -"Jewel says she's got to have two hundred dollars." - -"Tell her where she can go." - -"Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I -wrote her. Unfortunately she's not at all the flabby sort of person -you'd expect." - -Dean made an expression of distaste. - -"I can't stand that sort of woman. You ought to have kept away." - -"I know," admitted Gordon wearily. - -"You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money -you've got to work and stay away from women." - -"That's easy for you to say," began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. -"You've got all the money in the world." - -"I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I -spend. Just because I have a little leeway I have to be extra careful -not to abuse it." - -He raised the blind and let in a further flood of sunshine. - -"I'm no prig, Lord knows," he went on deliberately. "I like -pleasure--and I like a lot of it on a vacation like this, but -you're--you're in awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way -before. You seem to be sort of bankrupt--morally as well as -financially." - -"Don't they usually go together?" - -Dean shook his head impatiently. - -"There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand. It's a sort -of evil." - -"It's an air of worry and poverty and sleepless nights," said Gordon, -rather defiantly. - -"I don't know." - -"Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But, my God, Phil, a -week's rest and a new suit and some ready money and I'd be like--like -I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak, and you know it. But half the -time I haven't had the money to buy decent drawing materials--and I -can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in. With a little -ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started." - -"How do I know you wouldn't use it on some other woman?" - -"Why rub it in?" said Gordon, quietly. - -"I'm not rubbing it in. I hate to see you this way." - -"Will you lend me the money, Phil?" - -"I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money and it'll be darn -inconvenient for me." - -"It'll be hell for me if you can't--I know I'm whining, and it's all -my own fault but--that doesn't change it." - -"When could you pay it back?" - -This was encouraging. Gordon considered. It was probably wisest to be -frank. - -"Of course, I could promise to send it back next month, but--I'd -better say three months. Just as soon as I start to sell drawings." - -"How do I know you'll sell any drawings?" - -A new hardness in Dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over -Gordon. Was it possible that he wouldn't get the money? - -"I supposed you had a little confidence in me." - -"I did have--but when I see you like this I begin to wonder." - -"Do you suppose if I wasn't at the end of my rope I'd come to you like -this? Do you think I'm enjoying it?" He broke off and bit his lip, -feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice. After -all, he was the suppliant. - -"You seem to manage it pretty easily," said Dean angrily. "You put me -in the position where, if I don't lend it to you, I'm a sucker--oh, -yes, you do. And let me tell you it's no easy thing for me to get hold -of three hundred dollars. My income isn't so big but that a slice like -that won't play the deuce with it." - -He left his chair and began to dress, choosing his clothes carefully. -Gordon stretched out his arms and clenched the edges of the bed, -fighting back a desire to cry out. His head was splitting and -whirring, his mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in -his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular counts like a slow -dripping from a roof. - -Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece -of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette -case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and -settled the case in his vest pocket. - -"Had breakfast?" he demanded. - -"No; I don't eat it any more." - -"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money -later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to have a good time. - -"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added -with an implied reproof: "You've given up your job. You've got nothing -else to do." - -"I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money," said Gordon pointedly. - -"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in -glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money." - -He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to -Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an -added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever. -For an instant before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that -instant each found something that made him lower his own glance -quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated -each other. - - -II - -Fifth Avenue and Forty-fourth Street swarmed with the noon crowd. The -wealthy, happy sun glittered in transient gold through the thick -windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and -strings of pearls in gray velvet cases; upon gaudy feather fans of -many colors; upon the laces and silks of expensive dresses; upon the -bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate show -rooms of interior decorators. - -Working-girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these -windows, choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display -which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the -bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their -engagement rings, and their wedding rings and their platinum wrist -watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera -cloaks; meanwhile digesting the sandwiches and sundaes they had eaten -for lunch. - -All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great -fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from -Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and -finding the great city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they -were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the -weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley Dean and Gordon -wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity -at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had -been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and -dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to -Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless. - -In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who -greeted the visiting Dean vociferously. Sitting in a semicircle of -lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around. - -Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched -together _en masse_, warmed with liquor as the afternoon began. -They were all going to the Gamma Psi dance that night--it promised to -be the best party since the war. - -"Edith Bradin's coming," said some one to Gordon. "Didn't she used to -be an old flame of yours? Aren't you both from Harrisburg?" - -"Yes." He tried to change the subject. "I see her brother -occasionally. He's sort of a socialistic nut. Runs a paper or -something here in New York." - -"Not like his gay sister, eh?" continued his eager informant. "Well, -she's coming to-night--with a junior named Peter Himmel." - -Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock--he had promised to -have some money for her. Several times he glanced nervously at his -wrist watch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he -was going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as -they left the Club another of the party joined them, to Gordon's great -dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the -evening's party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers' he chose a dozen -neckties, selecting each one after long consultations with the other -man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back? And wasn't it a shame -that Rivers couldn't get any more Welsh Margotson collars? There never -was a collar like the "Covington." - -Gordon was in something of a panic. He wanted the money immediately. -And he was now inspired also with a vague idea of attending the Gamma -Psi dance. He wanted to see Edith--Edith whom he hadn't met since one -romantic night at the Harrisburg Country Club just before he went to -France. The affair had died, drowned in the turmoil of the war and -quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture -of her, poignant, debonnaire, immersed in her own inconsequential -chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and brought a hundred memories -with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college -with a sort of detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to -draw her--around his room had been a dozen sketches of her--playing -golf, swimming--he could draw her pert, arresting profile with his -eyes shut. - -They left Rivers' at five-thirty and parsed for a moment on the -sidewalk. - -"Well," said Dean genially, "I'm all set now. Think I'll go back to -the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and massage." - -"Good enough," said the other man, "I think I'll join you." - -Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty he -restrained himself from turning to the man and snarling out, "Go on -away, damn you!" In despair he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken -to him, was keeping him along in order to avoid a dispute about the -money. - -They went into the Biltmore--a Biltmore alive with girls--mostly from -the West and South, the stellar débutantes of many cities gathered for -the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon -they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last -appeal, was about to come out with he knew not what, when Dean -suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm led -him aside. - -"Gordy," he said quickly, "I've thought the whole thing over carefully -and I've decided that I can't lend you that money. I'd like to oblige -you, but I don't feel I ought to--it'd put a crimp in me for a month." - -Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed -how much those upper teeth projected. - -"I'm--mighty sorry, Gordon," continued Dean, "but that's the way it -is." - -He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventy-five -dollars in bills. - -"Here," he said, holding them out, "here's seventy-five; that makes -eighty all together. That's all the actual cash I have with me, -besides what I'll actually spend on the trip." - -Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it -were a tongs he was holding, and clenched it again on the money. - -"I'll see you at the dance," continued Dean. "I've got to get along to -the barber shop." - -"So-long," said Gordon in a strained and husky voice. - -"So-long." - -Dean, began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly -and disappeared. - -But Gordon stood there, his handsome face awry with distress, the roll -of bills clenched tightly in his hand. Then, blinded by sudden tears, -he stumbled clumsily down the Biltmore steps. - - -III - -About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a -cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, -devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without -even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; -they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a -strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from -their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They -were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the -shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New -Jersey, landed three days before. - -The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his -veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran -blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long, -chinless face, the dull, watery eyes, and high cheek-bones, without -finding suggestion of either ancestral worth or native resourcefulness. - -His companion was swart and bandy-legged, with rat-eyes and a -much-broken hooked nose. His defiant air was obviously a pretense, a -weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of -physical bluff and physical menace, in which he had always lived. His -name was Gus Rose. - -Leaving the café they sauntered down Sixth Avenue, wielding toothpicks -with great gusto and complete detachment. - -"Where to?" asked Rose, in a tone which implied that he would not be -surprised if Key suggested the South Sea Islands. - -"What you say we see if we can getta holda some liquor?" Prohibition -was not yet. The ginger in the suggestion was caused by the law -forbidding the selling of liquor to soldiers. - -Rose agreed enthusiastically. - -"I got an idea," continued Key, after a moment's thought, "I got a -brother somewhere." - -"In New York?" - -"Yeah. He's an old fella." He meant that he was an elder brother. -"He's a waiter in a hash joint." - -"Maybe he can get us some." - -"I'll say he can!" - -"B'lieve me, I'm goin' to get this darn uniform off me to-morra. Never -get me in it again, neither. I'm goin' to get me some regular -clothes." - -"Say, maybe I'm not." - -As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this -intention can be taken largely as a pleasant game of words, harmless -and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they -reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personages high in -biblical circles, adding such further emphasis as "Oh, boy!" "You -know!" and "I'll say so!" repeated many times over. - -The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended -nasal comment extended through the years upon the institution--army, -business, or poorhouse--which kept them alive, and toward their -immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning the -institution had been the "government" and the immediate superior had -been the "Cap'n"--from these two they had glided out and were now in -the vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next -bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and somewhat ill at ease. -This they hid by pretending an elaborate relief at being out of the -army, and by assuring each other that military discipline should never -again rule their stubborn, liberty-loving wills. Yet, as a matter of -fact, they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this -new-found and unquestionable freedom. - -Suddenly Key increased his gait. Rose, looking up and following his -glance, discovered a crowd that was collecting fifty yards down the -street. Key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd; -Rose thereupon also chuckled and his short bandy legs twinkled beside -the long, awkward strides of his companion. - -Reaching the outskirts of the crowd they immediately became an -indistinguishable part of it. It was composed of ragged civilians -somewhat the worse for liquor, and of soldiers representing many -divisions and many stages of sobriety, all clustered around a -gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving his -arms and delivering an excited but succinct harangue. Key and Rose, -having wedged themselves into the approximate parquet, scrutinized him -with acute suspicion, as his words penetrated their common -consciousness. - -"--What have you got outa the war?" he was crying fiercely. "Look -arounja, look arounja! Are you rich? Have you got a lot of money -offered you?--no; you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs; -you're lucky if you came back an' find your wife ain't gone off with -some other fella that had the money to buy himself out of the war! -That's when you're lucky! Who got anything out of it except J. P. -Morgan an' John D. Rockerfeller?" - -At this point the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile -impact of a fist upon the point of his bearded chin and he toppled -backward to a sprawl on the pavement. - -"God damn Bolsheviki!" cried the big soldier-blacksmith, who had -delivered the blow. There was a rumble of approval, the crowd closed -in nearer. - -The Jew staggered to his feet, and immediately went down again before -a half-dozen reaching-in fists. This time he stayed down, breathing -heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and -without. - -There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found -themselves flowing with the jumbled crowd down Sixth Avenue under the -leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier -who had summarily ended the oration. The crowd had marvellously -swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of more non-committal -citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support -by intermittent huzzas. - -"Where we goin'?" yelled Key to the man nearest him - -His neighbor pointed up to the leader in the slouch hat. - -"That guy knows where there's a lot of 'em! We're goin' to show 'em!" - -"We're goin' to show 'em!" whispered Key delightedly to Rose, who -repeated the phrase rapturously to a man on the other side. - -Down Sixth Avenue swept the procession, joined here and there by -soldiers and marines, and now and then by civilians, who came up with -the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves, as -if presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed Sporting and -Amusement Club. - -Then the procession swerved down a cross street and headed for Fifth -Avenue and the word filtered here and there that they were bound for a -Red meeting at Tolliver Hall. - -"Where is it?" - -The question went up the line and a moment later the answer floated -hack. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth Street. There was a bunch of -other sojers who was goin' to break it up and was down there now! - -But Tenth Street had a faraway sound and at the word a general groan -went up and a score of the procession dropped out. Among these were -Rose and Key, who slowed down to a saunter and let the more -enthusiastic sweep on by. - -"I'd rather get some liquor," said Key as they halted and made their -way to the sidewalk amid cries of "Shell hole!" and "Quitters!" - -"Does your brother work around here?" asked Rose, assuming the air of -one passing from the superficial to the eternal. - -"He oughta," replied Key. "I ain't seen him for a coupla years. I been -out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he don't work at night anyhow. It's -right along here. He can get us some o'right if he ain't gone." - -They found the place after a few minutes' patrol of the street--a -shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth Avenue and Broadway. Here -Key went inside to inquire for his brother George, while Rose waited -on the sidewalk. - -"He ain't here no more," said Key emerging. "He's a waiter up to -Delmonico's." - -Rose nodded wisely, as if he'd expected as much. One should not be -surprised at a capable man changing jobs occasionally. He knew a -waiter once--there ensued a long conversation as they waited as to -whether waiters made more in actual wages than in tips--it was decided -that it depended on the social tone of the joint wherein the waiter -labored. After having given each other vivid pictures of millionaires -dining at Delmonico's and throwing away fifty-dollar bills after their -first quart of champagne, both men thought privately of becoming -waiters. In fact, Key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask -his brother to get him a job. - -"A waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellas leave in -bottles," suggested Rose with some relish, and then added as an -afterthought, "Oh, boy!" - -By the time they reached Delmonico's it was half past ten, and they -were surprised to see a stream of taxis driving up to the door one -after the other and emitting marvelous, hatless young ladies, each one -attended by a stiff young gentleman in evening clothes. - -"It's a party," said Rose with some awe. "Maybe we better not go in. -He'll be busy." - -"No, he won't. He'll be o'right." - -After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the -least elaborate door and, indecision falling upon them immediately, -stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small -dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps -and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them and both -started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a -comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through -another door on the other side. - -There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers -mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them -suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if -prepared at any moment to turn and flee. - -"Say," began Key, "say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here." - -"His name is Key," annotated Rose. - -Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was up-stairs, he thought. There was a -big dance going on in the main ballroom. He'd tell him. - -Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the -utmost suspicion; his first and most natural thought being that he was -going to be asked for money. - -George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his -brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were not dull, they were alert and -twinkling, and his manner was suave, in-door, and faintly superior. -They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. -He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol -had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol. - -"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been -disposed of, "we want to get some booze, and they won't sell us none. -Can you get us some?" - -George considered. - -"Sure. Maybe I can. It may be half an hour, though." - -"All right," agreed Carrol, "we'll wait" - -At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed -to his feet by the indignant George. - -"Hey! Watch out, you! Can't sit down here! This room's all set for a -twelve o'clock banquet." - -"I ain't goin' to hurt it," said Rose resentfully. "I been through the -delouser." - -"Never mind," said George sternly, "if the head waiter seen me here -talkin' he'd romp all over me." - -"Oh." - -The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; -they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a -suggestion. - -"I tell you," said George, after a pause, "I got a place you can wait; -you just come here with me." - -They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a -pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room -chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, -and illuminated by a single dim electric light. There he left them, -after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour -with a quart of whiskey. - -"George is makin' money, I bet," said Key gloomily as he seated -himself on an inverted pail. "I bet he's making fifty dollars a week." - -Rose nodded his head and spat. - -"I bet he is, too." - -"What'd he say the dance was of?" - -"A lot of college fellas. Yale College." - -They, both nodded solemnly at each other. - -"Wonder where that crowda sojers is now?" - -"I don't know. I know that's too damn long to walk for me." - -"Me too. You don't catch me walkin' that far." - -Ten minutes later restlessness seized them. - -"I'm goin' to see what's out here," said Rose, stepping cautiously -toward the other door. - -It was a swinging door of green baize and he pushed it open a cautious -inch. - -"See anything?" - -For answer Rose drew in his breath sharply. - -"Doggone! Here's some liquor I'll say!" - -"Liquor?" - -Key joined Rose at the door, and looked eagerly. - -"I'll tell the world that's liquor," he said, after a moment of -concentrated gazing. - -It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in--and in it -was prepared a radiant feast of spirits. There were long walls of -alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, -brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention -an array of syphons and two great empty punch bowls. The room was as -yet uninhabited. - -"It's for this dance they're just starting," whispered Key; "hear the -violins playin'? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind havin' a dance." - -They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual -comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out. - -"I'd like to get my hands on a coupla those bottles," said Rose -emphatically. - -"Me too." - -"Do you suppose we'd get seen?" - -Key considered. - -"Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin' 'em. They got 'em all -laid out now, and they know how many of them there are." - -They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting -his hands on a bottle now and tucking it under his coat before anyone -came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. He was afraid he -might get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the -bottles were opened it'd be all right to take one, and everybody'd -think it was one of the college fellas. - -While they were still engaged in argument George Key hurried through -the room and, barely grunting at them, disappeared by way of the green -baize door. A minute later they heard several corks pop, and then the -sound of cracking ice and splashing liquid. George was mixing the -punch. - -The soldiers exchanged delighted grins. - -"Oh, boy!" whispered Rose. - -George reappeared. - -"Just keep low, boys," he said quickly. "Ill have your stuff for you -in five minutes." - -He disappeared through the door by which he had come. - -As soon as his footsteps receded down the stairs, Rose, after a -cautious look, darted into the room of delights and reappeared with a -bottle in his hand. - -"Here's what I say," he said, as they sat radiantly digesting their -first drink. "We'll wait till he comes up, and we'll ask him if we -can't just stay here and drink what he brings us--see. We'll tell him -we haven't got any place to drink it--see. Then we can sneak in there -whenever there ain't nobody in that there room and tuck a bottle under -our coats. We'll have enough to last us a coupla days--see?" - -"Sure," agreed Rose enthusiastically. "Oh, boy! And if we want to we -can sell it to sojers any time we want to." - -They were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea. Then Key -reached up and unhooked the collar of his O. D. coat. - -"It's hot in here, ain't it?" - -Rose agreed earnestly. - -"Hot as hell." - - -IV - -She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressing-room and -crossed the intervening parlor of politeness that opened onto the -hall--angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, -the merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had -occurred on this particular night. She had no quarrel with herself. -She had acted with that correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity -which she always employed. She had succinctly and deftly snubbed him. - -It had happened when their taxi was leaving the Biltmore--hadn't gone -half a block. He had lifted his right arm awkwardly--she was on his -right side--and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson -fur-trimmed opera cloak she wore. This in itself had been a mistake. -It was inevitably more graceful for a young man attempting to embrace -a young lady of whose acquiescence he was not certain, to first put -his far arm around her. It avoided that awkward movement of raising -the near arm. - -His second _faux pas_ was unconscious. She had spent the -afternoon at the hairdresser's; the idea of any calamity overtaking -her hair was extremely repugnant--yet as Peter made his unfortunate -attempt the point of his elbow had just faintly brushed it. That was -his second _faux pas_. Two were quite enough. - -He had begun to murmur. At the first murmur she had decided that he -was nothing but a college boy--Edith was twenty-two, and anyhow, this -dance, first of its kind since the war, was reminding her, with the -accelerating rhythm of its associations, of something else--of another -dance and another man, a man for whom her feelings had been little -more than a sad-eyed, adolescent mooniness. Edith Bradin was falling -in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett. - -So she came out of the dressing-room at Delmonico's and stood for a -second in the doorway looking over the shoulders of a black dress in -front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified -black moths around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left -drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to and fro of many -scented young beauties--rich perfumes and the fragile memory-laden -dust of fragrant powders. This odor drifting out acquired the tang of -cigarette smoke in the hall, and then settled sensuously down the -stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Psi dance was to be -held. It was an odor she knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly -sweet--the odor of a fashionable dance. - -She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were -powdered to a creamy white. She knew they looked very soft and would -gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them -to-night. The hairdressing had been a success; her reddish mass of -hair was piled and crushed and creased to an arrogant marvel of mobile -curves. Her lips were finely made of deep carmine; the irises of her -eyes were delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a -complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty, flowing -in an even line from a complex coiffure to two small slim feet. - -She thought of what she would say to-night at this revel, faintly -prestiged already by the sounds of high and low laughter and slippered -footsteps, and movements of couples up and down the stairs. She would -talk the language she had talked for many years--her line--made up of -the current expressions, bits of journalese and college slang strung -together into an intrinsic whole, careless, faintly provocative, -delicately sentimental. She stalled faintly as she heard a girl -sitting on the stairs near her say: "You don't know the half of it, -dearie!" - -And as she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes -she drew in a deep breath of pleasure. She dropped her arms to her -side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered -and suggested her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much -nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms. - -"I smell sweet," she said to herself simply, and then came another -thought "I'm made for love." - -She liked the sound of this and thought it again; then inevitable -succession came her new-born riot of dreams about Gordon. The twist of -her imagination which, two months before, had disclosed to her her -unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up -to this dance, this hour. - -For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slow-thinking girl. There -was a streak in her of that same desire to ponder, of that adolescent -idealism that had turned her brother socialist and pacifist. Henry -Bradin had left Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economies, -and had come to New York to pour the latest cures for incurable evils -into the columns of a radical weekly newspaper. - -Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon -Sterrett. There was a quality of weakness in Gordon that she wanted to -take care of; there was a helplessness in him that she wanted to -protect. And she wanted someone she had known a long while, someone -who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired; she wanted to -get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as -many memories, and this weariness, she had decided that next time she -saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed. She would say -something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her -evening. All evenings were her evenings. - -Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a -hurt look and an air of strained formality who presented himself -before her and bowed unusually low. It was the man she had come with, -Peter Himmel. He was tall and humorous, with horned-rimmed glasses and -an air of attractive whimsicality. She suddenly rather disliked -him--probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her. - -"Well," she began, "are you still furious at me?" - -"Not at all." - -She stepped forward and took his arm. - -"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I snapped out that -way. I'm in a bum humor to-night for some strange reason. I'm sorry." - -"S'all right," he mumbled, "don't mention it." - -He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his -late failure? - -"It was a mistake," she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. -"We'll both forget it." For this he hated her. - -A few minutes later they drifted out on the floor while the dozen -swaying, sighing members of the specially hired jazz orchestra -informed the crowded ballroom that "if a saxophone and me are left -alone why then two is com-pan-ee!" - -A man with a mustache cut in. - -"Hello," he began reprovingly. "You don't remember me." - -"I can't just think of your name," she said lightly--"and I know you -so well." - -"I met you up at--" His voice trailed disconsolately off as a man with -very fair hair cut in. Edith murmured a conventional "Thanks, -loads--cut in later," to the _inconnu_. - -The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She -placed him as one of the numerous Jims of her acquaintance--last name -a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in -dancing and found as they started that she was right. - -"Going to be here long?" he breathed confidentially. - -She leaned back and looked up at him. - -"Couple of weeks." - -"Where are you?" - -"Biltmore. Call me up some day." - -"I mean it," he assured her. "I will. We'll go to tea." - -"So do I--Do." - -A dark man cut in with intense formality. - -"You don't remember me, do you?" he said gravely. - -"I should say I do. Your name's Harlan." - -"No-ope. Barlow." - -"Well, I knew there were two syllables anyway. You're the boy that -played the ukulele so well up at Howard Marshall's house party. - -"I played--but not--" - -A man with prominent teeth cut in. Edith inhaled a slight cloud of -whiskey. She liked men to have had something to drink; they were so -much more cheerful, and appreciative and complimentary--much easier to -talk to. - -"My name's Dean, Philip Dean," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember -me, I know, but you used to come up to New Haven with a fellow I -roomed with senior year, Gordon Sterrett." - -Edith looked up quickly. - -"Yes, I went up with him twice--to the Pump and Slipper and the Junior -prom." - -"You've seen him, of course," said Dean carelessly. "He's here -to-night. I saw him just a minute ago." - -Edith started. Yet she had felt quite sure he would be here. - -"Why, no, I haven't--" - -A fat man with red hair cut in. - -"Hello, Edith," he began. - -"Why--hello there--" - -She slipped, stumbled lightly. - -"I'm sorry, dear," she murmured mechanically. - -She had seen Gordon--Gordon very white and listless, leaning against -the side of a doorway, smoking, and looking into the ballroom. Edith -could see that his face was thin and wan--that the hand he raised to -his lips with a cigarette, was trembling. They were dancing quite -close to him now. - -"--They invite so darn many extra fellas that you--" the short man was -saying. - -"Hello, Gordon," called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart -was pounding wildly. - -His large dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her -direction. Her partner turned her away--she heard his voice -bleating---- - -"--but half the stags get lit and leave before long, so--" Then a low -tone at her side. - -"May I, please?" - -She was dancing suddenly with Gordon; one of his arms was around her; -she felt it tighten spasmodically; felt his hand on her back with the -fingers spread. Her hand holding the little lace handkerchief was -crushed in his. - -"Why Gordon," she began breathlessly. - -"Hello, Edith." - -She slipped again--was tossed forward by her recovery until her face -touched the black cloth of his dinner coat. She loved him--she knew -she loved him--then for a minute there was silence while a strange -feeling of uneasiness crept over her. Something was wrong. - -Of a sudden her heart wrenched, and turned over as she realized what -it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a little drunk, and miserably -tired. - -"Oh--" she cried involuntarily. - -His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were -blood-streaked and rolling uncontrollably. - -"Gordon," she murmured, "we'll sit down; I want to sit down." - -They were nearly in mid-floor, but she had seen two men start toward -her from opposite sides of the room, so she halted, seized Gordon's -limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, -her face a little pale under her rouge, her eyes trembling with tears. - -She found a place high up on the soft-carpeted stairs, and he sat down -heavily beside her. - -"Well," he began, staring at her unsteadily, "I certainly am glad to -see you, Edith." - -She looked at him without answering. The effect of this on her was -immeasurable. For years she had seen men in various stages of -intoxication, from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs, and her -feelings had varied from amusement to disgust, but here for the first -time she was seized with a new feeling--an unutterable horror. - -"Gordon," she said accusingly and almost crying, "you look like the -devil." - -He nodded, "I've had trouble, Edith." - -"Trouble?" - -"All sorts of trouble. Don't you say anything to the family, but I'm -all gone to pieces. I'm a mess, Edith." - -His lower lip was sagging. He seemed scarcely to see her. - -"Can't you--can't you," she hesitated, "can't you tell me about it, -Gordon? You know I'm always interested in you." - -She bit her lip--she had intended to say something stronger, but found -at the end that she couldn't bring it out. - -Gordon shook his head dully. "I can't tell you. You're a good woman. I -can't tell a good woman the story." - -"Rot," she said, defiantly. "I think it's a perfect insult to call any -one a good woman in that way. It's a slam. You've been drinking, -Gordon." - -"Thanks." He inclined his head gravely. "Thanks for the information." - -"Why do you drink?" - -"Because I'm so damn miserable." - -"Do you think drinking's going to make it any better?" - -"What you doing--trying to reform me?" - -"No; I'm trying to help you, Gordon. Can't you tell me about it?" - -"I'm in an awful mess. Best thing you can do is to pretend not to know -me." - -"Why, Gordon?" - -"I'm sorry I cut in on you--its unfair to you. You're pure woman--and -all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get some one else to dance with -you." - -He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down -beside her on the stairs. - -"Here, Gordon. You're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting -like a--like a crazy man--" - -"I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. -There's something left me. It doesn't matter." - -"It does, tell me." - -"Just that. I was always queer--little bit different from other boys. -All right in college, but now it's all wrong. Things have been -snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress, and -it's about to come off when a few more hooks go. I'm very gradually -going loony." - -He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away -from him. - -"What _is_ the matter?" - -"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a -dream to me--this Delmonico's--" - -As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light -and gay and careless--a great lethargy and discouragement had come -over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising -boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void. - -"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. -Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith. Don't know why I'm telling -you this." - -She nodded absently. - -"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He -laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've become a damn beggar, a -leech on my friends. I'm a failure. I'm poor as hell." - -Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her -first possible cue to rise. - -Suddenly Gordon's eyes filled with tears. - -"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong -effort at self-control, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know -there's one person left who's interested in me." - -He reached out and patted her hand, and involuntarily she drew it -away. - -"It's mighty fine of you," he repeated. - -"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always -glad to see an old friend--but I'm sorry to see you like this, -Gordon." - -There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary -eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her -face quite expressionless. - -"Shall we dance?" she suggested, coolly. - ---Love is fragile--she was thinking--but perhaps the pieces are saved, -the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new -love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next -lover. - - -V - -Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being -snubbed; having been snubbed, he was hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed -of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery -terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and -explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental -correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He -searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this -attitude in the matter of a simple kiss. - -Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the mustache he went -out into the hall and, making up a sentence, said it over to himself -several times. Considerably deleted, this was it: - -"Well, if any girl ever led a man on and then jolted him, she did--and -she has no kick coming if I go out and get beautifully boiled." - -So he walked through the supper room into a small room adjoining it, -which he had located earlier in the evening. It was a room in which -there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He -took a seat beside the table which held the bottles. - -At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the -turbidity of events, sank into a vague background before which -glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves, -things lay quietly on their shelves; the troubles of the day arranged -themselves in trim formation and at his curt wish of dismissal, -marched off and disappeared. And with the departure of worry came -brilliant, permeating symbolism. Edith became a flighty, negligible -girl, not to be worried over; rather to be laughed at. She fitted like -a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him. He -himself became in a measure symbolic, a type of the continent -bacchanal, the brilliant dreamer at play. - -Then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his -imagination yielded to the warm glow and he lapsed into a state -similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this -point that he noticed that a green baize door near him was open about -two inches, and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were watching -him intently. - -"Hm," murmured Peter calmly. - -The green door closed--and then opened again--a bare half inch this -time. - -"Peek-a-boo," murmured Peter. - -The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of -tense intermittent whispers. - -"One guy." - -"What's he doin'?" - -"He's sittin' lookin'." - -"He better beat it off. We gotta get another li'l' bottle." - -Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness. - -"Now this," he thought, "is most remarkable." - -He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a -mystery. Affecting an elaborate carelessness he arose and waited -around the table--then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door, -precipitating Private Rose into the room. - -Peter bowed. - -"How do you do?" he said. - -Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for -fight, flight, or compromise. - -"How do you do?" repeated Peter politely. - -"I'm o'right." - -"Can I offer you a drink?" - -Private Rose looked at him searchingly, suspecting possible sarcasm. - -"O'right," he said finally. - -Peter indicated a chair. - -"Sit down." - -"I got a friend," said Rose, "I got a friend in there." He pointed to -the green door. - -"By all means let's have him in." - -Peter crossed over, opened the door and welcomed in Private Key, very -suspicious and uncertain and guilty. Chairs were found and the three -took their seats around the punch bowl. Peter gave them each a -highball and offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted -both with some diffidence. - -"Now," continued Peter easily, "may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to -lounge away your leisure hours in a room which is chiefly furnished, -as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race -has progressed to the stage where seventeen thousand chairs are -manufactured on every day except Sunday--" he paused. Rose and Key -regarded him vacantly. "Will you tell me," went on Peter, "why you -choose to rest yourselves on articles, intended for the transportation -of water from one place to another?" - -At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation. - -"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a -building beautifully hung with enormous candelabra, you prefer to -spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?" - -Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed -uproariously; they found it was impossible to look at each other -without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man--they were -laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was -either raving drunk or raving crazy. - -"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and -preparing another. - -They laughed again. - -"Na-ah." - -"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of -the university known as the Sheffield Scientific School." - -"Na-ah." - -"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to -preserve your incognito in this--this paradise of violet blue, as the -newspapers say." - -"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody." - -"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses, "very -interestin'. Had a date with a scrublady, eh?" - -They both denied this indignantly. - -"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A -scrublady's as good as any lady in the world." - -Kipling says 'Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'" - -"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose. - -"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got -a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn girl I ever saw. Refused -to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure -I want to kiss you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger -generation comin' to?" - -"Say tha's hard luck," said Key--"that's awful hard luck." - -"Oh, boy!" said Rose. - -"Have another?" said Peter. - -"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but -it was too far away." - -"A fight?--tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. -"Fight 'em all! I was in the army." - -"This was with a Bolshevik fella." - -"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's, what I say! -Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!" - -"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. - -"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americans! -Have another." - -They had another. - - -VI - -At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special -orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its members, seating -themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of -providing music for the Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a -famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for his feat of -standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played -the latest jazz on his flute. During his performance the lights were -extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another -roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic -colors over the massed dancers. - -Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only -with débutantes, a state equivalent to the glow of a noble soul after -several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her -music; her partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the -colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it seemed as if days -had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary -subjects with many men. She had been kissed once and made love to six -times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates had danced -with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her -own entourage--that is, half a dozen gallants had singled her out or -were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty; -they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession. - -Several times she had seen Gordon--he had been sitting a long time on -the stairway with his palm to his head, his dull eyes fixed at an -infinite spark on the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and -quite drunk--but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All -that seemed long ago; her mind was passive now, her senses were lulled -to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in -hazy sentimental banter. - -But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral -indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her, sublimely and happily -drunk. She gasped and looked up at him. - -"Why, _Peter_!" - -"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith." - -"Why, Peter, you're a _peach_, you are! Don't you think it's a -bum way of doing--when you're with me?" - -Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish -sentimentality varied with a silly spasmodic smile. - -"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?" - -"You tell it well." - -"I love you--and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly. - -His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful -girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful eyes, like stars above. He wanted -to 'pologize--firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for -drinking--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was -mad at him---- - -The red-fat man cut in, and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly. - -"Did you bring any one?" she asked. - -No. The red-fat man was a stag. - -"Well, would you mind--would it be an awful bother for you to--to take -me home to-night?" (this extreme diffidence was a charming affectation -on Edith's part--she knew that the red-fat man would immediately -dissolve into a paroxysm of delight). - -"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn -glad to." - -"Thanks _loads_! You're awfully sweet." - -She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said -"half-past one" to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her -brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his -newspaper until after one-thirty every evening. - -Edith turned suddenly to her current partner. - -"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?" - -"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course." - -"I mean, what cross street?" - -"Why--let's see--it's on Forty-fourth Street." - -This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the -street and just around the corner, and it occurred to her immediately -that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on -him, a shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him -up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith revelled in doing--an -unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her -imagination--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. - -"My hair is just about to tumble entirely down," she said pleasantly -to her partner; "would you mind if I go and fix it?" - -"Not at all." - -"You're a peach." - -A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted -down a side-stairs, her cheeks glowing with excitement at her little -adventure. She ran by a couple who stood at the door--a weak-chinned -waiter and an over-rouged young lady, in hot dispute--and opening the -outer door stepped into the warm May night. - -VII - -The over-rouged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter -glance--then turned again to the weak-chinned waiter and took up her -argument. - -"You better go up and tell him I'm here," she said defiantly, "or I'll -go up myself." - -"No, you don't!" said George sternly. - -The girl smiled sardonically. - -"Oh, I don't, don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college -fellas and more of 'em know me, and are glad to take me out on a -party, than you ever saw in your whole life." - -"Maybe so--" - -"Maybe so," she interrupted. "Oh, it's all right for any of 'em like -that one that just ran out--God knows where _she_ went--it's all -right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like--but -when I want to see a friend they have some cheap, ham-slinging, -bring-me-a-doughnut waiter to stand here and keep me out." - -"See here," said the elder Key indignantly, "I can't lose my job. -Maybe this fella you're talkin' about doesn't want to see you." - -"Oh, he wants to see me all right." - -"Anyways, how could I find him in all that crowd?" - -"Oh, he'll be there," she asserted confidently. "You just ask anybody -for Gordon Sterrett and they'll point him out to you. They all know -each other, those fellas." - -She produced a mesh bag, and taking out a dollar bill handed it to -George. - -"Here," she said, "here's a bribe. You find him and give him my -message. You tell him if he isn't here in five minutes I'm coming up." - -George shook his head pessimistically, considered the question for a -moment, wavered violently, and then withdrew. - -In less than the allotted time Gordon came down-stairs. He was drunker -than he had been earlier in the evening and in a different way. The -liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust. He was heavy and -lurching--almost incoherent when he talked. - -"'Lo, Jewel," he said thickly. "Came right away, Jewel, I couldn't get -that money. Tried my best." - -"Money nothing!" she snapped. "You haven't been near me for ten days. -What's the matter?" - -He shook his head slowly. - -"Been very low, Jewel. Been sick." - -"Why didn't you tell me if you were sick. I don't care about the money -that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began -neglecting me." - -Again he shook his head. - -"Haven't been neglecting you. Not at all." - -"Haven't! You haven't been near me for three weeks, unless you been so -drunk you didn't know what you were doing." - -"Been sick. Jewel," he repeated, turning his eyes upon her wearily. - -"You're well enough to come and play with your society friends here -all right. You told me you'd meet me for dinner, and you said you'd -have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up." - -"I couldn't get any money." - -"Haven't I just been saying that doesn't matter? I wanted to see -_you_, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your somebody else." - -He denied this bitterly. - -"Then get your hat and come along," she suggested. Gordon -hesitated--and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms -around his neck. - -"Come on with me, Gordon," she said in a half whisper. "We'll go over -to Devineries' and have a drink, and then we can go up to my -apartment." - -"I can't, Jewel,----" - -"You can," she said intensely. - -"I'm sick as a dog!" - -"Well, then, you oughtn't to stay here and dance." - -With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, -Gordon hesitated; then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him -with soft, pulpy lips. - -"All right," he said heavily. "I'll get my hat." - - -VII - -When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night she found the -Avenue deserted. The windows of the big shops were dark; over their -doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs -of the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward Forty-second Street -she saw a commingled blur of lights from the all-night restaurants. -Over on Sixth Avenue the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the -street between the glimmering parallels of light at the station and -streaked along into the crisp dark. But at Forty-fourth Street it was -very quiet. - -Pulling her cloak close about her Edith darted across the Avenue. She -started nervously as a solitary man passed her and said in a hoarse -whisper--"Where bound, kiddo?" She was reminded of a night in her -childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a -dog had howled at her from a mystery-big back yard. - -In a minute she had reached her destination, a two-story, -comparatively old building on Forty-fourth, in the upper window of -which she thankfully detected a wisp of light. It was bright enough -outside for her to make out the sign beside the window--the _New -York Trumpet_. She stepped inside a dark hall and after a second -saw the stairs in the corner. - -Then she was in a long, low room furnished with many desks and hung on -all sides with file copies of newspapers. There were only two -occupants. They were sitting at different ends of the room, each -wearing a green eye-shade and writing by a solitary desk light. - -For a moment she stood uncertainly in the doorway, and then both men -turned around simultaneously and she recognized her brother. - -"Why, Edith!" He rose quickly and approached her in surprise, removing -his eye-shade. He was tall, lean, and dark, with black, piercing eyes -under very thick glasses. They were far-away eyes that seemed always -fixed just over the head of the person to whom he was talking. - -He put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek. - -"What is it?" he repeated in some alarm. - -"I was at a dance across at Delmonico's, Henry," she said excitedly, -"and I couldn't resist tearing over to see you." - -"I'm glad you did." His alertness gave way quickly to a habitual -vagueness. "You oughtn't to be out alone at night though, ought you?" - -The man at the other end of the room had been looking at them -curiously, but at Henry's beckoning gesture he approached. He was -loosely fat with little twinkling eyes, and, having removed his collar -and tie, he gave the impression of a Middle-Western farmer on a Sunday -afternoon. - -"This is my sister," said Henry. "She dropped in to see me." - -"How do you do?" said the fat man, smiling. "My name's Bartholomew, -Miss Bradin. I know your brother has forgotten it long ago." - -Edith laughed politely. - -"Well," he continued, "not exactly gorgeous quarters we have here, are -they?" - -Edith looked around the room. - -"They seem very nice," she replied. "Where do you keep the bombs?" - -"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good--the -bombs. Did you hear her, Henry? She wants to know where we keep the -bombs. Say, that's pretty good." - -Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over -the edge. Her brother took a seat beside her. - -"Well," he asked, absent-mindedly, "how do you like New York this -trip?" - -"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday. -Can't you come to luncheon to-morrow?" - -He thought a moment. - -"I'm especially busy," he objected, "and I hate women in groups." - -"All right," she agreed, unruffled. "Let's you and me have luncheon -together." - -"Very well." - -"I'll call for you at twelve." - -Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but -apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some -parting pleasantry. - -"Well"--he began awkwardly. - -They both turned to him. - -"Well, we--we had an exciting time earlier in the evening." - -The two men exchanged glances. - -"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat -encouraged. "We had a regular vaudeville." - -"Did you really?" - -"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in -the street and began to yell at the sign." - -"Why?" she demanded. - -"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl. -They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd -probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up." - -"Yes," said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith, "you should have been -here." - -He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he -turned abruptly and went back to his desk. - -"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of -her brother. "I mean do they attack you violently and all that?" - -Henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned. - -"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of -us are throw-backs; the soldiers don't know what they want, or what -they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies, -and they seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be -against us. There've been riots all over the city to-night. It's May -Day, you see." - -"Was the disturbance here pretty serious?" - -"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twenty-five of them stopped in -the street about nine o'clock, and began to bellow at the moon." - -"Oh"--She changed the subject. "You're glad to see me, Henry?" - -"Why, sure." - -"You don't seem to be." - -"I am." - -"I suppose you think I'm a--a waster. Sort of the World's Worst -Butterfly." - -Henry laughed. - -"Not at all. Have a good time while you're young. Why? Do I seem like -the priggish and earnest youth?" - -"No--" she paused,"--but somehow I began thinking how absolutely -different the party I'm on is from--from all your purposes. It seems -sort of--of incongruous, doesn't it?--me being at a party like that, -and you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party -impossible ever any more, if your ideas work." - -"I don't think of it that way. You're young, and you're acting just as -you were brought up to act. Go ahead--have a good time?" - -Her feet, which had been idly swinging, stopped and her voice dropped -a note. - -"I wish you'd--you'd come back to Harrisburg and have a good time. Do -you feel sure that you're on the right track----" - -"You're wearing beautiful stockings," he interrupted. "What on earth -are they?" - -"They're embroidered," she replied, glancing down; "Aren't they -cunning?" She raised her skirts and uncovered slim, silk-sheathed -calves. "Or do you disapprove of silk stockings?" - -He seemed slightly exasperated, bent his dark eyes on her piercingly. - -"Are you trying to make me out as criticizing you in any way, Edith?" - -"Not at all-----" - -She paused. Bartholomew had uttered a grunt. She turned and saw that -he had left his desk and was standing at the window. - -"What is it?" demanded Henry. - -"People," said Bartholomew, and then after an instant: "Whole jam of -them. They're coming from Sixth Avenue." - -"People?" - -The fat man pressed his nose to the pane. - -"Soldiers, by God!" he said emphatically. "I had an idea they'd come -back." - -Edith jumped to her feet, and running over joined Bartholomew at the -window. - -"There's a lot of them!" she cried excitedly. "Come here, Henry!" - -Henry readjusted his shade, but kept his seat. - -"Hadn't we better turn out the lights?" suggested Bartholomew. - -"No. They'll go away in a minute." - -"They're not," said Edith, peering from the window. "They're not even -thinking of going away. There's more of them coming. Look--there's a -whole crowd turning the corner of Sixth Avenue," - -By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp she could see -that the sidewalk was crowded with men. They were mostly in uniform, -some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an -incoherent clamor and shouting. - -Henry rose, and going to the window exposed himself as a long -silhouette against the office lights. Immediately the shouting became -a steady yell, and a rattling fusillade of small missiles, corners of -tobacco plugs, cigarette-boxes, and even pennies beat against the -window. The sounds of the racket now began floating up the stairs as -the folding doors revolved. - -"They're coming up!" cried Bartholomew. - -Edith turned anxiously to Henry. - -"They're coming up, Henry." - -From down-stairs in the lower hall their cries were now quite audible. - -"--God Damn Socialists!" - -"Pro-Germans! Boche-lovers!" - -"Second floor, front! Come on!" - -"We'll get the sons--" - -The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the -clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, -that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had -seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then -the door opened and an overflow of men were forced into the room--not -the leaders, but simply those who happened to be in front. - -"Hello, Bo!" - -"Up late, ain't you!" - -"You an' your girl. Damn _you_!" - -She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the -front, where they wobbled fatuously--one of them was short and dark, -the other was tall and weak of chin. - -Henry stepped forward and raised his hand. - -"Friends!" he said. - -The clamor faded into a momentary stillness, punctuated with -mutterings. - -"Friends!" he repeated, his far-away eyes fixed over the heads of the -crowd, "you're injuring no one but yourselves by breaking in here -to-night. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you -in all fairness--" - -"Pipe down!" - -"I'll say you do!" - -"Say, who's your lady friend, buddy?" - -A man in civilian clothes, who had been pawing over a table, suddenly -held up a newspaper. - -"Here it is!" he shouted, "They wanted the Germans to win the war!" - -A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in and of a sudden the -room was full of men all closing around the pale little group at the -back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in -front. The short dark one had disappeared. - -She edged slightly backward, stood close to the open window, through -which came a clear breath of cool night air. - -Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging -forward, glimpsed the fat man swinging a chair over his -head--instantly the lights went out and she felt the push of warm -bodies under rough cloth, and her ears were full of shouting and -trampling and hard breathing. - -A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, -and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window -with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of -the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on -the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall -soldier with tie weak chin. - -Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged -blindly toward the thickest of the scuffling. She heard grunts, -curses, the muffled impact of fists. - -"Henry!" she called frantically, "Henry!" - -Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other -figures in the room. She heard a voice, deep, bullying, authoritative; -she saw yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. -The cries became more scattered. The scuffling increased and then -stopped. - -Suddenly the lights were on and the room was full of policemen, -clubbing left and right. The deep voice boomed out: - -"Here now! Here now! Here now!" - -And then: - -"Quiet down and get out! Here now!" - -The room seemed to empty like a wash-bowl. A policeman fast-grappled -in the corner released his hold on his soldier antagonist and started -him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith -perceived now that it came from a bull-necked police captain standing -near the door. - -"Here now! This is no way! One of your own sojers got shoved out of -the back window an' killed hisself!" - -"Henry!" called Edith, "Henry!" - -She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her; -she brushed between two others; fought, shrieked, and beat her way to -a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk. - -"Henry," she cried passionately, "what's the matter? What's the -matter? Did they hurt you?" - -His eyes were shut. He groaned and then looking up said disgustedly-- - -"They broke my leg. My God, the fools!" - -"Here now!" called the police captain. "Here now! Here now!" - - -IX - -"Childs', Fifty-ninth Street," at eight o'clock of any morning differs -from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the -degree of polish on the frying-pans. You will see there a crowd of -poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes, trying to look -straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor -people. But Childs', Fifty-ninth, four hours earlier is quite unlike -any Childs' restaurant from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine. -Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus -girls, college boys, debutantes, rakes, _filles de joie_--a not -unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway, and even of Fifth -Avenue. - -In the early morning of May the second it was unusually full. Over the -marble-topped tables were bent the excited faces of flappers whose -fathers owned individual villages. They were eating buckwheat cakes -and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto, an accomplishment that it -would have been utterly impossible for them to repeat in the same -place four hours later. - -Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Psi dance at Delmonico's -except for several chorus girls from a midnight revue who sat at a -side table and wished they'd taken off a little more make-up after the -show. Here and there a drab, mouse-like figure, desperately out of -place, watched the butterflies with a weary, puzzled curiosity. But -the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, -and celebration was still in the air. - -Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab -figures. How he had got himself from Forty-fourth Street to -Fifty-ninth Street after the riot was only a hazy half-memory. He had -seen the body of Carrol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and -then he had started up town with two or three soldiers. Somewhere -between Forty-fourth Street and Fifty-ninth Street the other soldiers -had met some women and disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus -Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of Childs' to minister to his -craving for coffee and doughnuts. He walked in and sat down. - -All around him floated airy, inconsequential chatter and high-pitched -laughter. At first he failed to understand, but after a puzzled five -minutes he realized that this was the aftermath of some gay party. -Here and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally -and familiarly between the tables, shaking hands indiscriminately and -pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters, -bearing cakes and eggs aloft, swore at him silently, and bumped him -out of the way. To Rose, seated at the most inconspicuous and least -crowded table, the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and -riotous pleasure. - -He became gradually aware, after a few moments, that the couple seated -diagonally across from him with their backs to the crowd, were not the -least interesting pair in the room. The man was drunk. He wore a -dinner coat with a dishevelled tie and shirt swollen by spillings of -water and wine. His eyes, dim and blood-shot, roved unnaturally from -side to side. His breath came short between his lips. - -"He's been on a spree!" thought Rose. - -The woman was almost if not quite sober. She was pretty, with dark -eyes and feverish high color, and she kept her active eyes fixed on -her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she -would lean and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by -inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish and repellent -wink. - -Rose scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes until the woman gave him -a quick, resentful look; then he shifted his gaze to two of the most -conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted -circuit of the tables. To his surprise he recognized in one of them -the young man by whom he had been so ludicrously entertained at -Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague -sentimentality, not unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen -thirty-five feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoa-nut. - -"He was a darn good guy," thought Rose mournfully. "He was a darn good -guy, o'right. That was awful hard luck about him." - -The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table -and the next, addressing friends and strangers alike with jovial -familiarity. Suddenly Rose saw the fair-haired one with the prominent -teeth stop, look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then -begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to side. - -The man with the blood-shot eyes looked up. - -"Gordy," said the promenader with the prominent teeth, "Gordy." - -"Hello," said the man with the stained shirt thickly. - -Prominent teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair, giving -the woman a glance of aloof condemnation. - -"What'd I tell you Gordy?" - -Gordon stirred in his seat. - -"Go to hell!" he said. - -Dean continued to stand there shaking his finger. The woman began to -get angry, - -"You go way!" she cried fiercely. "You're drunk, that's what you are!" - -"So's he," suggested Dean, staying the motion of his finger and -pointing it at Gordon. - -Peter Himmel ambled up, owlish now and oratorically inclined. - -"Here now," he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute -between children. "Wha's all trouble?" - -"You take your friend away," said Jewel tartly. "He's bothering us." - -"What's at?" - -"You heard me!" she said shrilly. "I said to take your drunken friend -away." - -Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a -waiter came hurrying up. - -"You gotta be more quiet!" - -"That fella's drunk," she cried. "He's insulting us." - -"Ah-ha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned -to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends. Been tryin' help him, haven't I, -Gordy?" - -Gordy looked up. - -"Help me? Hell, no!" - -Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm assisted him to his -feet. - -"Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half -whisper. "Let's us get out of here. This fella's got a mean drunk on." - -Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the -door. Jewel turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their -flight. - -"I know all about _you_!" she said fiercely. "Nice friend, you -are, I'll say. He told me about you." - -Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through -the curious crowd, paid their check, and went out. - -"You'll have to sit down," said the waiter to Peter after they had -gone. - -"What's 'at? Sit down?" - -"Yes--or get out." - -Peter turned to Dean. - -"Come on," he suggested. "Let's beat up this waiter." - -"All right." - -They advanced toward him, their faces grown stern. The waiter -retreated. - -Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and -picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a -languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by. - -"Hey! Ease up!" - -"Put him out!" - -"Sit down, Peter!" - -"Cut out that stuff!" - -Peter laughed and bowed. - -"Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will -lend me some more hash and a tall hat we will go on with the act." - -The bouncer bustled up. - -"You've gotta get out!" he said to Peter. - -"Hell, no!" - -"He's my friend!" put in Dean indignantly. - -A crowd of waiters were gathering. "Put him out!" - -"Better go, Peter." - -There was a short, struggle and the two were edged and pushed toward -the door. - -"I got a hat and a coat here!" cried Peter. - -"Well, go get 'em and be spry about it!" - -The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air -of extreme cunning, rushed immediately around to the other table, -where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the -exasperated waiters. - -"Think I just better wait a l'il longer," he announced. - -The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and four -another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another -struggle took place before the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he -was finally pinioned after overturning a sugar-bowl and several cups -of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk, where Peter -attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at -policemen. - -But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another -phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary -"Oh-h-h!" from every person in the restaurant. - -The great plate-glass front had turned to a deep blue, the color of a -Maxfield Parrish moonlight--a blue that seemed to press close upon the -pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in -Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouetting the great -statue of the immortal Christopher, and mingling in a curious and -uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside. - - -X - -Mr. In and Mr. Out are not listed by the census-taker. You will search -for them in vain through the social register or the births, marriages, -and deaths, or the grocer's credit list. Oblivion has swallowed them -and the testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy, -and inadmissible in a court of law. Yet I have it upon the best -authority that for a brief space Mr. In and Mr. Out lived, breathed, -answered to their names and radiated vivid personalities of their own. - -During the brief span of their lives they walked in their native -garments down the great highway of a great nation; were laughed at, -sworn at, chased, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no -more. - -They were already taking form dimly, when a taxi cab with the top open -breezed down Broadway in the faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car -sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out discussing with amazement the blue -light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of -Christopher Columbus, discussing with bewilderment the old, gray faces -of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown -bits of paper on a gray lake. They were agreed on all things, from the -absurdity of the bouncer in Childs' to the absurdity of the business -of life. They were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the -morning had awakened in their glowing souls. Indeed, so fresh and -vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt it should be -expressed by loud cries. - -"Ye-ow-ow!" hooted Peter, making a megaphone with his hands--and Dean -joined in with a call that, though equally significant and symbolic, -derived its resonance from its very inarticulateness. - -"Yo-ho! Yea! Yoho! Yo-buba!" - -Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; -Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a -yell of, "Look where you're aimin'!" in a pained and grieved voice. At -Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a -very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: - -"Some party, boys!" - -At Forty-ninth Street Peter turned to Dean. "Beautiful morning," he -said gravely, squinting up his owlish eyes. - -"Probably is." - -"Go get some breakfast, hey?" - -Dean agreed--with additions. - -"Breakfast and liquor." - -"Breakfast and liquor," repeated Peter, and they looked at each other, -nodding. "That's logical," - -Then they both burst into loud laughter. - -"Breakfast and liquor! Oh, gosh!" - -"No such thing," announced Peter. - -"Don't serve it? Ne'mind. We force 'em serve it Bring pressure bear." - -"Bring logic bear." - -The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed along a cross street, and -stopped in front of a heavy tomb-like building in Fifth Avenue. - -"What's idea?" - -The taxi-driver informed them that this was Delmonico's. - -This was somewhat puzzling. They were forced to devote several minutes -to intense concentration, for if such an order had been given there -must have been a reason for it. - -"Somep'm 'bouta coat," suggested the taxi-man. - -That was it. Peter's overcoat and hat. He had left them at -Delmonico's. Having decided this, they disembarked from the taxi and -strolled toward the entrance arm in arm. - -"Hey!" said the taxi-driver. - -"Huh?" - -"You better pay me." - -They shook their heads in shocked negation. - -"Later, not now--we give orders, you wait." - -The taxi-driver objected; he wanted his money now. With the scornful -condescension of men exercising tremendous self-control they paid him. - -Inside Peter groped in vain through a dim, deserted check-room in -search of his coat and derby. - -"Gone, I guess. Somebody stole it." - -"Some Sheff student." - -"All probability." - -"Never mind," said Dean, nobly. "I'll leave mine here too--then we'll -both be dressed the same." - -He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his -roving glance was caught and held magnetically by two large squares of -cardboard tacked to the two coat-room doors. The one on the left-hand -door bore the word "In" in big black letters, and the one on the -right-hand door flaunted the equally emphatic word "Out." - -"Look!" he exclaimed happily--- - -Peter's eyes followed his pointing finger. - -"What?" - -"Look at the signs. Let's take 'em." - -"Good idea." - -"Probably pair very rare an' valuable signs. Probably come in handy." - -Peter removed the left-hand sign from the door and endeavored to -conceal it about his person. The sign being of considerable -proportions, this was a matter of some difficulty. An idea flung -itself at him, and with an air of dignified mystery he turned his -back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around, and stretching -out his arms displayed himself to the admiring Dean. He had inserted -the sign in his vest, completely covering his shirt front. In effect, -the word "In" had been painted upon his shirt in large black letters. - -"Yoho!" cheered Dean. "Mister In." - -He inserted his own sign in like manner. - -"Mister Out!" he announced triumphantly. "Mr. In meet Mr. Out." - -They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they -rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth. - -"Yoho!" - -"We probably get a flock of breakfast." - -"We'll go--go to the Commodore." - -Arm in arm they sallied out the door, and turning east in Forty-fourth -Street set out for the Commodore. - -As they came out a short dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had -been wandering listlessly along the sidewalk, turned to look at them. - -He started over as though to address them, but as they immediately -bent on him glances of withering unrecognition, he waited until they -had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about -forty paces, chuckling to himself and saying, "Oh, boy!" over and over -under his breath, in delighted, anticipatory tones. - -Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning -their future plans. - -"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and -indivisible." - -"We want both 'em!" - -"Both 'em!" - -It was quite light now, and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on -the pair. Obviously they were engaged in a discussion, which afforded -each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter -would seize upon them so violently that, still with their arms -interlocked, they would bend nearly double. - -Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the -sleepy-eyed doorman, navigated the revolving door with some -difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but -startled lobby to the dining-room, where a puzzled waiter showed them -an obscure table in a corner. They studied the bill of fare -helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles. - -"Don't see any liquor here," said Peter reproachfully. - -The waiter became audible but unintelligible. - -"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems -to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon bill of -fare." - -"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the -waiter--"Bring us--bring us--" he scanned the bill of fare anxiously. -"Bring us a quart of champagne and a--a--probably ham sandwich." - -The waiter looked doubtful. - -"Bring it!" roared Mr. In and Mr. Out in chorus. - -The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during -which they were subjected without their knowledge to a careful -scrutiny by the head-waiter. Then the champagne arrived, and at the -sight of it Mr. In and Mr. Out became jubilant. - -"Imagine their objecting to us having, champagne for breakfast--jus' -imagine." - -They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, -but the feat was too much for them. It was impossible for their joint -imaginations to conjure up a world where any one might object any one -else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an -enormous _pop_ and their glasses immediately foamed with pale -yellow froth. - -"Here's health, Mr. In." - -"Here's same to you, Mr. Out." - -The waiter withdrew; the minutes passed; the champagne became low in -the bottle. - -"It's--it's mortifying," said Dean suddenly. - -"Wha's mortifying?" - -"The idea their objecting us having champagne breakfast." - -"Mortifying?" Peter considered. "Yes, tha's word--mortifying." - -Again they collapsed into laughter, howled, swayed, rocked back and -forth in their chairs, repeating the word "mortifying" over and over -to each other--each repetition seeming to make it only more -brilliantly absurd. - -After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another quart. Their -anxious waiter consulted his immediate superior, and this discreet -person gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be -served. Their check was brought. - -Five minutes later, arm in arm, they left the Commodore and made their -way through a curious, staring crowd along Forty-second Street, and up -Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they -rose to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast and -standing unnaturally erect. - -Once in the dining-room they repeated their performance. They were -torn between intermittent convulsive laughter and sudden spasmodic -discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their -dispositions. Their watches told them that it was now nine o'clock, -and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a memorable party, -something that they would remember always. They lingered over the -second bottle. Either of them had only to mention the word -"mortifying" to send them both into riotous gasps. The dining-room was -whirring and shifting now; a curious lightness permeated and rarefied -the heavy air. - -They paid their check and walked out into the lobby. - -It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved for the -thousandth time that morning, and admitted into the lobby a very pale -young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a -much-rumpled evening dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, -obviously not an appropriate escort. - -At the top of the stairs this couple encountered Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -"Edith," began Mr. In, stepping toward her hilariously and making a -sweeping bow, "darling, good morning." - -The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her -permission to throw this man summarily out of the way. - -"'Scuse familiarity," added Peter, as an afterthought. "Edith, -good-morning." - -He seized Dean's elbow and impelled him into the foreground. - -"Meet Mr. In, Edith, my bes' frien'. Inseparable. Mr. In and Mr. Out." - -Mr. Out advanced and bowed; in fact, he advanced so far and bowed so -low that he tipped slightly forward and only kept his balance by -placing a hand lightly on Edith's shoulder. - -"I'm Mr. Out, Edith," he mumbled pleasantly. "S'misterin Misterout." - -"'Smisterinanout," said Peter proudly. - -But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite -speck in the gallery above her. She nodded slightly to the stout man, -who advanced bull-like and with a sturdy brisk gesture pushed Mr. In -and Mr. Out to either side. Through this alley he and Edith walked. - -But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again--stopped and pointed to a -short, dark soldier who was eying the crowd in general, and the -tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular, with a sort of puzzled, -spell-bound awe. - -"There," cried Edith. "See there!" - -Her voice rose, became somewhat shrill. Her pointing finger shook -slightly. - -"There's the soldier who broke my brother's leg." - -There were a dozen exclamations; a man in a cutaway coat left his -place near the desk and advanced alertly; the stout person made a sort -of lightning-like spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the -lobby closed around the little group and blotted them from the sight -of Mr. In and Mr. Out. - -But to Mr. In and Mr. Out this event was merely a particolored -iridescent segment of a whirring, spinning world. - -They heard loud voices; they saw the stout man spring; the picture -suddenly blurred. - -Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. - -"What floor, please?" said the elevator man. - -"Any floor," said Mr. In. - -"Top floor," said Mr. Out. - -"This is the top floor," said the elevator man. - -"Have another floor put on," said Mr. Out. - -"Higher," said Mr. In. - -"Heaven," said Mr. Out. - - -XI - -In a bedroom of a small hotel just off Sixth Avenue Gordon Sterrett -awoke with a pain in the back of his head and a sick throbbing in all -his veins. He looked at the dusky gray shadows in the corners of the -room and at a raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where -it had long been in use. He saw clothes, dishevelled, rumpled clothes -on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The -windows were tight shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thrown a -dust-filled beam across the sill--a beam broken by the head of the -wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet--comatose, -drugged, his eyes wide, his mind clicking wildly like an unoiled -machine. - -It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with -the dust on it and the rip on the large leather chair that he had the -sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds -after that before that he realized that he was irrevocably married to -Jewel Hudson. - -He went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting -goods store. Then he took a took a taxi to the room where he had been -living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table -that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just -behind the temple. - - - - -PORCELAIN AND PINK - - -_room in the down-stairs of a summer cottage. High around the wall -runs an art frieze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and -a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet -and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his -feet and so on. In one place on the frieze there is an overlapping--here -we have half a fisherman with half a pile of nets at his foot, -crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. -The frieze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could -continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects -in the room--a blue porcelain bath-tub. It has character, this -bath-tub. It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small with a -high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump; discouraged, -however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its -environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. But it grumpily refuses -to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs--which brings us -neatly to the second object in the room:_ - -_is a girl--clearly an appendage to the bath-tub, only her head and -throat--beautiful girls have throats instead of necks--and a -suggestion of shoulder appearing above the side. For the first ten -minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she -really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether -it is being cheated and she is dressed._ - -_The girl's name is_ JULIE MARVIS. _From the proud way she sits -up in the bath-tub we deduce that she is not very tall and that she -carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper tip rolls a little -and reminds you of an Easter Bunny, She is within whispering distance -of twenty years old._ - -_One thing more--above and to the right of the bath-tub is a window. -It is narrow and has a wide sill; it lets in much sunshine, but -effectually prevents any one who looks in from seeing the bath-tub. -You begin to suspect the plot?_ - -_We open, conventionally enough, with a song, but, as the startled -gasp of the audience quite drowns out the first half, we will give -only the last of it:_ - -JULIE: (_In an airy sophrano--enthusiastico_) - - When Caesar did the Chicago - He was a graceful child, - Those sacred chickens - Just raised the dickens - The Vestal Virgins went wild. - Whenever the Nervii got nervy - He gave them an awful razz - They shook is their shoes - With the Consular blues - The Imperial Roman Jazz - -(_During the wild applause that follows_ JULIE _modestly moves -her arms and makes waves on the surface of the water--at least we -suppose she does. Then the door on the left opens and_ LOIS MARVIS -_enters, dressed but carrying garments and towels._ LOIS _is a -year older than_ JULIE _and is nearly her double in face and -voice, but in her clothes and expression are the marks of the -conservative. Yes, you've guessed it. Mistaken identity is the old -rusty pivot upon which the plot turns._) - -LOIS: (_Starting_) Oh, 'scuse me. I didn't know you were here. - -JULIE: Oh, hello. I'm giving a little concert-- - -LOIS: (_Interrupting_) Why didn't you lock the door? - -JULIE: Didn't I? - -LOIS: Of course you didn't. Do you think I just walked through it? - -JULIE: I thought you picked the lock, dearest. - -LOIS: You're _so_ careless. - -JULIE: No. I'm happy as a garbage-man's dog and I'm giving a little -concert. - -LOIS: (_Severely_) Grow up! - -JULIE: (_Waving a pink arm around the room_) The walls reflect -the sound, you see. That's why there's something very beautiful about -singing in a bath-tub. It gives an effect of surpassing loveliness. -Can I render you a selection? - -LOIS: I wish you'd hurry out of the tub. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head thoughtfully_) Can't be hurried. This -is my kingdom at present, Godliness. - -LOIS: Why the mellow name? - -JULIE: Because you're next to Cleanliness. Don't throw anything -please! - -LOIS: How long will you be? - -JULIE: (_After some consideration_) Not less than fifteen nor -more than twenty-five minutes. - -LOIS: As a favor to me will you make it ten? - -JULIE: (_Reminiscing_) Oh, Godliness, do you remember a day in -the chill of last January when one Julie, famous for her Easter-rabbit -smile, was going out and there was scarcely any hot water and young -Julie had just filled the tub for her own little self when the wicked -sister came and did bathe herself therein, forcing the young Julie to -perform her ablutions with cold cream--which is expensive and a darn -lot of troubles? - -LOIS: (_Impatiently_) Then you won't hurry? - -JULIE: Why should I? - -LOIS: I've got a date. - -JULIE: Here at the house? - -LOIS: None of your business. - -(_JULIE shrugs the visible tips of her shoulders and stirs the water -into ripples._) - -JULIE: So be it. - -LOIS: Oh, for Heaven's sake, yes! I have a date here, at the house--in -a way. - -JULIE: In a way? - -LOIS: He isn't coming in. He's calling for me and we're walking. - -JULIE: (_Raising her eyebrows_) Oh, the plot clears. It's that -literary Mr. Calkins. I thought you promised mother you wouldn't -invite him in. - -LOIS: (_Desperately_) She's so idiotic. She detests him because -he's just got a divorce. Of course she's had more expedience than I -have, but-- - -JULIE: (_Wisely_) Don't let her kid you! Experience is the -biggest gold brick in the world. All older people have it for sale. - -LOIS: I like him. We talk literature. - -JULIE: Oh, so that's why I've noticed all these weighty, books around -the house lately. - -LOIS: He lends them to me. - -JULIE: Well, you've got to play his game. When in Rome do as the -Romans would like to do. But I'm through with books. I'm all educated. - -LOIS: You're very inconsistent--last summer you read every day. - -JULIE: If I were consistent I'd still be living on warm milk out of a -bottle. - -LOIS: Yes, and probably my bottle. But I like Mr. Calkins. - -JULIE: I never met him. - -LOIS: Well, will you hurry up? - -JULIE: Yes. (_After a pause_) I wait till the water gets tepid -and then I let in more hot. - -LOIS: (_Sarcastically_) How interesting! - -JULIE: 'Member when we used to play "soapo"? - -LOIS: Yes--and ten years old. I'm really quite surprised that you -don't play it still. - -JULIE: I do. I'm going to in a minute. - -LOIS: Silly game. - -JULIE: (_Warmly_) No, it isn't. It's good for the nerves. I'll -bet you've forgotten how to play it. - -LOIS: (_Defiantly_) No, I haven't. You--you get the tub all full -of soapsuds and then you get up on the edge and slide down. - -JULIE: (_Shaking her head scornfully_) Huh! That's only part of -it. You've got to slide down without touching your hand or feet-- - -LOIS:(_Impatiently_) Oh, Lord! What do I care? I wish we'd either -stop coming here in the summer or else get a house with two bath-tubs. - -JULIE: You can buy yourself a little tin one, or use the hose----- - -LOIS: Oh, shut up! - -JULIE: (_Irrelevantly_) Leave the towel. - -LOIS: What? - -JULIE: Leave the towel when you go. - -LOIS: This towel? - -JULIE: (_Sweetly_) Yes, I forgot my towel. - -LOIS: (_Looking around for the first time_) Why, you idiot! You -haven't even a kimono. - -JULIE: (_Also looking around_) Why, so I haven't. - -LOIS: (_Suspicion growing on her_) How did you get here? - -JULIE: (_Laughing_) I guess I--I guess I whisked here. You know--a -white form whisking down the stairs and-- - -LOIS: (_Scandalized_) Why, you little wretch. Haven't you any -pride or self-respect? - -JULIE: Lots of both. I think that proves it. I looked very well. I -really am rather cute in my natural state. - -LOIS: Well, you-- - -JULIE: (_Thinking aloud_) I wish people didn't wear any clothes. -I guess I ought to have been a pagan or a native or something. - -LOIS: You're a-- - -JULIE: I dreamt last night that one Sunday in church a small boy -brought in a magnet that attracted cloth. He attracted the clothes -right off of everybody; put them in an awful state; people were crying -and shrieking and carrying on as if they'd just discovered their skins -for the first time. Only _I_ didn't care. So I just laughed. I -had to pass the collection plate because nobody else would. - -LOIS: (_Who has turned a deaf ear to this speech_) Do you mean to -tell me that if I hadn't come you'd have run back to your -room--un--unclothed? - -JULIE: _Au naturel_ is so much nicer. - -LOIS: Suppose there had been some one in the living-room. - -JULIE: There never has been yet. - -LOIS: Yet! Good grief! How long-- - -JULIE: Besides, I usually have a towel. - -LOIS: (_Completely overcome_) Golly! You ought to be spanked. I -hope, you get caught. I hope there's a dozen ministers in the -living-room when you come out--and their wives, and their daughters. - -JULIE: There wouldn't be room for them in the living-room, answered -Clean Kate of the Laundry District. - -LOIS: All right. You've made your own--bath-tub; you can lie in it. - -(_LOIS starts determinedly for the door._) - -JULIE: (_In alarm_) Hey! Hey! I don't care about the k'mono, but -I want the towel. I can't dry myself on a piece of soap and a wet -wash-rag. - -LOIS: (_Obstinately_). I won't humor such a creature. You'll have -to dry yourself the best way you can. You can roll on the floor like -the animals do that don't wear any clothes. - -JULIE: (_Complacent again_) All right. Get out! - -LOIS: (_Haughtily_) Huh! - -(JULIE _turns on the cold water and with her finger directs a -parabolic stream at LOIS. LOIS retires quickly, slamming the door -after her. JULIE laughs and turns off the water_) - -JULIE: (Singing) - - When the Arrow-collar man - Meets the D'jer-kiss girl - On the smokeless Sante Fé - Her Pebeco smile - Her Lucile style - De dum da-de-dum one day-- - -(_She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps, -but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for -a moment--then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a -telephone_) - -JULIE: Hello! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_) -Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do -you want? (_No answer_) I believe you're a ghost. Are you? (_No -answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on -the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to -the spigot_) If you're the plumber that's a mean trick. Turn it on -for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don't argue! I want -water--water! _Water_! - -(_A young man's head appears in the window--a head decorated with a -slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they -can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean, -they decide him to speak_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted? - -JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water's no good for fits. - -JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits! - -THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping - -JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not! - -THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go -out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody -will gossip? - -JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It'd be more than -gossip--it'd be a regular scandal. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you're going it a little strong. Your family -might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are -suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old -women. Come on. - -JULIE: You don't know what you ask. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us? - -JULIE: A crowd? There'd be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving -New York hourly. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning? - -JULIE: Why? - -THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls. - -JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or -tapestry or panelling or something. - -JULIE: There's not even any furniture in here. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house! - -JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It's so nice talking to you like -this--when you're merely a voice. I'm rather glad I can't see you. - -JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing? - -JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess -it's a sort of pinkish white. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you? - -JULIE: Very. It's--it's old. I've had it for a long while. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes. - -JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear -it. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I'll bet it's divine. Is it in -style? - -JULIE: Quite. It's very simple, standard model. - -THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut -my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And -I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand -there, water stretching on both sides of you-- - -(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young -man blinks_) - -YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it? - -JULIE: Yes. You're--you're very poetic, aren't you? - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when -I am stirred. - -JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon-- - -THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day -the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was "Evangeline." - -JULIE: That's a fib. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say "Evangeline"? I meant "The Skeleton in -Armor." - -JULIE: I'm a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one -verse: - - Parker and Davis - Sittin' on a fence - Tryne to make a dollar - Outa fif-teen cents. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature? - -JULIE: If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way -with people. I usually like 'em not too ancient or complicated or -depressing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I've read enormously. You told me last night -that you were very fond of Walter Scott. - -JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let's see. Yes, I've read "Ivanhoe" -and "The Last of the Mohicans." - -THE YOUNG MAN: That's by Cooper. - -JULIE: (_Angrily_) "Ivanhoe" is? You're crazy! I guess I know. I -read it. THE YOUNG MAN: "The Last of the Mohicans" is by Cooper. - -JULIE: What do I care! I like O. Henry. I don't see how he ever wrote -those stories. Most of them he wrote in prison. "The Ballad of Reading -Gaol" he made up in prison. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Biting his lip_) Literature--literature! How -much it has meant to me! - -JULIE: Well, as Gaby Deslys said to Mr. Bergson, with my looks and -your brains there's nothing we couldn't do. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Laughing_) You certainly are hard to keep up -with. One day you're awfully pleasant and the next you're in a mood. -If I didn't understand your temperament so well-- - -JULIE: (_Impatiently_) Oh, you're one of these amateur -character-readers, are you? Size people up in five minutes and then -look wise whenever they're mentioned. I hate that sort of thing. - -THE YOUNG MAN: I don't boast of sizing you up. You're most mysterious, -I'll admit. - -JULIE: There's only two mysterious people in history. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Who are they? - -JULIE: The Man with the Iron Mask and the fella who says "ug uh-glug -uh-glug uh-glug" when the line is busy. - -THE YOUNG MAN: You _are_ mysterious, I love you. You're -beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that's the rarest known -combination. - -JULIE: You're a historian. Tell me if there are any bath-tubs in -history. I think they've been frightfully neglected. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Bath-tubs! Let's see. Well, Agamemnon was stabbed in -his bath-tub. And Charlotte Corday stabbed Marat in his bath-tub. - -JULIE: (_Sighing_) Way back there! Nothing new besides the sun, -is there? Why only yesterday I picked up a musical-comedy score that -mast have been at least twenty years old; and there on the cover it -said "The Shimmies of Normandy," but shimmie was spelt the old way, -with a "C." - -THE YOUNG MAN: I loathe these modern dances. Oh, Lois, I wish I could -see you. Come to the window. - -(_There is a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the flow -starts from the open taps. Julie turns them off quickly_) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Puzzled_) What on earth was that? - -JULIE: (_Ingeniously_) I heard something, too. - -THE YOUNG MAN: Sounded like running water. - -JULIE: Didn't it? Strange like it. As a matter of fact I was filling -the gold-fish bowl. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Still puzzled_) What was that banging noise? - -JULIE: One of the fish snapping his golden jaws. - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_With sudden resolution_) Lois, I love you. I am -not a mundane man but I am a forger--- - -JULIE: (_Interested at once_) Oh, how fascinating. - -THE YOUNG MAN:--a forger ahead. Lois, I want you. - -JULIE: (_Skeptically_) Huh! What you really want is for the world -to come to attention and stand there till you give "Rest!" - -THE YOUNG MAN: Lois I--Lois I-- - -(_He stops as Lois opens the door, comes in, and bangs it behind -her. She looks peevishly at _JULIE _and then suddenly catches -sight of the young man in the window_) - -LOIS: (_In horror_) Mr. Calkins! - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_Surprised_) Why I thought you said you were -wearing pinkish white! - -(_After one despairing stare _LOIS _ shrieks, throws up her -hands in surrender, and sinks to the floor._) - -THE YOUNG MAN: (_In great alarm_) Good Lord! She's fainted! I'll -be right in. - -(JULIE'S _eyes light on the towel which has slipped from_ LOIS'S -_inert hand._) - -JULIE: In that case I'll be right out. - -(_She puts her hands on the side of the tub to lift herself out and -a murmur, half gasp, half sigh, ripples from the audience. - -A Belasco midnight comes guickly down and blots out the stage._) - -CURTAIN. - - - - -_FANTASIES_ - - - -THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ - -1 - - -John T. Unger came from a family that had been well known in Hades--a -small town on the Mississippi River--for several generations. John's -father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated -contest; Mrs. Unger was known "from hot-box to hot-bed," as the local -phrase went, for her political addresses; and young John T. Unger, who -had just turned sixteen, had danced all the latest dances from New -York before he put on long trousers. And now, for a certain time, he -was to be away from home. That respect for a New England education -which is the bane of all provincial places, which drains them yearly -of their most promising young men, had seized upon his parents. -Nothing would suit them but that he should go to St. Midas's School -near Boston--Hades was too small to hold their darling and gifted son. - -Now in Hades--as you know if you ever have been there--the names of -the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean very -little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that, -though they make a show of keeping up-to-date in dress and manners and -literature, they depend to a great extent on hearsay, and a function -that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed -by a Chicago beef-princess as "perhaps a little tacky." - -John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with maternal -fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric fans, and -Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocket-book stuffed with -money. - -"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be sure, -boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning." - -"I know," answered John huskily. - -"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued his -father proudly, "and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an -Unger--from Hades." - -So the old man and the young shook hands, and John walked away with -tears streaming from his eyes. Ten minutes later he had passed outside -the city limits and he stopped to glance back for the last time. Over -the gates the old-fashioned Victorian motto seemed strangely -attractive to him. His father had tried time and time again to have it -changed to something with a little more push and verve about it, such -as "Hades--Your Opportunity," or else a plain "Welcome" sign set over -a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights. The old motto was a -little depressing, Mr. Unger had thought--but now .... - -So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his -destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the -sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty. - - * * * * * - -St. Midas's School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce -motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one, except -John T. Unger, had ever arrived there save in a Rolls-Pierce and -probably no one ever will again. St. Midas's is the most expensive and -the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the world. - -John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the -boys were money-kings, and John spent his summer visiting at -fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he -visited, their fathers struck him as being much of a piece, and in his -boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness. When he told -them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down -there?" and John would muster a faint smile and answer, "It certainly -is." His response would have been heartier had they not all made this -joke--at best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you down there?" -which he hated just as much. - -In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy -named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The new-comer was -pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well dressed even for St. -Midas's, but for some reason he kept aloof from the other boys. The -only person with whom he was intimate was John T. Unger, but even to -John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his -family. That he was wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such -deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised rich -confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the -summer at his home "in the West." He accepted, without hesitation. - -It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the -first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating lunch -in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of several -of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and made an -abrupt remark. - -"My father," he said, "is by far the richest man in the world." - -"Oh," said John politely. He could think of no answer to make to this -confidence. He considered "That's very nice," but it sounded hollow -and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since it would -seem to question Percy's statement. And such an astounding statement -could scarcely be questioned. - -"By far the richest," repeated Percy. - -"I was reading in the _World Almanac_," began John, "that there -was one man in America with an income of over five million a years and -four men with incomes of over three million a year, and---" - -"Oh, they're nothing." Percy's mouth was a half-moon of scorn. -"Catch-penny capitalists, financial small-fry, petty merchants and -money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done -it." - -"But how does he---" - -"Why haven't they put down _his_ income-tax? Because he doesn't -pay any. At least he pays a little one--but he doesn't pay any on his -_real_ income." - -"He must be very rich," said John simply, "I'm glad. I like very rich -people. - -"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of -passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I visited the -Schnlitzer-Murphys last Easter. Vivian Schnlitzer-Murphy had rubies as -big as hen's eggs, and sapphires that were like globes with lights -inside them---" - -"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I wouldn't -want any one at school to know about it, but I've got quite a -collection myself. I used to collect them instead of stamps." - -"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The Schnlitzer-Murphys had -diamonds as big as walnuts---" - -"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a -low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My father has a diamond bigger -than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - - -2 - -The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise -from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned sky. An -immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish, minute, -dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the -village of Fish, twelve sombre and inexplicable souls who sucked a -lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious -populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, -these twelve men of Fish, like some species developed by an early whim -of nature, which on second thought had abandoned them to struggle and -extermination. - -Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of -moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men of -Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of -the seven o'clock train, the Transcontinental Express from Chicago. -Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through some -inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and when -this occurred a figure or so would disembark, mount into a buggy that -always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off toward the bruised -sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon -had become a sort of cult among the men of Fish. To observe, that was -all; there remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion -which would make them wonder or speculate, else a religion might have -grown up around these mysterious visitations. But the men of Fish were -beyond all religion--the barest and most savage tenets of even -Christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rock--so there was -no altar, no priest, no sacrifice; only each night at seven the silent -concourse by the shanty depot, a congregation who lifted up a prayer -of dim, anaemic wonder. - -On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified any -one, they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist, had -ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or -inhuman) deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Washington -and John T. Unger disembarked, hurried past the spellbound, the agape, -the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into a buggy -which had obviously appeared from nowhere, and drove away. - -After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the -silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body somewhere -ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned upon -them a luminous disc which regarded them like a malignant eye out of -the unfathomable night. As they came closer, John saw that it was the -tail-light of an immense automobile, larger and more magnificent than -any he had ever seen. Its body was of gleaming metal richer than -nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the wheels were -studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellow--John -did not dare to guess whether they were glass or jewel. - -Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pictures -of royal processions in London, were standing at attention beside the -car and, as the two young men dismounted from the buggy, they were -greeted in some language which the guest could not understand, but -which seemed to be an extreme form of the Southern negro's dialect. - -"Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to the -ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we had to bring you this far in -that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train -or those God-forsaken fellas in Fish to see this automobile." - -"Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its interior. -John saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute and -exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries, and -set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats in -which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled -duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colours of the ends of ostrich -feathers. - -"What a car!" cried John again, in amazement. - -"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for a -station wagon." - -By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the -break between the two mountains. - -"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the -clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to be like anything you -ever saw before." - -If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared -to be astonished indeed. The simple piety prevalent in Hades has the -earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its -creed--had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his -parents would have turned away in horror at the blasphemy. - -They had now reached and were entering the break between the two -mountains and almost immediately the way became much rougher. - -"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch," -said Percy, trying to peer out of the window. He spoke a few words -into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a -searchlight and swept the hillsides with an immense beam. - -"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an -hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew the -way. You notice we're going uphill now." - -They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car was -crossing a high rise, where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon newly -risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures -took shape out of the dark beside it--these were negroes also. Again -the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recognisable dialect; -then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from -overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jewelled -wheels. At a resounding "Hey-yah!" John felt the car being lifted -slowly from the ground--up and up--clear of the tallest rocks on both -sides--then higher, until he could see a wavy, moonlit valley -stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks -that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rock--and -then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around. - -It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-blade of -stone, projecting perpendicularly into the air. In a moment they were -going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon -the smooth earth. - -"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's only -five miles from here, and our own road--tapestry brick--all the way. -This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father -says." - -"Are we in Canada?" - -"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But you are -now on the only five square miles of land in the country that's never -been surveyed." - -"Why hasn't it? Did they forget it?" - -"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The -first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the State -survey; the second time he had the official maps of the United States -tinkered with--that held them for fifteen years. The last time was -harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the -strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set -of surveying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow -for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones -that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what -looked like a village up on its banks--so that they'd see it, and -think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one -thing my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the -world that could be used to find us out." - -"What's that?" - -Percy sank his voice to a whisper. - -"Aeroplanes," he breathed. "We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft guns -and we've arranged it so far--but there've been a few deaths and a -great many prisoners. Not that we mind _that_, you know, father -and I, but it upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the -chance that some time we won't be able to arrange it." - -Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green moon's -heaven, were passing the green moon like precious Eastern stuffs -paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to John that -it was day, and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in -the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine circulars, with -their messages of hope for despairing, rock-bound hamlets. It seemed -to him that he could see them look down out of the clouds and -stare--and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place -whither he was bound--What then? Were they induced to land by some -insidious device to be immured far from patent medicines and from -tracts until the judgment day--or, should they fail to fall into the -trap, did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp round of a splitting -shell bring them drooping to earth--and "upset" Percy's mother and -sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued -silently from his parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden -here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre Croesus? What terrible and -golden mystery?... - -The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and, outside the Montana -night was bright as day the tapestry brick of the road was smooth to -the tread of the great tyres as they rounded a still, moonlit lake; -they passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and -cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn, and John's -exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn "We're -home." - -Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite château rose from the -borders of the lake, climbed in marble radiance half the height of an -adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in -translucent feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of -pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the sloping parapets, -the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs -and hectagons and triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of -the intersecting planes of star-shine and blue shade, all trembled on -John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the -tallest, the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights -at the top made a sort of floating fairyland--and as John gazed up in -warm enchantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in -a rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever beard before. Then -in a moment the car stepped before wide, high marble steps around -which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At the top of -the steps two great doors swung silently open and amber light flooded -out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady -with black, high-piled hair, who held out her arms toward them. - -"Mother," Percy was saying, "this is my friend, John Unger, from -Hades." - -Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many colours, -of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love, and of -the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces. There -was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-hued cordial from a -crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was a girl with a flowery -face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There -was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the -pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic conception -of the ultimate prison--ceiling, floor, and all, it was lined with an -unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every size and shape, until, -lit with tail violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a -whiteness that could be compared only with itself, beyond human wish, -or dream. - -Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes the -floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from lighting -below, patterns of barbaric clashing colours, of pastel delicacy, of -sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some -mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal -he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and -growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of -every texture and colour or along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken -as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct -before the age of man .... - -Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinner--where -each plate was of two almost imperceptible layers of solid diamond -between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a -shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, -drifted down through far corridors--his chair, feathered and curved -insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he -drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question -that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that clasped his body -added to the illusion of sleep--jewels, fabrics, wines, and metals -blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist .... - -"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough -for me down there." - -He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement, without -resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an iced dessert -that was pink as a dream .... He fell asleep. - -When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great -quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination that was too -faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was standing -over him. - -"You fell asleep at dinner," Percy was saying. "I nearly did, too--it -was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school. -Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping." - -"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percy--before you go, -I want to apologise." - -"For what?" - -"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the -Ritz-Carlton Hotel." - -Percy smiled. - -"I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know." - -"What mountain?" - -"The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big, for a mountain. -But except about fifty feet of sod and gravel on top it's solid -diamond. _One_ diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you -listening? Say----" - -But John T. Unger had again fallen asleep. - - -3 - -Morning. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at the -same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panels of one wall -had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half open to -the day. A large negro in a white uniform stood beside his bed. - -"Good-evening," muttered John, summoning his brains from the wild -places. - -"Good-morning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't get -up--I'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton your pyjamas--there. -Thank you, sir." - -John lay quietly as his pyjamas were removed--he was amused and -delighted; he expected to be lifted like a child by this black -Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened; -instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side--he began to roll, -startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached -the wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a -fleecy incline he plumped gently into water the same temperature as -his body. - -He looked about him. The runway or rollway on which he had arrived had -folded gently back into place. He had been projected into another -chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the -level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and -the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue aquarium, and -gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he could see fish -swimming among amber lights and even gliding without curiosity past -his outstretched toes, which were separated from them only by the -thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight came down through -sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John. discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it. - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -4 - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding the room and the sides and bottom of the bath -itself was a blue aquarium, and gazing through the crystal surface on -which he sat, he could see fish swimming among amber lights and even -gliding without curiosity past his outstretched toes, which were -separated from them only by the thickness of the crystal. From -overhead, sunlight came down through sea-green glass. - -"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this -morning, sir--and perhaps cold salt water to finish." - -The negro was standing beside him. - -"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please,"; Any idea of -ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living -would have been priggish and not a little wicked. - -The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently -from overhead, but really, so John discovered after a moment, from a -fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose colour -and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus -heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little -paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a -radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its -delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there -about him. - -"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the negro -deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine to-day, -or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it." - -"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly, He was enjoying his -bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came. In a -moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just -outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and -green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play more -fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him. - -After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out -and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same -material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a -voluptuous chair while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. - -"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when -these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger, sir. I -am to see to Mr. Unger every morning." - -John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where he -found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid -knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair. - - -4 - -This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John -during breakfast. - -The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a -direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At the -close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with a -played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold. - -Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's -name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother -and go West, He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, -of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five tickets to the West, -where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep -and cattle ranch. - -When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were -going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery. He had -lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without food he -began to grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was forced to -pursue a squirrel, and, in the course of the pursuit, he noticed that -it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it vanished -into its hole--for Providence did not intend that this squirrel should -alleviate his hunger--it dropped its burden. Sitting down to consider -the situation Fitz-Norman's eye was caught by a gleam in the grass -beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his appetite and -gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel, which had refused -with annoying persistence to become food, had made him a present of a -large and perfect diamond. - -Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all -the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole digging -furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered -a rhinestone mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever seen even -a small diamond before, they believed him, without question. When the -magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him, he found himself in -a quandary. The mountain was _a_ diamond--it was literally -nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle bags full of -glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul. There he -managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones--when he tried a -larger one a storekeeper fainted and Fitz-Norman was arrested as a -public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for New -York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received in -exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did not -dare to produce any exceptional gems--in fact, he left New York just -in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in jewellery circles, -not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the -city from mysterious sources. Wild rumours became current that a -diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on the Jersey -coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excursion trains, -packed with men carrying picks and shovels, began to leave New York -hourly, bound for various neighbouring El Dorados. But by that time -young Fitz-Norman was on his way back to Montana. - -By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the -mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the -diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any -regular computation, however, for it was _one solid diamond_--and -if it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the -market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual -arithmetical progression, there would not be enough gold in the world -to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do with a diamond -that size? - -It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest man -that ever lived--and yet was he worth anything at all? If his secret -should transpire there was no telling to what measures the Government -might resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well as in -jewels. They might take over the claim immediately and institute a -monopoly. - -There was no alternative--he must market his mountain in secret. He -sent South for his younger brother and put him in charge of his -coloured following, darkies who had never realised that slavery was -abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he -had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reorganised the -shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched -battle. The negroes believed him implicitly. They passed a vote -declaring it a good thing and held revival services immediately. - -Fitz-Norman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred -thousand dollars and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all -sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk, and six months after -his departure from Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure -lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller, announcing -that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St. Petersburg for -two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered, living from lodging -to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or four -times during the whole fortnight. - -On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he -was allowed to leave for India. Before he left, however, the Court -Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum of -fifteen million dollars--under four different aliases. - -He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two -years. He had visited the capitals of twenty-two countries and talked -with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan, and a -sultan. At that time Fitz-Norman estimated his own wealth at one -billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the disclosure -of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public -eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough -fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it from the -days of the first Babylonian Empire. - -From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman -Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of -course--he evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he -had a single son, and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate -complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of -drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times -endangered their safety. But very other murders stained these happy -years of progress and exspansion. - -Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few -million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk, -which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, -marked as bric-a-brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington, followed -this policy on an even more tensive scale. The minerals were converted -into the rarest of all elements--radium--so that the equivalent of a -billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no bigger than -a cigar box. - -When Fitz-Norman had been dead three years his son, Braddock, decided -that the business had gone far enough. The amount of wealth that he -and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact -computation. He kept a note-book in cipher in which he set down the -approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand banks he -patronised, and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he -did a very simple thing--he sealed up the mine. - -He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all -the Washingtons yet to be born in unparalleled luxury for generations. -His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the -possible panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced with -all the property-holders in the world to utter poverty. - -This was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the -story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning after his -arrival. - - -5 - -After breakfast, John found his way out the great marble entrance, and -looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from the -diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still -gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine -sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of elms -made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough -masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark-blue -green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file patter -out from one clump about a half-mile away and disappear with awkward -gaiety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would not -have been surprised to see a goat-foot piping his way among the trees -or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin and flying yellow hair -between the greenest of the green leaves. - -In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing -faintly the sleep of two silky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and -set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no -particular direction. - -He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity -as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, -but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly -imagined future--flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only -prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young -dream. - -John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air -with heavy scent, and struck off across a park toward a patch of moss -under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted to see -whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an -adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass. She -was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. - -She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, -and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound -up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she -came. She was younger than John--not more than sixteen. - -"Hallo," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine." - -She was much more than that to John already. He advanced toward her, -scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes. - -"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, "Oh, -but you've missed a great deal!"... "You met my sister, Jasmine, last -night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her soft voice, and -her eye continued, "and when I'm sick I'm sweet--and when I'm well." - -"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes, "and -I'm not so slow myself"--"How do you do?" said his voice. "I hope -you're better this morning."