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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6718-0.txt b/6718-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68ccaa1 --- /dev/null +++ b/6718-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12629 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cap'n Dan's Daughter, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +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: Cap'n Dan's Daughter + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: June 6, 2006 [EBook #6718] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson + + + + + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + + +By Joseph C. Lincoln + + +1914 + + + + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety Store at Trumet Centre was open +for business. Sam Bartlett, the boy whose duty it was to take down +the shutters, sweep out, dust, and wait upon early-bird customers, had +performed the first three of these tasks and gone home for breakfast. +The reason he had not performed the fourth--the waiting upon +customers--was simple enough; there had been no customers to wait upon. +The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety Store was open and ready for +business--but, unfortunately, there was no business. + +There should have been. This was August, the season of the year when, if +ever, Trumet shopkeepers should be beaming across their counters at the +city visitor, male or female, and telling him or her, that “white duck +hats are all the go this summer,” or “there's nothin' better than an +oilskin coat for sailin' cruises or picnics.” Outing shirts and yachting +caps, fancy stationery, post cards, and chocolates should be changing +hands at a great rate and the showcase, containing the nicked blue +plates and cracked teapots, the battered candlesticks and tarnished +pewters, “genuine antiques,” should be opened at frequent intervals for +the inspection of bargain-seeking mothers and their daughters. July and +August are the Cape Cod harvest months; if the single-entry ledgers of +Trumet's business men do not show good-sized profits during that season +they are not likely to do so the rest of the year. + +Captain Daniel Dott, proprietor of the Metropolitan Store, bending over +his own ledger spread on the little desk by the window at the rear of +his establishment, was realizing this fact, realizing it with a sinking +heart and a sense of hopeless discouragement. The summer was almost +over; September was only three days off; in another fortnight the hotels +would be closed, the boarding houses would be closing, and Trumet, +deserted by its money spending visitors, would be falling asleep, +relapsing into its autumn and winter hibernation. And the Dott ledger, +instead of showing a profit of a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars, as +it had the first summer after Daniel bought the business, showed but a +meager three hundred and fifty, over and above expenses. + +Through the window the sun was shining brightly. From the road in front +of the store--Trumet's “Main Street”--came the rattle of wheels and the +sound of laughter and conversation in youthful voices. The sounds drew +nearer. Someone shouted “Whoa!” Daniel Dott, a ray of hope illuminating +his soul at the prospect of a customer, rose hurriedly from his seat by +the desk and hastened out into the shop. + +A big two-horsed vehicle, the “barge” from the Manonquit House, had +stopped before the door. It was filled with a gay crowd, youths and +maidens from the hotel, dressed in spotless flannels and “blazers,” all +talking at once, and evidently carefree and happy. Two of the masculine +members of the party descended from the “barge” and entered the store. +Daniel, smiling his sweetest, stepped forward to meet them. + +“Good mornin', good mornin',” he said. “A fine mornin', ain't it?” + +The greeting was acknowledged by both of the young fellows, and one of +them added that it was a fine morning, indeed. + +“Don't know as I ever saw a finer,” observed Daniel. “Off on a cruise +somewhere, I presume likely; hey?” + +“Picnic down at the Point.” + +“Well, you've got picnic weather, all right. Yes sir, you have!” + +Comment concerning the weather is the inevitable preliminary to all +commercial transactions in Trumet. Now, preliminaries being over, Daniel +waited hopefully for what was to follow. His hopes were dashed. + +“Is--is Miss Dott about?” inquired one of the callers. + +“Miss Dott? Oh, Gertie! No, she ain't. She's gone down street +somewheres. Be back pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder.” + +“Humph! Well, I'm afraid we can't wait. We hoped she might go with us on +the picnic. We--er--we wanted her very much.” + +“That so? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid she couldn't go, even if she was +here. You see, it's her last day at home, and--we--her mother and +I--that is, I don't believe she'd want to leave us to-day.” + +“No; no, of course not. Well, tell her we wish she might have come, +but we understand. Yes, yes,” in answer to the calls from the “barge,” + “we're coming. Well, good by, Captain Dott.” + +“Er--good by. Er--er--don't want anything to take along, do you? A nice +box of candy, or--or anything?” + +“No, I think not. We stopped at the Emporium just now, and loaded up +with candy enough to last a week. Good morning.” + +“How are you fixed for sun hats and things? I've got a nice line of hats +and--well, good by.” + +“Good by.” + +The “barge” moved off. Daniel, standing dejectedly in the door, +remembered his manners. + +“Hope you have a nice time,” he shouted. Then he turned and moved +disconsolately back to the desk. He might have expected it. It was thus +in nine cases out of ten. The Emporium, Mr. J. Cohen, proprietor, was +his undoing in this instance as in so many others. The Emporium got the +trade and he got the good bys. Mr. Cohen was not an old resident, as +he was; Mr. Cohen's daughter was not invited to picnics by the summer +people; Mrs. Cohen was not head of the sewing circle and the Chapter of +the Ladies of Honor, and prominent socially, as was Mrs. Dott; but Mr. +Cohen bought cheap and sold cheap, and the Emporium flourished like a +green bay tree, while the Metropolitan Store was rapidly going to seed. +Daniel, looking out through the front window at the blue sea in the +distance, thought of the past, of the days when, as commander and +part owner of the three masted schooner Bluebird, he had been free and +prosperous and happy. Then he considered the future, which was bluer +than the sea, and sighed again. Why had he not been content to stick +to the profession he understood, to remain on the salt water he loved; +instead of retiring from the sea to live on dry land and squander his +small fortune in a business for which he was entirely unfitted? + +And yet the answer was simple enough. Mrs. Dott--Mrs. Serena Dott, his +wife--was the answer, she and her social aspirations. It was Serena +who had coaxed him into giving up seafaring; who had said that it was +a shame for him to waste his life ordering foremast hands about when he +might be one of the leading citizens in his native town. It was Serena +who had persuaded him to invest the larger part of his savings in +the Metropolitan Store. Serena, who had insisted that Gertrude, their +daughter and only child, should leave home to attend the fashionable +and expensive seminary near Boston. Serena who--but there! it was all +Serena; and had been ever since they were married. Captain Daniel, on +board his schooner, was a man whose word was law. On shore, he was law +abiding, and his words were few. + +The side door of the store--that leading to the yard separating it from +the Dott homestead--opened, and Azuba Ginn appeared. Azuba had been +the Dott maid of all work for eighteen years, ever since Gertrude was a +baby. She was married, but her husband, Laban Ginn, was mate on a steam +freighter running between New York and almost anywhere, and his shore +leaves were short and infrequent. Theirs was a curious sort of married +life. “We is kind of independent, Labe and me,” said Azuba. “He often +says to me--that is, as often as we're together, which ain't often--he +says to me, he says, 'Live where you want to, Zuby,' he says, 'and if +you want to move, move! When I get ashore I can hunt you up.' We don't +write many letters because time each get t'other's, the news is so +plaguey old 'tain't news at all. You Dotts seem more like home folks to +me than anybody else, so I stick to you. I presume likely I shall till I +die.” + +Azuba entered the store in the way in which she did most things, with +a flurry and a slam. Her sleeves were rolled up, she wore an apron, and +one hand dripped suds, demonstrating that it had just been taken from +the dishpan. In the other, wiped more or less dry on the apron, she held +a crumpled envelope. + +“Well!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “If some human bein's don't beat +the Dutch then _I_ don't know, that's all. If the way some folks go +slip-slop, hit or miss, through this world ain't a caution then--Tut! +tut! tut! don't talk to ME!” + +Captain Dan looked up from the ledger. + +“What?” he asked absently. + +“I say, don't talk to ME!” + +“We--ll,” with deliberation, “I guess I shan't, unless you stop talkin' +yourself, and give me a chance. What's the matter now, Zuba?” + +“Matter! Don't talk to ME! Carelessness is the matter! Slip-sloppiness +is the matter! Here's a man that calls himself a man and goes mopin' +around pretendin' to BE a man, and what does he do?” + +“I don't know. I'd tell you better, maybe, if I knew who he was.” + +“Who he was! I'll tell you who he was--is, I mean. He's Balaam +Hambleton, that's who he is.” + +“Humph! Bale Hamilton, hey? Then it's easy enough to say what he +does--nothin', most of the time. Is that letter for me?” + +“Course it's for you! And it's a week old, what's more. One week ago +that letter come in the mail and the postmaster let that--that Hambleton +thing take it, 'cause he said he was goin' right by here and could leave +it just as well as not. And this very mornin' that freckle-faced boy +of his--that George Washin'ton one--what folks give such names to their +young ones for _I_ can't see!--he rung the front door bell and yanked +me right out of the dish water, and he says his ma found the letter in +Balaam's other pants when she was mendin' 'em, and would I please excuse +his forgettin' it 'cause he had so much on his mind lately. Mind! Land +of love! if he had a thistle top on his mind 'twould smash it flat. +Don't talk to me!” + +“I won't,” drily; “I WON'T, Zuba, I swear it. Let's see the letter.” + +He bent forward and took the letter from her hand. Then, adjusting his +spectacles, he examined the envelope. It was of the ordinary business +size and was stamped with the Boston postmark, and a date a week old. +Captain Dan looked at the postmark, studied the address, which was in an +unfamiliar handwriting, and then turned the envelope over. On the flap +was printed “Shepley and Farwell, Attorneys, ----- Devonshire Street.” + The captain drew a long breath; he leaned back in his chair and sat +staring at the envelope. + +Azuba wiped the suds from her wet hand and arm upon her apron. Then she +wrapped it and the other arm in said apron and coughed. The cough was +intended to arouse her employer from the trance into which he had, +apparently, fallen. But it was without effect. Captain Daniel did stop +staring at the envelope, but he merely transferred his gaze to the +ink-spattered blotter and the ledger upon it, and stared at them. + +“Well?” observed Azuba. + +The captain started. “Hey?” he exclaimed, looking up. “Did you speak?” + +“I said 'Well?'. I suppose that's speakin'?” + +“'Well?' Well what?” + +“Oh, nothin'! I was just wonderin'--” + +“Wonderin' what?” + +“I was wonderin' if that letter was anything important. Ain't you goin' +to open it and see?” + +“Hey? Open it? Oh, yes, yes. Well, I shouldn't wonder if I opened it +some time or other, Zuba. I gen'rally open my letters. It's a funny +habit I have.” + +“Humph! Well, all right, then. I didn't know. Course, 'tain't none of my +business what's in other folks's letters. _I_ ain't nosey, land knows. +Nobody can accuse me of--” + +“Nobody can accuse you of anything, Zuba. Not even dish washin' just +now.” + +Azuba drew herself up. Outraged dignity and injured pride were expressed +in every line of her figure. “Well!” she exclaimed; “WELL! if that +ain't--if that don't beat all that ever _I_ heard! Here I leave my work +to do folks favors, to fetch and carry for 'em, and this is what I get. +Cap'n Dott, I want you to understand that I ain't dependent on nobody +for a job. I don't HAVE to slave myself to death for nobody. If you +ain't satisfied--” + +“There, there, Zuba! I was only jokin'. Don't get mad!” + +“Mad! Who's mad, I'd like to know? It takes more'n that to make me mad, +I'd have you understand.” + +“That's good; I'm glad of it. Well, I'm much obliged to you for bringin' +the letter.” + +“You're welcome. Land sakes! I don't mind doin' errands, only I like +to have 'em appreciated. And I like jokes well as anybody, but when you +tell me--” + +“Hold on! don't get het up again. Keep cool, Zuba, keep cool! Think of +that dish water; it's gettin' cooler every minute.” + +The answer to this was an indignant snort followed by the bang of the +door. Azuba had gone. Captain Daniel looked after her, smiled faintly, +shook his head, and again turned his attention to the letter in his +hand. He did not open it immediately. Instead he sat regarding it with +the same haggard, hopeless expression which he had worn when he first +read the firm's name upon the envelope. He dreaded, perhaps, as much as +he had ever dreaded anything in his life, to open that envelope. + +He was sure, perfectly sure, what he should find when he did open it. +A letter from the legal representatives of Smith and Denton, the Boston +hat manufacturers and dealers, stating that, unless the latter's +account was paid within the next week, suit for the amount due would be +instituted in the courts. A law suit! a law suit for the collection of +a debt against him, Daniel Dott, the man who had prided himself upon +his honesty! Think of what it would mean! the disgrace of it! the +humiliation, not only for himself but for Serena, his wife, and +Gertrude, his daughter! + +He did not blame Smith and Denton; they had been very kind, very lenient +indeed. The thirty-day credit originally given him had been extended to +sixty and ninety. They had written him many times, and each time he had +written in reply that as soon as collections were better he should be +able to pay in full; that he had a good deal of money owed him, and +as soon as it came in they should have it. But it did not come in. No +wonder, considering that it was owed by the loafers and ne'er-do-wells +of the town and surrounding country, who, because no one else would +trust them, bestowed their custom upon good-natured, gullible Captain +Dan. The more recent letters from the hat dealers had been sharper and +less kindly. They had ceased to request; they demanded. At last they had +threatened. And now the threat was to be fulfilled. + +The captain laid the envelope down upon the open ledger, rose, and, +going to the front of the store, carefully closed the door. Then, going +to the door communicating with the other half of the store, he made sure +that no one was in the adjoining room. He had a vague feeling that all +the eyes in Trumet were regarding him with suspicion, and he wished to +shut out their accusing gaze. He wanted to be alone when he read that +letter. He had half a mind to take it to the cellar and open it there. + +His fingers shook as he tore the end from the envelope. They shook still +more as he drew forth the enclosure, a typewritten sheet, and held it to +the light. He read it through to the end. Then, with a loud exclamation, +almost a shout, he rushed to the side door, flung it open and darted +across the yard, the letter fluttering from his fingers like a flag. The +store was left unguarded, but he forgot that. + +He stumbled up the steps into the kitchen. Azuba, a saucer in one hand +and the dish towel in the other, was, to say the least, startled. As she +expressed it afterward, “the everlastin' soul was pretty nigh scart out +of her.” The saucer flew through the air and lit upon the top of the +cookstove. + +“What--what--what--” stammered Azuba. “Oh, my land! WHAT is it?” + +“Where's Serena?” demanded Captain Daniel, paying no attention to the +saucer, except to tread upon the fragments. + +“Hey? Oh, what IS it? Is the store afire?” + +“No, no! Where's Serena?” + +“She--she--what--” + +“Where's SERENA, I ask you?” + +“In her room, I cal'late. For mercy sakes, what--” + +But the captain did not answer. Through dining-room, sitting-room, and +parlor he galloped, and up the front stairs to the bedroom occupied by +himself and wife. Mrs. Dott was standing before the mirror, red-faced +and panting, both arms behind her and her fingers busily engaged. Her +husband's breath was almost gone by the time he reached the foot of the +stairs; consequently his entrance was a trifle less noisy and startling +than his sky-rocket flight through the kitchen. It is doubtful if his +wife would have noticed even if it had been. She caught a glimpse of him +in the mirror, and heaved a sigh of relief. + +“Oh, it's you, is it!” she panted. “My, I'm glad! For mercy sakes fasten +those last three hooks; I'm almost distracted with 'em.” + +But the hooks remained unfastened for the time. Captain Dan threw +himself into a chair and waved the letter. + +“Serena,” he cried, puffing like a stranded porpoise, “what--WHAT do you +suppose has happened? Aunt Laviny is dead.” + +Serena turned. “Dead!” she repeated. “Your Aunt Lavinia Dott? The rich +one?” + +“Yes, sir; she's gone. Died in Italy a fortnight ago. Naples, I think +'twas--or some such outlandish place; you know she's done nothin' but +cruise around Europe ever since Uncle Jim died. The letter says she was +taken sick on a Friday, and died Sunday, so 'twas pretty sudden. I--” + +But Mrs. Dott interrupted. “What else does it say?” she asked excitedly. +“What else does that letter say? Who is if from?” + +“It's from her lawyers up to Boston. What made you think it said +anything else?” + +“Because I'm not blind and I can see your face, Daniel Dott. What else +does it say? Tell me! Has she--did she--?” + +Captain Dan nodded solemnly. “She didn't forget us,” he said. “She +didn't forget us, Serena. The letter says her will gives us that solid +silver teapot and sugar-bowl that was presented to Uncle Jim by the Ship +Chandlers' Society, when he was president of it. She willed that to us. +She knew I always admired that tea-pot and--” + +His wife interrupted once more. + +“Tea-pot!” she repeated strongly. “Tea-pot! What are you talking about? +Do you mean to say that all she left us was a TEA-POT? If you do I--” + +“No, no, Serena. Hush! She's left us three thousand dollars besides. +Think of it! Three thousand dollars--just now!” + +His voice shook as he said it. He spoke as if three thousand dollars was +an unheard-of sum, a fortune. Mrs. Dott had no such illusion. She sat +down upon the edge of the bed. + +“Three thousand dollars!” she exclaimed. “Is that all? Three thousand +dollars!” + +“All! My soul, Serena! Why, ONE thousand dollars just now is like--” + +“Hush! Do be still! Three thousand dollars! And she worth a hundred +thousand, if she was worth a cent. A lone woman, without a chick or +a child or a relation except you, and that precious young swell of a +cousin of hers she thought so much of. I suppose he gets the rest of it. +Oh, how can anybody be so stingy!” + +“Sh-sh, sh-h, Serena. Don't speak so of the dead. Why, we ought to be +mournin' for her, really, instead of rejoicing over what she left us. +It ain't right to talk so. I'm ashamed of myself--or I ought to be. But, +you see, I thought sure the letter was from those hat folks's lawyers, +sayin' they'd started suit. When I found it wasn't, I was so glad I +forgot everything else. Ah hum!--poor Aunt Laviny!” + +He sighed. His wife shook her head. + +“Daniel,” she said, “I--I declare I try not to lose patience with you, +but it's awful hard work. Mourning! Mourn for her! What did she ever do +to make you sorry she was gone? Did she ever come near us when she was +alive? No, indeed, she didn't. Did she ever offer to give you, or even +lend you, a cent? I guess not. And she knew you needed it, for I wrote +her.” + +“You DID? Serena!” + +“Yes, I did. Why shouldn't I? I wrote her six months ago, telling her +how bad your business was, and that Gertie was at school, and we were +trying to give her a good education, and how much money it took and--oh, +everything. When your Uncle Jim's business was bad, in the hard +times back in '73, who was it that helped him out and saved him from +bankruptcy? Why, his brother--your own father. And he never got a cent +of it back. I reminded her of that, too.” + +Daniel sprang out of his chair. + +“You did!” he cried again. “Serena, how could you? You knew how Father +felt about that money. You knew how I felt. And yet, you did that!” + +“I did. Somebody in this family must be practical and worldly-minded, +and I seem to be the one. YOU wouldn't ask her for a cent. You wouldn't +ask anybody for money, even if they owed it a thousand years. You sell +everybody anything they want from the store; and trust them for it. You +know you do. You sold that good-for-nothing Lem Brackett a whole suit of +clothes only last week, and he owes you a big bill and has owed it for a +year.” + +Her husband looked troubled. “Well,” he answered, slowly, “I suppose +likely I didn't do right there. But those Bracketts are poor, and +there's a big family of 'em, and the fall's comin' on, and--and all. +So--” + +“So you thought it was your duty to help support them, I suppose. Oh, +Daniel, Daniel, I don't know what to do with you sometimes.” + +Captain Dan looked very grave. + +“I guess you're right, Serena,” he admitted. “I ain't much good, I'm +afraid.” + +Mrs. Dott's expression changed. She rose, walked over, and kissed him. +“You're too good, that's the main trouble with you,” she said. “Well, I +won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three thousand anyway--and +the tea-pot.” + +“It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the +sugar-bowl's almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena.” + +“Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and think +of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her fortune. No +wonder she didn't leave him the tea-pot; precious little tea he +drinks, if stories we hear are true. Well, there's one good thing about +it--Gertie can keep on with her college. This is her last year.” + +“Yes; I thought of that. I thought of a million things when I was racin' +across the yard with this letter. Say, Serena, you've never told Gertie +anything about how trade was or how hard-up we've been?” + +“Of course not.” + +“No, I knew you wouldn't. She's such a conscientious girl; if she +thought we couldn't afford it she wouldn't think of keepin' on with that +college, and I've set my heart on her havin' the best start in life we +can give her.” + +“I know. Ah hum! I wish she could have the start some people's daughters +have. Mrs. Black was with me at the lodge room yesterday--we are +decorating for the men's evening to-morrow night, you know--and Mrs. +Black has been helping me; she's awfully kind that way. You'd think she +belonged here in Trumet, instead of being rich and living in Scarford +and being way up in society there. She and her husband are just like +common folks.” + +“Humph! Barney Black IS common folks. He was born right here in Trumet +and his family was common as wharf rats. HE needn't put on airs with +me.” + +“He doesn't. And yet, if he was like some people, he would. So +successful in his big factory, and his wife way up in the best circles +of Scarford; she's head of the Ladies of Honor there as I am here, and +means to get a national office in the order; she told me so. But there! +that reminds me that I was going to meet her at the lodge room at ten, +and it's half-past nine now. Do help me with these hooks. If I wasn't so +fleshy I could do them myself, but I almost died hooking the others.” + +“Why didn't you call Zuba? She'd have hooked 'em for you.” + +“Azuba! Heavens and earth! She's worse than nobody; her fingers are all +thumbs. Besides, she would talk me deaf, dumb and blind. She doesn't +know her place at all; thinks she is one of the family, I suppose.” + +“Well, she is, pretty nigh. Been here long enough.” + +“I don't care. She isn't one of the family; she's a servant, or ought to +be. Oh dear! when I hear Annette Black telling about her four servants +and all the rest it makes me so jealous, sometimes.” + +“Don't make ME jealous. I'd rather have you and Gertie and this place +than all Barney Black owns--and that means his wife, too.” + +“Daniel, I keep telling you not to call Mr. Black 'Barney.' He is +B. Phelps Black now. Mrs. Black always calls him 'Phelps.' So does +everybody in Scarford, so she says.” + +“Want to know! He was Barney Black when he lived here regular. Havin' +a summer cottage here and a real house in Scarford must make a lot of +difference. By the way, speakin' of Scarford, that's where Aunt Laviny +used to live afore she went abroad. She owned a big house there.” + +“Why, so she did! I wonder what will become of it. I suppose that cousin +will get it, along with the rest. Oh dear! suppose--just suppose there +wasn't any cousin. Suppose you and I and Gertie had that house and the +money. Wouldn't it be splendid? WE could be in society then.” + +“Humph! I'd look pretty in society, wouldn't I?” + +“Of course you would. You'd look as pretty as Barney--B. Phelps Black, +wouldn't you? And I--Oh, HOW I should love it! Trumet is so out of date. +A real intelligent, ambitious woman has no chance in Trumet.” + +The captain shook his head. He recognized the last sentence as a +quotation from the works of Mrs. Annette Black, self-confessed leader +in society in the flourishing manufacturing city of Scarford, and summer +resident and condescending patroness of Trumet. + +“Well,” he observed; “we've got more chance, even in Trumet, than we've +had for the last year, thanks to Aunt Laviny's three thousand. It gives +us a breathin' spell, anyhow. If only trade in the store would pick up, +I--Hey! Good heavens to Betsy! I forgot the store altogether. Sam +hadn't got back from breakfast and I left the store all alone. I must be +crazy!” + +He bolted from the room and down the stairs, the legacy forgotten for +the moment, and in his mind pictures of rifled showcases and youthful +Trumet regaling itself with chocolates at his expense. Azuba shrieked +another question as her employer once more rushed through the kitchen, +but again her question was unanswered. She hurried to the window and +watched him running across the yard. + +“Well!” she exclaimed, in alarmed soliloquy. “WELL, the next time I +fetch that man a letter I'll fetch the doctor along with it. Has the +world turned upside down, or what is the matter?” + +She might have made a worse guess. The Dott world was turning upside +down; this was the beginning of the revolution. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Captain Dan's fears concerning the safety of his showcases were +groundless. Even as he sprang up the steps to the side door of his place +of business, he heard familiar voices in the store. He recognized +the voices, and, halting momentarily to wipe his forehead with his +handkerchief and to regain some portion of his composure and his breath, +he walked in. + +Gertrude, his daughter, was seated in his chair by the desk, and John +Doane was leaning upon the desk, talking with her. In the front of the +store, Sam Bartlett, the boy, who had evidently returned from breakfast, +was doing nothing in particular, and doing it with his usual air of +enjoyment. It was only when required to work that Sam was unhappy. + +Gertrude looked up as her father entered; prior to that she had been +looking at the blotter on the desk. John Doane, who had been looking at +Gertrude, also changed the direction of his gaze. Captain Dan struggled +with the breath and the composure. + +“Why, Dad!” exclaimed Gertrude. “What is it?” + +“What's the matter, Cap'n Dott?” asked Mr. Doane. + +Daniel did his best to appear calm; it was a poor best. At fifty-two one +cannot run impromptu hurdle races against time, and show no effects. + +“Hey?” he panted. “Matter? Nothin's the matter. I left the store alone +for a minute and I was in a kind of hurry to get back to it, that's +all.” + +The explanation was not entirely satisfactory. Gertrude looked more +puzzled than ever. + +“A minute,” she repeated. “Left it a minute! Why, John and I have been +here fifteen minutes, and Sam was here when we came.” + +The captain looked at his watch. “Well, maybe 'twas a little more'n a +minute,” he admitted. + +Master Bartlett sauntered up to take part in the conversation. + +“I got here twenty minutes ago,” he observed, grinning, “and you wasn't +here then, Cap'n Dan'l. I was wonderin' what had become of ye.” + +Daniel seized the opportunity to change the subject. + +“Anybody been in since you came?” he asked, addressing Sam. + +“No, nobody special. Abel Calvin was in to see if you wanted to buy some +beach plums for puttin' up. He said he had about a bushel of first-rate +ones, just picked.” + +“Beach plums! What in time would I want of beach plums? I don't put up +preserves, do I? Why didn't he go to the house?” + +“I asked him that, myself, and he said 'twa'n't no use.” + +“No use! What did he mean by that?” + +“Well, he said--he said--” Sam seemed suddenly to realize that he was +getting into deep water; “he said--he said somethin' or other; I guess +I've forgot what 'twas.” + +“I guess you ain't. WHAT did he say?” + +“Well, he said--he said Serena--Mrs. Dott, I mean--was probably +gallivantin' down to the lodge room by this time. Said 'twa'n't no use +tryin' to get her to attend to common things or common folks nowadays; +she was too busy tryin' to keep up with Annette Black.” + +This literal quotation from the frank Mr. Calvin caused a sensation. +Captain Dan struggled to find words. His daughter laid a hand on his +sleeve. + +“Never mind, Dad,” she said, soothingly. “You know what Abel Calvin is; +you don't mind what he says. Sam, you shouldn't repeat such nonsense. +Run away now and attend to your work. I'm sure there's enough for you to +do.” + +“You--you go and clean up the cellar,” ordered the irate captain. Sam +departed cellarward, muttering that it wasn't his fault; HE hadn't said +nothin'. Gertrude spoke again. + +“Don't mind that, Dad,” she urged. “Why, how warm you are, and how +excited you look. What is it? You haven't spoken a word to John.” + +Her father shook his head. “Mornin', John,” he said. “I beg your pardon. +I ain't responsible to-day, I shouldn't wonder. I--I've had some news +that's drivin' everything else out of my mind.” + +“News? Why, Dad! what do you mean? Bad news?” + +“No, no! Good as ever was, and.... Humph! no, I don't mean that. It is +bad news, of course. Your Great-aunt Laviny's dead, Gertie.” + +He told of the lawyer's letter, omitting for the present the news of the +legacy. Gertrude was interested, but not greatly shocked or grieved. She +had met her great-aunt but once during her lifetime, and her memory of +the deceased was of a stately female, whose earrings and brooches and +rings sparkled as if she was on fire in several places; who sat bolt +upright at the further end of a hotel room in Boston, and ordered +Captain Dan not to bring “that child” any nearer until its hands were +washed. As she had been the child and had distinctly disagreeable +recollections of the said hands having been washed three times before +admittance to the presence, the memory was not too pleasant. She said +she was sorry to hear that Aunt Lavinia was no more, and asked when it +happened. Her father told what he knew of the circumstances attending +the bereavement, which was not much. + +“She's gone, anyhow,” he said. “It's liable to happen to any of us, +bein' cut off that way. We ought to be prepared, I suppose.” + +“I suppose so. But, Daddy, Aunt Lavinia wasn't cut off exactly, was she? +She was your aunt and she must have been quite old.” + +“Hey? Why, let's see. She was your grandpa's brother's wife, and +he--Uncle Jim, I mean--was about four years older than Father. She +was three years younger'n he was when he married her. Let's see again. +Father--that's your grandpa, Gertie--was sixty-five when he died and... +Humph! No, Aunt Laviny was eighty-eight, or thereabouts. She wasn't +exactly cut off, was she, come to think of it?” + +Gertrude's brown eyes twinkled. “Not exactly--no,” she said, gravely. +“Well, Daddy, I'm sure I am sorry she has gone, but, considering that +she has never deigned to visit us or have us visit her, or even to write +you a letter for the past two years, I don't think we should be expected +to mourn greatly. And,” glancing at him, “I don't understand just what +you meant by saying first that the news was good, and then that it was +bad. There is something else, isn't there?” + +Her father smiled, in an embarrassed way. “Well, ye--es,” he admitted, +“there is somethin' else, but--but I don't know as I didn't do wrong to +feel so good over it. I--I guess I'll tell you by and by, if you don't +mind. Maybe then I won't feel--act, I mean--so tickled. It don't seem +right that I should be. Let me get sort of used to it first. I'll tell +you pretty soon.” + +His daughter laughed, softly. “I know you will, Dad,” she said. “You +couldn't keep a secret in that dear old head of yours if you tried. Not +from me, anyway; could you, dear?” + +“I guess not,” regarding her fondly. “Anyhow, I shan't try to keep this +one. Well, this time to-morrow you'll be back at college again, in among +all those Greek and Latin folks. Wonder she'll condescend to come and +talk plain United States to us Cape Codders, ain't it, John.” + +John Doane admitted that it was a wonder. He seemed to regard Miss Dott +as a very wonderful young person altogether. Gertrude glanced up at him, +then at her father, and then at the blotter on the desk. She absently +played with the pages of the ledger. + +“Dad,” she said, suddenly, “you are not the only one who has a secret.” + +The captain turned and looked at her. Her head was bent over the ledger +and he could see but the top of a very becoming hat, a stray lock of +wavy brown hair, and the curve of a very pretty cheek. The cheek--what +he could see of it--was crimson. He looked up at Mr. Doane. That young +man's face was crimson also. + +“Oh!” said Captain Daniel; and added, “I want to know!” + +“Yes, you're not the only one. We--I--there is another secret. Daddy, +dear, John wants to talk with you.” + +The captain looked at Mr. Doane, then at the hat and the face beneath +it. + +“Oh!” he said, again. + +“Yes. I--I--” She rose and, putting her arms about her father's neck, +kissed him. “I will be back before long, dear,” she whispered, and +hurried out. Mr. Doane cleared his throat. Captain Dan waited. + +“Well, sir,” began the young man, and stopped. The captain continued to +wait. + +“Well, sir,” began Mr. Doane, again, “I--I--” For one who, as Gertrude +had declared, wished to talk, he seemed to be finding the operation +difficult. “I--Well, sir, the fact is, I have something to say to you.” + +Captain Dan, who was looking very grave, observed that he “wanted to +know.” John Doane cleared his throat once more, and took a fresh start. + +“Yes, sir,” he said, “I have something to say to you--er--something +that--that may surprise you.” + +A faint smile disturbed the gravity of the captain's face. + +“May surprise me, hey?” he repeated. “Is that so?” + +“Yes. You see, I--Gertie and I--have--are--” + +Daniel looked up. + +“Hard navigatin', ain't it, John?” he inquired, whimsically. “Maybe I +could help you over the shoals. You and Gertie think you'd like to get +married sometime or other, I presume likely. Is that what you're tryin' +to tell me?” + +There was no doubt of it. The young man's face expressed several +emotions, relief that the great secret was known, and surprise that +anyone should have guessed it. + +“Why, yes, sir,” he admitted, “that is it. Gertie and I have known each +other for years, ever since we were children, in fact; and, you see--you +see--” he paused once more, began again, and then broke out impatiently +with, “I'm making an awful mess of this. I don't know why.” + +Captain Dan's smile broadened. + +“I made just as bad a one myself, once on a time,” he observed. “Just +as bad, or worse--and _I_ didn't know why either. There, John, you sit +down. Come to anchor alongside here, and let's talk this thing over in +comfort.” + +Mr. Doane “came to anchor” on an empty packing case beside the desk. As +he was tall and big, and the box was low and small, the “comfort” was +doubtful. However, neither of the pair noticed this at the time. + +“So you think you want Gertie, do you, John?” said the captain. + +“I know it,” was the emphatic answer. + +“So. And she thinks she wants you?” + +“She says so.” + +“Humph!” with a sidelong glance. “Think she means it?” + +“I'm trying to believe she does.” + +The tone in which this was uttered caused Captain Dan to chuckle. “'Tis +strange, I'll give in,” he remarked, drily. “No accountin' for taste, is +there--Well,” his gravity returning, “I suppose likely you realize that +her mother and I think consider'ble of her.” + +“I realize that thoroughly.” + +“You don't realize it as much as you will some day, perhaps. Yes, we +think Gertie's about right. She's a smart girl and, what's more, she's +a good girl, and she's all the child we've got. Of course we've realized +that she was growin' up and that--Oh, good mornin', Alphy. Fine weather, +ain't it. Lookin' for somethin', was you?” + +He hurried out into the store to sell Mrs. Theophilus Berry, known +locally as “Alphy Ann,” a box of writing paper and a penholder. The +transaction completed, he returned to his chair. John Doane, who had +recovered, in a measure, from his embarrassment, was ready for him. + +“Cap'n Dott,” said the young man, “I know how you feel, I think. I +know what Gertie is to you and how anxious you and her mother must +be concerning her future. If I did not feel certain--practically +certain--that I could give her a good home and all that goes with it, +I should not have presumed to speak to her, or to you, concerning +marriage. My business prospects are good, or I think they are. I--” + +The captain held up his hand. “Er--er--John,” he said, uneasily, “maybe +you'd better tell about that part of it when Serena's around. She's the +practical one of us two, I guess, far's money's concerned, anyway. I +used to think I was pretty practical when I was on salt water, but--but +lately I ain't so sure. I'm afraid--” + +He stopped, began to speak again, and then relapsed into silence, +seeming to forget his companion altogether. The latter reminded him by +saying: + +“I shall be glad to tell Mrs. Dott everything, of course. I have been +with the firm now employing me for eight years, ever since I left high +school. They seem to like me. I have been steadily advanced, my salary +is a fairly good one, and in another year I have the promise of a +partnership. After that my progress will depend upon myself.” + +He went on, in a manly, straightforward manner, to speak of his hopes +and ambitions. Daniel listened, but the most of what he heard was +incomprehensible. Increased output and decreased manufacturing +costs were Greek to him. When the young man paused, he brought the +conversation back to what, in his mind, was the essential. + +“And you're certain sure that you two care enough for each other?” he +asked. “Not just care, but care enough?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, then, I guess I ain't got much to say. There's one thing, though. +Gertie's young. She ain't finished her schoolin' yet, and--” + +“And you think she should. So do I. She wishes to do it, herself, and I +should be the last to prevent her, even if I could. We have agreed that +she shall have the final year at college and then come back to you. +After that--well, after that, the time of our marriage can be settled. +Gertie and I are willing to wait; we expect to. In a few years I shall +have a little more money, I hope, and be more sure of success in life. +I may never be a rich man, but Gertie's tastes and mine are modest. She +does not care for society--” + +The captain interrupted. “That's so,” he said, hastily, “she don't. She +don't care for 'em at all. Her mother has the greatest work to get her +to go to lodge meetin's. No, she don't care for societies any more'n I +do. Well, John, I--I--it'll come pretty hard to give her up to anybody. +Wait till you have a daughter of your own and you'll know how hard. But, +if I've got to give her up, I'd rather give her to you than anybody +I know. You're a Trumet boy and I've known you all my life, and so's +Gertie, for that matter. All I can say is, God bless you and--and take +good care of my girl, that's all.” + +He extended his hand and John seized it. Then the captain coughed, +blew his nose with vigor, and, reaching into his pocket, produced two +battered cigars. + +“Smoke up, John,” he said. + +At dinner, a meal at which Mrs. Dott, still busy with the lodge room +decorations, was not present, Gertrude and her father talked it over. + +“It comes kind of hard, Gertie,” he admitted, “but, Lord love you, +there's a heap of hard things in this world. John's a good fellow +and--and, well, we ain't goin' to lose you just yet, anyhow.” + +Gertrude rose and, coming around the table, put her arms about his neck. + +“Indeed you're not, dear,” she said. “If I supposed my marriage meant +giving you up, I shouldn't think of it.” + +“Want to know! Wouldn't think of John, either, I suppose, hey?” + +“Well, I--I might think of him a little, just a tiny little bit.” + +“I shouldn't wonder. That's all right. You can't get rid of me so easy. +After you two are all settled in your fine new house, I'll be comin' +around to disgrace you, puttin' my boots on the furniture and--” + +“Dad!” + +“Won't I? Well, maybe I won't. I cal'late by that time I'll be broke +to harness. Your mother's gettin' in with the swells so, lately, Barney +Black's wife and the rest, that I'll have to mind my manners. There! +let's go into the sittin'-room a few minutes and give Zuba a chance to +clear off. Sam's tendin' store and his dinner can wait a spell; judgin' +by the time he took for breakfast he hadn't ought to be hungry for the +next week.” + +In the sitting-room they spoke of many things, of Gertrude's departure +for school--she was leaving on the three o'clock train--of the +engagement, of course, and of the three thousand dollar windfall from +Aunt Lavinia. The captain had told that bit of news when they sat down +to dinner. + +“What is that cousin's name?” asked Gertrude. “The one who inherits all +of your aunt's fortune?” + +“Let's see. His name? I ought to know it well's I know my own. +It's--it's Starvation, or somethin' like that. Somethin' about bein' +hungry, anyhow. Hungerford, Percy Hungerford, that's it!” + +Gertrude looked surprised. + +“Not Percy Hungerford--of Scarford!” she cried. “What sort of a man is +he? What does he look like?” + +“Looked like a picked chicken, last time I saw him. Kind of a spindlin' +little critter, with sandy complexion and hair, but dressed--my soul! +there wasn't any picked chicken look about his clothes.” + +Gertrude nodded. “I believe it is the same one,” she said. “Yes, I am +sure of it. He came out to the college at one of our commencements. One +of the girls invited him. He danced with me--once. They said he was very +wealthy.” + +“Humph! All the wealth he had come from Aunt Laviny, far's I ever +heard. He was her pet and the only thing she ever spent money on, except +herself. And you met him! Well, this is a small world. Like him, did +you?” + +“No,” said Gertrude, and changed the subject. + +Before her father departed for the store and she went to her room to +finish packing, she sat upon the arm of his chair and, bending down, +said: + +“Daddy, if you hadn't got this money, this three thousand dollars, do +you know what I had very nearly made up my mind to do?” + +“No, I'm sure I don't.” + +“I had almost decided not to stay at college, but to come back here and +live with you and mother.” + +“For the land sakes! Why?” + +“Because I was sure you needed me. You never told me, of course--being +you, you wouldn't--but I was sure that you were troubled about--about +things.” + +“Me? Troubled? What put that into your head? I'm the most gay, +happy-go-lucky fellow in the world. I don't get troubled enough. Ask +your mother if that ain't so.” + +“I shall not ask anybody but you. Tell me truly: Weren't you troubled; +about the business, and the store? Truly, now.” + +Captain Dan rubbed his chin. He wished very much to deny the allegation, +or at least to dodge the truth. But he was a poor prevaricator at any +time, and his daughter was looking him straight in the eye. + +“Well,” he faltered, “I--I--How in time did you guess that? I--Humph! +why, yes, I was a little mite upset. You see, trade ain't been first +rate this summer, and collections were awful slow. I hate to drive +folks, especially when I know they're hard up. I was a little worried, +but it's all right now. Aunt Laviny's three thousand fixed that all +right. It'll carry me along like a full sail breeze. You go back to +school, like a sensible girl, and don't you worry a mite. It's all right +now, Gertie.” + +“Honest?” + +“Honest to Betsy!” with an emphatic nod. + +He meant it; he really thought it was all right. The fact that he owed +a thousand already and that the remaining two would almost certainly be +swept into the capacious maw of the Metropolitan Store did not occur to +him then. Daniel Dott was a failure as a business man but as an optimist +he was a huge success. + +“Then you're sure you can afford to have me go back for my last year?” + +“Course I am. I couldn't afford to do anything else.” + +His absolute certainty stifled his daughter's doubts for the time, but +she asked another question. + +“And there's nothing that troubles you at all?” + +“No-o.” The captain's answer was not quite as emphatic this time. +Gertrude smiled, and patted his shoulder. + +“Daddy, dear,” she said, “you're as transparent as a window pane, aren't +you. Well, don't worry any more. That will be all right pretty soon, +too. Mrs. Black doesn't stay in Trumet all the year.” + +Her father gasped. That this child of his, whom he had always regarded +as a child, should dive into the recesses of his soul and drag to light +its most secret misgivings was amazing. + +“What on earth?” he demanded. + +“You know what I mean. I'm not blind. I can see. Mother is just a little +carried away. She has heard so much about big houses and servants and +society and woman's opportunity, and all the rest of it, that she has +been swept off her feet. But it won't last, I'm sure. She isn't really +discontented; she only thinks she is.” + +Daniel sighed. “I know,” he said. “Fact is, I ain't up-to-date enough, +myself, that's what's the matter. She's a mighty able, ambitious +woman, your mother is, Gertie, and I don't wonder she gets to thinkin', +sometimes, that Trumet is a kind of one-horse town. I like it; I AM +one-horse, I suppose. But she ain't, and she ain't satisfied to be +satisfied, like me. It's a good thing she ain't, I guess. Somebody's got +to live up to the responsibilities of life, and--” + +Gertrude laughed. “She said that, didn't she,” she interrupted. + +“Why, yes, she did. She says it every once in a while. How did you +know?” + +“I guessed. And I imagine Mrs. Phelps Black said it first. But there, +Dad, be patient and.... Sh-sh! here's Mother now.” + +It was Serena, sure enough, breathless from hurrying, her hat a bit +on one side, one glove off and the other on, but full of energy and +impatience. + +“I suppose you've had dinner,” she exclaimed. “Well, all right, I don't +care. I couldn't help being late, there was so much to do at the lodge +rooms and nobody to do it right, except me. If Mrs. Black hadn't helped +and superintended and--and everything, I don't know where we should have +been. And those visiting delegates from Boston coming! I must get a bite +and hurry back. Where's Azuba? Azuba!” + +She was rushing in the direction of the kitchen, but her husband +detained her. + +“Hold on, Serena,” he shouted. “Goin' back! What do you mean? You ain't +goin' back to that lodge this afternoon, are you? Why, Gertie's goin' on +the up-train!” + +“I know, but I must go back, Daniel. Goodness knows what would happen +if I didn't. If you had seen some of the decorations those other women +wanted to put up, you would think it was necessary for someone with +respectable taste to be there. Why, Sophronia Smalley actually would +have draped the presiding officer's desk--MY desk--with a blue flag with +a white whale on it, if I hadn't been there to stop her.” + +“Well, I--Why, Serena, you know Sophrony thinks a sight of that flag. +Simeon Smalley, her father, was in the whalin' trade for years, and that +flag was his private signal. She always has that flag up somewhere.” + +“Well, she shan't have it on my desk. Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--said +it was ridiculous. If such a thing happened in Scarford the audience +would have hysterics. Would you want your wife to make a spectacle of +herself, before those Boston delegates, standing behind a white whale, +and a dirty white at that! Gertie, I shall be at the depot to say good +by, but I must be at that lodge room first. I MUST. You understand, +don't you?” + +Gertrude said she understood perfectly and her mother hurried to the +kitchen, where she ate lukewarm fried fish and apple pie, while Azuba +washed the dishes and prophesied darkly concerning “dyspepsy.” Gertrude +went to her room to put the last few things in her trunks, and Captain +Dan returned to the store, where he found the Bartlett boy pacifying a +gnawing appetite with chocolate creams abstracted from stock. + +At a quarter to three the captain was at the railway station, where +he was joined by John Doane, who, his vacation over, was returning +to Boston. After a five-minute wait Serena and Gertrude appeared. The +latter had called at the lodge room for her mother and, during the walk +to the station, had broken the news of her engagement. + +Serena was not surprised, of course; she, like everyone else, had +expected it, and she liked John. But she was a good deal agitated and +even the portentous business of the lodge meeting was driven from her +mind. She and Mr. Doane shook hands, but the young man felt very much +like a thief, and a particularly mean sort of thief, as young men are +likely to feel under such circumstances. Farewells were harder to say +than usual, although Gertrude tried her best to seem cheerful, and +the captain swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled and joked in a +ghastly fashion all through the ceremony. Just before the train started, +his daughter led him to one side and whispered: + +“Now, Daddy, remember--you are not to worry. And, if you need me at +any time, you will tell me so, and I shall surely come. You'll promise, +won't you? And you will write at least once a week?” + +The captain made both promises. They kissed, Serena and Gertrude +exchanged hugs, and John Doane solemnly shook hands once more. Then the +train moved away from the station. + +Daniel and Serena walked homeward, Mrs. Dott wiping her eyes with a damp +handkerchief, and her husband very grave and silent. As they passed the +lodge building the lady said: + +“I ought to go right back in there again. I ought to, but I just can't, +not now. I--I want to be with you, Daniel, a time like this.” + +“Goodness knows I want you, Serena; but--but for mercy sakes don't call +it a 'time like this.' Sounds as if we'd just come from the cemetery +instead of the depot. We ain't been to a funeral; we're only lookin' +for'ard to a weddin'.” + +In spite of this philosophical declaration the remainder of that +afternoon was rather funereal for Captain Dan. He moped about the store, +waiting half-heartedly upon the few customers who happened in, and the +ring of the supper bell was welcome, as it promised some company other +than his thoughts. + +But the promise was not fulfilled. He ate his supper alone. Mrs. Dott +had gone back to the lodge room, so Azuba said. + +“I don't think she was intendin' to,” remarked the latter, +confidentially. “She said she guessed she'd 'lay down a spell'; said she +was 'kind of tired.' But afore she got upstairs scarcely, along comes +that Black automobile with that Irish 'shover man'--that's what they +call 'em, ain't it?--drivin' it and her in the back seat, and he gets +out and comes and rings the front door bell, and when I answer it--had +my hands all plastered up with dough, I did, for I was makin' pie, and +it took me the longest time to get 'em clean--when I answered it he said +that she said she wanted to see her and--” + +“Here! hold on, Zuba!” interrupted her bewildered employer. “'Vast +heavin' a second, will you? You ought to run that yarn of yours through +a sieve and strain some of the 'hes' and 'shes' out of it. 'He said that +she said she wanted to see her.' Who wanted to see what?” + +“Why, Barney Black's wife. She wanted to see Serena. So in she came, all +rigged up in her best clothes and--” + +“How do you know they were her best ones?” + +“Hey? Well, they would have been MY best ones, if _I_ owned 'em, I tell +you that. I never see such clothes as that woman has! All trimmin' and +flounces and didos, and--” + +“Hi! steady there, Zuba. Keep your eye on the compass. You're gettin' +off the course again. Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--came to see Mrs. +Dott; that's plain sailin' so far. What happened after that?” + +“Why, they went off together in the automobile and Serena said to tell +you she had to go to lodge, and she'd be back when she could and not to +wait supper. That's all I know.” + +The captain finished his lonely meal and returned to the store, where +he found Abel Blount's wife and their twin boys, aged eight, waiting to +negotiate for rubber boots. The boots were for the boys, but Mrs. Blount +did the buying and it was a long and talky process. At last, however, +the youngsters were fitted and clumped proudly away, bearing their +leather shoes in their hands. It was a dry evening, but to separate +the twins from those rubber boots would have been next door to an +impossibility. + +“There!” exclaimed the lady, as she bade the captain good night, “that's +done; that much is settled anyhow. I'm thankful I ain't got four twins, +instead of two, Cap'n Dott.” + +Daniel, entering the sale in the ledger, was thankful also. If the +lengthy Blount account had been settled he would have been still more +so. + +At nine o'clock he and Sam locked up, extinguished the lamps, and closed +the Metropolitan Store for the night. Crossing the yard to the house, +which he entered by the front door, he found Serena in the sitting-room. +She was reclining upon the couch. She was tired, and out of sorts. + +“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, acknowledging her husband's greeting with a +nod, “I am just about worn out, Daniel.” + +“I should think you would be, Serena. You've been makin' tracks between +here and that lodge room all to-day and yesterday, too. I should think +you'd be about dead.” + +“It isn't that. I don't mind the work. It's the thanklessness of it all +that breaks me down. I give my time and effort to help the lodge, and +what does it amount to?” + +“Well, I--I give in that it don't seem to me to amount to much, 'cordin' +to my figurin'. I don't care much for lodge meetin's and sociables and +such, myself. I'd rather have one evenin' at home with you than the +whole cargo of 'em.” + +This statement was frank, but it was decidedly undiplomatic. Serena +sniffed contempt. + +“Of course you would!” she said. “I don't get a bit of encouragement +here at home, either. I should think you'd be proud to have your +wife the head of the Chapter, presiding at meetings and welcoming the +visiting delegates and--and all.” + +“I am,” hastily. “I'm proud of you, Serena. Always have been, far's that +goes. But I'm just as proud of you here in this sittin'-room as I am +when you're back of that pulpit, poundin' with your mallet and tellin' +Alphy Ann Berry to 'come to order.' Notwithstanding that you're the only +one can make her come--or go, either--unless she takes a notion. Why,” + with a chuckle, “it takes her husband half an hour to make her go home +after meetin's over.” + +Mrs. Dott did not chuckle. + +“You think it's a joke,” she said. “I don't. It is the Berry woman and +her kind that make me disgusted. I'm tired of them all. I'm tired of +Trumet. I wish we were somewhere where I had an opportunity; somewhere +where I might be appreciated.” + +“_I_ appreciate you, Serena.” + +Serena ignored the remark. “I wish we had never settled here,” she went +on. “I'd leave in a minute, if I could. I'd like to be in with nice +people, cultivated people, intelligent, up-to-date society, where I +could have a chance to go on and be somebody. I'd like to be a leader. +I could be. Annette says I would be in a city like Scarford. She says I +'have the faculty of the born leader.' All I lack is the opportunity.” + +Her husband sighed. He had heard all this before. Inwardly he wished +Mrs. Black at Scarford, or China, or anywhere, provided it was not +Trumet. + +His wife heard the sigh. “There, Daniel,” she said; “I won't be +complaining. I try not to be. But,” she hesitated, “there is one thing +I'd like to ask, now that we've got your Aunt Lavinia's three thousand: +Don't you suppose I could have some new clothes; I need at least two +dresses right away.” + +“Why--why, I guess likely you could, Serena. Yes, course you can. You go +see Sarah Loveland right off.” + +Miss Loveland was the Trumet dressmaker. At the mention of her name +Serena shook her head. + +“I don't want Sarah to make them, Daniel,” she said. “Mrs. Black says +the things she makes are awful old-fashioned; 'country,' she calls +them.” + +Daniel snorted. “I want to know!” he exclaimed. “Well, I remember her +husband when his ma used to make his clothes out of his dad's old +ones. I don't know whether they was 'country' or not, but they were the +dumdest things ever _I_ saw. Country, huh! Scarford ain't any Paris, is +it? I never heard it was.” + +“Well, it isn't Trumet. No, Daniel, if we could afford it, I'd like to +have these dresses made up in Boston, where Gertie gets hers. Mrs. Black +often speaks of Gertie's gowns; she says they are remarkably stylish, +considering.” + +“CONSIDERIN'! What does she mean by that?” + +“Don't be cross. I suppose she meant considering that they were not +as expensive as her own. DO you suppose I could go to that Boston +dressmaker, Daniel?” + +Captain Dan's reply was slow in coming. He hated to say no; in fact, he +said it so seldom that he scarcely knew how. So he temporized. + +“Well, Serena,” he began, “I--I'd like to have you; you know that. If +'twasn't for the cost I wouldn't hesitate a minute.” + +“But we have that three thousand dollars.” + +“Well, we ain't got all of it. Or we shan't have it long. I was footin' +up what I owed--what the store owes, I mean--just now, and it come to a +pretty high figure. Over twelve hundred, it was. That's GOT to be paid. +Then there's Gertie's schoolin' and her board. Course, I never tell her +we ain't so well off as we were. You and I agreed she shouldn't know. +But it takes a lot of money and--” + +Mrs. Dott sat up on the couch. Her eyes snapped. “Oh!” she cried; +“money! money! money! It's always money! If only just once I had all the +money I wanted, I should be perfectly happy. If I wouldn't GO IT!” + +Steps sounded on the front porch, and the patent door bell clicked and +clanged. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through Trumet. It +spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it grew. The Dotts +had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The Dotts were millionaires! +Captain Daniel's brother had died and left him fifty thousand dollars! +His brother's wife had died and left him a hundred thousand! It was not +his brother's wife, but Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance +was two hundred and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story +reached Trumet Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott +relatives on both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole +survivors of the family all the money and property in the world, with a +few trifling exceptions. + +Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,--one must eat, or try to eat, even +though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is moving in +a sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always present--Captain Dan, +coming into the house for dinner, expressed his opinion of Trumet gossip +mongers. + +“My heavens and earth, Serena!” he cried, sinking into his chair at the +table, “am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or what's +happened to me, or don't I?” + +Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him across the +table. + +“I should hope you did, Daniel,” she answered. + +“Well, if _I_ do, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. I've +heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had alive. And +yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and body! Say, did you +know you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?” + +“I? In California? Nonsense!” + +“No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a epileptic +or an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or a palace or a +jail, and he was worth four millions or forty, I forget which, and +fell out of an automobile or out of a balloon or out of bed--anyhow, it +killed him--and--” + +“Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!” + +“Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this +forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to folks that +come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And some of 'em was +people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My head's kind of wobbly +this mornin', after the shock that hit it last night, but it's a regular +Dan'l Webster's alongside the general run of heads in this town. Aunt +Laviny's will has turned Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all +runnin' loose.” + +“But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?” + +“'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen folks you +meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell you you had +one. They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a grandmother or a +step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or the Cape of Good Hope, +but they all know it's dead now, and we've got anywheres from a postage +stamp to a hogshead of diamonds. Serena, if you hear yells for help this +afternoon, don't pay any attention. It'll only mean that my patience has +run out and I'm tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at +least. There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed.” + +“Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to be +excited. I'm excited myself.” + +The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. “_I_ ain't exactly a +graven image, now that you mention it,” he admitted. “But you and I have +got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to see you; or did +you lock the doors?” + +“I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. Tripp, and +the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The first four pretended +they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge woman to get my recipe for +chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I knew what they really came for. +Daniel, HOW do you suppose the news got out so soon? I didn't tell a +soul and you promised you wouldn't.” + +“I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down at the +Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over one seed +of a yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll have a crop of +lies next mornin' that would load a three-master. They come up in the +night, like toadstools.” + +“But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?” + +“You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' to +hire a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the job was +finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell your gang?” + +“I simply said,” Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke with +a gracious dignity; “I said they might quote me as saying it was NOT a +million.” + +Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter. + +“There!” she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; “I don't +know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I done the +best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a mercy I didn't +fry the platter.” + +Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more +wonderful and surprising than falling heir to three thousand dollars and +a silver tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the Metropolitan Store the +previous evening and started for the house, the bearer of the great news +was on his way from the Manonquit House, where he had had supper. When +Serena bewailed her fate and expressed a desire for an opportunity, he +was almost at the front gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted +her conversation with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in +the person of Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of +Shepley and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door. + +Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young, +a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much +professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat +of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown +into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to +remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the +pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain +assured him that he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and +its wearer to remember etiquette. + +“Won't you--won't you sit down, Mr. er--er--” began the captain. + +Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After +a glance about the room, which took in the upright piano--purchased +second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons--the what-not, +with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, and +West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the mantel +of Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded directly to +business. + +“Captain Dott,” he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely +to Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, “you +received a letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?” + +Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his +caller's identity, shook his head. “As a matter of fact,” he stammered, +“I--I only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, it got as far +as the post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it over to Balaam +Hamilton, to bring to me. Well, Balaam is--well, his underpinnin's all +right; he wears a number eleven shoe--but his top riggin' is kind of +lackin' in spots. You'd understand if you knew him. He put the letter in +his pocket and--” + +“Mercy!” cut in Serena, impatiently, “what do you suppose Mr. Farwell +cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. Farwell, and +we only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't been answered. What +about the letter?” + +The visitor did not answer directly. “I see,” he said. “That letter +informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott--your aunt, Captain,--was dead, and +that we, her legal representatives, having, as we supposed, her will in +our possession, and being in charge of her affairs--” + +Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since she +learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not notice the +peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did. + +“As you supposed?” she repeated. “You did have the will, didn't you?” + +“We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years ago. +But we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was another, +a much more recent one, which superseded the one in our possession. Of +course, that being the case, the bequests in the former were not binding +upon the estate. That is to say, our will was not a will at all.” + +Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her. + +“Then we--then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?” she +cried. + +“Or--or the tea-pot?” faltered Captain Dan. + +Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation. +However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense +too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart. + +“She left you a great deal more than that,” he said. “In the former +will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal +legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of +her property--some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities, +and her estate at Scarford--to him. But last February it appears that he +and she had a falling out. He--Mr. Hungerford--is, so I am told, a good +deal of a sport--ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable +and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, +rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was +grouchy--er--not well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically +disinheriting him. Under the new will he receives twenty thousand +dollars in cash. The balance--” Mr. Farwell, who, during this long +statement, had interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional +lapse into youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,--“the +balance,” he said, “one hundred thousand in money and securities, +and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five +thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, Captain +Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my services and +those of the firm, should you desire legal advice.” + +Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to +enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be +the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were +characteristic. + +“My soul and body!” gasped Captain Dan. “I--I--my land of love! And only +this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!” + +“A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Serena. “And that beautiful house at +Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!” + +Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. “A very handsome little windfall,” he +observed, with condescension. + +“We get a hundred thousand!” murmured the captain. “My! I wish Father +was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young +Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!” + +“A hundred thousand!” breathed his wife, her hands clasped. “And that +lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to! +Yes, and live there! Oh--oh, Daniel! I--I don't know why I'm doing it, +but I--I believe I'm going to cry.” + +Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her +shoulder. + +“Go ahead, old lady,” he commanded. “Cry, if you want to. I--I'm goin' +to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!” + +Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and it +was the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which set all +Trumet by the ears next day. + +Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast had +been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they could not +eat. They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or the other was +certain to break out with an exclamation or a wondering surmise, and the +meal was, as the captain said, “all talk and no substantials.” They had +scarcely risen from the table when the doorbell rang. + +Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had +remembered this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried it in +her hand. + +“I'm a-goin',” she declared; “I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can.” + +She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front of +her. + +“You stay right where you are,” he ordered. “I'll answer that bell +myself this time.” + +“Daniel,” cried his wife, “what are you going to do?” + +“Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' to do. +They shan't get in here to pester you to death with questions, not if I +can help it.” + +“But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be.” + +“I don't care.” + +“Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult people.” + +“I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em--I'll tell 'em you're sick and can't +see anybody.” + +“But I'm not sick.” + +“Then, I am,” said Captain Dan. “They make me sick. Shut up, will you?” + addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. “I'll come when I +get