--"You darling," added his eyes -tremulously. - -John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her -suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of which -he failed to determine. - -He was critical about women. A single defect--a thick ankle, a hoarse -voice, a glass eye--was enough to make him utterly indifferent. And -here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to -him the incarnation of physical perfection. - -"Are you from the East?" asked Kismine with charming interest. - -"No," answered John simply. "I'm from Hades." - -Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant -comment to make upon it, for she did not discuss it further. - -"I'm going East to school this fall" she said. "D'you think I'll like -it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's. It's very strict, but you -see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in our -New York house, because father heard that the girls had to go walking -two by two." - -"Your father wants you to be proud," observed John. - -"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity. "None of us has -ever been punished. Father said we never should be. Once when my -sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just -got up and limped away. - -"Mother was--well, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when she -heard that you were from--from where you _are_ from, you know. -She said that when she was a young girl--but then, you see, she's a -Spaniard and old-fashioned." - -"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the fact -that he was somewhat hurt by this remark. It seemed an unkind allusion -to his provincialism. - -"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next summer -Jasmine is going to Newport. She's coming out in London a year from -this fall. She'll be presented at court." - -"Do you know," began John hesitantly, "you're much more sophisticated -than I thought you were when I first saw you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think of -being. I think that sophisticated young people are _terribly_ -common, don't you? I'm not all, really. If you say I am, I'm going to -cry." - -She was so distressed that her lip was trembling. John was impelled to -protest: - -"I didn't mean that; I only said it to tease you." - -"Because I wouldn't mind if I _were_," she persisted, "but I'm -not. I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke, or drink, or read -anything except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry. -I dress _very_ simply--in fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think -sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me. I believe that -girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way." - -"I do, too," said John, heartily, - -Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a still-born tear -dripped from the comer of one blue eye. - -"I like you," she whispered intimately. "Are you going to spend all -your time with Percy while you're here, or will you be nice to me? -Just think--I'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in love -with me in all my life. I've never been allowed even to _see_ -boys alone--except Percy. I came all the way out here into this grove -hoping to run into you, where the family wouldn't be around." - -Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught at -dancing school in Hades. - -"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with mother -at eleven. You haven't asked me to kiss you once. I thought boys -always did that nowadays" - -John drew himself up proudly. - -"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that sort -of thing--in Hades." - -Side by side they walked back toward the house. - - -6 - -John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight. The -elder man was about forty, with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent -eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses--the -best horses. He carried a plain walking-stick of gray birch with a -single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing John around. - -"The slaves' quarters are there." His walking-stick indicated a -cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful Gothic along the -side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from -the business of life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time -they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one of their -rooms with a tile bath." - -"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they -used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy told me that -once he---" - -"The opinions of Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy are of little importance, I -should imagine," interrupted Braddock Washington coldly. "My slaves -did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe every -day, and they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sulphuric -acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite another reason. -Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for certain -races--except as a beverage." - -John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement. -Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable. - -"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North -with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that -they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect -has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them -up to speak English--my secretary and two or three of the house -servants. - -"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the -velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you see--no fairway, no rough, -no hazards." - -He smiled pleasantly at John. - -"Many men in the cage, father?" asked Percy suddenly. - -Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary curse. - -"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darkly--and then added -after a moment, "We've had difficulties." - -"Mother was telling me," exclaimed Percy, "that Italian teacher---" - -"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of course -there's a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he fell -somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's -always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be -believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men looking for him in -different towns around here." - -"And no luck?" - -"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent they'd each killed a man -answering to that description, but of course it was probably only the -reward they were after---" - -He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the -circumference of a merry-go-round, and covered by a strong iron -grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane -down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. -Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below. - -"Come on down to Hell!" - -"Hallo, kiddo, how's the air up there?" - -"Hey! Throw us a rope!" - -"Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches?" - -"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show you -a quick disappearance scene." - -"Paste him one for me, will you?" - -It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell -from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices -that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited -type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the -grass, and the scene below sprang into light. - -"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to -discover El Dorado," he remarked. - -Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like -the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of -polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two -dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their -upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with -cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the -exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a -well-fed, healthy lot. - -Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat -down. - -"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially. - -A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too -dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock -Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had -died away he spoke again. - -"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?" - -From here and there among them a remark floated up. - -"We decided to stay here for love!" - -"Bring us up there and we'll find us a way!" - -Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said: - -"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here, I wish to heaven -I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that -you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be -glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to -digging tunnels--yes, I know about the new one you've started--you -won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with -all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the type who -worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have taken up -aviation." - -A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to call -his captor's attention to what he was about to say. - -"Let me ask you a few questions!" he cried. "You pretend to be a -fair-minded man." - -"How absurd. How could a man of _my_ position be fair-minded -toward you? You might as well speak of a Spaniard being fair-minded -toward a piece of steak." - -At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen fell, but the -tall man continued: - -"All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a -humanitarian and you're not fair-minded, but you're human--at least -you say you are--and you ought to be able to put yourself in our place -for long enough to think how--how--how--" - -"How what?" demanded Washington, coldly. - -"--how unnecessary--" - -"Not to me." - -"Well--how cruel--" - -"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where self-preservation is -involved. You've been soldiers; you know that. Try another." - -"Well, then, how stupid." - -"There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think of -an alternative. I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly -executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives, sweethearts, -children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge -your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives. -If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have all -of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside of my -preserves. But that's as far as my ideas go." - -"How about trusting us not to peach on you?" cried some one. - -"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington, with -an expression of scorn. "I did take out one man to teach my daughter -Italian. Last week he got away." - -A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats and -a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog-danced and cheered and -yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal -spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they -could, and slid back to the bottom upon the natural cushions of their -bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined-- - - "_Oh, we'll hang the kaiser - On a sour apple-tree_--" - -Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was -over. - -"You see," he remarked, when he could gain a modicum of attention. "I -bear you no ill-will. I like to see you enjoying yourselves. That's -why I didn't tell you the whole story at once. The man--what was his -name? Critchtichiello?--was shot by some of my agents in fourteen -different places." - -Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of -rejoicing subsided immediately. - -"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried to -run away. Do you expect me to take chances with any of you after an -experience like that?" - -Again a series of ejaculations went up. - -"Sure!" - -"Would your daughter like to learn Chinese?" - -"Hey, I can speak Italian! My mother was a wop." - -"Maybe she'd like t'learna speak N'Yawk!" - -"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot -of things better than Italian." - -"I know some Irish songs--and I could hammer brass once't." - -Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the -button in the grass so that the picture below went out instantly, and -there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the -black teeth of the grating. - -"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away without -givin' us your blessing?" - -But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already strolling on -toward the ninth hole of the golf course, as though the pit and its -contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had -triumphed with ease. - - -7 - -July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket -nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love. He -did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend -_Pro deo et patria et St. Mida_) which he had given her rested on -a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her part -was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her -simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John's jewel box. - -Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they -spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she gave him such a -look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward him--then -hesitated. - -"Did you say 'Kismine'?" she asked softly, "or--" - -She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunderstood. - -Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour -it seemed to make little difference. - -The afternoon drifted away. That night, when a last breath of music -drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake, happily -dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be -married as soon as possible. - - -8 - -Every day Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting or fishing -in the deep forests or played golf around the somnolent course--games -which John diplomatically allowed his host to win--or swam in the -mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Washington a somewhat -exacting personality--utterly uninterested in any ideas or opinions -except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times. -She was apparently indifferent to her two daughters, and entirely -absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she held interminable -conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner. - -Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearance--except -that she was somewhat bow-legged, and terminated in large hands and -feet--but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favourite books -had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John -learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never recovered from the shock -and disappointment caused her by the termination of the World War, -just as she was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had -even pined away for a time, and Braddock Washington had taken steps to -promote a new war in the Balkans--but she had seen a photograph of -some wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole -proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed to have inherited the -arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A -chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pattern through their -every idea. - -John was enchanted by the wonders of the château and the valley. -Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped a -landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a -French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his -entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply them -with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work -out some ideas of their own. But one by one they had shown their -uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewailing his -separation, from the boulevards in spring--he made some vague remarks -about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that was of any -practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make the -whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects--a state of -things that the Washingtons would soon have grown tired of. And as for -the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought only in terms -of convention. They must make this like this and that like that. - -But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done with -them--they all went mad early one morning after spending the night in -a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain, and -were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at Westport, -Connecticut. - -"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful -reception rooms and halls, and approaches and bathrooms---?" - -"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a -moving-picture fella. He was the only man we found who was used to -playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his -napkin in his collar and couldn't read or write." - -As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon go -back to school. He and Kismine had decided to elope the following -June. - -"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but of -course I could never get father's permission to marry you at all. Next -to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be -married in America at present--they always have to send out bulletins -to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants, when -what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and some used -lace worn once by the Empress Eugenie." - -"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the -Schnlitzer-Murphys, the eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, married a man -whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what a -tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk--and -then she ended up by saying that 'Thank God, I have four good maids -anyhow, and that helps a little.'" - -"It's absurd," commented Kismine--"Think of the millions and millions -of people in the world, labourers and all, who get along with only two -maids." - -One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's changed the -face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state of terror. - -They were in their favourite grove, and between kisses John was -indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added -poignancy to their relations. - -"Sometimes I think we'll never marry," he said sadly. "You're too -wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other -girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale -hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her -half-million." - -"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," remarked -Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been contented with her. She was a -friend of my sister's. She visited here." - -"Oh, then you've had other guests?" exclaimed John in surprise. - -Kismine seemed to regret her words. - -"Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, "we've had a few." - -"But aren't you--wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside?" - -"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered, "Let's talk about -something pleasanter." - -But John's curiosity was aroused. - -"Something pleasanter!" he demanded. "What's unpleasant about that? -Weren't they nice girls?" - -To his great surprise Kismine began to weep. - -"Yes--th--that's the--the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite attached to -some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting them anyway. I -couldn't under_stand_ it." - -A dark suspicion was born in John's heart. - -"Do you mean that they _told_, and your father had -them--removed?" - -"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no chances--and -Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had _such_ a good -time!" - -She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief. - -Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there -open-mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many -sparrows perched upon his spinal column. - -"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming suddenly -and drying her dark blue eyes. - -"Do you mean to say that your father had them _murdered_ before -they left?" - -She nodded. - -"In August usually--or early in September. It's only natural for us to -get all the pleasure out of them that we can first." - -"How abominable! How--why, I must be going crazy! Did you really admit -that--" - -"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very -well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual -reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine -and me, because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that -way we avoided any farewell scene-" - -"So you murdered them! Uh!" cried John. - -"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were -asleep--and their families were always told that they died of scarlet -fever in Butte." - -"But--I fail to understand why you kept on inviting them!" - -"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did. And -they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest presents -toward the last. I shall probably have visitors too--I'll harden up to -it. We can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of -enjoying life while we have it. Think of how lonesome it'd be out here -if we never had _any_ one. Why, father and mother have sacrificed -some of their best friends just as we have." - -"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make love -to you and pretending to return it, and talking about marriage, all -the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here -alive---" - -"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first. You -were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days might as -well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, -and--and I'm honestly sorry you're going to--going to be put -away--though I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss another -girl." - -"Oh, you would, would you?" cried John ferociously. - -"Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun -with a man whom she knows she can never marry. Oh, why did I tell you? -I've probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we were really -enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things -sort of depressing for you." - -"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've heard -about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and decency than -to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much better than a -corpse, I don't want to have any more to with you!" - -"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a corpse! -I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse!" - -"I said nothing of the sort!" - -"You did! You said I kissed a corpse!" - -"I didn't!" - -Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both -subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the path -in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted -displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his -good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them. - -"Who kissed a corpse?" he demanded in obvious disapproval. - -"Nobody," answered Kismine quickly. "We were just joking." - -"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly. "Kismine, -you ought to be--to be reading or playing golf with your sister. Go -read! Go play golf! Don't let me find you here when I come back!" - -Then he bowed at John and went up the path. - -"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've -spoiled it all. We can never meet any more. He won't let me meet you. -He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love." - -"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his mind at -rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going to stay -around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains, if I -have to gnaw a passage through them, and on my way East." They had -both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put -her arm through his. - -"I'm going, too." - -"You must be crazy--" - -"Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently. - -"You most certainly are not. You--" - -"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father and talk it -over with him." - -Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile. - -"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affection, -"we'll go together." - -His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She was -his--she would go with him to share his dangers. He put his arms about -her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him; she had saved -him, in fact. - -Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the château. -They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them together -they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were -unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of -peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into the -turquoise and sable card-room and pounded on the back by one of the -under-butlers, which Percy considered a great joke. - - -9 - -Long after midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, he sat suddenly -upright, staring into the veils of somnolence that draped the room. -Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open windows, he -had heard a faint far-away sound that died upon a bed of wind before -identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy dreams. But the -sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the -room--the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper, he could not -tell; a hard lump gathered in the pit of his stomach, and his whole -body ached in the moment that he strained agonisingly to hear. Then -one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure -standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and blocked in upon -the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem -distorted, like a reflection seen in a dirty pane of glass. - -With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the button -by his bedside, and the next moment he was sitting in the green sunken -bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the -cold water which half filled it. - -He sprang out, and, his wet pyjamas scattering a heavy trickle of -water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led out on -to the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. -A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the -magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty. For -a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendour massed about -him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the -solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing. Then -simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sitting-room -swung open, precipitating three naked negroes into the hall--and, as -John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another door slid back -in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John saw Braddock -Washington standing in the lighted lift, wearing a fur coat and a pair -of riding boots which reached to his knees and displayed, above, the -glow of his rose-colored pyjamas. - -On the instant the three negroes--John had never seen any of them -before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the -professional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and -turned expectantly to the man in the lift, who burst out with an -imperious command: - -"Get in here! All three of you! Quick as hell!" - -Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage, the -oblong of light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut, and John -was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against an ivory -stair. - -It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, something -which, for the moment at least, had postponed his own petty disaster. -What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the aviators forced -aside the iron bars of the grating? Or had the men of Fish stumbled -blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak, joyless eyes upon the -gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint whir of air as the -lift whizzed up again, and then, a moment later, as it descended. It -was probable that Percy was hurrying to his father's assistance, and -it occurred to John that this was his opportunity to join Kismine and -plan an immediate escape. He waited until the lift had been silent for -several minutes; shivering a little with the night cool that whipped -in through his wet pyjamas, he returned to his room and dressed -himself quickly. Then he mounted a long flight of stairs and turned -down the corridor carpeted with Russian sable which led to Kismine's -suite. - -The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted. -Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near the window Of the room in a -listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward -him. - -"Oh, it's you!" she whispered, crossing the room to him. "Did you hear -them?" - -I heard your father's slaves in my---" - -"No," she interrupted excitedly. "Aeroplanes!" - -"Aeroplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me." - -"There're at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead against -the moon. The guard back by the cliff fired his rifle and that's what -roused father. We're going to open on them right away." - -"Are they here on purpose?" - -"Yes--it's that Italian who got away---" - -Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks -tumbled in through the open window. Kismine uttered a little cry, took -a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to -one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was in -darkness--she had blown out the fuse. - -"Come on!" she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden, and -watch it from there!" - -Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their way -out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she pressed -the button that shot them upward he put his arms around her in the -darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. -A minute later they had stepped out upon the star-white platform. -Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of -cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-winged bodies in a -constant circling course. From here and there in the valley flashes of -fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kismine -clapped her hands with pleasure, which, a moment later, turned to -dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal, began to release -their bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep -reverberate sound and lurid light. - -Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the -points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was -almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a -park of rose bushes. - -"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this -attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard -shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead---" - -"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her. -"You'll have to talk louder!" - -"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they -begin to shell the chateau!" - -Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a -geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments -of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake. - -"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at -pre-war prices. So few Americans have any respect for property." - -John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the -aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only two of -the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the -garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much longer. - -"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you -realise that those aviators will kill you without question if they -find you?" - -She consented reluctantly. - -"We'll have to wake Jasmine!" she said, as they hurried toward the -lift. Then she added in a sort of childish delight: "We'll be poor, -won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly -free. Free and poor! What fun!" She stopped and raised her lips to him -in a delighted kiss. - -"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People have -found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of the -two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel -box into your pockets." - -Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they -descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last time -through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a -moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the -flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on the other side of the -lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the -attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their -thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance shot -might annihilate its Ethiopian crew. - -John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply -to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound like a -garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily wooded spot -half-way up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe -the wild night in the valley--finally to make an escape, when it -should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully. - - -10 - -It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The -obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning -against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm -around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle -among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. -Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging -sound, and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though -the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling -closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the -beleaguered possessed no further resources they would land and the -dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over. - -With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of -the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in -the grass. The château stood dark and silent, beautiful without light -as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of -Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. -Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound -asleep. - -It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the -path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence -until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-point -he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of -human origin, and the dew was cold; be knew that the dawn would break -soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the -mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way to the -steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread -itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he -slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life -just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head -gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded; this is what he -saw: - -Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against -the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came up out of -the east, lending a gold green colour to the earth, it brought the -solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day, - -While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in -some inscrutable contemplation; then he signalled to the two negroes -who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As -they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck -through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled -diamond--and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air -like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its -weight for a moment--then their rippling muscles caught and hardened -under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again -motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens. - -After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms -in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd to -hear--but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain -and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The -figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an -inextinguishable pride. - -"You--out there---!" he cried in a trembling voice. - -"You--there-----!" He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held -attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his -eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain, but -the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking -flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a -moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed--there was something in -the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer. - -"Oh, you above there!" - -The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn -supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous -condescension. - -"You there---" Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing -one into the other .... John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase -here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off -again--now strong and argumentative, now coloured with a slow, puzzled -impatience, Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single -listener, and as realisation crept over him a spray of quick blood -rushed through his arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe -to God! - -That was it--there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves -was some advance sample, a promise of more to follow. - -That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his -sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten -sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of -Christ. For a while his discourse took the farm of reminding God of -this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men--great -churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and -gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of -children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and -goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been -offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of -alleviation from the Divine wrath--and now he, Braddock Washington, -Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of -splendour and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as princes before -him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride. - -He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, -the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many -more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the -whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger -than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many years. It would be -set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped -with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be -hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of iridescent, -decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any -worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer--and on this altar there -would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor any victim -He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most -powerful man alive. - -In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be -absurdly easy--only that matters should be as they were yesterday at -this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the -heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes--and then -close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and -well. - -There was no one else with whom he had ever needed: to treat or -bargain. - -He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His -price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said: He -must have His price. And the price would be rare--no cathedral whose -building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand -workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid. - -He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to -specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it -would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it -or leave it. - -As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and -uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to catch the -slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His -hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his -head high to the heavens like a prophet of old--magnificently mad. - -Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a -curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as though -the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden -murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets, a sighing like -the rustle of a great silken robe--for a time the whole of nature -round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the -trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of -dull, menacing thunder. - -That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The -dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent -hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The -leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bough -was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the -bribe. - -For another moment John, watched the triumph of the day. Then, -turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another -flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from -the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth. - -John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the -clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. -Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a -question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no -time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing a -moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the -tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind -them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of the -peacocks far away and the pleasant of morning. - -When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and -entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At the -highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested -upon the mountainside they had just left--oppressed by some dark sense -of tragic impendency. - -Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly descending -the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes, who -carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the -sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them--John could see that -they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon whose arm she leaned. The -aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in -front of the chateau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the -diamond mountain in skirmishing formation. - -But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was -engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of -rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a -trap-door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, -the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two -negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the -sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all. - -Kismine clutched John's arm. - -"Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they going to -do?" - -"It must be some underground way of escape--" - -A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence. - -"Don't you see?" sobbed Kismine hysterically. "The mountain is wired!" - -Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before -their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a -dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as -light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow -continued, and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared, -revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying -off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the -aviators there was left neither blood nor bone--they were consumed as -completely as the five souls who had gone inside. - -Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the château literally -threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as it rose, -and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay -projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire--what -smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few -minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great -featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no -more sound and the three people were alone in the valley. - - -9 - -At sunset John and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had -marked the boundaries of the Washington's dominion, and looking back -found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They sat down to -finish the food which Jasmine had brought with her in a basket, - -"There!" she said, as she spread the table-cloth and put the -sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look tempting? I always -think that food tastes better outdoors." - -"With that remark," remarked Kismine, "Jasmine enters the middle -class." - -"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what -jewels you brought along. If you made a good selection we three ought -to live comfortably all the rest of our lives." - -Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls -of glittering stones before him. "Not so bad," cried John -enthusiastically. "They aren't very big, but-Hallo!" His expression -changed as he held one of them up to the declining sun. "Why, these -aren't diamonds! There's something the matter! - -"By golly!" exclaimed Kismine, with a startled look. "What an idiot I -am!" - -"Why, these are rhinestones!" cried John. - -"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer. They -belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine. I got her to give -them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything but -precious stones before." - -"And this is what you brought?" - -"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I -like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds." - -"Very well," said John gloomily. "We'll have to live in Hades. And you -will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong drawer. -Unfortunately, your father's bank-books were consumed with him." - -"Well, what's the matter with Hades?" - -"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as -not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they say down there." - -Jasmine spoke up. - -"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own -handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and support you both." - -"Do they have washwomen in Hades?" asked Kismine innocently. - -"Of course," answered John. "It's just like anywhere else." - -"I thought--perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes." - -John laughed. - -"Just try it!" he suggested. "They'll run you out before you're half -started." - -"Will father be there?" she asked. - -John turned to her in astonishment. - -"Your father is dead," he replied sombrely. "Why should he go to -Hades? You have it confused with another place that was abolished long -ago." - -After supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their blankets -for the night. - -"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars. "How -strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless fiancée! - -"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before. I -always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some -one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, -all my youth." - -"It _was_ a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a -dream, a form of chemical madness." - -"How pleasant then to be insane!" - -"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any -rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a -form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only -diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of -disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing -of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the -night's full of chill and you'll get pneumonia. His was a great sin -who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours." - -So wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep. - - - - -THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON - -I - - -As long ago as 1860 it was the proper thing to be born at home. At -present, so I am told, the high gods of medicine have decreed that the -first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of -a hospital, preferably a fashionable one. So young Mr. and Mrs. Roger -Button were fifty years ahead of style when they decided, one day in -the summer of 1860, that their first baby should be born in a -hospital. Whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the -astonishing history I am about to set down will never be known. - -I shall tell you what occurred, and let you judge for yourself. - -The Roger Buttons held an enviable position, both social and -financial, in ante-bellum Baltimore. They were related to the This -Family and the That Family, which, as every Southerner knew, entitled -them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated -the Confederacy. This was their first experience with the charming old -custom of having babies--Mr. Button was naturally nervous. He hoped it -would be a boy so that he could be sent to Yale College in -Connecticut, at which institution Mr. Button himself had been known -for four years by the somewhat obvious nickname of "Cuff." - -On the September morning consecrated to the enormous event he arose -nervously at six o'clock dressed himself, adjusted an impeccable -stock, and hurried forth through the streets of Baltimore to the -hospital, to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in -new life upon its bosom. - -When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private -Hospital for Ladies and Gentlemen he saw Doctor Keene, the family -physician, descending the front steps, rubbing his hands together with -a washing movement--as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten -ethics of their profession. - -Mr. Roger Button, the president of Roger Button & Co., Wholesale -Hardware, began to run toward Doctor Keene with much less dignity than -was expected from a Southern gentleman of that picturesque period. -"Doctor Keene!" he called. "Oh, Doctor Keene!" - -The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious -expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face as Mr. Button drew -near. - -"What happened?" demanded Mr. Button, as he came up in a gasping rush. -"What was it? How is she" A boy? Who is it? What---" - -"Talk sense!" said Doctor Keene sharply, He appeared somewhat -irritated. - -"Is the child born?" begged Mr. Button. - -Doctor Keene frowned. "Why, yes, I suppose so--after a fashion." Again -he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button. - -"Is my wife all right?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it a boy or a girl?" - -"Here now!" cried Doctor Keene in a perfect passion of irritation," -I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous!" He snapped the -last word out in almost one syllable, then he turned away muttering: -"Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation? -One more would ruin me--ruin anybody." - -"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Button appalled. "Triplets?" - -"No, not triplets!" answered the doctor cuttingly. "What's more, you -can go and see for yourself. And get another doctor. I brought you -into the world, young man, and I've been physician to your family for -forty years, but I'm through with you! I don't want to see you or any -of your relatives ever again! Good-bye!" - -Then he turned sharply, and without another word climbed into his -phaeton, which was waiting at the curbstone, and drove severely away. - -Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from -head to foot. What horrible mishap had occurred? He had suddenly lost -all desire to go into the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and -Gentlemen--it was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later, -he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door. - -A nurse was sitting behind a desk in the opaque gloom of the hall. -Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her. - -"Good-morning," she remarked, looking up at him pleasantly. - -"Good-morning. I--I am Mr. Button." - -At this a look of utter terror spread itself over girl's face. She -rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall, restraining -herself only with the most apparent difficulty. - -"I want to see my child," said Mr. Button. - -The nurse gave a little scream. "Oh--of course!" she cried -hysterically. "Upstairs. Right upstairs. Go--_up!_" - -She pointed the direction, and Mr. Button, bathed in cool -perspiration, turned falteringly, and began to mount to the second -floor. In the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached -him, basin in hand. "I'm Mr. Button," he managed to articulate. "I -want to see my----" - -Clank! The basin clattered to the floor and rolled in the direction of -the stairs. Clank! Clank! I began a methodical decent as if sharing in -the general terror which this gentleman provoked. - -"I want to see my child!" Mr. Button almost shrieked. He was on the -verge of collapse. - -Clank! The basin reached the first floor. The nurse regained control -of herself, and threw Mr. Button a look of hearty contempt. - -"All _right_, Mr. Button," she agreed in a hushed voice. "Very -_well!_ But if you _knew_ what a state it's put us all in this -morning! It's perfectly outrageous! The hospital will never have -a ghost of a reputation after----" - -"Hurry!" he cried hoarsely. "I can't stand this!" - -"Come this way, then, Mr. Button." - -He dragged himself after her. At the end of a long hall they reached a -room from which proceeded a variety of howls--indeed, a room which, in -later parlance, would have been known as the "crying-room." They -entered. - -"Well," gasped Mr. Button, "which is mine?" - -"There!" said the nurse. - -Mr. Button's eyes followed her pointing finger, and this is what he -saw. Wrapped in a voluminous white blanket, and partly crammed into -one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently about seventy years -of age. His sparse hair was almost white, and from his chin dripped a -long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth, fanned -by the breeze coming in at the window. He looked up at Mr. Button with -dim, faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled question. - -"Am I mad?" thundered Mr. Button, his terror resolving into rage. "Is -this some ghastly hospital joke? - -"It doesn't seem like a joke to us," replied the nurse severely. "And -I don't know whether you're mad or not--but that is most certainly -your child." - -The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button's forehead. He closed -his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no -mistake--he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten--a _baby_ -of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the -crib in which it was reposing. - -The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and -then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice. "Are you my -father?" he demanded. - -Mr. Button and the nurse started violently. - -"Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd -get me out of this place--or, at least, get them to put a comfortable -rocker in here," - -"Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you?" burst out Mr. -Button frantically. - -"I can't tell you _exactly_ who I am," replied the querulous -whine, "because I've only been born a few hours--but my last name is -certainly Button." - -"You lie! You're an impostor!" - -The old man turned wearily to the nurse. "Nice way to welcome a -new-born child," he complained in a weak voice. "Tell him he's wrong, -why don't you?" - -"You're wrong. Mr. Button," said the nurse severely. "This is your -child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you -to take him home with you as soon as possible-some time to-day." - -"Home?" repeated Mr. Button incredulously. - -"Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know?" - -"I'm right glad of it," whined the old man. "This is a fine place to -keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling, I -haven't been able to get a wink of sleep. I asked for something to -eat"--here his voice rose to a shrill note of protest--"and they -brought me a bottle of milk!" - -Mr. Button, sank down upon a chair near his son and concealed his face -in his hands. "My heavens!" he murmured, in an ecstasy of horror. -"What will people say? What must I do?" - -"You'll have to take him home," insisted the nurse--"immediately!" - -A grotesque picture formed itself with dreadful clarity before the -eyes of the tortured man--a picture of himself walking through the -crowded streets of the city with this appalling apparition stalking by -his side. - -"I can't. I can't," he moaned. - -People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He -would have to introduce this--this septuagenarian: "This is my son, -born early this morning." And then the old man would gather his -blanket around him and they would plod on, past the bustling stores, -the slave market--for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately -that his son was black--past the luxurious houses of the residential -district, past the home for the aged.... - -"Come! Pull yourself together," commanded the nurse. - -"See here," the old man announced suddenly, "if you think I'm going to -walk home in this blanket, you're entirely mistaken." - -"Babies always have blankets." - -With a malicious crackle the old man held up a small white swaddling -garment. "Look!" he quavered. "_This_ is what they had ready for -me." - -"Babies always wear those," said the nurse primly. - -"Well," said the old man, "this baby's not going to wear anything in -about two minutes. This blanket itches. They might at least have given -me a sheet." - -"Keep it on! Keep it on!" said Mr. Button hurriedly. He turned to the -nurse. "What'll I do?" - -"Go down town and buy your son some clothes." - -Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the: hall: "And a -cane, father. I want to have a cane." - -Mr. Button banged the outer door savagely.... - - -2 - - -"Good-morning," Mr. Button said nervously, to the clerk in the -Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. "I want to buy some clothes for my -child." - -"How old is your child, sir?" - -"About six hours," answered Mr. Button, without due consideration. - -"Babies' supply department in the rear." - -"Why, I don't think--I'm not sure that's what I want. It's--he's an -unusually large-size child. Exceptionally--ah large." - -"They have the largest child's sizes." - -"Where is the boys' department?" inquired Mr. Button, shifting his -ground desperately. He felt that the clerk must surely scent his -shameful secret. - -"Right here." - -"Well----" He hesitated. The notion of dressing his son in men's -clothes was repugnant to him. If, say, he could only find a very large -boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white -hair brown, and thus manage to conceal the worst, and to retain -something of his own self-respect--not to mention his position in -Baltimore society. - -But a frantic inspection of the boys' department revealed no suits to -fit the new-born Button. He blamed the store, of course---in such -cases it is the thing to blame the store. - -"How old did you say that boy of yours was?" demanded the clerk -curiously. - -"He's--sixteen." - -"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six _hours_. You'll -find the youths' department in the next aisle." - -Mr. Button turned miserably away. Then he stopped, brightened, and -pointed his finger toward a dressed dummy in the window display. -"There!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that suit, out there on the dummy." - -The clerk stared. "Why," he protested, "that's not a child's suit. At -least it _is_, but it's for fancy dress. You could wear it -yourself!" - -"Wrap it up," insisted his customer nervously. "That's what I want." - -The astonished clerk obeyed. - -Back at the hospital Mr. Button entered the nursery and almost threw -the package at his son. "Here's your clothes," he snapped out. - -The old man untied the package and viewed the contents with a -quizzical eye. - -"They look sort of funny to me," he complained, "I don't want to be -made a monkey of--" - -"You've made a monkey of me!" retorted Mr. Button fiercely. "Never you -mind how funny you look. Put them on--or I'll--or I'll _spank_ -you." He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling -nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say. - -"All right, father"--this with a grotesque simulation of filial -respect--"you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say." - -As before, the sound of the word "father" caused Mr. Button to start -violently. - -"And hurry." - -"I'm hurrying, father." - -When his son was dressed Mr. Button regarded him with depression. The -costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse -with a wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish -beard, drooping almost to the waist. The effect was not good. - -"Wait!" - -Mr. Button seized a hospital shears and with three quick snaps -amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement -the ensemble fell far short of perfection. The remaining brush of -scraggly hair, the watery eyes, the ancient teeth, seemed oddly out of -tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was -obdurate--he held out his hand. "Come along!" he said sternly. - -His son took the hand trustingly. "What are you going to call me, -dad?" he quavered as they walked from the nursery--"just 'baby' for a -while? till you think of a better name?" - -Mr. Button grunted. "I don't know," he answered harshly. "I think -we'll call you Methuselah." - - -3 - -Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his hair cut -short and then dyed to a sparse unnatural black, had had his face -shaved so dose that it glistened, and had been attired in small-boy -clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for -Button to ignore the fact that his son was a excuse for a first family -baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button--for it was by this name -they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious -Methuselah--was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not -conceal this, nor did the clipping and dyeing of his eyebrows disguise -the fact that the eyes under--were faded and watery and tired. In -fact, the baby-nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house -after one look, in a state of considerable indignation. - -But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a -baby, and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if -Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether, -but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter, -and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a -rattle and, giving it to Benjamin, insisted in no uncertain terms that -he should "play with it," whereupon the old man took it with--a weary -expression and could be heard jingling it obediently at intervals -throughout the day. - -There can be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him, and that he -found other and more soothing amusements when he was left alone. For -instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week -be had smoked more cigars than ever before--a phenomenon, which was -explained a few days later when, entering the nursery unexpectedly, he -found the room full of faint blue haze and Benjamin, with a guilty -expression on his face, trying to conceal the butt of a dark Havana. -This, of course, called for a severe spanking, but Mr. Button found -that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his -son that he would "stunt his growth." - -Nevertheless he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead -soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals -made of cotton, and, to perfect the illusion which he was -creating--for himself at least--he passionately demanded of the clerk -in the toy-store whether "the paint would come oft the pink duck if -the baby put it in his mouth." But, despite all his father's efforts, -Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs -and return to the nursery with a volume of the Encyclopedia -Britannica, over which he would pore through an afternoon, while his -cotton cows and his Noah's ark were left neglected on the floor. -Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail. - -The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, prodigious. What the -mishap would have cost the Buttons and their kinsfolk socially cannot -be determined, for the outbreak of the Civil War drew the city's -attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite -racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents--and -finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby -resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of -decay common to all men of seventy, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs. -Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was -furiously insulted. - -Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. Several -small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a stiff-jointed -afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles--he even -managed, quite accidentally, to break a kitchen window with a stone -from a sling shot, a feat which secretly delighted his father. - -Thereafter Benjamin contrived to break something every day, but he did -these things only because they were expected of him, and because he -was by nature obliging. - -When his grandfather's initial antagonism wore off, Benjamin and that -gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would -sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and, -like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of -the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than -in his parents'--they seemed always somewhat in awe of him and, -despite the dictatorial authority they exercised over him, frequently -addressed him as "Mr." - -He was as puzzled as any one else at the apparently advanced age of -his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal, -but found that no such case had been previously recorded. At his -father's urging he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and -frequently he joined in the milder games--football shook him up too -much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would -refuse to knit. - -When he was five he was sent to kindergarten, where he initiated into -the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving coloured -maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to -drowse off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both -irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief she -complained to his parents, and he was removed from the school. The -Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young. - -By the time he was twelve years old his parents had grown used to him. -Indeed, so strong is the force of custom that they no longer felt that -he was different from any other child--except when some curious -anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his -twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made, or -thought he made, an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him, -or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to -iron-gray under its concealing dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his -face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier and firmer, with -even a touch of ruddy winter colour? He could not tell. He knew that -he no longer stooped, and that his physical condition had improved -since the early days of his life. - -"Can it be----?" he thought to himself, or, rather, scarcely dared to -think. - -He went to his father. "I am grown," he announced determinedly. "I -want to put on long trousers." - -His father hesitated. "Well," he said finally, "I don't know. Fourteen -is the age for putting on long trousers--and you are only twelve." - -"But you'll have to admit," protested Benjamin, "that I'm big for my -age." - -His father looked at him with illusory speculation. "Oh, I'm not so -sure of that," he said. "I was as big as you when I was twelve." - -This was not true-it was all part of Roger Button's silent agreement -with himself to believe in his son's normality. - -Finally a compromise was reached. Benjamin was to continue to dye his -hair. He was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own -age. He was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street. -In return for these concessions he was allowed his first suit of long -trousers.... - - -4 - -Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first -year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of -normal ungrowth. When Benjamin was eighteen he was erect as a man of -fifty; he had more hair and it was of a dark gray; his step was firm, -his voice had lost its cracked quaver and descended to a healthy -baritone. So his father sent him up to Connecticut to take -examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his -examination and became a member of the freshman class. - -On the third day following his matriculation he received a -notification from Mr. Hart, the college registrar, to call at his -office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror, -decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but -an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye -bottle was not there. Then he remembered--he had emptied it the day -before and thrown it away. - -He was in a dilemma. He was due at the registrar's in five minutes. -There seemed to be no help for it--he must go as he was. He did. - -"Good-morning," said the registrar politely. "You've come to inquire -about your son." - -"Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button----" began Benjamin, but -Mr. Hart cut him off. - -"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here -any minute." - -"That's me!" burst out Benjamin. "I'm a freshman." - -"What!" - -"I'm a freshman." - -"Surely you're joking." - -"Not at all." - -The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. "Why, I have -Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen." - -"That's my age," asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly. - -The registrar eyed him wearily. "Now surely, Mr. Button, you don't -expect me to believe that." - -Benjamin smiled wearily. "I am eighteen," he repeated. - -The registrar pointed sternly to the door. "Get out," he said. "Get -out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic." - -"I am eighteen." - -Mr. Hart opened the door. "The idea!" he shouted. "A man of your age -trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well, -I'll give you eighteen minutes to get out of town." - -Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room, and half a dozen -undergraduates, who were waiting in the hall, followed him curiously -with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced -the infuriated registrar, who was still standing in the door-way, and -repeated in a firm voice: "I am eighteen years old." - -To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates, -Benjamin walked away. - -But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy walk to -the railroad station he found that he was being followed by a group, -then by a swarm, and finally by a dense mass of undergraduates. The -word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance -examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of -eighteen. A fever of excitement permeated the college. Men ran hatless -out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined -the mob, professors' wives with bonnets awry and bustles out of -position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a -continual succession of remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of -Benjamin Button. - -"He must be the wandering Jew!" - -"He ought to go to prep school at his age!" - -"Look at the infant prodigy!" "He thought this was the old men's -home." - -"Go up to Harvard!" - -Benjamin increased his gait, and soon he was running. He would show -them! He _would_ go to Harvard, and then they would regret these -ill-considered taunts! - -Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the -window. "You'll regret this!" he shouted. - -"Ha-ha!" the undergraduates laughed. "Ha-ha-ha!" It was the biggest -mistake that Yale College had ever made.... - - -5 - -In 1880 Benjamin Button was twenty years old, and he signalised his -birthday by going to work for his father in Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware. It was in that same year that he began "going out -socially"--that is, his father insisted on taking him to several -fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son -were more and more companionable--in fact, since Benjamin had ceased -to dye his hair (which was still grayish) they appeared about the same -age, and could have passed for brothers. - -One night in August they got into the phaeton attired in their -full-dress suits and drove out to a dance at the Shevlins' country -house, situated just outside of Baltimore. It was a gorgeous evening. -A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless colour of platinum, -and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air -aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter. The open country, -carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent as in the -day. It was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty -of the sky--almost. - -"There's a great future in the dry-goods business," Roger Button was -saying. He was not a spiritual man--his aesthetic sense was -rudimentary. - -"Old fellows like me can't learn new tricks," he observed profoundly. -"It's you youngsters with energy and vitality that have the great -future before you." - -Far up the road the lights of the Shevlins' country house drifted into -view, and presently there was a sighing sound that crept persistently -toward them--it might have been the fine plaint of violins or the -rustle of the silver wheat under the moon. - -They pulled up behind a handsome brougham whose passengers were -disembarking at the door. A lady got out, then an elderly gentleman, -then another young lady, beautiful as sin. Benjamin started; an almost -chemical change seemed to dissolve and recompose the very elements of -his body. A rigour passed over him, blood rose into his cheeks, his -forehead, and there was a steady thumping in his ears. It was first -love. - -The girl was slender and frail, with hair that was ashen under the -moon and honey-coloured under the sputtering gas-lamps of the porch. -Over her shoulders was thrown a Spanish mantilla of softest yellow, -butterflied in black; her feet were glittering buttons at the hem of -her bustled dress. - -Roger Button leaned over to his son. "That," he said, "is young -Hildegarde Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief." - -Benjamin nodded coldly. "Pretty little thing," he said indifferently. -But when the negro boy had led the buggy away, he added: "Dad, you -might introduce me to her." - -They approached a group, of which Miss Moncrief was the centre. Reared -in the old tradition, she curtsied low before Benjamin. Yes, he might -have a dance. He thanked her and walked away--staggered away. - -The interval until the time for his turn should arrive dragged itself -out interminably. He stood close to the wall, silent, inscrutable, -watching with murderous eyes the young bloods of Baltimore as they -eddied around Hildegarde Moncrief, passionate admiration in their -faces. How obnoxious they seemed to Benjamin; how intolerably rosy! -Their curling brown whiskers aroused in him a feeling equivalent to -indigestion. - -But when his own time came, and he drifted with her out upon the -changing floor to the music of the latest waltz from Paris, his -jealousies and anxieties melted from him like a mantle of snow. Blind -with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning. - -"You and your brother got here just as we did, didn't you?" asked -Hildegarde, looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue -enamel. - -Benjamin hesitated. If she took him for his father's brother, would it -be best to enlighten her? He remembered his experience at Yale, so he -decided against it. It would be rude to contradict a lady; it would be -criminal to mar this exquisite occasion with the grotesque story of -his origin. Later, perhaps. So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy. - -"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so -idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and -how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to -appreciate women." - -Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he -choked back the impulse. "You're just the romantic age," she -continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be -pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole -cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is -the mellow age. I love fifty." - -Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be -fifty. - -"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man -of fifty and be taken care of than many a man of thirty and take care -of _him_." - -For Benjamin the rest of the evening was bathed in a honey-coloured -mist. Hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that -they were marvellously in accord on all the questions of the day. She -was to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they -would discuss all these questions further. - -Going home in the phaeton just before the crack of dawn, when the -first bees were humming and the fading moon glimmered in the cool dew, -Benjamin knew vaguely that his father was discussing wholesale -hardware. - -".... And what do you think should merit our biggest attention after -hammers and nails?" the elder Button was saying. - -"Love," replied Benjamin absent-mindedly. - -"Lugs?" exclaimed Roger Button, "Why, I've just covered the question -of lugs." - -Benjamin regarded him with dazed eyes just as the eastern sky was -suddenly cracked with light, and an oriole yawned piercingly in the -quickening trees... - - -6 - -When, six months later, the engagement of Miss Hildegarde Moncrief to -Mr. Benjamin Button was made known (I say "made known," for General -Moncrief declared he would rather fall upon his sword than announce -it), the excitement in Baltimore society reached a feverish pitch. The -almost forgotten story of Benjamin's birth was remembered and sent out -upon the winds of scandal in picaresque and incredible forms. It was -said that Benjamin was really the father of Roger Button, that he was -his brother who had been in prison for forty years, that he was John -Wilkes Booth in disguise--and, finally, that he had two small conical -horns sprouting from his head. - -The Sunday supplements of the New York papers played up the case with -fascinating sketches which showed the head of Benjamin Button attached -to a fish, to a snake, and, finally, to a body of solid brass. He -became known, journalistically, as the Mystery Man of Maryland. But -the true story, as is usually the case, had a very small circulation. - -However, every one agreed with General Moncrief that it was "criminal" -for a lovely girl who could have married any beau in Baltimore to -throw herself into the arms of a man who was assuredly fifty. In vain -Mr. Roger Button published Us son's birth certificate in large type in -the Baltimore _Blaze_. No one believed it. You had only to look -at Benjamin and see. - -On the part of the two people most concerned there was no wavering. So -many of the stories about her fiancé were false that Hildegarde -refused stubbornly to believe even the true one. In vain General -Moncrief pointed out to her the high mortality among men of fifty--or, -at least, among men who looked fifty; in vain he told her of the -instability of the wholesale hardware business. Hildegarde had chosen -to marry for mellowness, and marry she did.... - - -7 - -In one particular, at least, the friends of Hildegarde Moncrief were -mistaken. The wholesale hardware business prospered amazingly. In the -fifteen years between Benjamin Button's marriage in 1880 and his -father's retirement in 1895, the family fortune was doubled--and this -was due largely to the younger member of the firm. - -Needless to say, Baltimore eventually received the couple to its -bosom. Even old General Moncrief became reconciled to his son-in-law -when Benjamin gave him the money to bring out his _History of the -Civil War_ in twenty volumes, which had been refused by nine -prominent publishers. - -In Benjamin himself fifteen years had wrought many changes. It seemed -to him that the blood flowed with new vigour through his veins. It -began to be a pleasure to rise in the morning, to walk with an active -step along the busy, sunny street, to work untiringly with his -shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. It was in 1890 that he -executed his famous business coup: he brought up the suggestion that -_all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped -are the property of the shippee_, a proposal which became a -statute, was approved by Chief Justice Fossile, and saved Roger Button -and Company, Wholesale Hardware, more than _six hundred nails every -year_. - -In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more -attracted by the gay side of life. It was typical of his growing -enthusiasm for pleasure that he was the first man in the city of -Baltimore to own and run an automobile. Meeting him on the street, his -contemporaries would stare enviously at the picture he made of health -and vitality. - -"He seems to grow younger every year," they would remark. And if old -Roger Button, now sixty-five years old, had failed at first to give a -proper welcome to his son he atoned at last by bestowing on him what -amounted to adulation. - -And here we come to an unpleasant subject which it will be well to -pass over as quickly as possible. There was only one thing that -worried Benjamin Button; his wife had ceased to attract him. - -At that time Hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five, with a son, -Roscoe, fourteen years old. In the early days of their marriage -Benjamin had worshipped her. But, as the years passed, her -honey-coloured hair became an unexciting brown, the blue enamel of her -eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery--moreover, and, most of all, -she had become too settled in her ways, too placid, too content, too -anaemic in her excitements, and too sober in her taste. As a bride it -been she who had "dragged" Benjamin to dances and dinners--now -conditions were reversed. She went out socially with him, but without -enthusiasm, devoured already by that eternal inertia which comes to -live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end. - -Benjamin's discontent waxed stronger. At the outbreak of the -Spanish-American War in 1898 his home had for him so little charm that -he decided to join the army. With his business influence he obtained a -commission as captain, and proved so adaptable to the work that he was -made a major, and finally a lieutenant-colonel just in time to -participate in the celebrated charge up San Juan Hill. He was slightly -wounded, and received a medal. - -Benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of -array life that he regretted to give it up, but his business required -attention, so he resigned his commission and came home. He was met at -the station by a brass band and escorted to his house. - - -8 - -Hildegarde, waving a large silk flag, greeted him on the porch, and -even as he kissed her he felt with a sinking of the heart that these -three years had taken their toll. She was a woman of forty now, with a -faint skirmish line of gray hairs in her head. The sight depressed -him. - -Up in his room he saw his reflection in the familiar mirror--he went -closer and examined his own face with anxiety, comparing it after a -moment with a photograph of himself in uniform taken just before the -war. - -"Good Lord!" he said aloud. The process was continuing. There was no -doubt of it--he looked now like a man of thirty. Instead of being -delighted, he was uneasy--he was growing younger. He had hitherto -hoped that once he reached a bodily age equivalent to his age in -years, the grotesque phenomenon which had marked his birth would cease -to function. He shuddered. His destiny seemed to him awful, -incredible. - -When he came downstairs Hildegarde was waiting for him. She appeared -annoyed, and he wondered if she had at last discovered that there was -something amiss. It was with an effort to relieve the tension between -them that he broached the matter at dinner in what he considered a -delicate way. - -"Well," he remarked lightly, "everybody says I look younger than -ever." - -Hildegarde regarded him with scorn. She sniffed. "Do you think it's -anything to boast about?" - -"I'm not boasting," he asserted uncomfortably. She sniffed again. "The -idea," she said, and after a moment: "I should think you'd have enough -pride to stop it." - -"How can I?" he demanded. - -"I'm not going to argue with you," she retorted. "But there's a right -way of doing things and a wrong way. If you've made up your mind to be -different from everybody else, I don't suppose I can stop you, but I -really don't think it's very considerate." - -"But, Hildegarde, I can't help it." - -"You can too. You're simply stubborn. You think you don't want to be -like any one else. You always have been that way, and you always will -be. But just think how it would be if every one else looked at things -as you do--what would the world be like?" - -As this was an inane and unanswerable argument Benjamin made no reply, -and from that time on a chasm began to widen between them. He wondered -what possible fascination she had ever exercised over him. - -To add to the breach, he found, as the new century gathered headway, -that his thirst for gaiety grew stronger. Never a party of any kind in -the city of Baltimore but he was there, dancing with the prettiest of -the young married women, chatting with the most popular of the -debutantes, and finding their company charming, while his wife, a -dowager of evil omen, sat among the chaperons, now in haughty -disapproval, and now following him with solemn, puzzled, and -reproachful eyes. - -"Look!" people would remark. "What a pity! A young fellow that age -tied to a woman of forty-five. He must be twenty years younger than -his wife." They had forgotten--as people inevitably forget--that back -in 1880 their mammas and papas had also remarked about this same -ill-matched pair. - -Benjamin's growing unhappiness at home was compensated for by his many -new interests. He took up golf and made a great success of it. He went -in for dancing: in 1906 he was an expert at "The Boston," and in 1908 -he was considered proficient at the "Maxine," while in 1909 his -"Castle Walk" was the envy of every young man in town. - -His social activities, of course, interfered to some extent with his -business, but then he had worked hard at wholesale hardware for -twenty-five years and felt that he could soon hand it on to his son, -Roscoe, who had recently graduated from Harvard. - -He and his son were, in fact, often mistaken for each other. This -pleased Benjamin--he soon forgot the insidious fear which had come -over him on his return from the Spanish-American War, and grew to take -a naïve pleasure in his appearance. There was only one fly in the -delicious ointment--he hated to appear in public with his wife. -Hildegarde was almost fifty, and the sight of her made him feel -absurd.... - - -9 - -One September day in 1910--a few years after Roger Button & Co., -Wholesale Hardware, had been handed over to young Roscoe Button--a -man, apparently about twenty years old, entered himself as a freshman -at Harvard University in Cambridge. He did not make the mistake of -announcing that he would never see fifty again, nor did he mention the -fact that his son had been graduated from the same institution ten -years before. - -He was admitted, and almost immediately attained a prominent position -in the class, partly because he seemed a little older than the other -freshmen, whose average age was about eighteen. - -But his success was largely due to the fact that in the football game -with Yale he played so brilliantly, with so much dash and with such a -cold, remorseless anger that he scored seven touchdowns and fourteen -field goals for Harvard, and caused one entire eleven of Yale men to -be carried singly from the field, unconscious. He was the most -celebrated man in college. - -Strange to say, in his third or junior year he was scarcely able to -"make" the team. The coaches said that he had lost weight, and it -seemed to the more observant among them that he was not quite as tall -as before. He made no touchdowns--indeed, he was retained on the team -chiefly in hope that his enormous reputation would bring terror and -disorganisation to the Yale team. - -In his senior year he did not make the team at all. He had grown so -slight and frail that one day he was taken by some sophomores for a -freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known -as something of a prodigy--a senior who was surely no more than -sixteen--and he was often shocked at the worldliness of some of his -classmates. His studies seemed harder to him--he felt that they were -too advanced. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the -famous preparatory school, at which so many of them had prepared for -college, and he determined after his graduation to enter himself at -St. Midas's, where the sheltered life among boys his own size would be -more congenial to him. - -Upon his graduation in 1914 he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard -diploma in his pocket. Hildegarde was now residing in Italy, so -Benjamin went to live with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed -in a general way there was obviously no heartiness in Roscoe's feeling -toward him--there was even perceptible a tendency on his son's part to -think that Benjamin, as he moped about the house in adolescent -mooniness, was somewhat in the way. Roscoe was married now and -prominent in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal to creep out in -connection with his family. - -Benjamin, no longer _persona grata_ with the débutantes and -younger college set, found himself left much done, except for the -companionship of three or four fifteen-year-old boys in the -neighbourhood. His idea of going to St. Midas's school recurred to -him. - -"Say," he said to Roscoe one day, "I've told you over and over that I -want to go to prep, school." - -"Well, go, then," replied Roscoe shortly. The matter was distasteful -to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion. - -"I can't go alone," said Benjamin helplessly. "You'll have to enter me -and take me up there." - -"I haven't got time," declared Roscoe abruptly. His eyes narrowed and -he looked uneasily at his father. "As a matter of fact," he added, -"you'd better not go on with this business much longer. You better -pull up short. You better--you better"--he paused and his face -crimsoned as he sought for words--"you better turn right around and -start back the other way. This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't -funny any longer. You--you behave yourself!" - -Benjamin looked at him, on the verge of tears. - -"And another thing," continued Roscoe, "when visitors are in the house -I want you to call me 'Uncle'--not 'Roscoe,' but 'Uncle,' do you -understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my -first name. Perhaps you'd better call me 'Uncle' _all_ the time, -so you'll get used to it." - -With a harsh look at his father, Roscoe turned away.... - - -10 - -At the termination of this interview, Benjamin wandered dismally -upstairs and stared at himself in the mirror. He had not shaved for -three months, but he could find nothing on his face but a faint white -down with which it seemed unnecessary to meddle. When he had first -come home from Harvard, Roscoe had approached him with the proposition -that he should wear eye-glasses and imitation whiskers glued to his -cheeks, and it had seemed for a moment that the farce of his early -years was to be repeated. But whiskers had itched and made him -ashamed. He wept and Roscoe had reluctantly relented. - -Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, _The Boy Scouts in Bimini -Bay_, and began to read. But he found himself thinking persistently -about the war. America had joined the Allied cause during the -preceding month, and Benjamin wanted to enlist, but, alas, sixteen was -the minimum age, and he did not look that old. His true age, which was -fifty-seven, would have disqualified him, anyway. - -There was a knock at his door, and the butler appeared with a letter -bearing a large official legend in the corner and addressed to Mr. -Benjamin Button. Benjamin tore it open eagerly, and read the enclosure -with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had -served in the Spanish-American War were being called back into service -with a higher rank, and it enclosed his commission as brigadier-general -in the United States army with orders to report immediately. - -Benjamin jumped to his feet fairly quivering with enthusiasm. This was -what he had wanted. He seized his cap, and ten minutes later he had -entered a large tailoring establishment on Charles Street, and asked -in his uncertain treble to be measured for a uniform. - -"Want to play soldier, sonny?" demanded a clerk casually. - -Benjamin flushed. "Say! Never mind what I want!" he retorted angrily. -"My name's Button and I live on Mt. Vernon Place, so you know I'm good -for it." - -"Well," admitted the clerk hesitantly, "if you're not, I guess your -daddy is, all right." - -Benjamin was measured, and a week later his uniform was completed. He -had difficulty in obtaining the proper general's insignia because the -dealer kept insisting to Benjamin that a nice V.W.C.A. badge would -look just as well and be much more fun to play with. - -Saying nothing to Roscoe, he left the house one night and proceeded by -train to Camp Mosby, in South Carolina, where he was to command an -infantry brigade. On a sultry April day he approached the entrance to -the camp, paid off the taxicab which had brought him from the station, -and turned to the sentry on guard. - -"Get some one to handle my luggage!" he said briskly. - -The sentry eyed him reproachfully. "Say," he remarked, "where you -goin' with the general's duds, sonny?" - -Benjamin, veteran of the Spanish-American War, whirled upon him with -fire in his eye, but with, alas, a changing treble voice. - -"Come to attention!" he tried to thunder; he paused for breath--then -suddenly he saw the sentry snap his heels together and bring his rifle -to the present. Benjamin concealed a smile of gratification, but when -he glanced around his smile faded. It was not he who had inspired -obedience, but an imposing artillery colonel who was approaching on -horseback. - -"Colonel!" called Benjamin shrilly. - -The colonel came up, drew rein, and looked coolly down at him with a -twinkle in his eyes. "Whose little boy are you?" he demanded kindly. - -"I'll soon darn well show you whose little boy I am!" retorted -Benjamin in a ferocious voice. "Get down off that horse!" - -The colonel roared with laughter. - -"You want him, eh, general?" - -"Here!" cried Benjamin desperately. "Read this." And he thrust his -commission toward the colonel. The colonel read it, his eyes popping -from their sockets. "Where'd you get this?" he demanded, slipping the -document into his own pocket. "I got it from the Government, as you'll -soon find out!" "You come along with me," said the colonel with a -peculiar look. "We'll go up to headquarters and talk this over. Come -along." The colonel turned and began walking his horse in the -direction of headquarters. There was nothing for Benjamin to do but -follow with as much dignity as possible--meanwhile promising himself a -stern revenge. But this revenge did not materialise. Two days later, -however, his son Roscoe materialised from Baltimore, hot and cross -from a hasty trip, and escorted the weeping general, _sans_ -uniform, back to his home. - - -II - -In 1920 Roscoe Button's first child was born. During the attendant -festivities, however, no one thought it "the thing" to mention, that -the little grubby boy, apparently about ten years of age who played -around the house with lead soldiers and a miniature circus, was the -new baby's own grandfather. - -No one disliked the little boy whose fresh, cheerful face was crossed -with just a hint of sadness, but to Roscoe Button his presence was a -source of torment. In the idiom of his generation Roscoe did not -consider the matter "efficient." It seemed to him that his father, in -refusing to look sixty, had not behaved like a "red-blooded -he-man"--this was Roscoe's favourite expression--but in a curious and -perverse manner. Indeed, to think about the matter for as much as a -half an hour drove him to the edge of insanity. Roscoe believed that -"live wires" should keep young, but carrying it out on such a scale -was--was--was inefficient. And there Roscoe rested. - -Five years later Roscoe's little boy had grown old enough to play -childish games with little Benjamin under the supervision of the same -nurse. Roscoe took them both to kindergarten on the same day, and -Benjamin found that playing with little strips of coloured paper, -making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most -fascinating game in the world. Once he was bad and had to stand in the -corner--then he cried--but for the most part there were gay hours in -the cheerful room, with the sunlight coming in the windows and Miss -Bailey's kind hand resting for a moment now and then in his tousled -hair. - -Roscoe's son moved up into the first grade after a year, but Benjamin -stayed on in the kindergarten. He was very happy. Sometimes when other -tots talked about what they would do when they grew up a shadow would -cross his little face as if in a dim, childish way he realised that -those were things in which he was never to share. - -The days flowed on in monotonous content. He went back a third year to -the kindergarten, but he was too little now to understand what the -bright shining strips of paper were for. He cried because the other -boys were bigger than he, and he was afraid of them. The teacher -talked to him, but though he tried to understand he could not -understand at all. - -He was taken from the kindergarten. His nurse, Nana, in her starched -gingham dress, became the centre of his tiny world. On bright days -they walked in the park; Nana would point at a great gray monster and -say "elephant," and Benjamin would say it after her, and when he was -being undressed for bed that night he would say it over and over aloud -to her: "Elyphant, elyphant, elyphant." Sometimes Nana let him jump on -the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right it would -bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said "Ah" for a long time -while you jumped you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect. - -He loved to take a big cane from the hat-rack and go around hitting -chairs and tables with it and saying: "Fight, fight, fight." When -there were people there the old ladies would cluck at him, which -interested him, and the young ladies would try to kiss him, which he -submitted to with mild boredom. And when the long day was done at five -o'clock he would go upstairs with Nana and be fed on oatmeal and nice -soft mushy foods with a spoon. - -There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep; no token -came to him of his brave days at college, of the glittering years when -he flustered the hearts of many girls. There were only the white, safe -walls of his crib and Nana and a man who came to see him sometimes, -and a great big orange ball that Nana pointed at just before his -twilight bed hour and called "sun." When the sun went his eyes were -sleepy--there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him. - -The past--the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the -first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk -down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days -before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old -Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded -like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. -He did not remember. - -He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his -last feeding or how the days passed--there was only his crib and -Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was -hungry he cried--that was all. Through the noons and nights he -breathed and over him there were soft mumblings and murmurings that