ready.” + +He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he strode +from the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba heard him +tramping through the front hall. + +“What--WHAT is he going to do?” faltered Serena; “or say?” + +Azuba shook her head. “Land knows!” she exclaimed. “I ain't seen him +this way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for THAT with +the hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't talk to ME!” + +But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. The +anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they were subdued +ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked troubled. + +“It's Barney Black and his wife,” he answered, in a whisper. “I couldn't +tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, waitin'. I +suppose we'll have to see 'em, won't we?” + +Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and patting +her hair into presentable shape. + +“See 'em!” she repeated. “Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think +it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way +round under your ear.” + +They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her +husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie. + +Mrs. and Mr. Black--scanning them in the order of their importance--rose +as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to +view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife, +and did not look his height. Annette swept forward. + +“Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own +gloved one. “We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't +resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!” + +Serena admitted that it was wonderful. “We can hardly believe it yet, +ourselves,” she said. “But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down +again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair.” + +Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. “Sit down anywhere, Barney,” said +the former. “Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in +the leg.” + +Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank +into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word +“Barney,” and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were +entirely lost upon the latter. + +“We had that rocker up in the attic till last month,” he observed; “but +Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go +now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all +right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want +folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter, +Serena?” + +Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that “nothing was the matter.” + +“The rocker isn't very strong,” she explained, addressing Mrs. Black. +“But it belonged to my great--that is, it has been in our family for a +good many years and we think a great deal of it.” + +Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a +“dear.” + +“I love old-fashioned things,” she said. “So does Mr. Black. Don't you, +Phelps?” + +“Yes,” replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be +over-enthusiastic. + +“But do tell us about your little legacy,” went on the lady. “Of course +we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than +to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million. +Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!” + +Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in +his direction, and he closed it again. + +“Yes,” said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, “that was absurd, of course.” + +“So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people +exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that +your cousin had died--that is, _I_ heard it was a cousin; Phelps heard +it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?” + +“Yes,” said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation. + +“So,” went on Mrs. Black, “we didn't know which it was.” + +She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and +again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had +quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned +to him. + +“Wasn't it funny!” she gushed. “I don't wonder you laugh. Here was I +saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. It was +so odd and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; which was it, +really, Captain Dott?” + +Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. “Why,” he +stammered, “it was--it was--” He looked appealingly at Serena. + +“Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?” inquired his wife, rather sharply. + +“It was my Aunt Laviny,” said the captain. + +Mrs. Black nodded and smiled. + +“Oh! your aunt!” she exclaimed. “There! isn't that funny! And SO +characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an aunt. +What did you say her name was?” + +“Laviny?” + +“Yes, I know. Laviny--what an odd name! I don't think I ever heard it +before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?” + +Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here. + +“It wasn't Laviny at all,” she said. “That is only Daniel's way of +pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a child. A--a +sort of pet name, you know.” + +“Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I ever +heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of Sheba. She--” + +“Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was +Lavinia. She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James Dott, +Daniel's father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew her. She has +spent most of her time in Europe lately, but her home, her American +home, was where you live, in Scarford.” + +This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped audibly, and +leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first sign of interest. + +“What!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't say! +Why, of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. Everybody in +Scarford did. Her place is one of the finest in town.” + +Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments than +this. + +“Yes,” she said, calmly, “so we understand. The place--er--that is, the +estate--is a PART--” she emphasized the word--“a PART of what she left +to my husband.” + +“Great Scott!” exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her face +was a study. + +Captain Dan crossed his knees. + +“I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it,” he +observed, reminiscently. “I tell you it looked big enough to me! I was +only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house looked big +as a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got inside and was sittin' +in the front parlor, I declare I was all feet and hands! didn't know +what to do with 'em.... Hey? did you speak, Serena?” + +“I was only going to say,” replied his wife, “that that was a good while +ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a great deal +since. Things look different after we grow up, don't they, Mrs. Black?” + +Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time. +Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice. + +“They do, indeed,” she said. “I remember the Dott house, of course. It +was very fine, I believe, in its day.” + +Her husband interrupted. “In its day!” he repeated. “Humph! there's +nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I had as good. +Why--” + +“Phelps!” snapped Annette, “don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands what +I meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, indeed. Perhaps +some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that is a matter of taste.” + +“Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old-fashioned--I +thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. That's what she +said, wasn't it, Dan?” + +Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark +entirely. Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an +uncertain fashion. It was Serena who spoke. + +“I haven't any doubt it is lovely,” she said. “We're just dying to see +it, Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. Black. You +might suggest some improvements, you know.” + +“Improvements!” the visitor repeated the word involuntarily. +“Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?” + +“I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we haven't +made up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a beautiful +city. Mrs. Black has told us so ever so many times. What were you going +to say, Mrs. Black?” + +The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several things, +particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. But what she +did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and agree that Scarford +was beautiful. + +“And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she added. “A very charming, +quaint old house. But--you'll excuse my saying so, won't you; you know +Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a city estate--don't +you think it might prove rather expensive for you to maintain?” + +Serena's armor was not even dented. “Oh,” she said, lightly, “that +wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the +expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, Mrs. +Black.” + +“Indeed!” rather feebly, “wasn't it?” + +“My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and our +affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I must find time +to run down there this afternoon for a last look around. I want this +open meeting to go off nicely. Who knows--well, I may not have the care +of the next one.” + +Azuba appeared in the doorway. + +“The minister and his wife's comin',” she announced. + +Mrs. Dott turned. + +“The minister and his wife?” she repeated. “The bell hasn't rung, has +it? How do you know they're coming here?” + +“See 'em through the window,” replied Azuba, cheerfully. “They was at +the gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and he was +helpin' her. Here they be,” as the callers' footsteps sounded on the +porch. “Shall I let 'em in?” + +“Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?” + +“Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was havin' +dinner, I thought--oh, that reminds me,” addressing the horror stricken +Daniel, “Sam was in just now and wanted you to come right out to the +store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another pair of them checkered +overalls, same as he had afore.” + + + +That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early +hour, the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge meeting, +Daniel voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed his mind ever +since the Blacks' call. + +“Say, Serena,” he asked, “ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends any +more?” + +“Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is.” + +“Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this afternoon. +Slappin' each other back and forth--” + +“Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What DO you +mean?” + +“I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely +I meant that. But the way you talked to each other--and the way you +looked. And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked you four +or five times who it was that had died and you wouldn't tell, so, of +course, I supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when she asked me and +I was backin' and fillin', tryin' to get off the shoals, you barked +out why didn't I 'answer her'? That may be sense, but I don't see it, +myself.” + +Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own. + +“Did I bark?” she asked. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did make +me cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty way--” + +“It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she didn't act +as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small craft better get +out from under her bows.” + +“I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and nice +to me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, and Doctor +Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the summer folks, that +she has anything to do with.” + +The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him like +her any better. His wife continued. + +“I was a little put out by her to-day,” she admitted. “You see, she was +SO anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be very rich, and +SO certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big house, that--that I +just had to give her as good as she sent.” + +Daniel chuckled. “You did that all right,” he said. + +“But I wouldn't hurt her feelings--really hurt them--for the world. I +like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me.” + +“Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other +I'm goin' out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard you +admirin' Zuba out in the kitchen just before we left.” + +“Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell her; +she will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she shouldn't. +Just think what she said about you when the minister called. It was just +Providence, and nothing else, that kept her from telling the Blacks what +you said and how you acted at dinner. That's it--laugh! I expected you'd +think it was funny.” + +“Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though it +didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba talkin' +any more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's awful +good-hearted--yes, and sensible, too, in her way.” + +“I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of having her +up there at Scarford, behaving as she does.” + +The captain caught his breath. + +“Scarford!” he repeated. “At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what are you +talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black woman about +our goin' to Scarford to live?” + +“I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I don't +say I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely house, +hasn't she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What are we going to +do with it?” + +“Why--why, I--I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. We've got +our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do we?” + +“We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what we +shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of--you and I will go +to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, don't argue, +please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you don't tell anyone how +much money we've got or anything about it. They'll all ask, of course, +and they'll all talk about us, but you must expect that. Our position in +life has altered, Daniel, and rich folks are always looked at and talked +over. Are your shoes clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and +don't applaud too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told +that Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't +order him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her +mouth. She isn't married and ain't likely to be, but.... Oh, Mrs. Black, +I'm SO glad to see you! It's real lovely of you to come so early.” + +Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love for +lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished him to, but +he was not happy while they were going on. At this one he was distinctly +unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black exchange greetings as if +the little fencing match of the afternoon had been but an exchange of +compliments. He saw the two ladies go, arm in arm, to the platform, +where sat the “Boston delegates.” He nodded to masculine acquaintances +in the crowd, other captives chained, like himself, to their wives' and +daughters' chariot wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's +opening speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and +Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from the +president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when it was +over, he could not have repeated a sentence of all those which had +reached his ears. + +No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful “open +meeting” ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of +Honor. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will had +changed their position in life, so Serena had said. She had said other +things, also, and he was beginning, dimly, to realize what they might +mean. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +“SCARFORD!” screamed the brakeman, throwing open the car door. +“Scarford!” + +Mrs. Dott, umbrella in hand, was already in the aisle. Captain Dan, +standing between the seats, was struggling to get the suitcase down from +the rack above. It was a brand-new suitcase. Serena had declared that +their other, the one which had accompanied them on various trips to +Boston during the past eight years, was altogether too shabby. She had +insisted on buying another, and, the stock in the store not being +good enough, had selected this herself from the catalog of a Boston +manufacturer. Her umbrella, silk with a silver handle, was new also. So +was her hat, her gown and her shoes. So, too, was the captain's hat, and +his suit and light overcoat. There was a general air of newness about +the Dotts, so apparent, particularly on Daniel's part, that various +passengers had nudged each other, winked, and whispered surmises +concerning recent marriage and a honeymoon trip. + +The suitcase, the buckle of which had caught in the meshes of the rack, +giving way, came down unexpectedly and with a thump on the seat. The +captain hurriedly lifted it. A stifled laugh from the occupants of +adjacent seats reached Serena's ears. + +“What is it?” she demanded impatiently. “Aren't you coming? Do hurry.” + +“I--I'm comin',” stammered her husband, thrusting his fist into the new +hat which, as it lay on the seat, had received the weight of the falling +suitcase. “I'm comin'. Go ahead! I'll be right along.” + +He pounded the battered “derby” into more or less presentable shape, +clapped it on his head, and, suitcase in hand, followed his wife. + +Through the crowd on the platform they passed, through the waiting room +and out to the sidewalk. There Captain Dan put down the case, gave the +maltreated hat a brush with his sleeve, and looked about him. + +“Lively place, ain't it, Serena?” he observed. “Whew! that valise is +heavy. Well, where's the next port of call?” + +“We'll go to the hotel first. Oh, dear, it's a shame things happened so +we had to come now. In another fortnight the Blacks would have been here +and we could have gone right to their house. Mrs. Black felt dreadfully +about it. She said so ever so many times.” + +The captain made no answer. If he had doubts concerning the depths of +the Blacks' sorrow he kept them to himself. Picking up the suitcase, he +stepped forward to the curb. + +“Where are you going?” demanded his wife. + +“Why, to the hotel. That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?” + +“Certainly; but how were you going? You don't know where it is.” + +“No, so I don't. But I can hail one of those electrics and ask the +conductor to stop when he got to it. He'd know where 'twas, most +likely.” + +“Electric” is the Down East term for trolley car, lines of which were +passing and repassing the station. Daniel waved his disengaged hand to +the conductor of the nearest. The car stopped. + +“Wait a minute,” said Serena quickly. “How do you know that car is going +the right way?” + +“Hey? Well, of course I don't know, but--” + +“Of course you don't. Besides, we don't want to go in an electric. We +must take a carriage.” + +“A carriage? A hack, you mean. What do we want to do that for?” + +“Because it's what everyone does.” + +“No, they don't. Look at all the folks on that electric now. Besides, +we--” + +“Hi there!” shouted the conductor of the car angrily. “Brace up! Get a +move on, will you?” + +Mrs. Dott regarded him with dignity. + +“We're not coming,” she said. “You can go right along.” + +The car proceeded, the conductor commenting freely and loudly, and the +passengers on the broad grin. + +“Now, Daniel,” said Serena, “you get one of those carriages and we'll go +as we ought to. I know we've always gone in the electrics when we were +in Boston, but then we didn't feel as if we could afford anything else. +Now we can. And don't stop to bargain about the fare. What is fifty +cents more or less to US?” + +The captain shook his head, but he obeyed orders. A few minutes later +they were seated in a cab, drawn by a venerable horse and driven by a +man with a hooked nose, and were moving toward the Palatine House, the +hostelry recommended by Mrs. Black as the finest in Scarford. + +“There!” said Serena, leaning back against the shabby cushions, “this is +better than an electric, isn't it? And when we get to the hotel you'll +see the difference it will make in the way they treat us. Mrs. Black +says there is everything in a first impression. If people judge by your +looks that you're no account they'll treat you that way. But what were +you and the driver having such a talk about?” + +Captain Dan grinned. “I got the name of the hotel wrong at first,” he +admitted. “I called it the Palestine House instead of the other thing. +The driver thought I was makin' fun of him. It ain't safe to mention +Palestine to a feller with a nose like that.” + +The Palatine House was new and gorgeous; built in the hope of attracting +touring automobilists, it was that dreary mistake, a cheap imitation of +the swagger metropolitan article. Scarford was not a metropolis, and +the imitation in this case was a particularly poor one. However, to the +Dotts, its marble-floored lobby and gilded pillars and cornices were +grand and imposing. Their room on the third floor looked out upon the +street below, and if the view of shops and signs and trucks and trolleys +was not beautiful it was, at least, distinctly different from any view +in Trumet. + +Serena gloried in it. + +“Ah!” she sighed, “this is something like. THIS is life! There's +something going on here, Daniel. Don't you feel it?” + +Daniel was counting his small change. + +“What say?” he asked. + +His wife repeated her question, raising her voice to carry above the +noises of the street. + +“Feel it! Yes, yes; and hear it, too. How we're ever goin' to sleep with +all that hullabaloo outside I don't know. Don't you suppose we could get +a quieter room than this, Serena?” + +“I don't want a quiet room. I don't want to sleep. I feel as if I'd been +asleep all my life. Now, thank goodness, I am where people are really +awake. What are you doing with that money?” + +“Oh, just lookin' at it, while I can. I shan't have the chance very +long, if the other folks in this town are like that hack driver. A +dollar to drive half a mile in that hearse! Why, the whole shebang +wa'n't worth more than two dollars, to buy. And then he had the cheek to +ask me to give him 'a quarter for himself.'” + +“Yes, that was his tip. We must expect that. Gertrude says she always +has to tip the servants and drivers and such at college. Did you give it +to him?” + +“Who? Me? I told him I was collectin' for a museum, and I'd give him a +quarter for the horse, just as it stood--or WHILE it stood. I said he'd +better take the offer pretty quick because the critter looked as if +'twould lay down most any minute.” + +He chuckled. Serena, however, was very solemn. + +“Daniel,” she said, “I must speak to you again about your language. +You've lived in Trumet so long that you talk just like Azuba, or pretty +nearly as bad. You mustn't say 'critter' and 'wa'n't' and 'cal'late.' Do +try, won't you, to please me?” + +“I'll try, Serena. But I don't see what difference it makes. We DO live +in Trumet, don't we?” + +“We HAVE lived there. How long we shall--But there, never mind. Just +remember as well as you can and get ready now for dinner.” + +Her husband muttered that he didn't see where the “getting ready” came +in; he had on the best he'd got. But he washed his hands and brushed +his hair and they descended to the dining-room, where they ate a 'table +d'hote' meal, beginning with lukewarm soup and ending with salty ice +cream. + +They had left Trumet the previous evening, spending the night at +Centreboro and taking the early morning train for Scarford. Two weeks +had passed since the fateful visit of young Mr. Farwell, and, though +the wondrous good fortune which had befallen the Dott family was still +wonderful, they were beginning to accept it as a real and established +fact. All sorts of things had happened during those two weeks. They had +gone to Boston, where they spent the better part of two days with +the lawyers, going over the lists of securities, signing papers, and +arranging all sorts of business matters. Serena and the attorneys did +the most of the arranging. Captain Dan looked on, understanding very +little, saying “Yes” or “No” as commanded by his wife, and signing his +name whenever and wherever requested. + +After another day, spent in the Boston shops, where the new clothes +were purchased or ordered, a process which Serena enjoyed hugely and her +husband endured with a martyr's patience, they had paid a flying visit +to the college town and Gertrude. They found the young lady greatly +excited and very happy, but her happiness was principally on their +account. + +“I'm so glad for you both, Daddy,” she told her father. “When I got +Mother's letter with the news the very first thing I thought was: +'There! now Father won't have to worry any more about the old store +or anything else. He can be comfortable and carefree and happy, as he +deserves to be.' And you won't worry, will you, Dad?” + +The captain seemed oddly doubtful. + +“I shan't if I can help it,” he said. “But I'm the most foolish chap +that ever lived, in some ways, seems so. When the business was so I had +to worry about it all the time I used to set up nights wishin' I didn't +own it. Now that we're fixed so it don't make much difference whether I +get a profit or not, I find myself frettin' and wonderin' how Nathaniel +and Sam are gettin' along. I wake up guessin' how much they've sold +since I've been away, and whether we're stuck on those canvas hats and +those middy blouses and one thing or 'nother, same as I was afraid we'd +be. I've only been away three days altogether, but it seems about a +year.” + +Gertrude smiled and shook her head. + +“Why don't you sell out?” she asked. “Or would no one buy? I presume +that's it.” + +“No-o, that ain't it. I don't wonder you think so, but it ain't. +Cohen--the fellow that owns the Emporium--was in only the day afore we +left, hintin' around about my retirin' and so on. He didn't make any +real bid for the business, but he as much as said he'd consider buyin' +me out if I'd sell. Your mother, she'd give me fits if she knew it. She +wants me to sell; but--but somehow I can't make up my mind to. I've been +so used to goin' out to that store every mornin' and--and havin' it on +my mind that somehow I hate to give it up. Seems like cuttin' my anchor +rope, as you might say.” + +“I understand. I shall feel much the same, I know, when I graduate and +my college work is over. I shall be lost for a time without it; or I +should be if it were not for John and--and my other plans. But, whether +you keep the store or not, you mustn't worry any more, Daddy dear. +Nathaniel is a clever, able fellow; every one says so. You were +fortunate to get him. Why don't you engage him permanently? With his +experience, he might make a real success of the business. Who knows?” + +He could not possibly make less of a success than the captain had made, +that was fairly certain, although she did not say so. Nathaniel Bangs +was a Trumet young man who had been getting on well with a little +business of his own in Brockton, but who, owing to ill health, had +been obliged to return to the Cape the year before. Then, health much +improved, he was very glad of the opportunity to take charge of the +Metropolitan Store during its owners' short absence. Serena had thought +of him, and Serena had hired him. + +Captain Dan's real reason for not selling out to the astute Mr. Cohen +he had kept to himself. His wife's hints concerning Scarford and her +discontent in Trumet were his reasons. These were what troubled him +most. He liked Trumet; he liked its quiet, easy-going atmosphere; +he liked the Trumet people, and they liked him. He had never been in +Scarford, but he was certain he should not like the life there, the kind +of life lived by the B. Phelps Blacks, at any rate. The Metropolitan +Store was, he felt, an anchor holding him fast to the Cape Cod village. +If he cut the anchor rope, goodness knows where he might drift. + +On the very day of their return from the Boston trip Serena had begun to +discuss the visit to Scarford, the visit of inspection to Aunt Lavinia's +“estate.” They must go, she said; of course they must go. It was their +duty to do that, at least. How could they know what to do with the +property until they saw it? To all Daniel's feeble objections and +excuses she was deaf. Of course they could leave the house. Azuba would +take care of that, just as she always did when they were away. As for +the store, Nathaniel would be glad to remain as manager indefinitely if +they wanted him. Surely he had done splendidly with it while they were +in Boston. + +He had. During the four days' absence of its proprietor the Metropolitan +Store had actually sold more goods for cash than it had sold during +any previous week that summer. Bangs was optimistic concerning its +prospects. He was loaded with schemes and ideas. + +“All you need is a little push and up-to-date methods, Cap'n,” he said. +“You must advertise a little, and let people know what you've got to +sell. That's how I got rid of all that stale candy you had in the boxes +behind the showcase. I knew the Methodist folks had a Sunday school +picnic on the slate for Tuesday. Kids like candy, but candy costs money. +I got out all that stale stuff, put it up in bags at five cents apiece, +and sent the bags and Sam here to the picnic. About every kid had ten +cents or so to spend, and it didn't make any difference to him or her +whether the candy was fresh or not, so there was enough of it. If a +chocolate cream is harder than the rock of Gibraltar it lasts longer +when you're eating it, and that's a big advantage to the average young +one. Sam came back, sold out, and we've got four dollars and eighty +cents right out of the junk pile, as you might call it. The kids are +happy and so are we. There's a half-dozen dried-up oilskin coats in the +attic that I've got my eye on. The Manonquit House crowd are going off +on a final codfishing cruise to-morrow and I'll be on the dock with +those coats at a dollar apiece when they sail.” + +“But--but those coats are old as Methuselah,” faltered the captain. +“They'll leak, won't they?” + +“Not if it's fair weather, they won't. And, if it's rough, they're +better than nothing. You can't expect a mackintosh for a dollar.” + +Daniel's method would have been to refuse selling the coats because they +“wouldn't be much good in a no'theaster.” When the codfishers returned, +enthusiastic because, although it had “drizzled” for fifteen minutes, +they had not gotten wet, he scratched his head and regarded his new +assistant with awe. Mr. Bangs' services were retained, “for a spell, +anyhow,” and the captain's principal excuse for not visiting Scarford +was knocked in the head. To Scarford they went, and at the Palatine +Hotel in Scarford they now were. + +The 'table d'hote' meal eaten, the next feature of Mrs. Dott's program +was the visit to the Aunt Lavinia homestead. There was a caretaker in +charge, so the Boston lawyers told them, and Serena had written him +announcing the coming of the new owners. In spite of her husband's +protestations, another carriage was hired for the journey. Daniel was +strongly in favor of walking or going by trolley. + +“Walkin'll be cheaper, Serena,” he declared, “and pretty nigh as fast, +to say nothin' of bein' more cheerful. A hack always makes me think +of funerals and graveyards, and that skeleton of a horse looked like +somethin' that had been buried and dug up. Let's walk, will you?” + +But Serena would not walk. + +“We must get used to carriages,” she said. “We may ride in them a great +deal from now on. And, besides, we needn't take a horse carriage. +We shouldn't have taken one before. Get one of those new kind, the +automobile ones. What is it they call them? Oh, yes--taxis.” + +The taxi gave no opportunity for complaint as far as slowness was +concerned. After the first quarter of a mile dodge up the crowded street +Captain Dan shouted through the window. + +“Hi!” he hailed, addressing the driver. “Hi, you! You've made a mistake, +ain't you? You thought we wanted to fly. We don't. Just hit the ground +once in a while, so we'll know it's there.” + +After this the cab moved at a more reasonable speed and its occupants +had an opportunity to observe the streets through which they were +passing. The business district was being left behind and they were +entering the residential section. + +Mrs. Dott seized her husband's arm. + +“Look!” she cried. “Look, Daniel, quick! Do you see that? That building +there!” + +“I see it. Some kind of a hall or somethin', ain't it?” + +“Yes. And I'm quite sure, from what Mrs. Black said, that it is the hall +where the Scarford Guild meets. Yes, it's just as she said it was. I'm +SURE that's it. Oh, I'm glad I've seen it! Yes, and Mrs. Black said +they lived not very far from the hall. Daniel! Daniel! ask the man if he +knows where the Blacks live and if he can show us their house.” + +Captain Dan obediently made the inquiry. + +“Who?” grunted the driver. “Which Black? Black and Cobb, the Wee Waist +Corset feller? Sure! I know where he lives. I'll show you.” + +A few moments later the cab slackened its speed. + +“There you are!” said the driver, pointing. “That's Black's house. Built +two years ago, 'twas.” + +Serena and Daniel looked. The house was new and commodious, a trifle +ornate in decoration, perhaps, and a bit mixed in architecture, owing to +Mrs. Black's insisting upon the embodiment of various features which +she had seen in magazines; but on the whole a rather fine house. To the +Dotts, of course, it was a mansion. + +“My!” said Serena, “to think of our knowing, really knowing, people +who live in a house like that! Oh, dear!” with a sigh, “I almost wish +I hadn't seen it until after we'd seen our own. We must try not to be +disappointed, mustn't we?” + +Captain Dan was surprised. “Disappointed?” he said. “Why, what do you +mean? As I recollect Aunt Laviny's place, 'twas just as good as that, if +not better. You said so yourself. You used to call it a regular palace.” + +“I know, but don't you think that was because we hadn't seen many fine +houses then? I'm afraid that was it. You know Mrs. Black said it was +old-fashioned.” + +“Humph! Barney--What's his name? Phelps, I mean--he said he wished his +was as good. Don't you remember he did?” + +“Probably he didn't mean it. I'm not going to expect too much, anyway. +I'm going to try and think of it as just a nice old place, and then I +shan't feel bad when I see it. I'm not going to get my expectations up +or be a bit excited.” + +In proof of the sincerity of this determination, she sat bolt upright +on the seat and looked straight before her. Her husband, however, was +staring out of the window with all his might. + +“Say!” he exclaimed, “this is a mighty nice street, anyhow.” + +“Is it? Is it really?” For a person not excited, Mrs. Dott's breathing +was short and her fingers, tightly clasped in her lap, were trembling. + +“You bet it is! Hey! Why, we're slowin' up! We're stoppin'.” + +The cab drew up at the curb and came to a standstill. + +“Here you are,” said the driver. “This is Number 180.” + +Daniel made no reply. Leaning from the window, he was staring with all +his might. Serena's impatience got the better of her. + +“Well? WELL?” she burst forth. “What does it look like? Do say +something!” + +The captain drew back into the carriage. + +“My--soul!” he exclaimed presently. “Look, Serena.” + +Serena looked, and her look was a long one. Then, her face flushed and +her eyes shining, she turned to her husband. + +“Oh! Oh, Daniel!” she gasped. “It's as good as the Blacks', isn't it? +I--I do believe it's better! Get out, quick!” + +The caretaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mutton-chop +whiskers, met them at the top of the stone steps leading to the front +door. He bowed low. + +“Good afternoon, ma'am,” he said. “Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Dott, ain't +it, sir? And Mrs. Dott, ma'am. My name is 'Apgood, sir. I was expecting +you. Will you be so good as to walk in?” + +He threw open the door and, bowing once more, ushered them into the +hall, a large, old-fashioned hall with lofty ceiling and a mahogany +railed staircase. + +“I presume, sir,” he said, addressing the captain, “that you and the +madam would wish to 'ave me show you about a bit. I was Mrs. Dott's--the +late Mrs. Dott's--butler when she resided 'ere, sir, and she was good +enough to make me 'er caretaker when she went away, sir.” + +Captain Dan, rather overawed by Mr. Hapgood's magnificent manner, +observed that he wanted to know, adding that he had heard about the +caretaking from the lawyers “up to Boston.” After an appraising glance +at the speaker, Mr. Hapgood addressed his next remark to Serena. + +“Shall I show you about the establishment, madam?” he asked. + +Serena's composure was a triumph. An inexperienced observer might have +supposed she had been accustomed to butlers and establishments all her +life. + +“Yes,” she said loftily, “you can show us.” + +Mr. Hapgood was a person of wide experience; however, he merely bowed +and led the way. Serena followed him, and Captain Dan followed Serena. + +A large drawing-room, a library, a very large dining-room, five large +bedrooms--“owners' and guest rooms,” Mr. Hapgood grandly termed them, +to distinguish from the servants' quarters at the rear--billiard room, +bathroom, and back to the hall again. + +“You would wish to see the kitchens, I suppose, ma'am,” said Mr. +Hapgood. “Doubtless Mr. Dott wouldn't care for those, sir. Most +gentlemen don't. Perhaps, sir, you'd sit 'ere while the lady and I go +through the service portion of the 'ouse, sir.” + +Daniel, who was rather curious to see the “service portion,” partly +because he had never heard of one before, hesitated. His wife, however, +settled the question. She was conscious of a certain condescension in +the Hapgood tone. + +“Of course,” she said lightly, “Cap'n Dott will not go to +the--er--service portion. Such things never interest him. Sit here, +Daniel, and wait. Now--” cutting off just in time the “Mister” that +was on the tip of her tongue and remembering how butlers in novels +were invariably addressed--“Now--er--Hapgood, you can take me to +the--ahem--kitchens.” + +It was somewhat disappointing to find that the plural was merely a bit +of verbal embroidery on the caretaking butler's part, and that there was +but one kitchen, situated in the basement. However, it was of good size +and well furnished with closets, the contents of which stirred Serena's +housekeeping curiosity. The inspection of the kitchen and laundry took +some time. + +Meanwhile, upstairs in the dim front hall, Captain Dan sat upon a most +uncomfortable carved teak-wood chair and looked about him. Through +the doorway leading to the drawing-room--“front parlor,” he would have +called it--he could see the ebony grand piano, the ormolu clock, and +the bronze statuettes on the marble mantel, the buhl cabinet filled with +bric-a-brac, the heavy mahogany-framed and silk-covered sofa. There were +oil paintings on the walls, paintings which foreign dealers, recognizing +Aunt Lavinia's art craving as a gift of Providence--to them--had sold +her at high prices. They were, for the most part, landscapes, inclining +strongly to snow-covered mountains, babbling brooks, and cows; or +marines in which one-third of vivid sunset illumined two-thirds of +placid sea. Of portraits there were two, Uncle Jim Dott in black +broadcloth and dignity and Aunt Lavinia Dott in dignity and black satin. + +Captain Dan felt strangely out of place alone amid this oppressive +grandeur. Again, as on the memorable occasion of his first visit to the +house, he was conscious of his hands and feet. Aunt Lavinia's likeness, +staring stonily and paintily from the wall, seemed to regard him with +disapproval, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. If the portrait +could have spoken he might have expected it to say: “Here is the person +upon whom all these, my worldly possessions, have been bestowed, and he +does not appreciate them. There he sits, upon the teakwood chair which +I myself bought in Cairo, and, so far from being grateful for the gifts +which my generosity has poured into his lap, he is wondering what in the +world to do with them, and wishing himself back in Trumet.” + +Mrs. Dott and the caretaker reentered the hall. + +“Thank you, Mr.--er--Thank you, Hapgood,” said the lady. “That will be +all for to-day, I think. We will go now. Come, Daniel.” + +Hapgood bowed. “You would wish me to stay 'ere as I've done, ma'am?” he +asked. + +“Yes. You may stay, for the present. Cap'n Dott and I will pay your +regular wages as long as we need you.” + +“Thank you kindly, ma'am. And might I take the liberty of saying that +if you decide to stay 'ere permanently, ma'am, and need a butler or a +manservant about the place, I should be glad to 'ave you consider me for +the position. I'm sure it would 'ave pleased the late Mrs. Dott to 'ave +you do so, ma'am.” + +“Well,” said the captain, with surprising promptness for him, “you see, +Mr. Hapgood, as far as that goes we ain't intendin' to--” + +“Hush, Daniel. We don't know what we intend. You know that our plans are +not settled as yet. We will consider the matter, Hapgood. Good day.” + +“Good day, ma'am,” said Hapgood. “Good day, sir.” + +He opened the big front door, bowed them out, and stood respectfully +waiting as they descended the steps. The taxi driver, whom the captain +had neglected to discharge or pay, was still there at the curb with his +vehicle. Serena addressed him. + +“The Palatine Hotel,” she said, with great distinctness. “Come, Daniel.” + +They entered the cab. Captain Dan closed the door. The driver, looking +up at Mr. Hapgood, grinned broadly. The latter gentleman glanced at the +cab window to make sure that his visitors were not watching him, then he +winked. + +As the cab whizzed through the streets Serena gloated over the splendors +of their new possessions. The house was finer than she expected, the +furniture was so rich and high-toned, the pictures--did Daniel notice +the pictures? + +“And the location!” she cried ecstatically. “Right on the very best +street in town, and yet, so the Hapgood man said, convenient to the +theaters and the clubs and the halls. We saw the Ladies of Honor hall on +the way up, Daniel, you remember.” + +Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he admitted, “it's fine and convenient and all. +We”--with a sidelong glance at his wife's face--“we ought to get a good +rent for it if we decide not to sell; hey, Serena?” + +Serena did not answer. When they reached the hotel she left her husband +to settle with the driver and took the elevator to their room. A few +minutes later the captain joined her. He looked as if suffering from +shock. + +“My heavens and earth, Serena!” he exclaimed, “what do you suppose that +tax hack feller had the cheek to--” + +“Sshh! shh!” interrupted the lady, who was reclining upon the couch. +“Don't bother me now, Daniel. I don't want to be bothered with common +every-day things now; I want to think.” + +“Common! Everyday! My soul and body! if what that pirate charged me was +everyday, I'd be in the poorhouse in a fortni't. Why--” + +“Oh, don't! Please don't! Can't you see I am trying to realize that it's +true and not a dream. That it has really happened--to ME. Please don't +talk. Do go away, can't you? Just go out and take a walk, or something; +just for a little while. I want to be alone.” + +Captain Dan slowly descended the stairs. The elevator, of course, would +have been quicker, but he was in no hurry. If he must walk, and it +seemed that he must, he might as well begin at once. He descended the +stairs to the ground floor of the hotel and wandered aimlessly about +through the lobby into the billiard room, and finally to a plate glass +door upon which was lettered the word “Rathskeller.” + +What a Rathskeller might be he did not know, but, as there was another +set of letters on the door and those spelled “Push,” he pushed. + +The Rathskeller was a large room, with a bar at one end and many little +tables scattered about. At these tables men were eating, drinking and +smoking. A violin, harp and piano, played by a trio of Italians, were +doing their worst with a popular melody. + +The captain looked about him, selected one of three chairs at an +unoccupied table, and sat down. A waiter drifted alongside. + +“What'll you have, sir?” inquired the waiter. + +“Hey? Oh, I don't know. Give me a cup of coffee.” + +“Coffee? Yes, sir. Anything to eat?” + +“No, I guess not. I've had my dinner.” + +“Smoke?” + +“Well, you might bring me a ten-cent cigar.” + +The coffee and cigar were brought. Daniel lit the latter, took a sip +of the former and listened to the music. This was not taking a walk +exactly, but, so far as leaving his wife alone was concerned, it +answered the purpose. + +The room, already well tenanted, gradually filled. Groups of men +entered, stopped to glance at the tape of a sporting news ticker near +the bar, exchanged a word or two with the bartenders, and then selected +tables. Several times the two vacant chairs at the captain's table were +on the point of being taken, but each time the prospective occupants +went elsewhere. + +At length, however, two young men, laughing and talking rather loudly, +sauntered through the room. One of them paused. + +“Here are a couple,” he said, indicating the chairs. + +His companion, an undersized, dapper individual, whose raiment--suit, +socks, shirt, shoes, hat and tie--might comprehensively be described as +a symphony in brown, paused also, turned and looked at the chairs, then +at the table, and finally at the captain. + +“Yes,” he drawled, regarding the latter fixedly, “so I see. Well, +perhaps we can't do better. This place is getting too infernally common, +though. Don't think I shall come here again. If it wasn't that they put +up the best cocktail in town I should have quit before. All right, this +will have to do, I suppose.” + +He seated himself in one of the chairs. His friend followed suit. The +watchful waiter was on hand immediately. + +“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said, bowing obsequiously. + +Neither of the young men acknowledged the bow or the greeting, although +it was evident that the waiter was an old acquaintance. The symphony in +brown did not even turn his head. + +“Two dry Martinis,” he said. “And mind that they ARE dry. Have Charlie +make them himself. If that other fellow does it I'll send them back.” + +“Yes, sir. All right, sir. Will you have a bit of lunch with them, sir? +Caviare sandwich or--” + +“No.” + +“Shall I bring cigars, sir?” + +“Lord, no! The last I had here nearly poisoned me. Get the cocktails and +be lively about it.” + +The waiter departed. The young gentleman drew a gold cigarette case from +his pocket. + +“Here you are,” he drawled, proffering the case. “Cigars!” with a +contemptuous laugh. “They buy their cigars by the yard, at the rope +walk. Fact, Monty; take my word for it.” + +“Monty” laughed. “That's pretty rough, Tacks,” he declared. + +“Oh, but it's so. You can actually smell the hemp. Eh? By gad, you can +smell it now, can't you?” + +Captain Dan was relighting the stump of his “ten-center” which had gone +out. He had scarcely noticed the newcomers; his thoughts were far away +from Scarford and the Palatine Hotel. Now, however, he suddenly became +aware that his tablemates were regarding him and the cigar with apparent +amusement. He smiled good naturedly. + +“Been runnin' her too low,” he observed. “Have to get up steam if I want +to be in at the finish.” + +This nautical remark was received with blank stares. “Monty” turned his +shoulder toward the speaker. “Tacks” did not even turn; he continued +to stare. The arrival of the cocktails was the next happening of +importance. + +“I say, Tacks,” observed Monty, leaning back in his chair and sipping +his Martini, “how are you getting on? Made up your mind what to do?” + +“No,” shortly. + +“Going to fight, are you?” + +“No use. The confounded lawyers say I wouldn't have a show.” + +“Humph! Low-down trick of the old