he -scarcely heard, and faintly differentiated smells, and light and -darkness. - -Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved -above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether -from his mind. - - - - -TARQUIN OF CHEAPSIDE - - -Running footsteps--light, soft-soled shoes made of curious leathery -cloth brought from Ceylon setting the pace; thick flowing boots, two -pairs, dark blue and gilt, reflecting the moonlight in blunt gleams -and splotches, following a stone's throw behind. - -Soft Shoes flashes through a patch of moonlight, then darts into a -blind labyrinth of alleys and becomes only an intermittent scuffle -ahead somewhere in the enfolding darkness. In go Flowing Boots, with -short swords lurching and long plumes awry, finding a breath to curse -God and the black lanes of London. - -Soft Shoes leaps a shadowy gate and crackles through a hedgerow. -Flowing Boots leap the gate and crackles through the hedgerow--and -there, startlingly, is the watch ahead--two murderous pikemen of -ferocious cast of mouth acquired in Holland and the Spanish marches. - -But there is no cry for help. The pursued does not fall panting at the -feet of the watch, clutching a purse; neither do the pursuers raise a -hue and cry. Soft Shoes goes by in a rush of swift air. The watch -curse and hesitate, glance after the fugitive, and then spread their -pikes grimly across the road and wait for Flowing Boots. Darkness, -like a great hand, cuts off the even flow the moon. - -The hand moves off the moon whose pale caress finds again the eaves -and lintels, and the watch, wounded and tumbled in the dust. Up the -street one of Flowing Boots leaves a black trail of spots until he -binds himself, clumsily as he runs, with fine lace caught from his -throat. - -It was no affair for the watch: Satan was at large tonight and Satan -seemed to be he who appeared dimly in front, heel over gate, knee over -fence. Moreover, the adversary was obviously travelling near home or -at least in that section of London consecrated to his coarser whims, -for the street narrowed like a road in a picture and the houses bent -over further and further, cooping in natural ambushes suitable for -murder and its histrionic sister, sudden death. - -Down long and sinuous lanes twisted the hunted and the harriers, -always in and out of the moon in a perpetual queen's move over a -checker-board of glints and patches. Ahead, the quarry, minus his -leather jerkin now and half blinded by drips of sweat, had taken to -scanning his ground desperately on both sides. As a result he suddenly -slowed short, and retracing his steps a bit scooted up an alley so -dark that it seemed that here sun and moon had been in eclipse since -the last glacier slipped roaring over the earth. Two hundred yards -down he stopped and crammed himself into a niche in the wall where he -huddled and panted silently, a grotesque god without bulk or outline -in the gloom. - -Flowing Boots, two pairs, drew near, came up, went by, halted twenty -yards beyond him, and spoke in deep-lunged, scanty whispers: - -"I was attune to that scuffle; it stopped." - -"Within twenty paces." - -"He's hid." - -"Stay together now and we'll cut him up." - -The voice faded into a low crunch of a boot, nor did Soft Shoes wait -to hear more--he sprang in three leaps across the alley, where he -bounded up, flapped for a moment on the top of the wall like a huge -bird, and disappeared, gulped down by the hungry night at a mouthful. - - -II - - "He read at wine, he read in bed, - He read aloud, had he the breath, - His every thought was with the dead, - And so he read himself to death." - -Any visitor to the old James the First graveyard near Peat's Hill may -spell out this bit of doggerel, undoubtedly one of the worst recorded -of an Elizabethan, on the tomb of Wessel Caster. - -This death of his, says the antiquary, occurred when he was -thirty-seven, but as this story is concerned with the night of a -certain chase through darkness, we find him still alive, still -reading. His eyes were somewhat dim, his stomach somewhat obvious-he -was a mis-built man and indolent--oh, Heavens! But an era is an era, -and in the reign of Elizabeth, by the grace of Luther, Queen of -England, no man could help but catch the spirit of enthusiasm. Every -loft in Cheapside published its _Magnum Folium_ (or magazine)--of -its new blank verse; the Cheapside Players would produce anything on -sight as long as it "got away from those reactionary miracle plays," -and the English Bible had run through seven "very large" printings in, -as many months. - -So Wessel Caxter (who in his youth had gone to sea) was now a reader -of all on which he could lay his hands--he read manuscripts In holy -friendship; he dined rotten poets; he loitered about the shops where -the _Magna Folia_ were printed, and he listened tolerantly while -the young playwrights wrangled and bickered among them-selves, and -behind each other's backs made bitter and malicious charges of -plagiarism or anything else they could think of. - -To-night he had a book, a piece of work which, though inordinately -versed, contained, he thought, some rather excellent political satire. -"The Faerie Queene" by Edmund Spenser lay before him under the -tremulous candle-light. He had ploughed through a canto; he was -beginning another: - -THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS OR OF CHASTITY - - _It falls me here to write of Chastity. - The fayrest vertue, far above the rest_.... - -A sudden rush of feet on the stairs, a rusty swing-open of the thin -door, and a man thrust himself into the room, a man without a jerkin, -panting, sobbing, on the verge of collapse. - -"Wessel," words choked him, "stick me away somewhere, love of Our -Lady!" - -Caxter rose, carefully closing his book, and bolted the door in some -concern. - -"I'm pursued," cried out Soft Shoes. "I vow there's two short-witted -blades trying to make me into mincemeat and near succeeding. They saw -me hop the back wall!" - -"It would need," said Wessel, looking at him curiously, "several -battalions armed with blunderbusses, and two or three Armadas, to keep -you reasonably secure from the revenges of the world." - -Soft Shoes smiled with satisfaction. His sobbing gasps were giving way -to quick, precise breathing; his hunted air had faded to a faintly -perturbed irony. - -"I feel little surprise," continued Wessel. - -"They were two such dreary apes." - -"Making a total of three." - -"Only two unless you stick me away. Man, man, come alive, they'll be -on the stairs in a spark's age." - -Wessel took a dismantled pike-staff from the corner, and raising it to -the high ceiling, dislodged a rough trap-door opening into a garret -above. - -"There's no ladder." - -He moved a bench under the trap, upon which Soft Shoes mounted, -crouched, hesitated, crouched again, and then leaped amazingly upward. -He caught at the edge of the aperture and swung back and forth, for a -moment, shifting his hold; finally doubled up and disappeared into the -darkness above. There was a scurry, a migration of rats, as the -trap-door was replaced;... silence. - -Wessel returned to his reading-table, opened to the Legend of -Britomartis or of Chastity--and waited. Almost a minute later there -was a scramble on the stairs and an intolerable hammering at the door. -Wessel sighed and, picking up his candle, rose. - -"Who's there?" - -"Open the door!" - -"Who's there?" - -An aching blow frightened the frail wood, splintered it around the -edge. Wessel opened it a scarce three inches, and held the candle -high. His was to play the timorous, the super-respectable citizen, -disgracefully disturbed. - -"One small hour of the night for rest. Is that too much to ask from -every brawler and---" - -"Quiet, gossip! Have you seen a perspiring fellow?" - -The shadows of two gallants fell in immense wavering outlines over the -narrow stairs; by the light Wessel scrutinized them closely. -Gentlemen, they were, hastily but richly dressed--one of them wounded -severely in the hand, both radiating a sort of furious horror. Waving -aside Wessel's ready miscomprehension, they pushed by him into the -room and with their swords went through the business of poking -carefully into all suspected dark spots in the room, further extending -their search to Wessel's bedchamber. - -"Is he hid here?" demanded the wounded man fiercely. - -"Is who here?" - -"Any man but you." - -"Only two others that I know of." - -For a second Wessel feared that he had been too damned funny, for the -gallants made as though to prick him through. - -"I heard a man on the stairs," he said hastily, "full five minutes -ago, it was. He most certainly failed to come up." - -He went on to explain his absorption in "The Faerie Queene" but, for -the moment at least, his visitors, like the great saints, were -anaesthetic to culture. - -"What's been done?" inquired Wessel. - -"Violence!" said the man with the wounded hand. Wessel noticed that -his eyes were quite wild. "My own sister. Oh, Christ in heaven, give -us this man!" - -Wessel winced. - -"Who is the man?" - -"God's word! We know not even that. What's that trap up there?" he -added suddenly. - -"It's nailed down. It's not been used for years." He thought of the -pole in the corner and quailed in his belly, but the utter despair of -the two men dulled their astuteness. - -"It would take a ladder for any one not a tumbler," said the wounded -man listlessly. - -His companion broke into hysterical laughter. - -"A tumbler. Oh, a tumbler. Oh---" - -Wessel stared at them in wonder. - -"That appeals to my most tragic humor," cried the man, "that no -one--oh, no one--could get up there but a tumbler." - -The gallant with the wounded hand snapped his good fingers -impatiently. - -"We must go next door--and then on--" - -Helplessly they went as two walking under a dark and storm-swept sky. - -Wessel closed and bolted the door and stood a moment by it, frowning -in pity. - -A low-breathed "Ha!" made him look up. Soft Shoes had already raised -the trap and was looking down into the room, his rather elfish face -squeezed into a grimace, half of distaste, half of sardonic amusement. - -"They take off their heads with their helmets," he remarked in a -whisper, "but as for you and me, Wessel, we are two cunning men." - -"Now you be cursed," cried Wessel vehemently. "I knew you for a dog, -but when I hear even the half of a tale like this, I know you for such -a dirty cur that I am minded to club your skull." - -Soft Shoes stared at him, blinking. - -"At all events," he replied finally, "I find dignity impossible in -this position." - -With this he let his body through the trap, hung for an instant, and -dropped the seven feet to the floor. - -"There was a rat considered my ear with the air of a gourmet," he -continued, dusting his hands on his breeches. "I told him in the rat's -peculiar idiom that I was deadly poison, so he took himself off." - -"Let's hear of this night's lechery!" insisted Wessel angrily. - -Soft Shoes touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled the fingers -derisively at Wessel. - -"Street gamin!" muttered Wessel. - -"Have you any paper?" demanded Soft Shoes irrelevantly, and then -rudely added, "or can you write?" - -"Why should I give you paper?" - -"You wanted to hear of the night's entertainment. So you shall, an you -give me pen, ink, a sheaf of paper, and a room to myself." - -Wessel hesitated. - -"Get out!" he said finally. - -"As you will. Yet you have missed a most intriguing story." - -Wessel wavered--he was soft as taffy, that man--gave in. Soft Shoes -went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and -precisely closed the door. Wessel grunted and returned to "The Faerie -Queene"; so silence came once more upon the house. - - -III - -Three o'clock went into four. The room paled, the dark outside was -shot through with damp and chill, and Wessel, cupping his brain in his -hands, bent low over his table, tracing through the pattern of knights -and fairies and the harrowing distresses of many girls. There were -dragons chortling along the narrow street outside; when the sleepy -armorer's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clink and -clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching -cavalcade. - -A fog shut down at the first flare of dawn, and the room was grayish -yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and -pulled open the door. His guest turned on him a face pale as parchment -in which two distraught eyes burned like great red letters. He had -drawn a chair close to Wessel's _prie-dieu_ which he was using as -a desk; and on it was an amazing stack of closely written pages. With -a long sigh Wessel withdrew and returned to his siren, calling himself -fool for not claiming his bed here at dawn. - -The dump of boots outside, the croaking of old beldames from attic to -attic, the dull murmur of morning, unnerved him, and, dozing, he -slumped in his chair, his brain, overladen with sound and color, -working intolerably over the imagery that stacked it. In this restless -dream of his he was one of a thousand groaning bodies crushed near the -sun, a helpless bridge for the strong-eyed Apollo. The dream tore at -him, scraped along his mind like a ragged knife. When a hot hand -touched his shoulder, he awoke with what was nearly a scream to find -the fog thick in the room and his guest, a gray ghost of misty stuff, -beside him with a pile of paper in his hand. - -"It should be a most intriguing tale, I believe, though it requires -some going over. May I ask you to lock it away, and in God's name let -me sleep?" - -He waited for no answer, but thrust the pile at Wessel, and literally -poured himself like stuff from a suddenly inverted bottle upon a couch -in the corner, slept, with his breathing regular, but his brow -wrinkled in a curious and somewhat uncanny manner. - -Wessel yawned sleepily and, glancing at the scrawled, uncertain first -page, he began reading aloud very softly: - - _The Rape of Lucrece - - "From the besieged Ardea all in post, - Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, - Lust-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman host--"_ - - - - - -"O RUSSET WITCH!" - - -Merlin Grainger was employed by the Moonlight Quill Bookshop, which -you may have visited, just around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton on -Forty-seventh Street. The Moonlight Quill is, or rather was, a very -romantic little store, considered radical and admitted dark. It was -spotted interiorly with red and orange posters of breathless exotic -intent, and lit no less by the shiny reflecting bindings of special -editions than by the great squat lamp of crimson satin that, lighted -through all the day, swung overhead. It was truly a mellow bookshop. -The words "Moonlight Quill" were worked over the door in a sort of -serpentine embroidery. The windows seemed always full of something -that had passed the literary censors with little to spare; volumes -with covers of deep orange which offer their titles on little white -paper squares. And over all there was the smell of the musk, which the -clever, inscrutable Mr. Moonlight Quill ordered to be sprinkled -about-the smell half of a curiosity shop in Dickens' London and half -of a coffee-house on the warm shores of the Bosphorus. - -From nine until five-thirty Merlin Grainger asked bored old ladies in -black and young men with dark circles under their eyes if they "cared -for this fellow" or were interested in first editions. Did they buy -novels with Arabs on the cover, or books which gave Shakespeare's -newest sonnets as dictated psychically to Miss Sutton of South Dakota? -he sniffed. As a matter of fact, his own taste ran to these latter, -but as an employee at the Moonlight Quill he assumed for the working -day the attitude of a disillusioned connoisseur. - -After he had crawled over the window display to pull down the front -shade at five-thirty every afternoon, and said good-bye to the -mysterious Mr. Moonlight Quill and the lady clerk, Miss McCracken, and -the lady stenographer, Miss Masters, he went home to the girl, -Caroline. He did not eat supper with Caroline. It is unbelievable that -Caroline would have considered eating off his bureau with the collar -buttons dangerously near the cottage cheese, and the ends of Merlin's -necktie just missing his glass of milk--he had never asked her to eat -with him. He ate alone. He went into Braegdort's delicatessen on Sixth -Avenue and bought a box of crackers, a tube of anchovy paste, and some -oranges, or else a little jar of sausages and some potato salad and a -bottled soft drink, and with these in a brown package he went to his -room at Fifty-something West Fifty-eighth Street and ate his supper -and saw Caroline. - -Caroline was a very young and gay person who lived with some older -lady and was possibly nineteen. She was like a ghost in that she never -existed until evening. She sprang into life when the lights went on in -her apartment at about six, and she disappeared, at the latest, about -midnight. Her apartment was a nice one, in a nice building with a -white stone front, opposite the south side of Central Park. The back -of her apartment faced the single window of the single room occupied -by the single Mr. Grainger. - -He called her Caroline because there was a picture that looked like -her on the jacket of a book of that name down at the Moonlight Quill. - -Now, Merlin Grainger was a thin young man of twenty-five, with dark -hair and no mustache or beard or anything like that, but Caroline was -dazzling and light, with a shimmering morass of russet waves to take -the place of hair, and the sort of features that remind you of -kisses--the sort of features you thought belonged to your first love, -but know, when you come across an old picture, didn't. She dressed in -pink or blue usually, but of late she had sometimes put on a slender -black gown that was evidently her especial pride, for whenever she -wore it she would stand regarding a certain place on the wall, which -Merlin thought most be a mirror. She sat usually in the profile chair -near the window, but sometimes honored the _chaise longue_ by the -lamp, and often she leaned 'way back and smoked a cigarette with -posturings of her arms and hands that Merlin considered very graceful. - -At another time she had come to the window and stood in it -magnificently, and looked out because the moon had lost its way and -was dripping the strangest and most transforming brilliance into the -areaway between, turning the motif of ash-cans and clothes-lines into -a vivid impressionism of silver casks and gigantic gossamer cobwebs. -Merlin was sitting in plain sight, eating cottage cheese with sugar -and milk on it; and so quickly did he reach out for the window cord -that he tipped the cottage cheese into his lap with his free hand--and -the milk was cold and the sugar made spots on his trousers, and he was -sure that she had seen him after all. - -Sometimes there were callers--men in dinner coats, who stood and -bowed, hat in hand and coat on arm, as they talked to Caroline; then -bowed some more and followed her out of the light, obviously bound for -a play or for a dance. Other young men came and sat and smoked -cigarettes, and seemed trying to tell Caroline something--she sitting -either in the profile chair and watching them with eager intentness or -else in the _chaise longue_ by the lamp, looking very lovely and -youthfully inscrutable indeed. - -Merlin enjoyed these calls. Of some of the men he approved. Others won -only his grudging toleration, one or two he loathed--especially the -most frequent caller, a man with black hair and a black goatee and a -pitch-dark soul, who seemed to Merlin vaguely familiar, but whom he -was never quite able to recognize. - -Now, Merlin's whole life was not "bound up with this romance he had -constructed"; it was not "the happiest hour of his day." He never -arrived in time to rescue Caroline from "clutches"; nor did he even -marry her. A much stranger thing happened than any of these, and it is -this strange thing that will presently be set down here. It began one -October afternoon when she walked briskly into the mellow interior of -the Moonlight Quill. - -It was a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, -and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York -afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, whisking -along battered newspapers and pieces of things, and little lights were -pricking out all the windows--it was so desolate that one was sorry -for the tops of sky-scrapers lost up there in the dark green and gray -heaven, and felt that now surely the farce was to close, and presently -all the buildings would collapse like card houses, and pile up in a -dusty, sardonic heap upon all the millions who presumed to wind in and -out of them. - -At least these were the sort of musings that lay heavily upon the soul -of Merlin Grainger, as he stood by the window putting a dozen books -back in a row after a cyclonic visit by a lady with ermine trimmings. -He looked out of the window full of the most distressing thoughts--of -the early novels of H. G. Wells, of the boot of Genesis, of how Thomas -Edison had said that in thirty years there would be no dwelling-houses -upon the island, but only a vast and turbulent bazaar; and then he set -the last book right side up, turned--and Caroline walked coolly into -the shop. - -She was dressed in a jaunty but conventional walking costume--he -remembered this when he thought about it later. Her skirt was plaid, -pleated like a concertina; her jacket was a soft but brisk tan; her -shoes and spats were brown and her hat, small and trim, completed her -like the top of a very expensive and beautifully filled candy box. - -Merlin, breathless and startled, advanced nervously toward her. - -"Good-afternoon--" he said, and then stopped--why, he did not know, -except that it came to him that something very portentous in his life -was about to occur, and that it would need no furbishing but silence, -and the proper amount of expectant attention. And in that minute -before the thing began to happen he had the sense of a breathless -second hanging suspended in time: he saw through the glass partition -that bounded off the little office the malevolent conical head of his -employer, Mr. Moonlight Quill, bent over his correspondence. He saw -Miss McCracken and Miss Masters as two patches of hair drooping over -piles of paper; he saw the crimson lamp overhead, and noticed with a -touch of pleasure how really pleasant and romantic it made the -book-store seem. - -Then the thing happened, or rather it began to happen. Caroline picked -up a volume of poems lying loose upon a pile, fingered it absently -with her slender white hand, and suddenly, with an easy gesture, -tossed it upward toward the ceiling where it disappeared in the -crimson lamp and lodged there, seen through the illuminated silk as a -dark, bulging rectangle. This pleased her--she broke into young, -contagious laughter, in which Merlin found himself presently joining. - -"It stayed up!" she cried merrily. "It stayed up, didn't it?" To both -of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity. Their laughter -mingled, filled the bookshop, and Merlin was glad to find that her -voice was rich and full of sorcery. - -"Try another," he found himself suggesting--"try a red one." - -At this her laughter increased, and she had to rest her hands upon the -stack to steady herself. - -"Try another," she managed to articulate between spasms of mirth. "Oh, -golly, try another!" - -"Try two." - -"Yes, try two. Oh, I'll choke if I don't stop laughing. Here it goes." - -Suiting her action to the word, she picked up a red book and sent it -in a gentle hyperbola toward the ceiling, where it sank into the lamp -beside the first. It was a few minutes before either of them could do -more than rock back and forth in helpless glee; but then by mutual -agreement they took up the sport anew, this time in unison. Merlin -seized a large, specially bound French classic and whirled it upward. -Applauding his own accuracy, he took a best-seller in one hand and a -book on barnacles in the other, and waited breathlessly while she made -her shot. Then the business waxed fast and furious--sometimes they -alternated, and, watching, he found how supple she was in every -movement; sometimes one of them made shot after shot, picking up the -nearest book, sending it off, merely taking time to follow it with a -glance before reaching for another. Within three minutes they had -cleared a little place on the table, and the lamp of crimson satin was -so bulging with books that it was near breaking. - -"Silly game, basket-ball," she cried scornfully as a book left her -hand. "High-school girls play it in hideous bloomers." - -"Idiotic," he agreed. - -She paused in the act of tossing a book, and replaced it suddenly in -its position on the table. - -"I think we've got room to sit down now," she said gravely. - -They had; they had cleared an ample space for two. With a faint touch -of nervousness Merlin glanced toward Mr. Moonlight Quill's glass -partition, but the three heads were still bent earnestly over their -work, and it was evident that they had not seen what had gone on in -the shop. So when Caroline put her hands on the table and hoisted -herself up Merlin calmly imitated her, and they sat side by side -looking very earnestly at each other. - -"I had to see you," she began, with a rather pathetic expression in -her brown eyes. - -"I know." - -"It was that last time," she continued, her voice trembling a little, -though she tried to keep it steady. "I was frightened. I don't like -you to eat off the dresser. I'm so afraid you'll--you'll swallow a -collar button." - -"I did once--almost," he confessed reluctantly, "but it's not so easy, -you know. I mean you can swallow the flat part easy enough or else the -other part--that is, separately--but for a whole collar button you'd -have to have a specially made throat." He was astonishing himself by -the debonnaire appropriateness of his remarks. Words seemed for the -first time in his life to ran at him shrieking to be used, gathering -themselves into carefully arranged squads and platoons, and being -presented to him by punctilious adjutants of paragraphs. - -"That's what scared me," she said. "I knew you had to have a specially -made throat--and I knew, at least I felt sure, that you didn't have -one." - -He nodded frankly. - -"I haven't. It costs money to have one--more money unfortunately than -I possess." - -He felt no shame in saying this--rather a delight in making the -admission--he knew that nothing he could say or do would be beyond her -comprehension; least of all his poverty, and the practical -impossibility of ever extricating himself from it. - -Caroline looked down at her wrist watch, and with a little cry slid -from the table to her feet. - -"It's after five," she cried. "I didn't realize. I have to be at the -Ritz at five-thirty. Let's hurry and get this done. I've got a bet on -it." - -With one accord they set to work. Caroline began the matter by seizing -a book on insects and sending it whizzing, and finally crashing -through the glass partition that housed Mr. Moonlight Quill. The -proprietor glanced up with a wild look, brushed a few pieces of glass -from his desk, and went on with his letters. Miss McCracken gave no -sign of having heard--only Miss Masters started and gave a little -frightened scream before she bent to her task again. - -But to Merlin and Caroline it didn't matter. In a perfect orgy of -energy they were hurling book after book in all directions until -sometimes three or four were in the air at once, smashing against -shelves, cracking the glass of pictures on the walls, falling in -bruised and torn heaps upon the floor. It was fortunate that no -customers happened to come in, for it is certain they would never have -come in again--the noise was too tremendous, a noise of smashing and -ripping and tearing, mixed now and then with the tinkling of glass, -the quick breathing of the two throwers, and the intermittent -outbursts of laughter to which both of them periodically surrendered. - -At five-thirty Caroline tossed a last book at the lamp, and gave the -final impetus to the load it carried. The weakened silk tore and -dropped its cargo in one vast splattering of white and color to the -already littered floor. Then with a sigh of relief she turned to -Merlin and held out her hand. - -"Good-by," she said simply. - -"Are you going?" He knew she was. His question was simply a lingering -wile to detain her and extract for another moment that dazzling -essence of light he drew from her presence, to continue his enormous -satisfaction in her features, which were like kisses and, he thought, -like the features of a girl he had known back in 1910. For a minute he -pressed the softness of her hand--then she smiled and withdrew it and, -before he could spring to open the door, she had done it herself and -was gone out into the turbid and ominous twilight that brooded -narrowly over Forty-seventh Street. - -I would like to tell you how Merlin, having seen how beauty regards -the wisdom of the years, walked into the little partition of Mr. -Moonlight Quill and gave up his job then and there; thence issuing out -into the street a much finer and nobler and increasingly ironic man. -But the truth is much more commonplace. Merlin Grainger stood up and -surveyed the wreck of the bookshop, the ruined volumes, the torn silk -remnants of the once beautiful crimson lamp, the crystalline -sprinkling of broken glass which lay in iridescent dust over the whole -interior--and then he went to a corner where a broom was kept and -began cleaning up and rearranging and, as far as he was able, -restoring the shop to its former condition. He found that, though some -few of the books were uninjured, most of them had suffered in varying -extents. The backs were off some, the pages were torn from others, -still others were just slightly cracked in the front, which, as all -careless book returners know, makes a book unsalable, and therefore -second-hand. - -Nevertheless by six o'clock he had done much to repair the damage. He -had returned the books to their original places, swept the floor, and -put new lights in the sockets overhead. The red shade itself was -ruined beyond redemption, and Merlin thought in some trepidation that -the money to replace it might have to come out of his salary. At six, -therefore, having done the best he could, he crawled over the front -window display to pull down the blind. As he was treading delicately -back, he saw Mr. Moonlight Quill rise from his desk, put on his -overcoat and hat, and emerge into the shop. He nodded mysteriously at -Merlin and went toward the door. With his hand on the knob he paused, -turned around, and in a voice curiously compounded of ferocity and -uncertainty, he said: - -"If that girl comes in here again, you tell her to behave." - -With that he opened the door, drowning Merlin's meek "Yessir" in its -creak, and went out. - -Merlin stood there for a moment, deciding wisely not to worry about -what was for the present only a possible futurity, and then he went -into the back of the shop and invited Miss Masters to have supper with -him at Pulpat's French Restaurant, where one could still obtain red -wine at dinner, despite the Great Federal Government. Miss Masters -accepted. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly," she said. - -Merlin laughed inwardly as he compared her to Caroline, or rather as -he didn't compare her. There was no comparison. - - -II - -Mr. Moonlight Quill, mysterious, exotic, and oriental in temperament -was, nevertheless, a man of decision. And it was with decision that he -approached the problem of his wrecked shop. Unless he should make an -outlay equal to the original cost of his entire stock--a step which -for certain private reasons he did not wish to take--it would be -impossible for him to continue in business with the Moonlight Quill as -before. There was but one thing to do. He promptly turned his -establishment from an up-to-the-minute book-store into a second-hand -bookshop. The damaged books were marked down from twenty-five to fifty -per cent, the name over the door whose serpentine embroidery had once -shone so insolently bright, was allowed to grow dim and take on the -indescribably vague color of old paint, and, having a strong penchant -for ceremonial, the proprietor even went so far as to buy two -skull-caps of shoddy red felt, one for himself and one for his clerk, -Merlin Grainger. Moreover, he let his goatee grow until it resembled -the tail-feathers of an ancient sparrow and substituted for a once -dapper business suit a reverence-inspiring affair of shiny alpaca. - -In fact, within a year after Caroline's catastrophic visit to the -bookshop the only thing in it that preserved any semblance of being up -to date was Miss Masters. Miss McCracken had followed in the footsteps -of Mr. Moonlight Quill and become an intolerable dowd. - -For Merlin too, from a feeling compounded of loyalty and listlessness, -had let his exterior take on the semblance of a deserted garden. He -accepted the red felt skull-cap as a symbol of his decay. Always a -young man known, as a "pusher," he had been, since the day of his -graduation from the manual training department of a New York High -School, an inveterate brusher of clothes, hair, teeth, and even -eyebrows, and had learned the value of laying all his clean socks toe -upon toe and heel upon heel in a certain drawer of his bureau, which -would be known as the sock drawer. - -These things, he felt, had won him his place in the greatest splendor -of the Moonlight Quill. It was due to them that he was not still -making "chests useful for keeping things," as he was taught with -breathless practicality in High School, and selling them to whoever -had use of such chests--possibly undertakers. Nevertheless when the -progressive Moonlight Quill became the retrogressive Moonlight Quill -he preferred to sink with it, and so took to letting his suits gather -undisturbed the wispy burdens of the air and to throwing his socks -indiscriminately into the shirt drawer, the underwear drawer, and even -into no drawer at all. It was not uncommon in his new carelessness to -let many of his clean clothes go directly back to the laundry without -having ever been worn, a common eccentricity of impoverished -bachelors. And this in the face of his favorite magazines, which at -that time were fairly staggering with articles by successful authors -against the frightful impudence of the condemned poor, such as the -buying of wearable shirts and nice cuts of meat, and the fact that -they preferred good investments in personal jewelry to respectable -ones in four per cent saving-banks. - -It was indeed a strange state of affairs and a sorry one for many -worthy and God-fearing men. For the first time in the history of the -Republic almost any negro north of Georgia could change a one-dollar -bill. But as at that time the cent was rapidly approaching the -purchasing power of the Chinese ubu and was only a thing you got back -occasionally after paying for a soft drink, and could use merely in -getting your correct weight, this was perhaps not so strange a -phenomenon as it at first seems. It was too curious a state of things, -however, for Merlin Grainger to take the step that he did take--the -hazardous, almost involuntary step of proposing to Miss Masters. -Stranger still that she accepted him, - -It was at Pulpat's on Saturday night and over a $1.75 bottle of water -diluted with _vin ordinaire_ that the proposal occurred. - -"Wine makes me feel all tingly, doesn't it you?" chattered Miss -Masters gaily. - -"Yes," answered Merlin absently; and then, after a long and pregnant -pause: "Miss Masters--Olive--I want to say something to you if you'll -listen to me." - -The tingliness of Miss Masters (who knew what was coming) increased -until it seemed that she would shortly be electrocuted by her own -nervous reactions. But her "Yes, Merlin," came without a sign or -flicker of interior disturbance. Merlin swallowed a stray bit of air -that he found in his mouth. - -"I have no fortune," he said with the manner of making an -announcement. "I have no fortune at all." - -Their eyes met, locked, became wistful, and dreamy and beautiful. - -"Olive," he told her, "I love you." - -"I love you too, Merlin," she answered simply. "Shall we have another -bottle of wine?" - -"Yes," he cried, his heart beating at a great rate. "Do you mean--" - -"To drink to our engagement," she interrupted bravely. "May it be a -short one!" - -"No!" he almost shouted, bringing his fist fiercely down upon the -table. "May it last forever!" - -"What?" - -"I mean--oh, I see what you mean. You're right. May it be a short -one." He laughed and added, "My error." - -After the wine arrived they discussed the matter thoroughly. - -"We'll have to take a small apartment at first," he said, "and I -believe, yes, by golly, I know there's a small one in the house where -I live, a big room and a sort of a dressing-room-kitchenette and the -use of a bath on the same floor." - -She clapped her hands happily, and he thought how pretty she was -really, that is, the upper part of her face--from the bridge of the -nose down she was somewhat out of true. She continued enthusiastically: - -"And as soon as we can afford it we'll take a real swell apartment, -with an elevator and a telephone girl." - -"And after that a place in the country--and a car." - -"I can't imagine nothing more fun. Can you?" - -Merlin fell silent a moment. He was thinking that he would have to -give up his room, the fourth floor rear. Yet it mattered very little -now. During the past year and a half--in fact, from the very date of -Caroline's visit to the Moonlight Quill--he had never seen her. For a -week after that visit her lights had failed to go on--darkness brooded -out into the areaway, seemed to grope blindly in at his expectant, -uncurtained window. Then the lights had appeared at last, and instead -of Caroline and her callers they stowed a stodgy family--a little man -with a bristly mustache and a full-bosomed woman who spent her -evenings patting her hips and rearranging bric-à-brac. After two days -of them Merlin had callously pulled down his shade. - -No, Merlin could think of nothing more fun than rising in the world -with Olive. There would be a cottage in a suburb, a cottage painted -blue, just one class below the sort of cottages that are of white -stucco with a green roof. In the grass around the cottage would be -rusty trowels and a broken green bench and a baby-carriage with a -wicker body that sagged to the left. And around the grass and the -baby-carriage and the cottage itself, around his whole world there -would be the arms of Olive, a little stouter, the arms of her -neo-Olivian period, when, as she walked, her cheeks would tremble up -and down ever so slightly from too much face-massaging. He could hear -her voice now, two spoons' length away: - -"I knew you were going to say this to-night, Merlin. I could see--" - -She could see. Ah--suddenly he wondered how much she could see. Could -she see that the girl who had come in with a party of three men and -sat down at the next table was Caroline? Ah, could she see that? Could -she see that the men brought with them liquor far more potent than -Pulpat's red ink condensed threefold?... - -Merlin stared breathlessly, half-hearing through an auditory ether -Olive's low, soft monologue, as like a persistent honey-bee she sucked -sweetness from her memorable hour. Merlin was listening to the -clinking of ice and the fine laughter of all four at some -pleasantry--and that laughter of Caroline's that he knew so well -stirred him, lifted him, called his heart imperiously over to her -table, whither it obediently went. He could see her quite plainly, and -he fancied that in the last year and a half she had changed, if ever -so slightly. Was it the light or were her cheeks a little thinner and -her eyes less fresh, if more liquid, than of old? Yet the shadows were -still purple in her russet hair; her mouth hinted yet of kisses, as -did the profile that came sometimes between his eyes and a row of -books, when it was twilight in the bookshop where the crimson lamp -presided no more. - -And she had been drinking. The threefold flush in her cheeks was -compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic--that he could tell. -She was making great amusement for the young man on her left and the -portly person on her right, and even for the old fellow opposite her, -for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly -reproachful cackles of another generation. Merlin caught the words of -a song she was intermittently singing-- - - _"Just snap your fingers at care, - Don't cross the bridge 'til you're there--"_ - -The portly person filled her glass with chill amber. A waiter after -several trips about the table, and many helpless glances at Caroline, -who was maintaining a cheerful, futile questionnaire as to the -succulence of this dish or that, managed to obtain the semblance of an -order and hurried away.... - -Olive was speaking to Merlin-- - -"When, then?" she asked, her voice faintly shaded with disappointment. -He realized that he had just answered no to some question she had -asked him. - -"Oh, sometime." - -"Don't you--care?" - -A rather pathetic poignancy in her question brought his eyes back to -her. - -"As soon as possible, dear," he replied with surprising tenderness. -"In two months--in June." - -"So soon?" Her delightful excitement quite took her breath away. - -"Oh, yes, I think we'd better say June. No use waiting." - -Olive began to pretend that two months was really too short a time for -her to make preparations. Wasn't he a bad boy! Wasn't he impatient, -though! Well, she'd show him he mustn't be too quick with _her_. -Indeed he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to -marry him at all. - -"June," he repeated sternly. - -Olive sighed and smiled and drank her coffee, her little finger lifted -high above the others in true refined fashion. A stray thought came to -Merlin that he would like to buy five rings and throw at it. - -"By gosh!" he exclaimed aloud. Soon he _would_ be putting rings -on one of her fingers. - -His eyes swung sharply to the right. The party of four had become so -riotous that the head-waiter had approached and spoken to them. -Caroline was arguing with this head-waiter in a raised voice, a voice -so clear and young that it seemed as though the whole restaurant would -listen--the whole restaurant except Olive Masters, self-absorbed in -her new secret. - -"How do you do?" Caroline was saying. "Probably the handsomest -head-waiter in captivity. Too much noise? Very unfortunate. -Something'll have to be done about it. Gerald"--she addressed the man -on her right--"the head-waiter says there's too much noise. Appeals to -us to have it stopped. What'll I say?" - -"Sh!" remonstrated Gerald, with laughter. "Sh!" and Merlin heard him -add in an undertone: "All the bourgeoisie will be aroused. This is -where the floorwalkers learn French." - -Caroline sat up straight in sudden alertness. - -"Where's a floorwalker?" she cried. "Show me a floorwalker." This -seemed to amuse the party, for they all, including Caroline, burst -into renewed laughter. The head-waiter, after a last conscientious but -despairing admonition, became Gallic with his shoulders and retired -into the background. - -Pulpat's, as every one knows, has the unvarying respectability of the -table d'hôte. It is not a gay place in the conventional sense. One -comes, drinks the red wine, talks perhaps a little more and a little -louder than usual under the low, smoky ceilings, and then goes home. -It closes up at nine-thirty, tight as a drum; the policeman is paid -off and given an extra bottle of wine for the missis, the coat-room -girl hands her tips to the collector, and then darkness crushes the -little round tables out of sight and life. But excitement was prepared -for Pulpat's this evening--excitement of no mean variety. A girl with -russet, purple-shadowed hair mounted to her table-top and began to -dance thereon. - -"_Sacré nom de Dieu!