woman's, wasn't it, giving you the +shake that way? Everybody thought you were her pet weakness. We used to +envy your soft snap. Did you get the go-by altogether?” + +“Pretty near. Got a little something, but it was precious little.” + +“Can you pull through on it?” + +“'Twill be a devilish hard pull.” + +“Too bad, old man. But cheer up! You'll come out on top. Have another +one of these things?” + +“All right.” + +More Martinis were ordered. “Monty” and his friend lit fresh cigarettes. +The former asked another question. + +“Who are the lucky winners?” he inquired. “Some country cousins or +other, I know that; but who are they?” + +“Oh, I don't know. Yes, I know; but what difference does it make?” + +“Isn't there a girl somewhere in the crowd?” + +“Yes, but--” He broke off. Captain Dan was regarding him intently. + +“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Uncle?” + drawled “Tacks,” with bland sarcasm. + +Daniel was taken aback. + +“Why,” he stammered, “I--I don't know's there is.” + +“Shall I speak a little louder? Possibly that might help. Delighted to +oblige, I'm sure.” + +This was plain enough, certainly. The captain colored. His confusion +increased. + +“I--I hope you don't think I was listenin' to you and your friend's +talk,” he protested hastily. “I wasn't. Why, if--if you two would like +this table to yourself you can have it just as well as not. I can go +somewhere else. You see, I was thinkin'--when you spoke to me--I was +thinkin' there was somethin' familiar about your face. Seemed as if I'd +seen you somewhere before, that's all; and--” + +The young gentleman in brown interrupted him. “You're mistaken,” he +said, “I was never there.” Then, turning to his friend, he added, with +an elaborate “Josh Whitcomb” accent: “Monty, 'taters must be lookin' up. +All aour folks have come to town to spend their money.” + +Monty, upon whom, like his companion, the second cocktail--second in +this particular sense--there had been others--seemed to be having some +effect, laughed uproariously. Even the joker himself deigned to smile. +Captain Dan did not smile. He had risen, preparatory to leaving the +table; now he slowly sat down again. + +“I guess I WAS mistaken,” he said gravely. “I guess you're right about +my not havin' seen you before. If I had I wouldn't have forgot where.” + +Monty evidently thought it his turn to be funny. + +“You have a good memory, haven't you, Deacon?” he observed. + +The captain looked at him. + +“That don't necessarily follow, young man,” he said. “There's some +things you CAN'T forget.” + +There was a choking sound at the next table; a stout man there seemed to +be having trouble in swallowing. Those with him looked strangely happy, +considering. + +“Tacks” frowned, pushed back his chair and stood up. + +“Come on, Monty,” he growled. “This place is going to the dogs. They let +ANYTHING in here now.” + +Daniel turned to the stout man and his party. + +“That's strange, ain't it?” he said in a tone of grave surprise. “I was +just thinkin' that myself.” + +Then, his cigar smoked to the bitter end, he, too, rose, and, declining +the invitations of the stout man and his friends to have something +“because he had earned it,” he walked out of the Rathskeller and took +the elevator to the third floor. + +He opened the door of the room gently and entered on tiptoe, for he +thought it likely that Serena was taking a nap. She was not, however; on +the contrary, she was very wide awake. + +“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I've been waiting and waiting for +you.” + +Daniel chuckled. + +“I've been down below in a place they call the Rat Cellar, or some such +name,” he said. “The rats was there, two of 'em, anyhow. And I'd met one +of 'em before. I know I have. I wish I could think who he was. A sort +of--” + +But Serena was not listening. + +“Daniel,” she interrupted, “it is all settled. I have made up my mind.” + +Her voice was tremulous with excitement. Captain Dan looked at her. + +“Made up your mind?” he repeated. “I want to know! What about?” + +“About our plans and our future, Daniel; my opportunity has come, the +opportunity I was wishing for. It has been sent to me by Providence, I +do believe--and it would be wicked not to take advantage of it. Daniel, +you and I must move to Scarford.” + +The captain gasped. + +“Why--why, Serena,” he faltered. “What are you talkin' about? DON'T talk +so! Move to Scarford! Give up Trumet and--” + +“Trumet! Don't mention Trumet to me. Daniel Dott, you'll never get me +back to Trumet again--to live there, I mean--never, never, NEVER!” + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Captain Dan said--Well, it does not matter much what he said. He said +a great deal, of course, during that evening and the next morning, and +would have kept on saying it all the way to Trumet if his wife had not +declined to listen. + +“It is no use, Daniel,” she declared calmly but firmly. “I have thought +it all out and I KNOW it is the right thing for us to do. You will think +so, too, one of these days.” + +“Durned if I will! I tell you, Serena--” + +“Hush! you're telling everybody in the car, and THAT isn't necessary, +at any rate. Now we won't argue any more until we get home. Then you +can say your say; but”--with discouraging candor--“it won't change my +decision a single mite. My mind is made up. A higher power than you or +me has settled everything for us. We are going to Scarford to live, and +we will go just as soon as we can get ready.” + +And go they did. The captain fought a stubborn battle, surprisingly +stubborn and protracted for him, but he surrendered at last. Serena +drove him from one line of entrenchments after the other, and, at +length, when she had him in the last ditch, where, argument and +expostulation unavailing, he could only say, “No! no, I won't, I tell +you!” over and over again, she used her most effective weapon, tears, +and brought him to terms. + +“You don't care,” she sobbed. “You don't care for me at all. All you +care about is just yourself. You're willing to stay here in this awful +place, you're willing to plod along just as you always have; and it +doesn't make any difference about my wishes or my hopes, or anything. If +you were like most husbands you'd be proud and glad to see me getting +on in the world; you'd be glad to give me the chance to be somebody; +you'd--” + +“There! there! Serena, don't talk so. I'd do anything in this world to +please you.” + +“Hush! hush! I should think you'd be ashamed to say such things. I +should think you'd be AFRAID to say them, afraid something would happen +to you--you'd be struck down or something. Oh, well! I must be resigned, +I suppose. I must give in, just as I always do. I must be satisfied to +be miserable and--and--Oh, what shall I do? What SHALL I do?” + +Sobs and more sobs, frantic clutchings at the sofa pillows and +declarations that she had better die; it would be better for her and +ever so much better for everyone else if she were dead. No one would +care. + +Poor Daniel, distressed and remorseful, vaguely conscious that he was +right, but conscience stricken nevertheless, hoisted the white flag. + +“Hush, hush, Serena!” he pleaded. “Land sakes, don't say such +things--please don't. I'll do anything you want, of course I will. I'll +go to Scarford, if you say so. I was just--” + +“I don't ask you to go there forever. I never have asked that. I only +ask you to go there and live a while and just see how we like it. That +was all I asked, and you knew it. But you won't! you won't!” + +“Why, yes I will, too. I'll go--go next week, if you say so. I--I +just--” + +He got no further. Mrs. Dott, wet-eyed but radiant, lifted her head from +the sofa pillow and threw her arms about his neck. + +“Will you?” she cried ecstatically. “Will you, Daniel? I knew you would. +You're a dear, good man and I love you better than all the world. We +will be so happy. You see if we aren't.” + +The captain was no less doubtful of the happiness than he had ever been, +but he tried to smile and to find comfort in the thought that she was +happy if he was not. + +He had written Gertrude telling of her mother's new notion and asking +for advice and counsel. The reply, which came by return mail, did not +cheer him as much as he had hoped. + +“It was inevitable, I suppose,” Gertrude wrote. “I expected it. I was +almost certain that Mother would want to live in Scarford. Mrs. Black +has been telling her all summer about society and club life and what +she calls 'woman's opportunity,' and Mother has come to believe that +Scarford is Paradise. You will have to go, I think, Daddy dear. Perhaps +it is just as well. Mother won't be satisfied until she has tried it, +and perhaps, after she has tried it, she may be glad to come back to +Trumet. My advice is to let her find out for herself, but, of course, if +you feel sure it is wrong, then you must put your foot down, say no, and +stick to it. No one can do that for you; you must do it yourself.” + +Which was perfectly true, as true as the other fact--namely, that +Captain Dan could not “stick to it” in a controversy with his wife, +having lost the sticking faculty years before. + +But, oddly enough, there was one point upon which he did stick and +refused to budge: That point was Azuba's going to Scarford with them. +Mrs. Ginn's attitude when she was told of the family exodus was a +great surprise. Serena, who broke the news to her, expected grief and +lamentations; instead Azuba was delighted. + +“Well, now!” she exclaimed. “Ain't that fine! Ain't that splendid! I +always wanted to go somewhere's besides Trumet, and now I'm goin'. I +always told Labe, my husband, that if there was one thing I was jealous +of him about 'twas travelin'. 'You go from Dan to Beersheby,' I says to +him, 'any time you want to.' 'Yes,' says he--this was the last time he +was to home, three years ago--'Yes,' he says, 'and when I don't want to, +too.' 'And I,' I says, 'I have to say stuck here in Trumet like a post +in a rail fence.' 'You look more like the rail, Zuby,' he says--he's +always pokin' fun 'cause I ain't fleshy. 'Don't make no difference what +I LOOK like,' I says, 'here I be and I ain't never been further than +the Brockton cattle show since I was ten year old.' But now I'm goin' to +travel at last. My! I'm so tickled I don't know what to do. I'll start +in makin' my last fall's hat over this very night. Say, it's a good +thing you've got me to help in the goin' and the settlin', ain't it, +Sereny--Mrs. Dott, I mean.” + +In the face of this superb confidence Serena, who had intended leaving +Azuba behind, lacked the courage to mention the fact. And when she +sought her husband in the store and asked him to do it, he flatly +refused. + +“What!” he said. “Tell Zuba Ginn we're goin' to cast her adrift! I +should say not! Of course we can't do any such thing, Serena.” + +“But what can we do with her, Daniel? We might leave her here to take +care of the place, I suppose, but that would only be for a time, until +we find somebody to buy it. Of course we can't run two places, and we'll +have to sell this one some time or other.” + +Daniel, to whom the idea of selling the home of which he had been so +proud was unthinkable, ignored the question. + +“You couldn't leave her here,” he declared. “She wouldn't stay. Zuba's +queer--all her tribe are and always was--but she's nobody's fool. She'd +know right off you were tryin' to get rid of her. No, it may be all +right enough to leave Nate Bangs in charge of the store, because he'd +like nothin' better, but you can't leave Zuba in the house.” + +“Then what can we do with her?” + +“Take her with us. She can do housekeepin' in Scarford same as she can +here, can't she?” + +“Take her with us! Why, Daniel Dott! the very idea! Think of Azuba in +a place like that Scarford mansion! Think of her and that dignified, +polite Hapgood man together! Think of it!” + +The captain seemed to find the thought amusing. + +“Say, that would be some fun, wouldn't it?” he chuckled. “I'd risk Zuba, +though. He wouldn't do the Grand Panjandrum over her more'n once. I'd +risk her to hold up her end.” + +“What do you think the B. Phelps Blacks would say if they saw Azuba +trotting through the grand front hall with her kitchen apron on?” + +The mention of the name had an odd effect upon the captain. He +straightened in his chair. + +“I don't care what they say,” he declared. “I don't care what the Blacks +would say, nor the Yellows nor the Blues either. If they don't like it +they can stay in their own front halls and lock the door. Look here, +Serena: Zuba Ginn has been with us ever since Gertie was born; she took +care of her when she had the scarlet fever, set up nights and run the +risk of catchin' it herself, and all that. The doctor told us that if +it hadn't been for Zuba and her care and self-sacrifice and common sense +Gertie would have died. She may be queer and hard to keep in her place, +as you call it, and a regular walkin' talkin' machine, and all that. I +don't say she ain't. What I do say is she's been good enough for us all +these years and she's good enough for me now. She ain't got any folks; +her husband is as queer as she is, and only shows up once in two or +three years, when he happens to think of it. She ain't got any home +but ours, and nobody else to turn to, and I won't cast her adrift just +because I've got more money than I did have. I'd be ASHAMED to do it. +No, sir! if Zuba Ginn wants to go to Scarford, along with us, she goes, +or I don't go myself.” + +He struck the desk a violent blow with his clenched fist. Serena +regarded him with astonishment. It had been a long time since she had +seen him like this, not since the old seafaring days. + +“Why--why, Daniel,” she faltered, “I didn't mean to make you cross. I--I +only thought.... Of course, she can go with us if you feel that way.” + +“That's the way I feel,” said her husband shortly. Then, as if suddenly +awakening and with a relapse into his usual manner, he added, “Was +I cross? I'm real sorry, Serena. Say, don't you want some candy? +Nathaniel's just openin' a new case from Boston. Hi, Sam! Sam! bring me +a pound box of those Eureka chocolates, will you?” + +Serena did not again suggest Azuba's remaining in Trumet. Neither she +nor Captain Dan referred to the subject again. Mrs. Dott was, to tell +the truth, just a bit frightened; she did not understand her husband's +sudden outbreak of determination. And yet the explanation was simple +enough. So long as he was the only sufferer, so long as only his own +preferences and wishes were pushed aside for those of his wife or +daughter, he was meekly passive or, at the most, but moderately +rebellious; here, however, was an injustice--or what he considered an +injustice--done to someone else, and he “put his foot down” for once, at +least. + +So, upon the fateful day when, preceded by a wagonload of trunks and +bags and boxes, the Dotts once more drove through Scarford's streets +to the mansion which was to be their home--permanently, according to +Serena; temporarily, so her husband hoped--Azuba accompanied them. And +Azuba was wildly excited and tirelessly voluble. Even Captain Dan, the +long-suffering, grew weary of her exclamations and chatter at last. + +“Say, Zuba,” he remonstrated, “is this an all-day service you're givin' +us? If it is, I wish you'd take up a collection or somethin', for a +change. Mrs. Dott and I are gettin' sort of tired of the sermon.” + +“Why--why, what do you mean? I was only just sayin' I never see so many +folks all at once since that time I was at the Brockton cattle show. +I'll bet there's a million right on this street.” + +“I'll take the bet. Now you start in and count 'em, and let's see who +wins. Count 'em to yourself, that's all I ask.” + +Azuba, with an indignant toss of the “made-over” hat, subsided for the +time. But the sight of the Aunt Lavinia mansion, with Mr. Hapgood bowing +a welcome from the steps, was too much for her. + +“Oh!” she burst forth. “Oh! you don't mean to tell me THAT'S it! Why, +it's perfectly grand! And--and there's the minister comin' to call +already! Ain't it LOVELY!” + +That night, as they sat down for the first meal in the new abode, a meal +cooked by Azuba and served by the light-footed, soft-spoken, deft-handed +Hapgood, Serena voiced the exultation she felt. + +“There, Daniel,” she observed, beaming across the table at her husband, +“now you begin to appreciate what it means, don't you. NOW you begin to +see the difference.” + +Captain Dan, glancing up at the obsequious Hapgood standing at his +elbow, hesitated. + +“Yes, sir?” said Mr. Hapgood anxiously. “What is it you wish, sir?” + +“Nothin', nothin'. Why, yes, I tell you: You go out and--and buy me a +cigar somewhere. Here's the money.” + +“Cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What kind do you--” + +“Any kind; only get it quick.” + +Then, as the door closed behind the dignified Hapgood, he added: + +“I've got three cigars in my pocket now, but that doesn't matter. I had +to send him after somethin'! Say, Serena, is it real necessary to have +that undertaker hangin' over us ALL the time? Every time he looks at +me I feel as if he was takin' my measure. Has EVERY meal got to be a +funeral?” + +There was no doubt that the captain noticed the difference. He noticed +it more the following day, and more still on each succeeding one. + +The next evening the Blacks called--called in state. A note from Mrs. +Black, arriving by the morning's post, announced their coming. Serena +noted the Black stationery, its quality and the gilded monogram, and +resolved to order a supply of her own immediately. Also she bade her +husband don his newest and best. She did the same, and when Captain Dan, +painfully conscious of a pair of tight shoes, entered the drawing-room +he found her already there. + +“My!” he exclaimed, regarding her with admiration, “you do look fine, +Serena. Is that the one the Boston dressmaker made?” + +“Yes. I'm glad you like it.” + +“Couldn't help likin' it. I can't hardly realize it's my wife that's got +it on. Walk around and let me take an observation. Whew! I always +said you looked ten years younger than you are. THAT rig don't spell +forty-five next January, Serena.” + +Mrs. Dott sniffed. + +“Don't remind me of my age, Daniel,” she protested. “It isn't necessary +to tell everyone how old I am.” + +“All right. Nobody'd guess it, anyhow. But how funny you walk. What +makes you take such little short steps?” + +“I can't help it. This dress--gown, I mean--is so tight I can hardly +step at all.” + +“Have to shake out a reef, won't you? How in the world did you get +downstairs--hop?” + +“Hush! Don't be foolish. The gown is no tighter than anyone else's. It's +the style, Daniel, and you and I must get used to it. Are those your new +shoes?” + +“They certainly are. Do they look as new as they feel? I walk about the +way you do, Serena. Bein' in style ain't all joy, is it?” + +“It's better than being out of it. And, Daniel, please remember not to +say 'ain't.' I've asked you so many times. We have our opportunity now +and so must improve ourselves. You're not keeping store in the country +any longer. You are a man of means, living among cultivated society +people, and you must try to behave like the ladies and gentlemen you +will be called upon to associate with.” + +“Humph!” doubtfully. “I don't know as I could behave like a lady if I +tried. As for the gentleman, if you mean Barney Black--” + +“I mean B. Phelps Black. Don't you dare call him Barney to-night. If you +do I shall be SO mortified. Hush! Here they are. Very well, Hapgood. You +may show them in.” + +Even Serena's new gown, fine as it was and proud as she had been of it, +lost something of its glory and sank into a modest second place when +Annette appeared. Mrs. Black had dressed for the occasion. Also, she had +insisted upon her husband's dressing. + +“What in blazes must I climb into a dress suit for?” demanded that +gentleman grumpily. “Going to call on Dan Dott and his wife. You don't +expect Dan to be wearing a dress suit, do you? He never wore one in his +life.” + +“It doesn't make any difference what he wears. I want you to go in +evening dress.” + +“But, confound it, Annette, we've been calling on those people all +summer.” + +“THAT was in the country; this is not. Don't you SEE, Phelps? Can't you +understand? Those Dotts have come here to live. I did all I could to +prevent it, but--” + +“WHAT?” Mr. Black interrupted with an amazed protest. “Did all you could +to prevent it! Why, you used to preach Scarford to Serena Dott from +morning till night. You were always telling her how much better it was +than Trumet. I don't believe she would ever have thought of coming here +if it hadn't been for you.” + +Annette stamped her foot impatiently. “Don't you suppose I know it?” she +demanded. “That was when I never imagined there was any chance of their +really coming. But now they have come and we've got to be with them to +some extent. We've GOT to; we can't get out of it. That is why I want +them to see how people of our class dress. I can't TELL her that her +clothes are a sight, as country as a green pumpkin, but I can show +her mine, and she's clever enough to understand. And you can show her +husband. Not that that will do much good, I'm afraid. HE is the real +dreadful part of the thing. Goodness knows what he may say or do at any +time!” + +Phelps grinned. Nevertheless, he donned the dress suit. + +Mrs. Black had another reason, one which she did not mention, for making +this, their first, call upon the Dotts in their new home a ceremonial +occasion. It was true that they would be obliged to associate with these +acquaintances from the country more or less; the commonest politeness +required that, considering all that had gone before. But she meant there +should be no misunderstanding of the relations between the families. In +Trumet she had made Mrs. Dott her protegee because it was her nature to +patronize, and Serena had not resented the patronage. Now circumstances +were quite different; now the Dotts possessed quite as much worldly +wealth as the Blacks, but Annette did not intend to let Serena presume +upon that. No, indeed! She intended, not only by the grandeur of her +raiment and that of her husband, but by her tone and manner, to make +perfectly plain the fact that the acquaintanceship was still a great +condescension on her part and did not imply equality in the least. + +But this lofty attitude was destined to be shaken before the evening was +over. The first shock came at the very beginning, and Mr. Hapgood +was responsible for it. Annette had referred, during the Trumet +acquaintanceship, to her “staff of servants,” and had spoken casually +of her cook and second girl and laundress and “man,” as if the quartette +were permanent fixtures in the Black establishment. As a matter of fact, +the only fixtures were the cook and second girl. The laundress came in +on Mondays and Tuesdays to do the washing and ironing, and the “man” + acted as janitor's helper at the factory three days of the week. The +chauffeur was but a summer flourish; B. Phelps drove his own car eight +months in the year. + +So when the door of the Dott mansion was opened by a butler--and such +a dignified, polite, imposing butler--Mrs. Black's soul was shaken by +a twinge of envy. The second shock was Serena's appearance and the +calm graciousness of her demeanor. The Boston gown was not as grand, as +prodigal of lace and embroidery, as was the visitor's, but it was in +the latest fashion and Serena wore it as if she had been used to such +creations all her life. Neither was she overawed or flurried when her +callers entered. Serena had read a good deal, had observed as much as +her limited opportunities would allow, and was naturally a clever woman +in many ways. + +“Why, how do you do, Mrs. Black?” she said. “It's so good of you to +come. And to bring Mr. Black, too. You must take off your things. Yes, +you must. Hapgood, take the lady's wraps. Daniel!” + +The captain, who, not being used to butlers and lacking much of his +wife's presence of mind, had started forward to assist with the wraps, +stopped short. + +“Yes, Serena?” he faltered. + +“Can't you ask Mr. Black to sit down?” + +“Hey? Why, course I can. I judged he was goin' to sit down anyway. +Wasn't figgerin' to stand up all the evenin', was you, Bar--er--Phelps?” + +“No,” replied Mr. Black. To prove it he selected the most comfortable +chair in the room. + +“I had such a time to get Phelps to come,” declared Annette, sinking, +with a rustle, into the next best