_ Come down off there!" cried the -head-waiter. "Stop that music!" - -But the musicians were already playing so loud that they could pretend -not to hear his order; having once been young, they played louder and -gayer than ever, and Caroline danced with grace and vivacity, her -pink, filmy dress swirling about her, her agile arms playing in -supple, tenuous gestures along the smoky air. - -A group of Frenchmen at a table near by broke into cries of applause, -in which other parties joined--in a moment the room was full of -clapping and shouting; half the diners were on their feet, crowding -up, and on the outskirts the hastily summoned proprietor was giving -indistinct vocal evidences of his desire to put an end to this thing -as quickly as possible. - -"... Merlin!" cried Olive, awake, aroused at last; "she's such a -wicked girl! Let's get out--now!" - -The fascinated Merlin protested feebly that the check was not paid. - -"It's all right. Lay five dollars on the table. I despise that girl. I -can't _bear_ to look at her." She was on her feet now, tagging at -Merlin's arm. - -Helplessly, listlessly, and then with what amounted to downright -unwillingness, Merlin rose, followed Olive dumbly as she picked her -way through the delirious clamor, now approaching its height and -threatening to become a wild and memorable riot. Submissively he took -his coat and stumbled up half a dozen steps into the moist April air -outside, his ears still ringing with the sound of light feet on the -table and of laughter all about and over the little world of the cafe. -In silence they walked along toward Fifth Avenue and a bus, - -It was not until next day that she told him about the wedding--how she -had moved the date forward: it was much better that they should be -married on the first of May. - - -III - -And married they were, in a somewhat stuffy manner, under the -chandelier of the flat where Olive lived with her mother. After -marriage came elation, and then, gradually, the growth of weariness. -Responsibility descended upon Merlin, the responsibility of making his -thirty dollars a week and her twenty suffice to keep them respectably -fat and to hide with decent garments the evidence that they were. - -It was decided after several weeks of disastrous and well-nigh -humiliating experiments with restaurants that they would join the -great army of the delicatessen-fed, so he took up his old way of life -again, in that he stopped every evening at Braegdort's delicatessen -and bought potatoes in salad, ham in slices, and sometimes even -stuffed tomatoes in bursts of extravagance. - -Then he would trudge homeward, enter the dark hallway, and climb three -rickety flights of stairs covered by an ancient carpet of long -obliterated design. The hall had an ancient smell--of the vegetables -of 1880, of the furniture polish in vogue when "Adam-and Eve" Bryan -ran against William McKinley, of portieres an ounce heavier with dust, -from worn-out shoes, and lint from dresses turned long since into -patch-work quilts. This smell would pursue him up the stairs, -revivified and made poignant at each landing by the aura of -contemporary cooking, then, as he began the next flight, diminishing -into the odor of the dead routine of dead generations. - -Eventually would occur the door of his room, which slipped open with -indecent willingness and closed with almost a sniff upon his "Hello, -dear! Got a treat for you to-night." - -Olive, who always rode home on the bus to "get a morsel of air," would -be making the bed and hanging up things. At his call she would come up -to him and give him a quick kiss with wide-open eyes, while be held -her upright like a ladder, his hands on her two arms, as though she -were a thing without equilibrium, and would, once he relinquished -hold, fall stiffly backward to the floor. This is the kiss that comes -in with the second year of marriage, succeeding the bridegroom kiss -(which is rather stagey at best, say those who know about such things, -and apt to be copied from passionate movies). - -Then came supper, and after that they went out for a walk, up two -blocks and through Central Park, or sometimes to a moving picture, -which taught them patiently that they were the sort of people for whom -life was ordered, and that something very grand and brave and -beautiful would soon happen to them if they were docile and obedient -to their rightful superiors and kept away from pleasure. - -Such was their day for three years. Then change came into their lives: -Olive had a baby, and as a result Merlin had a new influx of material -resources. In the third week of Olive's confinement, after an hour of -nervous rehearsing, he went into the office of Mr. Moonlight Quill and -demanded an enormous increase in salary. - -"I've been here ten years," he said; "since I was nineteen. I've -always tried to do my best in the interests of the business." - -Mr. Moonlight Quill said that he would think it over. Next morning he -announced, to Merlin's great delight, that he was going to put into -effect a project long premeditated--he was going to retire from active -work in the bookshop, confining himself to periodic visits and leaving -Merlin as manager with a salary of fifty dollars a week and a -one-tenth interest in the business. When the old man finished, -Merlin's cheeks were glowing and his eyes full of tears. He seized his -employer's hand and shook it violently, saying over and over again: - -"It's very nice of you, sir. It's very white of you. It's very, very -nice of you." - -So after ten years of faithful work in the store he had won out at -last. Looking back, he saw his own progress toward this hill of -elation no longer as a sometimes sordid and always gray decade of -worry and failing enthusiasm and failing dreams, years when the -moonlight had grown duller in the areaway and the youth had faded out -of Olive's face, but as a glorious and triumphant climb over obstacles -which he had determinedly surmounted by unconquerable will-power. The -optimistic self-delusion that had kept him from misery was seen now in -the golden garments of stern resolution. Half a dozen times he had -taken steps to leave the Moonlight Quill and soar upward, but through -sheer faintheartedness he had stayed on. Strangely enough he now -thought that those were times when he had exerted tremendous -persistence and had "determined" to fight it out where he was. - -At any rate, let us not for this moment begrudge Merlin his new and -magnificent view of himself. He had arrived. At thirty he had reached -a post of importance. He left the shop that evening fairly radiant, -invested every penny in his pocket in the most tremendous feast that -Braegdort's delicatessen offered, and staggered homeward with the -great news and four gigantic paper bags. The fact that Olive was too -sick to eat, that he made himself faintly but unmistakably ill by a -struggle with four stuffed tomatoes, and that most of the food -deteriorated rapidly in an iceless ice-box: all next day did not mar -the occasion. For the first time since the week of his marriage Merlin -Grainger lived under a sky of unclouded tranquillity. - -The baby boy was christened Arthur, and life became dignified, -significant, and, at length, centered. Merlin and Olive resigned -themselves to a somewhat secondary place in their own cosmos; but what -they lost in personality they regained in a sort of primordial pride. -The country house did not come, but a month in an Asbury Park -boarding-house each summer filled the gap; and during Merlin's two -weeks' holiday this excursion assumed the air of a really merry -jaunt--especially when, with the baby asleep in a wide room opening -technically on the sea, Merlin strolled with Olive along the thronged -board-walk puffing at his cigar and trying to look like twenty -thousand a year. - -With some alarm at the slowing up of the days and the accelerating of -the years, Merlin became thirty-one, thirty-two--then almost with a -rush arrived at that age which, with all its washing and panning, can -only muster a bare handful of the precious stuff of youth: he became -thirty-five. And one day on Fifth Avenue he saw Caroline. - -It was Sunday, a radiant, flowerful Easter morning and the avenue was -a pageant of lilies and cutaways and happy April-colored bonnets. -Twelve o'clock: the great churches were letting out their people--St. -Simon's, St. Hilda's, the Church of the Epistles, opened their doors -like wide mouths until the people pouring forth surely resembled happy -laughter as they met and strolled and chattered, or else waved white -bouquets at waiting chauffeurs. - -In front of the Church of the Epistles stood its twelve vestrymen, -carrying out the time-honored custom of giving away Easter eggs full -of face-powder to the church-going debutantes of the year. Around them -delightedly danced the two thousand miraculously groomed children of -the very rich, correctly cute and curled, shining like sparkling -little jewels upon their mothers' fingers. Speaks the sentimentalist -for the children of the poor? Ah, but the children of the rich, -laundered, sweet-smelling, complexioned of the country, and, above -all, with soft, in-door voices. - -Little Arthur was five, child of the middle class. Undistinguished, -unnoticed, with a nose that forever marred what Grecian yearnings his -features might have had, he held tightly to his mother's warm, sticky -hand, and, with Merlin on his other side, moved, upon the home-coming -throng. At Fifty-third Street, where there were two churches, the -congestion was at its thickest, its richest. Their progress was of -necessity retarded to such an extent that even little Arthur had not -the slightest difficulty in keeping up. Then it was that Merlin -perceived an open landaulet of deepest crimson, with handsome nickel -trimmings, glide slowly up to the curb and come to a stop. In it sat -Caroline. - -She was dressed in black, a tight-fitting gown trimmed with lavender, -flowered at the waist with a corsage of orchids. Merlin started and -then gazed at her fearfully. For the first time in the eight years -since his marriage he was encountering the girl again. But a girl no -longer. Her figure was slim as ever--or perhaps not quite, for a -certain boyish swagger, a sort of insolent adolescence, had gone the -way of the first blooming of her cheeks. But she was beautiful; -dignity was there now, and the charming lines of a fortuitous -nine-and-twenty; and she sat in the car with such perfect -appropriateness and self-possession that it made him breathless to -watch her. - -Suddenly she smiled--the smile of old, bright as that very Easter and -its flowers, mellower than ever--yet somehow with not quite the -radiance and infinite promise of that first smile back there in the -bookshop nine years before. It was a steelier smile, disillusioned and -sad. - -But it was soft enough and smile enough to make a pair of young men in -cutaway coats hurry over, to pull their high hats off their wetted, -iridescent hair; to bring them, flustered and bowing, to the edge of -her landaulet, where her lavender gloves gently touched their gray -ones. And these two were presently joined by another, and then two -more, until there was a rapidly swelling crowd around the landaulet. -Merlin would hear a young man beside him say to his perhaps -well-favored companion: - -"If you'll just pardon me a moment, there's some one I _have_ to -speak to. Walk right ahead. I'll catch up." - -Within three minutes every inch of the landaulet, front, back, and -side, was occupied by a man--a man trying to construct a sentence -clever enough to find its way to Caroline through the stream of -conversation. Luckily for Merlin a portion of little Arthur's clothing -had chosen the opportunity to threaten a collapse, and Olive had -hurriedly rushed him over against a building for some extemporaneous -repair work, so Merlin was able to watch, unhindered, the salon in the -street. - -The crowd swelled. A row formed in back of the first, -two more behind that. In the midst, an orchid rising from a black -bouquet, sat Caroline enthroned in her obliterated car, nodding and -crying salutations and smiling with such true happiness that, of a -sudden, a new relay of gentlemen had left their wives and consorts and -were striding toward her. - -The crowd, now phalanx deep, began to be augmented by the merely -curious; men of all ages who could not possibly have known Caroline -jostled over and melted into the circle of ever-increasing diameter, -until the lady in lavender was the centre of a vast impromptu -auditorium. - -All about her were faces--clean-shaven, bewhiskered, old, young, -ageless, and now, here and there, a woman. The mass was rapidly -spreading to the opposite curb, and, as St. Anthony's around the -corner let out its box-holders, it overflowed to the sidewalk and -crushed up against the iron picket-fence of a millionaire across the -street. The motors speeding along the avenue were compelled to stop, -and in a jiffy were piled three, five, and six deep at the edge of the -crowd; auto-busses, top-heavy turtles of traffic, plunged into the -jam, their passengers crowding to the edges of the roofs in wild -excitement and peering down into the centre of the mass, which -presently could hardly be seen from the mass's edge. - -The crush had become terrific. No fashionable audience at a -Yale-Princeton football game, no damp mob at a world's series, could -be compared with the panoply that talked, stared, laughed, and honked -about the lady in black and lavender. It was stupendous; it was -terrible. A quarter mile down the block a half-frantic policeman -called his precinct; on the same corner a frightened civilian crashed -in the glass of a fire-alarm and sent in a wild paean for all the -fire-engines of the city; up in an apartment high in one of the tall -buildings a hysterical old maid telephoned in turn for the prohibition -enforcement agent; the special deputies on Bolshevism, and the -maternity ward of Bellevue Hospital. - -The noise increased. The first fire-engine arrived, filling the Sunday -air with smoke, clanging and crying a brazen, metallic message down -the high, resounding walls. In the notion that some terrible calamity -had overtaken the city, two excited deacons ordered special services -immediately and set tolling the great bells of St. Hilda's and St. -Anthony's, presently joined by the jealous gongs of St. Simon's and -the Church of the Epistles. Even far off in the Hudson and the East -River the sounds of the commotion were heard, and the ferry-boats and -tugs and ocean liners set up sirens and whistles that sailed in -melancholy cadence, now varied, now reiterated, across the whole -diagonal width of the city from Riverside Drive to the gray -water-fronts of the lower East Side.... - -In the centre of her landaulet sat the lady in black and lavender, -chatting pleasantly first with one, then with another of that -fortunate few in cutaways who had found their way to speaking distance -in the first rush. After a while she glanced around her and beside her -with a look of growing annoyance. - -She yawned and asked the man nearest her if he couldn't run in -somewhere and get her a glass of water. The man apologized in some -embarrassment. He could not have moved hand or foot. He could not have -scratched his own ear.... - -As the first blast of the river sirens keened along the air, Olive -fastened the last safety-pin in little Arthur's rompers and looked up. -Merlin saw her start, stiffen slowly like hardening stucco, and then -give a little gasp of surprise and disapproval. - -"That woman," she cried suddenly. "Oh!" - -She flashed a glance at Merlin that mingled reproach and pain, and -without another word gathered up little Arthur with one hand, grasped -her husband by the other, and darted amazingly in a winding, bumping -canter through the crowd. Somehow people gave way before her; somehow -she managed to-retain her grasp on her son and husband; somehow she -managed to emerge two blocks up, battered and dishevelled, into an -open space, and, without slowing up her pace, darted down a -side-street. Then at last, when uproar had died away into a dim and -distant clamor, did she come to a walk and set little Arthur upon his -feet. - -"And on Sunday, too! Hasn't she disgraced herself enough?" This was -her only comment. She said it to Arthur, as she seemed to address her -remarks to Arthur throughout the remainder of the day. For some -curious and esoteric reason she had never once looked at her husband -during the entire retreat. - - -IV - -The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the -passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they -are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted -first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing -and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds -of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the -certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and -women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from -life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad -amusements and curiosities of youth, to a line with less, when we peel -down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, -our friends to a few to whom we are anaesthetic; ending up at last in -a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, where the shells -now whistle abominably, now are but half-heard as, by turns frightened -and tired, we sit waiting for death. - -At forty, then, Merlin was no different from himself at thirty-five; a -larger paunch, a gray twinkling near his ears, a more certain lack of -vivacity in his walk. His forty-five differed from his forty by a like -margin, unless one mention a slight deafness in his left ear. But at -fifty-five the process had become a chemical change of immense -rapidity. Yearly he was more and more an "old man" to his -family--senile almost, so far as his wife was concerned. He was by -this time complete owner of the bookshop. The mysterious Mr. Moonlight -Quill, dead some five years and not survived by his wife, had deeded -the whole stock and store to him, and there he still spent his days, -conversant now by name with almost all that man has recorded for three -thousand years, a human catalogue, an authority upon tooling and -binding, upon folios and first editions, an accurate inventory of a -thousand authors whom he could never have understood and had certainly -never read. - -At sixty-five he distinctly doddered. He had assumed the melancholy -habits of the aged so often portrayed by the second old man in -standard Victorian comedies. He consumed vast warehouses of time -searching for mislaid spectacles. He "nagged" his wife and was nagged -in turn. He told the same jokes three or four times a year at the -family table, and gave his son weird, impossible directions as to his -conduct in life. Mentally and materially he was so entirely different -from the Merlin Grainger of twenty-five that it seemed incongruous -that he should bear the same name. - -He worked still In the bookshop with the assistance of a youth, whom, -of course, he considered very idle, indeed, and a new young woman, -Miss Gaffney. Miss McCracken, ancient and unvenerable as himself, -still kept the accounts. Young Arthur was gone into Wall Street to -sell bonds, as all the young men seemed to be doing in that day. This, -of course, was as it should be. Let old Merlin get what magic he could -from his books--the place of young King Arthur was in the -counting-house. - -One afternoon at four when he had slipped noiselessly up to the front -of the store on his soft-soled slippers, led by a newly formed habit, -of which, to be fair, he was rather ashamed, of spying upon the young -man clerk, he looked casually out of the front window, straining his -faded eyesight to reach the street. A limousine, large, portentous, -impressive, had drawn to the curb, and the chauffeur, after -dismounting and holding some sort of conversation with persons in the -interior of the car, turned about and advanced in a bewildered fashion -toward the entrance of the Moonlight Quill. He opened the door, -shuffled in, and, glancing uncertainly at the old man in the -skull-cap, addressed him in a thick, murky voice, as though his words -came through a fog. - -"Do you--do you sell additions?" - -Merlin nodded. - -"The arithmetic books are in the back of the store." - -The chauffeur took off his cap and scratched a close-cropped, fuzzy -head. - -"Oh, naw. This I want's a detecatif story." He jerked a thumb back -toward the limousine. "She seen it in the paper. Firs' addition." - -Merlin's interest quickened. Here was possibly a big sale. - -"Oh, editions. Yes, we've advertised some firsts, but-detective -stories, I-don't-believe-What was the title?" - -"I forget. About a crime." - -"About a crime. I have-well, I have 'The Crimes of the Borgias'-full -morocco, London 1769, beautifully--" - -"Naw," interrupted the chauffeur, "this was one fella did this crime. -She seen you had it for sale in the paper." He rejected several -possible titles with the air of connoisseur. - -"'Silver Bones,'" he announced suddenly out of a slight pause. - -"What?" demanded Merlin, suspecting that the stiffness of his sinews -were being commented on. - -"Silver Bones. That was the guy that done the crime." - -"Silver Bones?" - -"Silver Bones. Indian, maybe." - -Merlin, stroked his grizzly cheeks. "Gees, Mister," went on the -prospective purchaser, "if you wanna save me an awful bawln' out jes' -try an' think. The old lady goes wile if everything don't run smooth." - -But Merlin's musings on the subject of Silver Bones were as futile as -his obliging search through the shelves, and five minutes later a very -dejected charioteer wound his way back to his mistress. Through the -glass Merlin could see the visible symbols of a tremendous uproar -going on in the interior of the limousine. The chauffeur made wild, -appealing gestures of his innocence, evidently to no avail, for when -he turned around and climbed back into the driver's seat his -expression was not a little dejected. - -Then the door of the limousine opened and gave forth a pale and -slender young man of about twenty, dressed in the attenuation of -fashion and carrying a wisp of a cane. He entered the shop, walked -past Merlin, and proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it. -Merlin approached him. - -"Anything I can do for you, sir?" - -"Old boy," said the youth coolly, "there are seveereal things; You can -first let me smoke my ciggy in here out of sight of that old lady in -the limousine, who happens to be my grandmother. Her knowledge as to -whether I smoke it or not before my majority happens to be a matter of -five thousand dollars to me. The second thing is that you should look -up your first edition of the 'Crime of Sylvester Bonnard' that you -advertised in last Sunday's _Times_. My grandmother there happens -to want to take it off your hands." - -Detecatif story! Crime of somebody! Silver Bones! All was explained. -With a faint deprecatory chuckle, as if to say that he would have -enjoyed this had life put him in the habit of enjoying anything, -Merlin doddered away to the back of his shop where his treasures were -kept, to get this latest investment which he had picked up rather -cheaply at the sale of a big collection. - -When he returned with it the young man was drawing on his cigarette -and blowing out quantities of smoke with immense satisfaction. - -"My God!" he said, "She keeps me so close to her the entire day -running idiotic errands that this happens to be my first puff in six -hours. What's the world coming to, I ask you, when a feeble old lady -in the milk-toast era can dictate to a man as to his personal vices. I -happen to be unwilling to be so dictated to. Let's see the book." - -Merlin passed it to him tenderly and the young man, after opening it -with a carelessness that gave a momentary jump to the book-dealer's -heart, ran through the pages with his thumb. - -"No illustrations, eh?" he commented. "Well, old boy, what's it worth? -Speak up! We're willing to give you a fair price, though why I don't -know." - -"One hundred dollars," said Merlin with a frown. - -The young man gave a startled whistle. - -"Whew! Come on. You're not dealing with somebody from the cornbelt. I -happen to be a city-bred man and my grandmother happens to be a -city-bred woman, though I'll admit it'd take a special tax -appropriation to keep her in repair. We'll give you twenty-five -dollars, and let me tell you that's liberal. We've got books in our -attic, up in our attic with my old play-things, that were written -before the old boy that wrote this was born." - -Merlin stiffened, expressing a rigid and meticulous horror. - -"Did your grandmother give you twenty-five dollars to buy this with?" - -"She did not. She gave me fifty, but she expects change. I know that -old lady." - -"You tell her," said Merlin with dignity, "that she has missed a very -great bargain." - -"Give you forty," urged the young man. "Come on now--be reasonable and -don't try to hold us up----" - -Merlin had wheeled around with the precious volume under his arm and -was about to return it to its special drawer in his office when there -was a sudden interruption. With unheard-of magnificence the front door -burst rather than swung open, and admitted in the dark interior a -regal apparition in black silk and fur which bore rapidly down upon -him. The cigarette leaped from the fingers of the urban young man and -he gave breath to an inadvertent "Damn!"--but it was upon Merlin that -the entrance seemed to have the most remarkable and incongruous -effect--so strong an effect that the greatest treasure of his shop -slipped from his hand and joined the cigarette on the floor. Before -him stood Caroline. - -She was an old woman, an old woman remarkably preserved, unusually -handsome, unusually erect, but still an old woman. Her hair was a -soft, beautiful white, elaborately dressed and jewelled; her face, -faintly rouged à la grande dame, showed webs of wrinkles at the edges -of her eyes and two deeper lines in the form of stanchions connected -her nose with the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were dim, ill -natured, and querulous. - -But it was Caroline without a doubt: Caroline's features though in -decay; Caroline's figure, if brittle and stiff in movement; Caroline's -manner, unmistakably compounded of a delightful insolence and an -enviable self assurance; and, most of all, Caroline's voice, broken -and shaky, yet with a ring in it that still could and did make -chauffeurs want to drive laundry wagons and cause cigarettes to fall -from the fingers of urban grandsons. - -She stood and sniffed. Her eyes found the cigarette upon the floor. - -"What's that?" she cried. The words were not a question--they were an -entire litany of suspicion, accusation, confirmation, and decision. -She tarried over them scarcely an instant. "Stand up!" she said to her -grandson, "stand up and blow that nicotine out of your lungs!" - -The young man looked at her in trepidation. - -"Blow!" she commanded. - -He pursed his lips feebly and blew into the air. - -"Blow!" she repeated, more peremptorily than before. - -He blew again, helplessly, ridiculously. - -"Do you realize," she went on briskly, "that you've forfeited five -thousand dollars in five minutes?" - -Merlin momentarily expected the young man to fall pleading upon his -knees, but such is the nobility of human nature that he remained -standing--even blew again into the air, partly from nervousness, -partly, no doubt, with some vague hope of reingratiating himself. - -"Young ass!" cried Caroline. "Once more, just once more and you leave -college and go to work." - -This threat had such an overwhelming effect upon the young man that he -took on an even paler pallor than was natural to him. But Caroline was -not through. - -"Do you think I don't know what you and your brothers, yes, and your -asinine father too, think of me? Well, I do. You think I'm senile. You -think I'm soft. I'm not!" She struck herself with her-fist as though -to prove that she was a mass of muscle and sinew. "And I'll have more -brains left when you've got me laid out in the drawing-room some sunny -day than you and the rest of them were born with." - -"But Grandmother----" - -"Be quiet. You, a thin little stick of a boy, who if it weren't for my -money might have risen to be a journeyman barber out in the Bronx--Let -me see your hands. Ugh! The hands of a barber--_you_ presume to -be smart with _me_, who once had three counts and a bona-fide -duke, not to mention half a dozen papal titles pursue me from the city -of Rome to the city of New York." She paused, took breath. "Stand up! -Blow'!" - -The young man obediently blew. Simultaneously the door opened and an -excited gentleman of middle age who wore a coat and hat trimmed with -fur, and seemed, moreover, to be trimmed with the same sort of fur -himself on upper lip and chin, rushed into the store and up to -Caroline. - -"Found you at last," he cried. "Been looking for you all over town. -Tried your house on the 'phone and your secretary told me he thought -you'd gone to a bookshop called the Moonlight--" - -Caroline turned to him irritably. - -"Do I employ you for your reminiscences?" she snapped. "Are you my -tutor or my broker?" - -"Your broker," confessed the fur-trimmed man, taken somewhat aback. "I -beg your pardon. I came about that phonograph stock. I can sell for a -hundred and five." - -"Then do it" - -"Very well. I thought I'd better--" - -"Go sell it. I'm talking to my grandson." - -"Very well. I--" - -"Good-by." - -"Good-by, Madame." The fur-trimmed man made a slight bow and hurried -in some confusion from the shop. - -"As for you," said Caroline, turning to her grandson, "you stay just -where you are and be quiet." - -She turned to Merlin and included his entire length in a not -unfriendly survey. Then she smiled and he found himself smiling too. -In an instant they had both broken into a cracked but none the less -spontaneous chuckle. She seized his arm and hurried him to the other -side of the store. There they stopped, faced each other, and gave vent -to another long fit of senile glee. - -"It's the only way," she gasped in a sort of triumphant malignity. -"The only thing that keeps old folks like me happy is the sense that -they can make other people step around. To be old and rich and have -poor descendants is almost as much fun as to be young and beautiful -and have ugly sisters." - -"Oh, yes," chuckled Merlin. "I know. I envy you." - -She nodded, blinking. - -"The last time I was in here, forty years ago," she said, "you were a -young man very anxious to kick up your heels." - -"I was," he confessed. - -"My visit must have meant a good deal to you." - -"You have all along," he exclaimed. "I thought--I used to think at -first that you were a real person--human, I mean." - -She laughed. - -"Many men have thought me inhuman." - -"But now," continued Merlin excitedly, "I understand. Understanding is -allowed to us old people--after nothing much matters. I see now that -on a certain night when you danced upon a table-top you were nothing -but my romantic yearning for a beautiful and perverse woman." - -Her old eyes were far away, her voice no more than the echo of a -forgotten dream. - -"How I danced that night! I remember." - -"You were making an attempt at me. Olive's arms were closing about me -and you warned me to be free and keep my measure of youth and -irresponsibility. But it seemed like an effect gotten up at the last -moment. It came too late." - -"You are very old," she said inscrutably. "I did not realize." - -"Also I have not forgotten what you did to me when I was thirty-five. -You shook me with that traffic tie-up. It was a magnificent effort. -The beauty and power you radiated! You became personified even to my -wife, and she feared you. For weeks I wanted to slip out of the house -at dark and forget the stuffiness of life with music and cocktails and -a girl to make me young. But then--I no longer knew how." - -"And now you are so very old." - -With a sort of awe she moved back and away from him. - -"Yes, leave me!" he cried. "You are old also; the spirit withers with -the skin. Have you come here only to tell me something I had best -forget: that to be old and poor is perhaps more wretched than to be -old and rich; to remind me that _my_ son hurls my gray failure in -my face?" - -"Give me my book," she commanded harshly. "Be quick, old man!" - -Merlin looked at her once more and then patiently obeyed. He picked up -the book and handed it to her, shaking his head when she offered him a -bill. - -"Why go through the farce of paying me? Once you made me wreck these -very premises." - -"I did," she said in anger, "and I'm glad. Perhaps there had been -enough done to ruin _me_." - -She gave him a glance, half disdain, half ill-concealed uneasiness, -and with a brisk word to her urban grandson moved toward the door. - -Then she was gone--out of his shop--out of his life. The door clicked. -With a sigh he turned and walked brokenly back toward the glass -partition that enclosed the yellowed accounts of many years as well as -the mellowed, wrinkled Miss McCracken. - -Merlin regarded her parched, cobwebbed face with an odd sort of pity. -She, at any rate, had had less from life than he. No rebellious, -romantic spirit popping out unbidden had, in its memorable moments, -given her life a zest and a glory. - -Then Miss McGracken looked up and spoke to him: - -"Still a spunky old piece, isn't she?" - -Merlin started. - -"Who?" - -"Old Alicia Dare. Mrs. Thomas Allerdyce she is now, of course; has -been, these thirty years." - -"What? I don't understand you." Merlin sat down suddenly in his swivel -chair; his eyes were wide. - -"Why, surely, Mr. Grainger, you can't tell me that you've forgotten -her, when for ten years she was the most notorious character in New -York. Why, one time when she was the correspondent in the Throckmorton -divorce case she attracted so much attention on Fifth Avenue that -there was a traffic tie-up. Didn't you read about it in the papers." - -"I never used to read the papers." His ancient brain was whirring. - -"Well, you can't have forgotten the time she came in here and ruined -the business. Let me tell you I came near asking Mr. Moonlight Quill -for my salary, and clearing out." - -"Do you mean, that--that you _saw_ her?" - -"Saw. her! How could I help, it with the racket that went on. Heaven -knows Mr. Moonlight Quill didn't like it either but of course _he_ -didn't say anything. He was daffy about her and she could twist him -around her little finger. The second he opposed one of her whims she'd -threaten to tell his wife on him. Served him right. The idea of that -man falling for a pretty adventuress! Of course he was never rich -enough for _her_ even though the shop paid well in those days." - -"But when I saw her." stammered Merlin, "that is, when I -_thought_ saw her, she lived with her mother." - -"Mother, trash!". said Miss McCracken indignantly. "She had a woman -there she called 'Aunty', who was no more related to her than I am. -Oh, she was a bad one--but clever. Right after the Throckmorton -divorce case she married Thomas Allerdyce, and made herself secure for -life." - -"Who was she?" cried Merlin. "For God's sake what was she--a witch?" - -"Why, she was Alicia Dare, the dancer, of course. In those days you -couldn't pick up a paper without finding her picture." - -Merlin sat very quiet, his brain suddenly fatigued and stilled. He was -an old man now indeed, so old that it was impossible for him to dream -of ever having been young, so old that the glamour was gone out of the -world, passing not into the faces of children and into the persistent -comforts of warmth and life, but passing out of the range of sight and -feeling. He was never to smile again or to sit in a long reverie when -spring evenings wafted the cries of children in at his window until -gradually they became the friends of his boyhood out there, urging him -to come and play before the last dark came down. He was too old now -even for memories. - -That night he sat at supper with his wife and son, who had used him -for their blind purposes. Olive said: - -"Don't sit there like a death's-head. Say something." - -"Let him sit quiet," growled Arthur. "If you encourage him he'll tell -us a story we've heard a hundred times before." - -Merlin went up-stairs very quietly at nine o'clock. When he was in his -room and had closed the door tight he stood by it for a moment, his -thin limbs trembling. He knew now that he had always been a fool. - -"O Russet Witch!" - -But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many -temptations. There was nothing left but heaven, where he would meet -only those who, like him, had wasted earth. - - - - -UNCLASSIFIED MASTERPIECES - - - - -THE LEES OF HAPPINESS - - -If you should look through the files of old magazines for the first -years of the present century you would find, sandwiched in between the -stories of Richard Harding Davis and Frank Norris and others long -since dead, the work of one Jeffrey Curtain: a novel or two, and -perhaps three or four dozen short stories. You could, if you were -interested, follow them along until, say, 1908, when they suddenly -disappeared. - -When you had read them all you would have been quite sure that here -were no masterpieces--here were passably amusing stories, a bit out of -date now, but doubtless the sort that would then have whiled away a -dreary half hour in a dental office. The man who did them was of good -intelligence, talented, glib, probably young. In the samples of his -work you found there would have been nothing to stir you to more than -a faint interest in the whims of life--no deep interior laughs, no -sense of futility or hint of tragedy. - -After reading them you would yawn and put the number back in the -files, and perhaps, if you were in some library reading-room, you -would decide that by way of variety you would look at a newspaper of -the period and see whether the Japs had taken Port Arthur. But if by -any chance the newspaper you had chosen was the right one and had -crackled open at the theatrical page, your eyes would have been -arrested and held, and for at least a minute you would have forgotten -Port Arthur as quickly as you forgot Château Thierry. For you would, -by this fortunate chance, be looking at the portrait of an exquisite -woman. - -Those were tie days of "Florodora" and of sextets, of pinched-in -waists and blown-out sleeves, of almost bustles and absolute ballet -skirts, but here, without doubt, disguised as she might be by the -unaccustomed stiffness and old fashion of her costume, was a butterfly -of butterflies. Here was the gayety of the period--the soft wine of -eyes, the songs that flurried hearts, the toasts and tie bouquets, the -dances and the dinners. Here was a Venus of the hansom, cab, the -Gibson girl in her glorious prime. Here was... - -...here was you. Find by looking at the name beneath, one Roxanne -Milbank, who had been chorus girl and understudy in "The Daisy Chain," -but who, by reason of an excellent performance when the star was -indisposed, had gained a leading part. - -You would look again--and wonder. Why you had never heard of her. Why -did her name not linger in popular songs and vaudeville jokes and -cigar bands, and the memory of that gay old uncle of yours along with -Lillian Russell and Stella Mayhew and Anna Held? Roxanne -Milbank-whither had she gone? What dark trap-door had opened suddenly -and swallowed her up? Her name was certainly not in last Sunday's -supplement on the list of actresses married to English noblemen. No -doubt she was dead--poor beautiful young lady--and quite forgotten. - -I am hoping too much. I am having you stumble on Jeffrey Curtains's -stories and Roxanne Milbank's picture. It would be incredible that you -should find a newspaper item six months later, a single item two -inches by four, which informed the public of the marriage, very -quietly, of Miss Roxanne Milbank, who had been on tour with "The Daisy -Chain," to Mr. Jeffrey Curtain, the popular author. "Mrs. Curtain," it -added dispassionately, "will retire from the stage." - -It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; -she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs -they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together. Yet had -Jeffrey Curtain kept at scrivening for twoscore years he could not -have put a quirk into one of his stories weirder than the quirk that -came into his own life. Had Roxanne Milbank played three dozen parts -and filled five thousand houses she could never have had a role with -more happiness and more despair than were in the fate prepared for -Roxanne Curtain. - -For a year they lived in hotels, travelled to California, to Alaska, -to Florida, to Mexico, loved and quarrelled gently, and gloried in the -golden triflings of his wit with her beauty--they were young and -gravely passionate; they demanded everything and then yielded -everything again in ecstasies of unselfishness and pride. She loved -the swift tones of his voice and his frantic, if unfounded jealousy. -He loved her dark radiance, the white irises of her eyes, the warm, -lustrous enthusiasm of her smile. - -"Don't you like her?" he would demand rather excitedly and shyly. -"Isn't she wonderful? Did you ever see--" - -"Yes," they would answer, grinning. "She's a wonder. You're lucky." - -The year passed. They tired of hotels. They bought an old house and -twenty acres near the town of Marlowe, half an hour from Chicago; -bought a little car, and moved out riotously with a pioneering -hallucination that would have confounded Balboa. - -"Your room will be here!" they cried in turn. - ---And then: - -"And my room here!" - -"And the nursery here when we have children." - -"And we'll build a sleeping porch--oh, next year." - -They moved out in April. In July Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry -Cromwell same to spend a week--they met him at the end of the long -lawn and hurried him proudly to the house. - -Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before -and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had -gathered from Jeffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as -Harry--Jeffrey had met her once and considered her--"shallow." But -Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparantly happy, so -Jeffrey guessed that she was probably all right. - -"I'm making biscuits," chattered Roxanne gravely. "Can you wife make -biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know -how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can -make biscuits can surely do no----" - -"You'll have to come out here and live," said Jeffrey. "Get a place -out in the country like us, for you and Kitty." - -"You don't know Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her -theatres and vaudevilles." - -"Bring her out," repeated Jeffrey. "We'll have a colony. There's an -awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out!" - -They were at the porch steps now and Roxanne made a brisk gesture -toward a dilapidated structure on the right. - -"The garage," she announced. "It will also be Jeffrey's writing-room -within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I -will mix a cocktail." - -The two men ascended to the second floor--that is, they ascended -half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest's -suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed: - -"For God's sake, Harry, how do you like her?" - -"We will go up-stairs," answered his guest, "and we will shut the -door." - -Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library -Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of -biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose. - -"They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely. - -"Exquisite," murmured Harry. - -Roxanne beamed. - -"Taste one. I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all -and I can't bear to take them back until I find what they taste like." - -"Like manna, darling." - -Simultaneously the two men raised the biscuits to their lips, nibbled -tentatively. Simultaneously they tried to change the subject. But -Roxanne undeceived, set down the pan and seized a biscuit. After a -second her comment rang out with lugubrious finality: - -"Absolutely bum!" - -"Really----" - -"Why, I didn't notice----" - -Roxanne roared. - -"Oh, I'm useless," she cried laughing. "Turn me out, Jeffrey--I'm a -parasite; I'm no goal----" - -Jeffrey put his arm around her. - -"Darling, I'll eat your biscuits." - -"They're beautiful, anyway," insisted Roxanne. - -"They're-they're decorative," suggested Harry. - -Jeffrey took him up wildly. - -"That's the word. They're decorative; they're masterpieces. We'll use -them." - -He rushed to the kitchen and returned with a hammer and a handful of -nails. - -"We'll use them, by golly, Roxanne! We'll make a frieze out of them." - -"Don't!" wailed Roxanne. "Our beautiful house." - -"Never mind. We're going to have the library repapered in October. -Don't you remember?" - -"Well----" - -Bang! The first biscuit was impaled to the wall, where it quivered for -a moment like a live thing. - -Bang!... - -When Roxanne returned, with a second round of cocktails the biscuits -were in a perpendicular row, twelve of them, like a collection of -primitive spear-heads. - -"Roxanne," exclaimed Jeffrey, "you're an artist! Cook?--nonsense! You -shall illustrate my books!" - -During dinner the twilight faltered into dusk, and later it was a -starry dark outside, filled and permeated with the frail gorgeousness -of Roxanne's white dress and her tremulous, low laugh. - ---Such a little girl she is, thought Harry. Not as old as Kitty. - -He compared the two. Kitty--nervous without being sensitive, -temperamental without temperament, a woman who seemed to flit and -never light--and Roxanne, who was as young as spring night, and summed -up in her own adolescent laughter. - ---A good match for Jeffrey, he thought again. Two very young people, -the sort who'll stay very young until they suddenly find themselves -old. - -Harry thought these things between his constant thoughts about Kitty, -He was depressed about Kitty. It seemed to him that she was well -enough to come back to Chicago and bring his little son. He was -thinking vaguely of Kitty when he said good-night to his friend's wife -and his friend at the foot of the stairs. - -"You're our first real house guest," called Roxanne after him. "Aren't -you thrilled and proud?" - -When he was out of sight around the stair corner she turned to -Jeffrey, who was standing beside her resting his hand on the end of -the banister. - -"Are you tired, my dearest?" - -Jeffrey rubbed the centre of his forehead with his fingers. - -"A little. How did you know?" - -"Oh, how could I help knowing about you?" - -"It's a headache," he said moodily. "Splitting. I'll take some -aspirin." - -She reached over and snapped out the light, and with his arm tight -about her waist they walked up the stairs together. - - -II - -Harry's week passed. They drove about the dreaming lanes or idled in -cheerful inanity upon lake or lawn. In the evening Roxanne, sitting -inside, played to them while the ashes whitened on the glowing ends of -their cigars. Then came a telegram from Kitty saying that she wanted -Harry to come East and get her, so Roxanne and Jeffrey were left alone -in that privacy of which they never seemed to tire. - -"Alone" thrilled them again. They wandered about the house, each -feeling intimately the presence of the other; they sat on the same -side of the table like honeymooners; they were intensely absorbed, -intensely happy. - -The town of Marlowe, though a comparatively old settlement, had only -recently acquired a "society." Five or six years before, alarmed at -the smoky swelling of Chicago, two or three young married couples, -"bungalow people," had moved out; their friends had followed. The -Jeffrey Curtains found an already formed "set" prepared to welcome: -them; a country club, ballroom, and golf links yawned for them, and -there were bridge parties, and poker parties, and parties where they -drank beer, and parties where they drank nothing at all. - -It was at a poker party that they found themselves a week after -Harry's departure. There were two tables, and a good proportion of the -young wives were smoking and shouting their bets, and being very -daringly mannish for those days. - -Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation; she -wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice--beer gave -her a headache--and then passed from table to table, looking over -shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffrey and being pleasantly -unexcited and content. Jeffrey, with intense concentration, was -raising a pile of chips of all colors, and Roxanne knew by the -deepened wrinkle between his eyes that he was interested. She liked to -see him interested in small things. - -She crossed over quietly and sat down on the arm of his chair. - -She sat there five minutes, listening to the sharp intermittent -comments of the men and the chatter of the women, which rose from the -table like soft smoke--and yet scarcely hearing either. Then quite -innocently she reached out her hand, intending to place it on -Jeffrey's shoulder--as it touched him he started of a sudden, gave a -short grunt, and, sweeping back his arm furiously, caught her a -glancing blow on her elbow. - -There was a general gasp. Roxanne regained her balance, gave a little -cry, and rose quickly to her feet. It had been the greatest shock of -her life. This, from Jeffrey, the heart of kindness, of -consideration--this instinctively brutal gesture. - -The gasp became a silence. A dozen eyes were turned on Jeffrey, who -looked up as though seeing Roxanne for the first time. An expression -of bewilderment settled on his face. - -"Why--Roxanne----" he said haltingly. - -Into a dozen minds entered a quick suspicion, a rumor of scandal. -Could it be that behind the scenes with this couple, apparently so in -love, lurked some curious antipathy? Why else this streak of fire, -across such a cloudless heaven? - -"Jeffrey!"--Roxanne's voice was pleading--startled and horrified, she -yet knew that it was a mistake. Not once did it occur to her to blame -him or to resent it. Her word was a trembling supplication--"Tell me, -Jeffrey," it said, "tell Roxanne, your own Roxanne." - -"Why, Roxanne--" began Jeffrey again. The bewildered look changed to -pain. He was clearly as startled as she. "I didn't intend that," he -went on; "you startled me. You--I felt as if some one were attacking -me. I--how--why, how idiotic!" - -"Jeffrey!" Again the word was a prayer, incense offered up to a high -God through this new and unfathomable darkness. - -They were both on their feet, they were saying good-by, faltering, -apologizing, explaining. There was no attempt to pass it off easily. -That way lay sacrilege. Jeffrey had not been feeling well, they said. -He had become nervous. Back of both their minds was the unexplained -horror of that blow--the marvel that there had been for an instant -something between them--his anger and her fear--and now to both a -sorrow, momentary, no doubt, but to be bridged at once, at once, while -there was yet time. Was that swift water lashing under their feet--the -fierce glint of some uncharted chasm? - -Out in their car under the harvest moon he talked brokenly. It was -just--incomprehensible to him, he said. He had been thinking of the -poker game--absorbed--and the touch on his shoulder had seemed like an -attack. An attack! He clung to that word, flung it up as a shield. He -had hated what touched him. With the impact of his hand it had gone, -that--nervousness. That was all he knew. - -Both their eyes filled with tears and they whispered love there under -the broad night as the serene streets of Marlowe sped by. Later, when -they went to bed, they were quite calm. Jeffrey was to take a week off -all work--was simply to loll, and sleep, and go on long walks until -this nervousness left him. When they had decided this safety settled -down upon Roxanne. The pillows underhead became soft and friendly; the -bed on which they lay seemed wide, and white, and sturdy beneath the -radiance that streamed in at the window. - -Five days later, in the first cool of late afternoon, Jeffrey picked -up an oak chair and sent it crashing through his own front window. -Then he lay down on the couch like a child, weeping piteously and -begging to die. A blood clot the size of a marble had broken his -brain. - - -III - -There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one -has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue -and a new sun, that the quality of the life around has changed. It is -a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then -leading is a branch shoot of life and is related to life only as a -moving picture or a mirror--that the people, and streets, and houses -are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past. It was in such -a state that Roxanne found herself during the first months of -Jeffrey's illness. She slept only when she was utterly exhausted; she -awoke under a cloud. The long, sober-voiced consultations, the faint -aura of medicine in the halls, the sudden tiptoeing in a house that -had echoed to many cheerful footsteps, and, most of ail, Jeffrey's -white face amid the pillows of the bed they had shared--these things -subdued her and made her indelibly older. The doctors held out hope, -but that was all. A long rest, they said, and quiet. So responsibility -came to Roxanne. It was she who paid the bills, pored over his -bank-book, corresponded with his publishers. She was in the kitchen -constantly. She learned from the nurse how to prepare his meals and -after the first month took complete charge of the sick-room. She had -had to let the nurse go for reasons of economy. One of the two colored -girls left at the same time. Roxanne was realizing that they had been -living from short story to short story. - -The most frequent visitor was Harry Cromwell. He had been shocked and -depressed by the news, and though his wife was now living with him in -Chicago he found time to come out several times a month. Roxanne found -his sympathy welcome--there was some quality of suffering in the man, -some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. -Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with -Jeffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most -of all she needed and should have had. - -It was six months after Jeffrey's collapse and when the nightmare had -faded, leaving not the old world but a new one, grayer and colder, -that she wait to see Harry's wife. Finding herself in Chicago with an -extra hour before train time, she decided out of courtesy to call. - -As she stepped inside the door she had an immediate impression that -the apartment was very like some place she had seen before--and almost -instantly she remembered a round-the-corner bakery of her childhood, a -bakery full of rows and rows of pink frosted cakes--a stuffy pink, -pink as a food, pink triumphant, vulgar, and odious. - -And this apartment was like that. It was pink. It smelled pink! - -Mrs. Cromwell, attired in a wrapper of pink and black, opened the -door. Her hair was yellow, heightened, Roxanne imagined by a dash of -peroxide in the rinsing water every week. Her eyes were a thin waxen -blue--she was pretty and too consciously graceful. Her cordiality was -strident and intimate, hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that -it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice--never touching -nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. - -But to Roxanne these things were secondary; her eyes were caught and -held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean. -From its lowest hem up four inches it was sheerly dirty with the blue -dust of the floor; for the next three inches it was gray--then it -shaded off into its natural color, which, was--pink. It was dirty at -the sleeves, too, and at the collar--and when the woman turned to lead -the way into the parlor, Roxanne was sure that her neck was dirty. - -A one-sided rattle of conversation began. Mrs. Cromwell became -explicit about her likes and dislikes, her head, her stomach, her -teeth, her apartment--avoiding with a sort of insolent meticulousness -any inclusion of Roxanne with life, as if presuming that Roxanne, -having been dealt a blow, wished life to be carefully skirted. - -Roxanne smiled. That kimono! That neck! - -After five minutes a little boy toddled into the parlor--a dirty -little boy clad in dirty pink rompers. His face was smudgy--Roxanne -wanted to take him into her lap and wipe his nose; other parts in the -of his head needed attention, his tiny shoes were kicked out at the -toes. Unspeakable! - -"What a darling little boy!" exclaimed Roxanne, smiling radiantly. -"Come here to me." - -Mrs. Cromwell looked coldly at her son. - -"He will get dirty. Look at that face!" She held her head on one side -and regarded it critically. - -"Isn't he a _darling?