chair. “He wanted to see you both, +of course, and to welcome you to Scarford, but he is SO busy and has +so many engagements. If it isn't a directors' meeting it is a house +committee at the club, or--or something. You should be thankful that +your husband is not a man of affairs and constantly in demand. It was a +club meeting to-night, wasn't it, Phelps, dear?” + +“'Twas a stag dinner,” observed Mr. Black. “Say, Dan, I'll have to take +you to one of 'em some time. It's a good bunch of fellows and we have +some of the cleverest vaudeville stunts afterward that you ever saw. +Last week there were a couple of coons that--” + +“Phelps!” Annette interrupted tartly, “you needn't go into details. I +don't imagine Captain and Mrs. Dott will be greatly interested. What a +charming old room this is, isn't it? SO quaint! Everything looks as if +it had been here a hundred years.” + +Before Serena could frame a reply to this back-handed compliment +the unconscious B. Phelps removed the greater part of its sting by +observing: + +“That butler of yours looks as if he had been here a thousand. I felt as +if George the First was opening the door for me. He's a star, all right. +Did he come with the place?” + +Mrs. Dott explained that Hapgood was one of Aunt Lavinia's old servants. +“She thought the world of him. Daniel and I feel perfectly safe in +leaving everything to him. Auntie found him somewhere abroad--working +for a lord or a count or something, I believe--and brought him over. He +is pretty expensive, his wages, I mean, but he is worth it all. Don't +you think so?” + +Yes, Mrs. Black found it much more difficult to patronize than she +expected, and Serena was correspondingly happy. But the crowning triumph +came later. The doorbell rang, and Hapgood entered the drawing-room +bearing a tray upon which were several cards. He bent and whispered +respectfully. + +Mrs. Dott was evidently surprised and startled. + +“Who?” she asked. + +Hapgood whispered again. + +Serena rose. “Yes, of course,” she said nervously. “Yes, certainly. I +declare, I--” + +“What's up?” asked her husband, his curiosity aroused. “Nothin' wrong, +is there? What's that he's bringin' you on that thing?” + +He referred to the cards and the tray. His wife, who had caught a +glimpse of Mrs. Black's face, fought down her nervousness and announced +with dignified composure. + +“Some more callers, that's all, Daniel,” she said. “Oh, you mustn't go, +Mrs. Black. You know them, I'm sure. I've heard you speak of 'em--of +them often. It's”--referring to the cards--“the Honorable Oscar Fenholtz +and Mrs. Fenholtz. Ask them right in, Hapgood. Daniel, get up!” + +Daniel hurriedly obeyed orders. Mr. Black also rose. + +“The Fenholtzes!” he observed in a tone of surprise. “Say, Dan, I didn't +know you knew them. Annette didn't say anything about it.” + +Annette hadn't known of it; her expression showed that. The Honorable +and Mrs. Fenholtz were Scarford's wealthiest citizens. Mr. Fenholtz +was proprietor of a large brewery and was an ex-mayor. His wife was +prominent socially; as prominent as Mrs. Black hoped to be some day. + +Hapgood reappeared, ushering in the new arrivals. The Honorable Oscar +was plump and florid and good-natured. He wore a business suit and his +shoes were not patent leathers. Mrs. Fenholtz was likewise plump. Her +gown, in comparison with Annette's, or even Serena's, was extremely +plain and old-fashioned. + +She hastened over to where Serena was standing and extended her hand. + +“How do you do, Mrs. Dott?” she said pleasantly. “Welcome to Scarford. +You and I have never met, of course, but I used to know Mrs. Lavinia +Dott very well indeed. And this is Mr. Dott, I suppose. How do you do? +And here is my husband. Oscar, these are our new neighbors.” + +Mr. Fenholtz and the captain shook hands. Captain Dan felt his +embarrassment disappearing under the influence of that hearty shake. + +“I suppose you scarcely expected callers--or calls from strangers--so +soon,” went on Mrs. Fenholtz. “But, you see, I hope we shan't be +strangers after this. I couldn't bear to think of you all alone here in +this great house in a strange place, and so I told Oscar that he and I +must run in. We live near here, only on the next corner.” + +“I said you would be having your after-dinner smoke, Mr. Dott,” + explained the Honorable, with a smile and a Teutonic accent. “I said +you would wish we was ouid instead of in; but Olga would not have it so. +And, when the women say yes, we don't say no. Eh; what is the use?” He +chuckled. + +Captain Dan grinned. “That's right,” he said. “No use for the fo'mast +hand to contradict the skipper.” + +Mrs. Black stepped forward. + +“How do you do, Mrs. Fenholtz?” she said with unction. + +“Dear me!” exclaimed Serena. “I--I'm forgetting everything. But you know +Mr. and Mrs. Black, don't you, Mrs. Fenholtz?” + +Mrs. Fenholtz turned. + +“How do you do, Mrs. Black?” she said. Her tone lacked the enthusiasm of +Annette's. + +“Hello, Black,” said her husband. “What are you doing here? I thought +you would be at the club, listening to the--what is it?--the cabaret. +Py George, my wife says I shall not go any more! She says it is no place +for a settled man so old as I am. Ho! ho! Yet I tell her the stag dinner +is good for the beer business.” + +Before B. Phelps could answer, Mrs. Black spoke. + +“He wanted to go, Mr. Fenholtz,” she declared. “But he felt, as I did, +that our first duty was here. Captain and Mrs. Dott are old friends of +ours. We meet them every year at the Cape; we have a summer home there, +you know.” + +Fenholtz seemed interested. “That is so,” he said. “I forgot. Dott, are +you one of those Cape Cod skippers they tell me about? I am glad of it. +I have got a boat myself down in Narragansett Bay. One of those gruisin' +launches, they call them. But this one is like the women, it will gruise +only where and when it wants to, and not where I want to at all. There +is something the matter with the engine always. I have had egsperts--ah, +those egsperts!--they are egsperts only in getting the money. When they +are there it will go beautifully; but when they have left it will not go +at all. I wish you could see it.” + +Captain Dan was interested, too. + +“Well,” he said, “I'd like to, first rate. I've got a boat of my own +back home; that is, I used to have her. She was a twenty-five foot +cat and she had a five-horsepower auxiliary in her. I had consider'ble +experience with that engine. Course, I ain't what you'd call an expert.” + +“I am glad of that. Now I will explain about this drouble of mine.” + +He went on to explain. In five minutes he and the captain were head over +heels in spark plugs and batteries and valves and cylinders. Mr. +Black endeavored to help out with quotations from his experience as +a motorist, but his suggestions, not being of a nautical nature, were +ignored for the most part. After a time he lost interest and settled +back in his chair. + +Meanwhile the three ladies were engrossed in other matters. Mrs. +Fenholtz asked to be shown the house; she had not seen it for a long +time, she said, and was much interested. Annette suddenly remembered +that, she also was “mad” to see it. So Serena led a tour of inspection, +in which Mr. Hapgood officiated as assistant pilot and superintendent of +lighting. + +After the tour was at an end, and just before the party descended to the +drawing-room, Mrs. Fenholtz turned to Serena and said: + +“Mrs. Dott, are you interested in club matters; in women's clubs, I +mean?” + +Serena's answer was a prompt one. + +“Indeed I am,” she said. “I have always been interested in them. In +fact, I am president of the Trumet Chapter; that is, I was; of course, I +resigned when I came here.” + +Mrs. Fenholtz looked puzzled. + +“Trumet Chapter?” she repeated. + +“Why, yes, the Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor. The order +Mrs. Black belongs to.” + +“Oh!” in a slightly different tone. “Oh, yes, I see.” + +“I'm terribly interested in THAT,” declared Serena enthusiastically. “If +you knew the hours and hours I have put in working for the Guild. It is +a splendid movement; don't you think so?” + +“Why--why, I have no doubt it is. I don't belong to it myself. I was +thinking of our local club, our Scarford women's club, when I spoke. I +thought perhaps you might care to attend a meeting of that with me.” + +“I should love--” began Serena, and stopped. + +Mrs. Black, who was standing behind Mrs. Fenholtz, was shaking her head. +The last-named lady noticed her hostess' hesitation. + +“But of course,” she went on, “if you are interested in the Ladies of +Honor you would no doubt prefer visiting a meeting of theirs. In that +case Mrs. Black could help you more than I. She is vice-president of +the Scarford Branch, I think. You are vice-president, aren't you, Mrs. +Black?” + +Annette colored slightly. + +“Why--why, yes,” she admitted; “I am.” + +Serena was surprised. + +“Vice-president?” she repeated. “Vice-president--I--I--must have made a +dreadful mistake. I introduced you as president at that Trumet meeting. +I certainly thought you were president.” + +Now, as a matter of fact, if Mrs. Black had not specifically said that +she was president of the Scarford Chapter, she had led her acquaintances +in Trumet to infer that she was; at all events, she had not corrected +Serena's misapprehension on the night of the meeting. She hastened to do +so now. + +“Oh, no!” she said. “I noticed that you made a mistake when you +introduced me, but, of course, I could hardly correct you publicly, and, +when it was all over, I forgot. I am only vice-president, just as Mrs. +Fenholtz says.” + +Mrs. Fenholtz smiled. “Well, I am not even an officeholder in our club,” + she said, “although I was at one time. I have no doubt you will prefer +to be introduced by a vice-president rather than a mere member; and I am +sure Mrs. Black is planning for you to attend one of the Guild meetings, +so I mustn't interfere.” + +Annette was visibly flurried. The Scarford Chapter was the one subject +which she had carefully avoided that evening. But between it and the +Woman's Club there was a bitter rivalry, and, although she had not been +at all anxious to act as sponsor for her friend from the country, +now that Mrs. Fenholtz had offered to do so and had placed the +responsibility squarely on her shoulders, she could not dodge. + +“Why--why, of course,” she said. “That was understood. We have had so +many things to talk about this evening that I had really forgotten it, +my dear Mrs. Dott. I had indeed! When,” she hesitated, “when could you +make it convenient to attend one of our meetings? Of course I know how +busy you are just now in your new home, and I shall not be unreasonable. +I shouldn't, of course, expect you to attend the NEXT meeting.” + +“Oh,” said the unconscious Serena, “I'm not so busy as all that. I could +go to the next meeting just as well as not. I should love to.” + +They entered the drawing-room, to find Captain Dan and the Honorable +Oscar still deep in the engine discussion and Mr. Black sound asleep in +his chair. Roused by his indignant wife, he drowsily inquired if it +was time to get up, and then, becoming aware of the realities of the +situation, hastily explained that he had been thinking about business +affairs and had forgotten where he was. + +“Going, Annette, are you?” he asked. + +Annette tartly observed that she was going, and added that she judged it +high time to do so. Mrs. Fenholtz said that she and her husband must be +going, also. + +“But we shall hope to see a great deal of you and Mr.--I should say +Captain Dott,” she said. “You must dine with us very soon. I will set an +evening and you mustn't say no.” + +“That is right,” said Mr. Fenholtz heartily. “Captain, some of these +days you and I will take a gouple of days and go down and look at that +boat. If she does not go then, we will put an 'egspert' in her and sink +them both. What?” + +Altogether, it was a wonderful evening. The only fly in the ointment was +Azuba, who appeared just as the visitors were at the door, to announce +that “that foolhead of a grocer's boy” hadn't brought the things she +ordered and what they was going to do for breakfast she didn't know. + +“I could give you b'iled eggs,” she added, “but Captain Dan'l made such +a fuss about them we had yesterday that I didn't dast to do it without +askin' you. I wanted to have some picked-up fish, but they didn't keep +none but the hashed-up kind that comes in pasteboard boxes, and I'd just +as soon eat hay as that.” + +On the way home Mrs. Black divided her discourse into two parts, one a +scorching of her husband for falling asleep and making her ridiculous +before the Fenholtzes, and the other a sort of irritated soliloquy +concerning “those Dotts” and the way in which they had been loaded upon +her shoulders. + +“I did my best to keep the Guild out of the conversation,” she said, +“but that Fenholtz woman had to drag it in, and now, of course, I've +got to take that Dott person to the next meeting and introduce her to +everybody, and I suppose I shall have to see that she is made a member. +Oh, dear! I almost wish I had never seen Trumet.” + +B. Phelps grunted. “Humph!” he said. “If the Fenholtzes take them up I +don't see what you've got to kick about. You've been trying to get in +the Fenholtz set yourself for the last three years. Maybe you can do it +now.” + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The Scarford Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor was not as +large a body as Mrs. Black in the exuberance of her Trumet conversation +had led Serena to think. In reality, its membership was less than a +hundred. It was formed in the beginning by a number of seceders from the +local Women's Club, who, disappointed in their office-seeking ambitions +and deeming the club old-fashioned and old-fogyish in its ideas, had +elected to form an organization of their own. They had affiliated +with the national order of the Ladies of Honor, chiefly because of the +opportunity which such a body offered for office holding and notoriety. +The members were not drawn from the oldest families of Scarford nor from +those whose social position was established. They were chiefly the +wives and daughters of men who had made money rather suddenly; would-be +geniuses whose genius had not been recognized as yet; women to whom +public speaking and publicity were as the breath of their nostrils; +extravagants and social climbers of all sorts. + +The purposes of the organization, outside those specified in the +constitution of the parent body, were rather vague. Ex-Mayor Fenholtz +expressed a rather general opinion when he said: + +“The Ladies of Honor? Sure! it is a place where the women go who think +their husbands don't appreciate them. If I was one of those husbands I +should appreciate their having that place. They might stay at home if +they didn't. That would be a galamity.” + +The ladies of the Scarford Chapter made it a point to be always abreast +of the times. Theirs was not a suffrage organization because, as many +of them said, the belief in suffrage was so common nowadays. Their motto +was “Advancement.” Just what sort of advancement seemed to make little +difference. + +The next meeting--that is, the meeting to which Serena had been +invited--was one of the few at which men were permitted to be present. +The Blacks called at the Dott mansion with the car, Mr. Black not +acting as driver this time, and the journey to the hall was made in that +vehicle. It was not a lively journey, so Captain Dan thought. He and B. +Phelps occupied the folding seats facing the two ladies and Mr. Black +maintained a gloomy silence all the way. As for Annette and Serena, they +talked and talked upon subjects miles above the head of the captain. +Mrs. Black did most of the talking; Serena was content to listen and +pretend to understand. + +“This is to be an open meeting, Mrs. Dott,” said Annette graciously. +“You see, we have open meetings, just as you do in Trumet, although +I doubt if you find much resemblance between the two. You'd scarcely +expect that, would you? Ha! ha! It is a good thing,” she added, +addressing the occupants of the carriage in general, “for these husbands +of ours to be shown occasionally what their wives are capable of. Here +is our Chapter building. Phelps, give Mrs. Dott your arm.” + +The Chapter building proved to be not quite up to Serena's expectation. +It was a building, of course, but the Chapter occupied only two or three +rooms on the third floor, the other floors being occupied by offices of +various sorts. The largest room, that which Mrs. Black dignified by the +title of “Assembly Hall,” was partially filled when they entered. +Some sixty women of various ages, with a sprinkling of men among them, +occupied the chairs on the floor. Upon the speakers' platform half a +dozen ladies in radiant attire were chatting volubly with another, an +imposing creature in crimson silk, who surveyed the audience through a +gold lorgnette, and whose general appearance reminded Daniel of one of +the stuffed armchairs in the parlor of their new home. + +“That is Mrs. Cornish, the speaker of the evening,” whispered Annette. +“She is one of our most brilliant members.” + +“Yes,” replied Dan'l, to whom the information had been imparted, and +upon whom the crimson silk had made an impression; “yes, she--she does +look sort of--sort of brilliant.” + +“But I thought the Chapter was larger than this,” said the puzzled Mrs. +Dott. “I thought Scarford had one of the largest Chapters.” + +“Oh, no, not the largest, merely one of the best. Our motto always has +been quality not quantity. And now will you excuse me? They are waiting +for me on the platform. I will see you when the open meeting is over. +Phelps, find good seats for Mr. and Mrs. Dott.” + +She bustled away to the platform. The gloomy B. Phelps found seats for +the guests and himself and sank heavily down beside them. Daniel, who +had been gazing about him with curiosity, whispered a question. + +“What do they do at these things, Barney--Phelps, I mean?” he asked. +“Are they like lodge meetings at home? This is my first trip here, you +know.” + +“Humph!” grunted his companion. “You're in luck.” + +“Talk, don't they?” + +“Talk! Good Lord! Say, Dan, if I get to sleep and you notice Annette +looking this way, nudge me, that's a good fellow.” + +He settled himself in his chair and closed his eyes. Daniel turned to +his wife. + +“Serena,” he murmured. “Say, Serena, don't you think it is a +queer-lookin' crowd? Seems to me I never saw such clothes or so many +different kinds of hair. Look at that woman's skirt. It's tore all up +one side.” + +“Sshh! Don't speak so loud. That's the latest style.” + +“What! THAT? Well, I--” + +“Sshh! It's the latest style, I tell you. Haven't you seen the fashion +magazines? All the new dresses are made that way.” + +“Yours ain't.” + +“Well, I--I'm not as young as that woman is.” + +“You wouldn't wear a thing like that if you were as young as Gertie; and +she wouldn't either, not if I saw it first. I never saw such folks as +these at Trumet.” + +“Of course you didn't. Trumet isn't Scarford. We are in society now, +Daniel. We mustn't show our ignorance.” + +“Humph! I'd rather show my ignorance than--Hello, the doin's are goin' +to commence.” + +The Chapter president, a Mrs. Lake, advanced to the desk, smote it +fiercely with a gavel and demanded order. The hall, which had been +buzzing like a colony of June bugs, gradually grew still. Then Mrs. Lake +opened the meeting. She delivered a short speech. Mrs. Black, in lieu of +the secretary, who was absent, read the minutes. Then there were motions +and amendments and excited calls for recognition from “Madam President.” + It was livelier than Daniel had expected. + +But soon the woman in crimson silk was introduced. Mrs. Cornish bowed in +recognition of the gloved applause, and proceeded to talk... and talk... +and talk.... + +At first Captain Dan endeavored to pay strict attention to the address. +Its title was “The Modern Tendency,” and the tendency in this case +seemed to be to say as much as possible about nothing in particular. + +Daniel found his attention wandering and his eyes closing. They opened +at intervals as the applause burst forth, but they closed between +bursts. The tremendous enthusiasm at the end, however, awoke him for +good, and he remained awake until the close of the “open meeting,” a +marked contrast to Mr. Black, who slumbered to the finish. + +When it was over Annette descended from the platform and came hurrying +to them. + +“How did you enjoy it, Captain Dott?” she purred. + +Daniel rather dubiously admitted that he guessed 'twas first rate, far's +he could make it out. His wife was enthusiastic; she affirmed that it +was splendid. + +“I'm sure we couldn't help enjoying it, Mrs. Black,” she said. “Everyone +of us. Didn't you enjoy it, Mr. Black?” + +“Sure!” replied Phelps promptly. “Great stuff!” + +His wife swooped upon him like a swallow on a fly. + +“You?” she snorted contemptuously. “You didn't hear a word of it. I only +hope Mrs. Cornish wasn't watching you, as I was. And now,” she added, +turning to Serena, “comes the other part, the important part. Captain +Dott, there is to be a short business meeting in a few minutes, and men +are, of course, excluded. Phelps, will you have James drive Captain Dott +home? You had better go with him, and then come back again and wait for +us. Captain Dott, I am going to borrow your wife for a short time.” + +Daniel, not knowing exactly what to say, said nothing. Phelps seized +his arm and led him down to the carriage. The driver received his +instructions and the homeward ride began. + +“I say, Barney,” observed Daniel, after waiting for his escort to +volunteer a word or two, “are all their meetings like that?” + +Mr. Black snorted. “No,” he declared; “some are a d----d sight worse.” + +It was after eleven when Serena returned. Her face was flushed and +shining with excitement. She did not wait to remove her hat, but rushed +into the parlor where her husband sat in lonely magnificence. The +solicitous Hapgood, who had happened in every few minutes to see if his +employer “wished anything,” had been ordered to “go aloft and turn in.” + The tone in which the order was given made an impression and Hapgood had +obeyed. + +“Oh, Daniel!” she cried. “What do you think? I've been made a member of +the Chapter!” + +Captain Dan should perhaps have been enthusiastic. If he was, he +suppressed his feelings wonderfully. + +“Have you, Serena?” he observed. “I want to know!” + +He listened while his wife dilated upon the wonderful happenings at +the meeting and the glorious consequences which she felt sure were to +follow. Just before putting out the light he asked one more question. + +“That--that Mrs. Lake?” he said. “She's a grass widow, ain't she--isn't +she, I mean?” + +“Yes, what of it?” + +“Oh, nothing. Only I thought you were kind of prejudiced +against--against--” + +“I've had a good many prejudices, I suppose, like other people. But Mrs. +Lake's husband was a brute; Mrs. Black told me so. He must have been, +for she is perfectly lovely. I've met them all, and they are ALL lovely. +They're going to call and--and everything. Oh, Daniel, this means so +much to us!” + +Captain Dan turned out the gas. + +“Yes, Serena,” he said slowly. “I shouldn't wonder if it did.” + +The calls began the very next afternoon. Mrs. Black, having made up her +mind that the taking of the Dotts under her wing was a necessity, made a +virtue of that necessity and explained to her fellow members of Scarford +Chapter that Serena and Daniel were really very nice people. “A little +countrified, of course. You must expect that. But they are very kind +hearted and immensely wealthy--oh, immensely.” She was kind enough to +add that Serena was quite an exceptional person and an advanced thinker, +considering her opportunities. “The club people were going to take them +up, and so I felt that we should get in first,” she explained. “If they +should prove to be impossible we can drop them at any time, of course.” + +In making this explanation she did not mention the Fenholtzes, and yet +if it had not been for the call of the Honorable Oscar and his wife it +is extremely doubtful if Serena would have become a member of Scarford +Chapter so soon. Also it is doubtful if the little dinner given by the +Blacks to Mr. and Mrs. Dott would have taken place within the week. At +that dinner Captain Dan wore his first dress suit. He bought it ready +made at one of the Scarford shops and it