_" repeated Roxanne. - -"Look at his rompers," frowned Mrs. Cromwell. - -"He needs a change, don't you, George?" - -George stared at her curiously. To his mind the word rompers -connotated a garment extraneously smeared, as this one. - -"I tried to make him look respectable this morning," complained Mrs. -Cromwell as one whose patience had been sorely tried, "and I found he -didn't have any more rompers--so rather than have him go round without -any I put him back in those--and his face--" - -"How many pairs has he?" Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious, "How -many feather fans have you?" she might have asked. - -"Oh,--" Mrs. Cromwell considered, wrinkling her pretty brow. "Five, I -think. Plenty, I know." - -"You can get them for fifty cents a pair." - -Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise--and the faintest superiority. -The price of rompers! - -"Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have plenty, but I haven't -had a minute all week to send the laundry out." Then, dismissing the -subject as irrelevant--"I must show you some things--" - -They rose and Roxanne followed her past an open bathroom door whose -garment-littered floor showed indeed that the laundry hadn't been sent -out for some time, into another room that was, so to speak, the -quintessence of pinkness. This was Mrs. Cromwell's room. - -Here the Hostess opened a closet door and displayed before' Roxanne's -eyes an amazing collection of lingerie. - -There were dozens of filmy marvels of lace and silk, all clean, -unruffled, seemingly not yet touched. On hangers beside them were -three new evening dresses. - -"I have some beautiful things," said Mrs. Cromwell, "but not much of a -chance to wear them. Harry doesn't care about going out." Spite crept -into her voice. "He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and -housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening." - -Roxanne smiled again. - -"You've got some beautiful clothes here." - -"Yes, I have. Let me show you----" - -"Beautiful," repeated Roxanne, interrupting, "but I'll have to run if -I'm going to catch my train." - -She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this -woman and shake her--shake her. She wanted her locked up somewhere and -set to scrubbing floors. - -"Beautiful," she repeated, "and I just came in for a moment." - -"Well, I'm sorry Harry isn't here." - -They moved toward the door. - -"--and, oh," said Roxanne with an effort--yet her voice was still -gentle and her lips were smiling--"I think it's Argile's where you can -get those rompers. Good-by." - -It was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to -Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six -months that her mind had been off Jeffrey. - - -IV - -A week later Harry appeared at Marlowe, arrived unexpectedly at five -o'clock, and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of -exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The -doctors were coming at five-thirty, bringing a celebrated nerve -specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed, -but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him. - -"What's the matter?" - -"Nothing, Roxanne," he denied. "I came to see how Jeff was doing. -Don't you bother about me." - -"Harry," insisted Roxanne, "there's something the matter." - -"Nothing," he repeated. "How's Jeff?" - -Anxiety darkened her face. - -"He's a little worse, Harry. Doctor Jewett has come on from New York. -They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try -and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original -blood clot." - -Harry rose. - -"Oh, I'm sorry," he said jerkily. "I didn't know you expected a -consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your -porch for an hour--" - -"Sit down," she commanded. - -Harry hesitated. - -"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped -him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet. -I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer." - -All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his -hands. - -"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried. -This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been getting my -breakfast down town--and--well, just after I went to the office she -left the house, went East to her mother's with George and a suitcase -full of lace underwear." - -"Harry!" - -"And I don't know---" - -There was a crunch on the gravel, a car turning into the drive. -Roxanne uttered a little cry. - -"It's Doctor Jewett." - -"Oh, I'll---" - -"You'll wait, won't you?" she interrupted abstractedly. He saw that -his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind. - -There was an embarrassing minute of vague, elided introductions and -then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the -stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa. - -For an hour he watched the sun creep up the patterned folds of the -chintz curtains. In the deep quiet a trapped wasp buzzing on the -inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From -time to time another buzzing drifted down from up-stairs, resembling -several more larger wasps caught on larger window-panes. He heard low -footfalls, the clink of bottles, the clamor of pouring water. - -What had he and Roxanne done that life should deal these crashing -blows to them? Up-stairs there was taking place a living inquest on -the soul of his friend; he was sitting here in a quiet room listening -to the plaint of a wasp, just as when he was a boy he had been -compelled by a strict aunt to sit hour-long on a chair and atone for -some misbehavior. But who had put him here? What ferocious aunt had -leaned out of the sky to make him atone for--what? - -About Kitty he felt a great hopelessness. She was too expensive--that -was the irremediable difficulty. Suddenly he hated her. He wanted to -throw her down and kick at her--to tell her she was a cheat and a -leech--that she was dirty. Moreover, she must give him his boy. - -He rose and began pacing up and down the room. Simultaneously he heard -some one begin walking along the hallway up-stairs in exact time with -him. He found himself wondering if they would walk in time until the -person reached the end of the hall. - -Kitty had gone to her mother. God help her, what a mother to go to! He -tried to imagine the meeting: the abused wife collapsing upon the -mother's breast. He could not. That Kitty was capable of any deep -grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as -something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of -course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider -this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped; a picture -flashed before him--of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he -could not see, of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was -surely: passion. - -"God!" he cried aloud. "God! God! God!" - -Then the pictures came thick and fast. The Kitty of this morning -faded; the soiled kimono rolled up and disappeared; the pouts, and -rages, and tears all were washed away. Again she was Kitty Carr--Kitty -Carr with yellow hair and great baby eyes. Ah, she had loved him, she -had loved him. - -After a while he perceived that something was amiss with him, -something that had nothing to do with Kitty or Jeff, something of a -different genre. Amazingly it burst on him at last; he was hungry. -Simple enough! He would go into the kitchen in a moment and ask the -colored cook for a sandwich. After that he must go back to the city. - -He paused at the wall, jerked at something round, and, fingering it -absently, put it to his mouth and tasted it as a baby tastes a bright -toy. His teeth closed on it--Ah! - -She'd left that damn kimono, that dirty pink kimono. She might have -had the decency to take it with her, he thought. It would hang in the -house like the corpse of their sick alliance. He would try to throw it -away, but he would never be able to bring himself to move it. It would -be like Kitty, soft and pliable, withal impervious. You couldn't move -Kitty; you couldn't reach Kitty. There was nothing there to reach. He -understood that perfectly--he had understood it all along. - -He reached to the wall for another biscuit and with an effort pulled -it out, nail and all. He carefully removed the nail from the centre, -wondering idly if he had eaten the nail with the first biscuit. -Preposterous! He would have remembered--it was a huge nail. He felt -his stomach. He must be very hungry. He considered--remembered-- -yesterday he had had no dinner. It was the girl's day out and Kitty -had lain in her room eating chocolate drops. She had said she felt -"smothery" and couldn't bear having him near her. He had given -George a bath and put him to bed, and then lain down on the couch -intending to rest a minute before getting his own dinner. There -he had fallen asleep and awakened about eleven, to find that -there was nothing in the ice-box except a spoonful of potato salad. -This he had eaten, together with some chocolate drops that he found on -Kitty's bureau. This morning he had breakfasted hurriedly down town -before going to the office. But at noon, beginning to worry about -Kitty, he had decided to go home and take her out to lunch. After that -there had been the note on his pillow. The pile of lingerie in the -closet was gone--and she had left instructions for sending her trunk. - -He had never been so hungry, he thought. - -At five o'clock, when the visiting nurse tiptoed down-stairs, he was -sitting on the sofa staring at the carpet. - -"Mr. Cromwell?" - -"Yes?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Curtain won't be able to see you at dinner. She's not well -She told me to tell you that the cook will fix you something and that -there's a spare bedroom." - -"She's sick, you say?" - -"She's lying down in her room. The consultation is just over." - -"Did they--did they decide anything?" - -"Yes," said the nurse softly. "Doctor Jewett says there's no hope. Mr. -Curtain may live indefinitely, but he'll never see again or move again -or think. He'll just breathe." - -"Just breathe?" - -"Yes." - -For the first time the nurse noted that beside the writing-desk where -she remembered that she had seen a line of a dozen curious round -objects she had vaguely imagined to be some exotic form of decoration, -there was now only one. Where the others had been, there was now a -series of little nail-holes. - -Harry followed her glance dazedly and then rose to his feet. - -"I don't believe I'll stay. I believe there's a train." - -She nodded. Harry picked up his hat. - -"Good-by," she said pleasantly. - -"Good-by," he answered, as though talking to himself and, evidently -moved by some involuntary necessity, he paused on his way to the door -and she saw him pluck the last object from the wall and drop it into -his pocket. - -Then he opened the screen door and, descending the porch steps, passed -out of her sight. - - -V - -After a while the coat of clean white paint on the Jeffrey Curtain -house made a definite compromise with the suns of many Julys and -showed its good faith by turning gray. It scaled--huge peelings of -very brittle old paint leaned over backward like aged men practising -grotesque gymnastics and finally dropped to a moldy death in the -overgrown grass beneath. The paint on the front pillars became -streaky; the white ball was knocked off the left-hand door-post; the -green blinds darkened, then lost all pretense of color. - -It began to be a house that was avoided by the tender-minded--some -church bought a lot diagonally opposite for a graveyard, and this, -combined with "the place where Mrs. Curtain stays with that living -corpse," was enough to throw a ghostly aura over that quarter of the -road. Not that she was left alone. Men and women came to see her, met -her down town, where she went to do her marketing, brought her home in -their cars--and came in for a moment to talk and to rest, in the -glamour that still played in her smile. But men who did not know her -no longer followed her with admiring glances in the street; a -diaphanous veil had come down over her beauty, destroying its -vividness, yet bringing neither wrinkles nor fat. - -She acquired a character in the village--a group of little stories -were told of her: how when the country was frozen over one winter so -that no wagons nor automobiles could travel, she taught herself to -skate so that she could make quick time to the grocer and druggist, -and not leave Jeffrey alone for long. It was said that every night -since his paralysis she slept in a small bed beside his bed, holding -his hand. - -Jeffrey Curtain was spoken of as though he were already dead. As the -years dropped by those who had known him died or moved away--there -were but half a dozen of the old crowd who had drunk cocktails -together, called each other's wives by their first names, and thought -that Jeff was about the wittiest and most talented fellow that Marlowe -had ever known. How, to the casual visitor, he was merely the reason -that Mrs. Curtain excused herself sometimes and hurried upstairs; he -was a groan or a sharp cry borne to the silent parlor on the heavy air -of a Sunday afternoon. - -He could not move; he was stone blind, dumb and totally unconscious. -All day he lay in his bed, except for a shift to his wheel-chair every -morning while she straightened the room. His paralysis was creeping -slowly toward his heart. At first-for the first year--Roxanne had -received the faintest answering pressure sometimes when she held his -hand--then it had gone, ceased one evening and never come back, and -through two nights Roxanne lay wide-eyed, staring into the dark and -wondering what had gone, what fraction of his soul had taken flight, -what last grain of comprehension those shattered broken nerves still -carried to the brain. - -After that hope died. Had it not been for her unceasing care the last -spark would have gone long before. Every morning she shaved and bathed -him, shifted him with her own hands from bed to chair and back to bed. -She was in his room constantly, bearing medicine, straightening a -pillow, talking to him almost as one talks to a nearly human dog, -without hope of response or appreciation, but with the dim persuasion -of habit, a prayer when faith has gone. - -Not a few people, one celebrated nerve specialist among them, gave her -a plain impression that it was futile to exercise so much care, that -if Jeffrey had been conscious he would have wished to die, that if his -spirit were hovering in some wider air it would agree to no such -sacrifice from her, it would fret only for the prison of its body to -give it full release. - -"But you see," she replied, shaking her head gently, "when I married -Jeffrey it was--until I ceased to love him." - -"But," was protested, in effect, "you can't love that." - -"I can love what it once was. What else is there for me to do?" - -The specialist shrugged his shoulders and went away to say that Mrs. -Curtain was a remarkable woman and just about as sweet as an -angel--but, he added, it was a terrible pity. - -"There must be some man, or a dozen, just crazy to take care of -her...." - -Casually--there were. Here and there some one began in hope--and ended -in reverence. There was no love in the woman except, strangely enough, -for life, for the people in the world, from the tramp to whom she gave -food she could ill afford to the butcher who sold her a cheap cut of -steak across the meaty board. The other phase was sealed up somewhere -in that expressionless mummy who lay with his face turned ever toward -the light as mechanically as a compass needle and waited dumbly for -the last wave to wash over his heart. - -After eleven years he died in the middle of a May night, when the -scent of the syringa hung upon the window-sill and a breeze wafted in -the shrillings of the frogs and cicadas outside. Roxanne awoke at two, -and realized with a start she was alone in the house at last. - - -VI - -After that she sat on her weather-beaten porch through many -afternoons, gazing down across the fields that undulated in a slow -descent to the white and green town. She was wondering what she would -do with her life. She was thirty-six--handsome, strong, and free. The -years had eaten up Jeffrey's insurance; she had reluctantly parted -with the acres to right and left of her, and had even placed a small -mortgage on the house. - -With her husband's death had come a great physical restlessness. She -missed having to care for him in the morning, she missed her rush to -town, and the brief and therefore accentuated neighborly meetings in -the butcher's and grocer's; she missed the cooking for two, the -preparation of delicate liquid food for him. One day, consumed with -energy, she went out and spaded up the whole garden, a thing that had -not been done for years. - -And she was alone at night in the room that had seen the glory of her -marriage and then the pain. To meet Jeff again she went back in spirit -to that wonderful year, that intense, passionate absorption and -companionship, rather than looked forward to a problematical meeting -hereafter; she awoke often to lie and wish for that presence beside -her--inanimate yet breathing--still Jeff. - -One afternoon six months after his death she was sitting on the porch, -in a black dress which took away the faintest suggestion of plumpness -from her figure. It was Indian summer--golden brown all about her; a -hush broken by the sighing of leaves; westward a four o'clock sun -dripping streaks of red and yellow over a flaming sky. Most of the -birds had gone--only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the -cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent cheeping varied by -occasional fluttering sallies overhead. Roxanne moved her chair to -where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of -the afternoon. - -Harry Cromwell was coming out from Chicago to dinner. Since his -divorce over eight years before he had been a frequent visitor. They -had kept up what amounted to a tradition between them: when he arrived -they would go to look at Jeff; Harry would sit down on the edge of the -bed and in a hearty voice ask: - -"Well, Jeff, old man, how do you feel to-day?" - -Roxanne, standing beside, would look intently at Jeff, dreaming that -some shadowy recognition of this former friend had passed across that -broken mind--but the head, pale, carven, would only move slowly in its -sole gesture toward the light as if something behind the blind eyes -were groping for another light long since gone out. - -These visits stretched over eight years--at Easter, Christmas, -Thanksgiving, and on many a Sunday Harry had arrived, paid his call on -Jeff, and then talked for a long while with Roxanne on the porch. He -was devoted to her. He made no pretense of hiding, no attempt to -deepen, this relation. She was his best friend as the mass of flesh on -the bed there had been his best friend. She was peace, she was rest; -she was the past. Of his own tragedy she alone knew. - -He had been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he -worked had shifted him to the East and only a business trip had -brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written him to -come when he could--after a night in the city he had caught a train -out. - -They shook hands and he helped her move two rockers together. - -"How's George?" - -"He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school." - -"Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him." - -"Of course---" - -"You miss him horribly, Harry?" - -"Yes--I do miss him. He's a funny boy---" - -He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring -him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her -life--a child in dirty rompers. - -She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner--she had -four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She -put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they -continued their talk about George. - -"If I had a child--" she would say. - -Afterward, Harry having given her what slender advice he could about -investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to -recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court -had lain.... - -"Do you remember--" - -Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences: the day they had taken -all the snap-shots and Jeff had been photographed astride the calf; -and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne, lying sprawled in -the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a -covered lattice connecting the barn-studio with the house, so that -Jeff could get there on wet days--the lattice had been started, but -nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered -to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop. - -"And those mint juleps!" - -"And Jeff's note-book! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when -we'd get it out of his pocket and read aloud a page of material. And -how frantic he used to get?" - -"Wild! He was such a kid about his writing." - -They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said: - -"We were to have a place out here, too. Do you remember? We were to -buy the adjoining twenty acres. And the parties we were going to -have!" - -Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from -Roxanne. - -"Do you ever hear of her, Harry?" - -"Why--yes," he admitted placidly. "She's in Seattle. She's married -again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great deal -older than she is, I believe." - -"And she's behaving?" - -"Yes--that is, I've heard so. She has everything, you see. Nothing -much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time." - -"I see." - -Without effort he changed the subject. - -"Are you going to keep the house?" - -"I think so," she said, nodding. "I've lived here so long, Harry, it'd -seem terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course -that'd mean leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady." - -"Live in one?" - -"No. Keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady? -Anyway I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer -and two or three, if I can get them, in the winter. Of course I'll -have to have the house repainted and gone over inside." - -Harry considered. - -"Roxanne, why--naturally you know best what you can do, but it does -seem a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride." - -"Perhaps," she said, "that's why I don't mind remaining here as a -boarding-house lady." - -"I remember a certain batch of biscuits." - -"Oh, those biscuits," she cried. "Still, from all I heard about the -way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was _so_ -low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those -biscuits." - -"I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still in the library wall -where Jeff drove them." - -"Yes." - -It was getting very dark now, a crispness settled in the air; a little -gust of wind sent down a last spray of leaves. Roxanne shivered -slightly. - -"We'd better go in." - -He looked at his watch. - -"It's late. I've got to be leaving. I go East tomorrow." - -"Must you?" - -They lingered for a moment just below the stoop, watching a moon that -seemed full of snow float out of the distance where the lake lay. -Summer was gone and now Indian summer. The grass was cold and there -was no mist and no dew. After he left she would go in and light the -gas and close the shatters, and he would go down the path and on to -the village. To these two life had come quickly and gone, leaving not -bitterness, but pity; not disillusion, but only pain. There was -already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the -gathered kindness in the other's eyes. - - - - -MR. ICKY - -THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT - - -_The Scene is the Exterior of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a -desperately Arcadian afternoon in August._ MR. ICKY, _quaintly -dressed in the costume of an Elizabethan peasant, is pottering and -doddering among the pots and dods. He is an old man, well past the -prime of life, no longer young, From the fact that there is a burr in -his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrongside -out, we surmise that he is either above or below the ordinary -superficialities of life._ - -_Near him on the grass lies _PETER_, a little boy. -_PETER_, of course, has his chin on his palm like the pictures -of the young Sir Walter Raleigh. He has a complete set of features, -including serious, sombre, even funereal, gray eyes--and radiates that -alluring air of never having eaten food. This air can best be radiated -during the afterglow of a beef dinner. Be is looking at _MR. -ICKY_, fascinated._ - -_Silence. . . . The song of birds._ - -PETER: Often at night I sit at my window and regard the stars. -Sometimes I think they're my stars.... (_Gravely_) I think I -shall be a star some day.... - -ME. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) Yes, yes ... yes.... - -PETER: I know them all: Venus, Mars, Neptune, Gloria Swanson. - -MR. ICKY: I don't take no stock in astronomy.... I've been thinking o' -Lunnon, laddie. And calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for to -be a typewriter.... (_He sighs._) - -PETER: I liked Ulsa, Mr. Icky; she was so plump, so round, so buxom. - -MR. ICKY: Not worth the paper she was padded with, laddie. (_He -stumbles over a pile of pots and dods._) - -PETER: How is your asthma, Mr. Icky? - -MR. ICKY: Worse, thank God!...(_Gloomily.)_ I'm a hundred years -old... I'm getting brittle. - -PETER: I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty -arson. - -MR. ICKY: Yes... yes.... You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty I -reformed once--in prison. - -PETER: You went wrong again? - -MR. ICKY: Worse than that. The week before my term expired they -insisted on transferring to me the glands of a healthy young prisoner -they were executing. - -PETER: And it renovated you? - -MR. ICKY: Renovated me! It put the Old Nick back into me! This young -criminal was evidently a suburban burglar and a kleptomaniac. What was -a little playful arson in comparison! - -PETER: (_Awed_) How ghastly! Science is the bunk. - -MR. ICKY: (_Sighing_) I got him pretty well subdued now. 'Tisn't -every one who has to tire out two sets o' glands in his lifetime. I -wouldn't take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan -asylum. - -PETER: (_Considering_) I shouldn't think you'd object to a nice -quiet old clergyman's set. - -MR. ICKY: Clergymen haven't got glands--they have souls. - -(_There is a low, sonorous honking off stage to indicate that a -large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity. Then a young -man handsomely attired in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat -comes onto the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the -spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first -row of the balcony. This is_ RODNEY DIVINE.) - -DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky. - -(MR. ICKY _rises and stands tremulously between two dods._) - -MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon. - -DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her. - -(_He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel that hangs at -his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches -it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights._) - -DIVINE: I shall wait. - -(_He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an -occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among -themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks -by_ DIVINE _or a tumbling act, as desired._) - -DIVINE: It's very quiet here. - -MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet.... - -(_Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It -is _ULSA ICKY._ On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to -early Italian painting._) - -ULSA: (_In a coarse, worldly voice_) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did -what? - -MR. ICKY: (_Tremulously_) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (_They embrace -each other's torsos._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Hopefully_) You've come back to help with the -ploughing. - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) No, feyther; ploughing's such a beyther. I'd -reyther not. - -(_Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and -clean._) - -DIVINE: (_Conciliatingly_) See here, Ulsa. Let's come to an -understanding. - -(_He advances toward her with the graceful, even stride that made -him captain of the striding team at Cambridge._) - -ULSA: You still say it would be Jack? - -MR. ICKY: What does she mean? - -DIVINE: (_Kindly_) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It -couldn't be Frank. - -MR. ICKY: Frank who? - -ULSA: It _would_ be Frank! - -(_Some risqué joke can be introduced here._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting... - -DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement -that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You'd better marry me. - -ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn't let me in through the -servants' entrance of your house. - -DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn't! Never fear--you shall come in -through the mistress' entrance. - -ULSA: Sir! - -DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean? - -MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little -Ulsa?... - -DIVINE: I do. - -MR. ICKY: Your record is clean. - -DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world--- - -ULSA: And the worst by-laws. - -DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to -Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force--- - -MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?... - -DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections -every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a -converted tank. I have seats at the opera--- - -ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can't sleep except in a box. And I've heard -that you were cashiered from your club. - -MR. ICKY: A cashier? ... - -DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered. - -ULSA: What for? - -DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo bails one day for a -joke. - -MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape? - -DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair. After all what is brilliance? Merely -the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is. - -ME. ICKY; Be careful. ... I will-not marry my daughter to an epigram.... - -DIVINE: (_More gloomily_) I assure you I'm a mere platitude. I -often descend to the level of an innate idea. - -ULSA: (_Dully_) None of what you're saying matters. I can't marry -a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would-- - -DIVINE: (_Interrupting_) Nonsense! - -ULSA: (_Emphatically_) You're a fool! - -MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! ... One should not judge ... Charity, my girl. What -was it Nero said?--"With malice toward none, with charity toward -all---" - -PETER: That wasn't Nero. That was John Drinkwater. - -MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack? - - -DIVINE: (_Morosely_) Gotch. - -ULSA: Dempsey. - -DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in -a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that -Jack Dempsey would take one--- - -ULSA: (_Angrily_) Rot! He wouldn't have a--- - -DIVINE: (_Quickly_) You win. - -ULSA: Then I love you again. - -MR. ICKY: So I'm going to lose my little daughter... - -ULSA: You've still got a houseful of children, - -(CHARLES, ULSA'S _brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed -as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an -anchor is hanging from his neck._) - -CHARLES: (_Not seeing them_) I'm going to sea! I'm going to sea! - -(_His voice is triumphant._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Sadly_) You went to seed long ago. - -CHARLES: I've been reading "Conrad." - -PETER: (_Dreamily_) "Conrad," ah! "Two Years Before the Mast," by -Henry James. - -CHARLES: What? - -PETER: Walter Pater's version of "Robinson Crusoe." - -CHARLES: (_To his feyther_) I can't stay here and rot with you. I -want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. - -MR. ICKY: I will be here... when you come back.... - -CHARLES: (_Contemptuously_) Why, the worms are licking their -chops already when they hear your name. - -(_It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for -some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a -spirited saxophone number._) - -MR. ICKY: (_Mournfully_) These vales, these hills, these -McCormick harvesters--they mean nothing to my children. I understand. - -CHARLES: (_More gently_) Then you'll think of me kindly, feyther. -To understand is to forgive. - -MR. ICKY: No...no....We never forgive those we can understand....We -can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all.... - -CHARLES: (_Impatiently_) I'm so beastly sick of your human nature -line. And, anyway, I hate the hours around here. - -(_Several dozen more of _MR. ICKY'S_ children trip out of the -house, trip over the grass, and trip over the pots and dods. They are -muttering "We are going away," and "We are leaving you."_) - -MR. ICKY: (_His heart breaking_) They're all deserting me. I've -been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of -a Bismarck. - -(_There is a honking outside--probably _DIVINE'S_ chauffeur -growing impatient for his master._) - -MR. ICKY: (_In misery_) They do not love the soil! They have been -faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (_He picks up a handful of -soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts._) Oh, -Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke! - - _"No motion has she now, no force; - She does not hear or feel; - Roll'd round on earth's diurnal course - In some one's Oldsmobile."_ - -(_They all groan and shouting "Life" and "Jazz" move slowly toward -the wings._) - -CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I've been trying to turn my back to -the soil for ten years! - -ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who -wants to be a backbone? - -ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce of my country if I can -eat the salad! - -ALL: Life! Psychic Research! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: (_Struggling with himself_) I must be quaint. That's -all there is. It's not life that counts, it's the quaintness you bring -to it.... - -ALL: We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for -Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz! - -MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at -random. One always finds something that bears on the situation. - -(_He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random -begins to read._) - -"Ahab and Istemo and Anim, Goson and Olon and Gilo, eleven cities and -their villages. Arab, and Ruma, and Esaau--" - -CHARLES: (_Cruelly_) Buy ten more rings and try again. - -MR. ICKY: (_Trying again_) "How beautiful art thou my love, how -beautiful art thou! Thy eyes are dove's eyes, besides what is hid -within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats which come up from Mount -Galaad--Hm! Rather a coarse passage...." - -(_His children laugh at him rudely, shouting "Jazz!" and "All life -is primarily suggestive!"_) - -MR. ICKY: (_Despondently_) It won't work to-day. -(_Hopefully_) Maybe it's damp. (_He feels it_) Yes, it's -damp.... There was water in the dod.... It won't work. - -ALL: It's damp! It won't work! Jazz! - -ONE OF THE CHILDREN: Come, we must catch the six-thirty. - -(_Any other cue may be inserted here._) - -MR. ICKY: Good-by.... - -(_ They all go out._ MR. ICKY _is left alone. He sighs and -walking over to the cottage steps, lies down, and closes his eyes._) - -_Twilight has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as -never was on land or sea. There is no sound except a sheep-herder's -wife in the distance playing an aria from Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, -on a mouth-organ. The great white and gray moths swoop down and light -on the old man until he is completely covered by them. But he does not -stir._ - -_The curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse of -several minutes. A good comedy effect can be obtained by having -_MR. ICKY_ cling to the curtain and go up and down with it. -Fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this -point._ - -_Then _PETER_ appears, a look of almost imbecile sweetness on -his face. In his hand he clutches something and from time to time -glances at it in a transport of ecstasy. After a struggle with himself -he lays it on the old man's body and then quietly withdraws._ - -_The moths chatter among themselves and then scurry away in sudden -fright. And as night deepens there still sparkles there, small, white -and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Issacshire breeze, -_PETER'S_ gift of love--a moth-ball._ - -(_The play can end at this point or can go on indefinitely._) - - - - -JEMINA, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL - -This don't pretend to be "Literature." This is just a tale for -red-blooded folks who want a _story_ and not just a lot of -"psychological" stuff or "analysis." Boy, you'll love it! Read it -here, see it in the movies, play it on the phonograph, run it through -the sewing-machine. - - -A WILD THING - -It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all -sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the -mountains. - -Jemima Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family -still. - -She was a typical mountain girl. - -Her feet were bare. Her hands, large and powerful, hung down below her -knees. Her face showed the ravages of work. Although but sixteen, she -had for over a dozen years been supporting her aged pappy and mappy by -brewing mountain whiskey. From time to time she would pause in her -task, and, filling a dipper full of the pure, invigorating liquid, -would drain it off--then pursue her work with renewed vigor. - -She would place the rye in the vat, thresh it out with her feet and, -in twenty minutes, the completed product would be turned out. - -A sudden cry made her pause in the act of draining a dipper and look -up. - -"Hello," said a voice. It came from a man clad in hunting boots -reaching to his neck, who had emerged. - -"Can you tell me the way to the Tantrums' cabin?" - -"Are you uns from the settlements down thar?" - -She pointed her hand down to the bottom of the hill, where Louisville -lay. She had never been there; but once, before she was born, her -great-grandfather, old Gore Tantrum, had gone into the settlements in -the company of two marshals, and had never come back. So the Tantrums -from generation to generation, had learned to dread civilization. - -The man was amused. He laughed a light tinkling laugh, the laugh of a -Philadelphian. Something in the ring of it thrilled her. She drank off -another dipper of whiskey. - -"Where is Mr. Tantrum, little girl?" he asked, not without kindness. - -She raised her foot and pointed her big toe toward the woods. "Thar in -the cabing behind those thar pines. Old Tantrum air my old man." - -The man from the settlements thanked her and strode off. He was fairly -vibrant with youth and personality. As he walked along he whistled and -sang and turned handsprings and flapjacks, breathing in the fresh, -cool air of the mountains. - -The air around the still was like wine. - -Jemina Tantrum watched him entranced. No one like him had ever come -into her life before. - -She sat down on the grass and counted her toes. She counted eleven. -She had learned arithmetic in the mountain school. - - -A MOUNTAIN FEUD - -Ten years before a lady from the settlements had opened a school on -the mountain. Jemina had no money, but she had paid her way in -whiskey, bringing a pailful to school every morning and leaving it on -Miss Lafarge's desk. Miss Lafarge had died of delirium tremens after a -year's teaching, and so Jemina's education had stopped. - -Across the still stream, still another still was standing; It was that -of the Doldrums. The Doldrums and the Tantrums never exchanged calls. - -They hated each other. - -Fifty years before old Jem Doldrum and old Jem Tantrum had quarrelled -in the Tantrum cabin over a game of slapjack. Jem Doldrum had thrown -the king of hearts in Jem Tantrum's face, and old Tantrum, enraged, -had felled the old Doldrum with the nine of diamonds. Other Doldrums -and Tantrums had joined in and the little cabin was soon filled with -flying cards. Harstrum Doldrum, one of the younger Doldrums, lay -stretched on the floor writhing in agony, the ace of hearts crammed -down his throat. Jem Tantrum, standing in the doorway; ran through -suit after suit, his face alight with fiendish hatred. Old Mappy -Tantrum stood on the table wetting down the Doldrums with hot whiskey. -Old Heck Doldrum, having finally run out of trumps, was backed out of -the cabin, striking left and right with his tobacco pouch, and -gathering around him the rest of his clan. Then they mounted their -steers and galloped furiously home. - -That night old man Doldrum and his sons, vowing vengeance, had -returned, put a ticktock on the Tantrum window, stuck a pin in the -doorbell, and beaten a retreat. - -A week later the Tantrums had put Cod Liver Oil in the Doldrums' -still, and so, from year to year, the feud had continued, first one -family being entirely wiped out, then the other. - - -THE BIRTH OF LOVE - -Every day little Jemina worked the still on her side of the stream, -and Boscoe Doldrum worked the still on his side. - -Sometimes, with automatic inherited hatred, the feudists would throw -whiskey at each other, and Jemina would come home smelling like a -French table d'hôte. - -But now Jemina was too thoughtful to look across the stream. - -How wonderful the stranger had been and how oddly he was dressed! In -her innocent way she had never believed that there were any civilized -settlements at all, and she had put the belief in them down to the -credulity of the mountain people. - -She turned to go up to the cabin, and, as she turned something struck -her in the neck. It was a sponge, thrown by Boscoe Doldrum--a sponge -soaked in whiskey from his still on the other side of the stream. - -"Hi, thar, Boscoe Doldrum," she shouted in her deep bass voice. - -"Yo! Jemina Tantrum. Gosh ding yo'!" he returned. - -She continued her way to the cabin. - -The stranger was talking to her father. Gold had been discovered on -the Tantrum land, and the stranger, Edgar Edison, was trying to buy -the land for a song. He was considering what song to offer. - -She sat upon her hands and watched him. - -He was wonderful. When he talked his lips moved. - -She sat upon the stove and watched him. - -Suddenly there came a blood-curdling scream. The Tantrums rushed to -the windows. - -It was the Doldrums. - -They had hitched their steers to trees and concealed themselves behind -the bushes and flowers, and soon a perfect rattle of stones and bricks -beat against the windows, bending them inward. - -"Father! father!" shrieked Jemina. - -Her father took down his slingshot from his slingshot rack on the wall -and ran his hand lovingly over the elastic band. He stepped to a -loophole. Old Mappy Tantrum stepped to the coalhole. - - -A MOUNTAIN BATTLE - -The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at the Doldrums, he -tried to escape from the house by crawling up the chimney. Then he -thought there might be a door under the bead, but Jemina told him -there was not. He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each -time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no doors there. -Furious with anger, he beat upon the door and hollered at the -Doldrums. They did not answer him, but kept up their fusillade of -bricks and stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew that just -as soon as they were able to affect an aperture they would pour in and -the fight would be over. - -Then old Heck Doldrum, foaming at the mouth and expectorating on the -ground, left and right, led the attack. - -The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not been without their -effect. A master shot had disabled one Doldrum, and another Doldrum, -shot almost incessantly through the abdomen, fought feebly on. - -Nearer and nearer they approached the house. - -"We must fly," shouted the stranger to Jemina. "I will sacrifice -myself and bear you away." - -"No," shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed. "You stay here and fit -on. I will bar Jemina away. I will bar Mappy away. I will bar myself -away." - -The man from the settlements, pale and trembling with anger, turned to -Ham Tantrum, who stood at the door throwing loophole after loophole at -the advancing Doldrums. - -"Will you cover the retreat?" - -But Ham said that he too had Tantrums to bear away, but that he would -leave himself here to help the stranger cover the retreat, if he could -think of a way of doing it. - -Soon smoke began to filter through the floor and ceiling. Shem Doldrum -had come up and touched a match to old Japhet Tantrum's breath as he -leaned from a loophole, and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides. - -The whiskey in the bathtub caught fire. The walls began to fall in. - -Jemina and the man from the settlements looked at each other. - -"Jemina," he whispered. - -"Stranger," she answered, - -"We will die together," he said. "If we had lived I would have taken -you to the city and married you. With your ability to hold liquor, -your social success would have been assured." - -She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes softly to -herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left leg was on fire. - -She was a human alcohol lamp. - -Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall fell on them and -blotted them out. - -"As One." - -When the Doldrums burst through the ring of flame, they found them -dead where they had fallen, their arms about each other. - -Old Jem Doldrum was moved. - -He took off his hat. - -He filled it with whiskey and drank it off. - -"They air dead," he said slowly, "they hankered after each other. The -fit is over now. We must not part them." - -So they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they -made were as one. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE *** - -This file should be named 8tjzz10.txt or 8tjzz10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8tjzz11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8tjzz10a.txt - -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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