fitted him remarkably well, +considering. What he could not do, however, was to feel at ease in it. + +“Good land, Serena!” he said, when the dressing was completed and they +were about to start for the dinner, “don't pick at me so everlastin'ly. +Don't you suppose I know I look as stiff and awkward as if I'd froze? +You won't let me put my hands in my pockets, and all I can do is hang +'em around loose and think about 'em, and this blessed collar is so high +I can't scarcely get my chin over it. I'm doin' my best, so don't keep +remindin' me what I look like all the time.” + +“I don't care what you say, Daniel,” declared his wife. “The clothes +are just what you ought to wear, and if you would only forget them for a +little while you would look all right.” + +“But I can't forget. I know the clothes are all right. It's me that's +all wrong. My red face stickin' over the top of this collar looks like +a fireman's shirt on a white fence. I tell you I ain't used to this kind +of thing. I wasn't born to it and it don't come natural to me.” + +“Neither was Mr. Black 'born to it,' but he has got used to it and so +can you if you will try.” + +“Oh, I'll try. But I'm beginnin' awful late in life. I know you'll be +ashamed of me, Serena. You ought to have a different husband.” + +“I don't want a different one. I wouldn't change you for anybody. But I +do think you ought to try and help me as much as you can. My chance +has just come; I am only just beginning and I mean to go on and improve +myself and our position in life all I can. All I ask you to do is not to +hold me back by complaining.” + +The “little dinner” was not as little as it might have been. Annette +had taken pains to make it as elaborate and as costly an affair as she +could. This was not solely on the Dotts' account. She had invited +Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz and the impression was to be made upon them, +if possible. But, unfortunately, the Fenholtzes did not attend. Mrs. +Fenholtz wrote that she had a prior engagement and sent regrets, just as +she had previously done on the occasions of Mrs. Black's other “little” + functions. + +However, the leading lights of Scarford Chapter attended and the display +of gowns and coiffures was more varied and elaborate than at the open +meeting. Serena, seated at the right hand of B. Phelps, was in her +glory. She felt that at last she was in touch with the real thing. +Daniel, sandwiched between Annete and Mrs. Lake, was not as happy. The +necessity of forgetting his clothes and remembering his grammar was +a heavy burden. His conversation was limited to “Yes” and “No” and “I +shouldn't wonder,” and after a time the ladies ceased in their efforts +to make him talk and carried on an animated dialogue across his shirt +front. + +After dinner there was music and bridge. Daniel was fond of music, but +most of the songs, sung by a thin young lady with a great deal of hair +and a decollete gown, were in a language which he did not understand, +and the piano solos seemed to him to be made up of noise and gymnastics +with very little melody. He watched Serena, however, who, in turn, was +watching Mrs. Lake and the rest; when they applauded, she applauded and +the captain followed suit. + +Bridge was an unknown quantity to both of them, and they sat and looked +on while Mrs. Black made it “without” and found fault with her partner +when they lost. The thin young lady, who had obliged with the vocal +selections, asked the captain if he played “nullos.” Daniel, who was not +sure whether “nullos” was a musical instrument or a game, replied that +he wasn't sure, but he didn't think he did; after which he retired into +the corner to avoid further questioning. + +They reached home about two o'clock, and the captain fell sound asleep +in the taxi and had to be shaken into consciousness when the machine +reached the Dott door. + +“My soul, Serena,” he said, when they were upstairs in the bedroom, +“don't those folks ever go to bed? There was stuff enough to eat at +that dinner to last the average family through three meals. Time I had +finished the ice cream I was ready to curl up like a cat in front of the +fire; but the rest of them seemed to be just startin' in to be lively. +Are we goin' to keep this up very long? If we are, I'll have to sleep in +the daytime, like a fo'mast hand on night lookout.” + +“But wasn't it splendid?” explained his wife. “Weren't they cultivated, +brilliant people? You and I never went to anything like THAT dinner +before, Daniel Dott.” + +The captain admitted that they never did. “Could you make anything out +of that game they were playin'?” he asked. “What was it they called it?” + +“Bridge. No, I couldn't, but I'm going to. I'm going to learn it just as +soon as I can. Mrs. Black says everybody plays it now.” + +Her husband chuckled. “Those that don't play it had better not try,” + he observed. “Judgin' from what I saw to-night, if they do try they get +into trouble. That Lake woman was givin' that poor little bald-headed +fellow she was playin' with fits most of the time. Whenever they won +she patted herself on the back, and when they didn't she said it was +his fault. He ought to have 'echoed' or hollered back--or somethin'. One +time she put down a card and he put another kind of a one on it, and +she glared at him and said, 'Havin' no clubs?' and he had one that he'd +forgot. He spent the next ten minutes beggin' her pardon, but 'twas a +good thing SHE didn't have a club. She'd have used it on him if she +had. He was all shriveled up like a frostbitten cranberry when they got +through.” + +After they were in bed he said, “Serena, what was that black stuff they +had on the toast at the beginnin' of that supper? Looked like tar, but +it tasted kind of salty and good.” + +“Don't say supper, Daniel. It was a dinner. All city people have dinner +at night. That was caviar on the toast. I've read about it. It comes +from Russia.” + +Silence for a moment. Then Captain Dan said reflectively, “Caviar? +Caviar, eh? I've heard of that somewhere before; where was it? Yes, yes, +I know. 'Twas a caviar sandwich the waiter asked that young fellow I met +in the Rat Cellar to have. I never found out who that young fellow was, +and yet I know I've met him somewhere before. I wish I could remember +where it was. My memory is failin' me, I guess; must be gettin' old. +Can't you remember, Serena?” + +But his wife bade him stop talking and go to sleep. + +The next day there were more calls, and Serena was asked to attend a +committee meeting as a guest. She attended it and returned more full of +Chapter enthusiasm than ever. She announced that she might be asked to +prepare a paper to be read before the Chapter, and that she intended +to study and prepare for it. Study and prepare she did, and, between +dodging callers, or helping to entertain them, and keeping out of his +wife's way while she was busy with the encyclopedias which she had taken +from the library, the captain began to feel somewhat deserted. Hapgood's +company was too stately to be congenial, and Daniel sought refuge in the +kitchen, where Azuba, as usual, was always ready to talk. + +Azuba was brimming over with the novelty of city life. She had been to +the theater once already since her arrival, and to the moving picture +show three times. + +“Don't talk to ME,” she said. “If them pictures ain't the most wonderful +things that ever was, then _I_ don't know. _I_ never expected to +see such sights--soldiers paradin', and cowboys a-ridin', and houses +a-burnin', and Indians scalpin' 'em! I was so worked up I hollered right +out.” + +“I should think you would. An Indian scalpin' a house is enough to make +anybody holler.” + +“They didn't scalp the house; what sort of foolishness would that +be--the idea! They scalped the folks IN the house. That is, they +would have scalped 'em, only along come the cowboys wavin' pistols and +hurrahin'--” + +“Could you hear 'em hurrah?” + +“No, but I could see 'em. And the way they went for them Indians was a +caution. And--Oh, say, Captain Dott, there was one set of pictures there +made me think of you. 'Twas all about some people that wanted to go into +society. She had a paralyzed father and they had a child, a real pretty +girl, and, would you believe it, they commenced to neglect their child +and go off playin' cards and dancin' and carousin' around, and the child +was took down sick and the poor paralyzed grandfather--” + +“Grandfather? Thought you said it was a father.” + +“'Twas the WOMAN'S father--the child's grandfather. Well, anyhow, the +poor thing had to take care of it, and the nurse went to sleep and the +father come home and found her dyin'--” + +“Who, the nurse?” + +“No, no, the child. The nurse wa'n't sick; but the child was terrible +sick.” + +“What was the matter with the child; paralysis, too?” + +“I don't know what was the matter with it. 'Tain't likely 'twas +paralysis. You get me so mixed up I shan't know what I AM sayin' pretty +soon. Well, anyhow, what happened was that the child's mother and father +neglected it on account their fashionable goin's-on, and the child up +and died. 'Twas the most affectin' thing. There was the child a-dyin', +and the mother and father cryin', and the old grandfather goin' all to +pieces--” + +“All to pieces! That's worse than paralysis. Hold on a minute, Azuba! +Was all this in the picture?” + +“Yes.” + +“And you paid to see it?” + +“Course I paid to see it. They wouldn't let me in for nothin', 'tain't +likely.” + +“Well, seems to me you've made a mistake. If cryin' and misery is what +you want, I don't doubt you can find a lot of funerals to go to for +nothin'. But what was there about all this mess of horrors that made you +think of me?” + +“Oh, I don't know, unless the way you and Mrs. Dott are goin' in for +society in Scarford. Course your child is grown up, so that's different, +though, ain't it?” + +“Yes, and there isn't any paralysis in the family, so far as I know. +That's a mercy. Don't you get paralysis, Azuba. If you do, it will take +you longer to get breakfast than it does now.” + +“That's all right. You ought to be thankful you've got me to get +breakfast. If I wa'n't here you'd have to get it yourself, I cal'late. +Your wife's too busy these days, and that Hapgood man wouldn't do it. I +know that.” + +Relations between the butler and Azuba were already somewhat strained. +He considered her a rude and interfering person and she considered that +he would bear watching. + +“He's always recommendin' folks for us to trade with,” she told Captain +Dan. “What business is it to him who we trade with?--unless he gets +a little somethin' for himself out of it. He won't do it more than +once--not if I catch him at it. Don't talk to me about that Hapgood! I +wouldn't trust one of them foreigners, anyhow.” + +The invitation to dine with the Fenholtzes came about a week after the +dinner at the Blacks'. Daniel, who opened the letter containing the +invitation, was very much pleased. He liked the Fenholtzes at first +sight and felt sure he should like them better on further acquaintance. +But when Serena came back from the lodge meeting--the first regular +meeting which she had attended since becoming a member--she received the +news rather coldly. + +“When is it they want us?” she said. “Next Tuesday night? Well, we could +go, I suppose, but I don't believe we shall. Mrs. Lake said something +about coming around that evening to help me read my paper and criticise +it.” + +The captain was surprised and troubled. “She could come some other time, +couldn't she? I think 'twas real kind of the Fenholtzes to ask us. Seems +to me we ought to go. You and I haven't even been to pay back that call +yet.” + +“I know it. I've meant to, but I've been so busy. Besides, I don't know +whether it is worth while or not. The Fenholtzes have got a great deal +of money, but all the Chapter people say they are sort of back numbers.” + +However, she decided to accept the invitation, and they went in state. +But the state was largely on their part. The dinner was a very simple +affair compared to the elaborate spread of the Blacks, and the two or +three people whom they met were quite different from Mrs. Lake and +her friends. Captain Dan enjoyed himself hugely. He sat next to Mrs. +Fenholtz at the table, and her quiet conversation on every-day subjects +he could understand. Before the dinner was over he was thoroughly at +ease, and when later on, in company with the Honorable Oscar and the +male guests, he sat smoking in the library, he found himself spinning +yarns and joking as freely as if he had been in the back room of the +Metropolitan Store in Trumet. The shouts of laughter from the library +could be heard in the parlor, and Serena grew nervous. + +“Your husband must be very entertaining,” said Mrs. Fenholtz. “I haven't +heard Mr. Fenholtz laugh so heartily in a long time.” + +Mrs. Dott was fearful that Daniel might be making himself ridiculous. +She didn't mention her fears. Her own remarks were delivered with a +great deal of dignity, and she quoted Mrs. Black and the encyclopedia +often. On the way home she took her husband to task. + +“What in the world were you talking about with those men?” she demanded. +“I never heard such a noise as they made. I do hope you didn't forget +yourself.” + +The captain rubbed his chin. “I don't know but what I did forget myself, +Serena,” he replied. “I know I had a good time and never thought about +my clothes after the first ten minutes. Could you hear 'em laughin'? I +was tellin' em' about Azuba's goin' to the movin' pictures then.” + +His wife was shocked. “And Azuba is our cook,” she said, “and they know +it. I don't know what sort of servants they think we have. They must +think you're pretty familiar with them.” + +“Good land, Serena! I've been familiar with Zuba all my life. If I was +to put on airs with her she'd take me down in a hurry.” + +Mrs. Dott sighed. “I'm afraid you did forget yourself,” she declared. +“I think if you could hear what the Fenholtzes are saying about us now +you'd be ashamed. I'm sure I should.” + +And at that very moment Mr. Fenholtz was saying: “That man Dott is all +right. I have not laughed so for years. And he has common sense, too. I +like him.” + +His wife nodded. “So do I,” she said; “and I think I should like Mrs. +Dott, too, if she had not been spoiled by Annette Black and the rest of +those foolish women she associates with. I don't mean to say that Mrs. +Dott is completely spoiled yet, but she will be soon, I'm afraid, unless +I can make her realize that she is beginning all wrong here in Scarford. +If she could only have gone to the Woman's Club first I think she might +understand, but now I'm afraid it's too late.” + +At the next meeting of the Chapter Serena read her paper. She +mounted the platform with fear and trembling. She left it exalted and +triumphant. The paper had been applauded and she had been congratulated +by her fellow members. Annette was enthusiastic and Mrs. Lake and the +other leaders equally so. Stories of the “vast” wealth inherited by +the Dotts had been circulated freely, and these, quite as much as the +wonderful paper, were responsible for Serena's bound into popularity. + +But the popularity was there, and the unconscious Serena believed it to +be real. That meeting was the beginning of her obsession. Thereafter she +talked chapter and society and opportunity and advancement, and ate them +and drank them, too--at least the meals--those at home--seemed to the +captain to be made up of very little else. Their evenings alone together +became few and fewer. When they were not entertaining callers they +were calling. Captain Dan actually began to feel at home in his evening +clothes; a good deal more than he did in his night clothes, so he +told his wife. Breakfast, which, in the beginning of their Scarford +residence, had been served at seven-thirty, was now an hour later, and +even then Daniel frequently ate alone. + +Then came the reception idea. Annette--she and Mrs. Dott were calling +each other by their Christian names now--had dropped the hint concerning +it. She had said that a good way in which to repay social obligations +was by doing it all at once, by giving a dinner, or reception, or a tea, +to which everyone should be invited. Serena decided that the reception +was perhaps the better, all things considered. And so preparations for +the reception began. There was to be a collation, and when this item +of information was imparted to Azuba the kitchen became a maelstrom of +activity in which Captain Daniel could no longer find rest and refuge. + +“But, Zuba,” he remonstrated, “what do you think's comin' here; a drove +of hyenas? You've cooked enough already to victual a ship halfway across +the ocean. These folks eat sometimes at home. You don't think they're +comin' here to make up for six months' starvation, do you?” + +“Don't talk to me!” was all the satisfaction he got. “I've heard about +what they had to eat over there at Barney Black's, and I don't mean +for folks to say that they went hungry when they come here. Don't say +another word. I don't know now whether it was a cup full of sugar or a +pinch of salt I put in, or the other way 'round. Cookin'! Don't talk to +ME.” + +The captain found it practically impossible to talk to anybody. Hapgood +was busy; Serena was busier, and Azuba was busiest of all. Wherever he +went he seemed to be in the way, and when he fled for walks up and down +the streets the crowds of strange faces made him feel lonelier than +ever. On the evening before that upon which the reception was to be held +he returned from one of these walks to find Serena in tears. + +“Why, good gracious sakes!” he exclaimed. “What's the matter?” + +“Matter!” sobbed his wife. “Oh, dear me! Everything is the matter! I'm +so tired I don't know what to do, and Annette and Mrs. Lake were coming +here to-morrow to help me, and now they can't come. They'll be at the +reception, of course, but they can't come before; and there's so much to +get ready and I don't know whether I'm doing it right or not. What SHALL +I do!” + +Daniel shook his head. “Seems to me I'd do the best I could and let it +go at that,” he advised. “If they ain't satisfied I'd let 'em stay the +other way. I wish I could help you, but I don't know how.” + +“Of course you don't. You don't have any sympathy for the whole thing, +and I know it. I feel it all the time. You haven't any sympathy for ME.” + +The captain sighed. He had a vague feeling that he could use a little +sympathy himself, but with characteristic unselfishness he put that idea +from his mind. + +“I guess what you need is a manager,” he said. “Somebody that's used to +these sort of things that could help you out. I wish I knew where there +was one.” + +Hapgood appeared and announced that dinner was served. Serena hurriedly +dried her eyes and they descended to the dining-room. Just as they were +about to take their seats at the table the doorbell rang. Hapgood left +the room and returned a few moments later bearing a card on a tray. +Serena took the card, looked at it, and then at her husband. Her face +expressed astonishment and dismay. + +“Why, Daniel!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Why, Daniel! WHO do you +suppose is here?” + +Her husband announced that he didn't know. He took the card from her +hand and looked at it. It was a very simple but very correct card, and +upon it in old English script was the name “Mr. Percy Hungerford.” + +Daniel's face reflected the astonishment upon his wife's. + +“My soul!” he muttered. “Percy Hungerford! Why, that's--that's the +cousin; the one Aunt Laviny cut out of her will; the one that would have +had all this place and all the money if we hadn't got it. I thought he +was in New York somewhere. Black said he was, and now he's here. What in +the world does he want?” + +Mrs. Dott rose. “I don't know,” she gasped. “I can't imagine. But +I suppose we must see him. We've got to. Did you ask him to wait, +Hapgood?” + +Hapgood bowed respectfully. “Mr. Hungerford is in the drawing-room, +ma'am,” he said. + +To the drawing-room moved Serena, followed by her husband. + +“Good evening, Mr. Hungerford,” said the lady, with a partially +successful attempt at calmness. “How do you do? My husband and I--” + +She paused. The expression on Mr. Hungerford's face was an odd one. She +turned to Daniel, and his expression was odder still. He was standing in +the doorway gazing at the visitor, his eyes opening wider and wider. + +Mr. Percy Hungerford was the young man whom his friend had addressed as +“Tacks,” the young man with whom Captain Dan had exchanged repartee in +the Rathskeller of the Palatine Hotel. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Of the two men, Mr. Hungerford was the first to recover presence of +mind. Presence of mind was one of the qualities upon which he prided +himself, and it was a very awkward situation to which he could not rise. +For just an instant the color rushed to his cheeks as he recognized the +captain and saw that the latter recognized him. Then: + +“Why, how do you do, Captain Dott?” he said. “By Jove, this is +extraordinary, isn't it! Strange that relatives shouldn't know each +other when they meet. How do you do?” + +He stepped forward with extended hand. Captain Dan, who had expected +almost anything but this bland cordiality, scarcely knew what to say or +do. He took the proffered hand mechanically and dropped it again. + +“Well!” he stammered. “Well!--I declare I--I didn't expect to--” + +He paused. Mrs. Dott, who had been watching this scene in bewilderment, +spoke before he could finish his sentence. + +“Why, what is it?” she asked. “Have you--” + +Mr. Hungerford smiled. “Your husband and I have met before,” he +explained. “Just a casual meeting and we weren't aware of each other's +identity. I'm afraid I was not as cordial as I might have been on that +occasion, Captain. I was a bit tired and rather out of sorts. I hope +you'll forgive me, I'm sure.” + +Daniel hesitated; then he smiled. + +“Why, I guess I can forgive my half if you can yours,” he said slowly. + +Before the puzzled Serena could ask another question the visitor turned +to her. + +“I'm sure you must be very much surprised to see me here,” he said. “I'm +somewhat surprised to be here myself. I've spent a greater part of the +past month in New York and have only just returned--that is, to stay. I +fully intended to call before, and should if I had been in town. How are +you getting on? How do you like the dear old place? Ah!” with a sigh, as +he seated himself and looked about him, “how familiar it all seems!” + +The Dotts looked at each other. Serena sank into a chair. Captain Dan +remained standing. + +“Does it?” said the former rather feebly. + +“Indeed it does. One almost expects to see Auntie coming in at the door. +Dear old Auntie! I can scarcely realize that she has gone.” + +Again Serena looked at Daniel and he at her. This was so strange, +so different from the attitude which a disappointed legatee might be +expected to assume that neither of the pair knew exactly how to reply. +But Mr. Hungerford did not appear to notice the look or the hesitation. + +“This house seems like home to me,” he said. “I've spent so many happy +hours here. When old Hapgood opened the door for me I almost ordered him +to take my bags to my room. Really I did. That would have been droll, +wouldn't it?” + +He laughed languidly. Serena admitted that it would have been droll. +Captain Dan remained silent as before. + +“Are--are you stopping at the hotel?” queried Mrs. Dott. + +“Not yet. In fact, I'm not really stopping anywhere. I've just arrived. +I must be hurrying back to dinner, I suppose, but I couldn't resist +coming here first. It seemed the natural thing to do.” + +Voices were heard in the hall. One of the voices was Azuba's; she was +informing Mr. Hapgood that if that soup didn't go back on the stove +pretty soon it might just as well be on ice. The words were distinctly +audible, and Serena colored. Mr. Hungerford rose. + +“I'm sure I must be keeping you from your own dinner,” he said. “Don't +let me do that for the world.” + +“Why--why--” faltered Serena. She looked appealingly at Daniel, and the +latter's instinctive hospitality asserted itself. He had disliked the +young man “Tacks” when he met him in the Rathskeller. Now that “Tacks” + had become Mr. Percy Hungerford, Aunt Lavinia's cousin and his own +distant relative, the dislike was only partially abated. But to turn him +away from the door hungry seemed wrong somehow. + +“Hadn't you better--” he began. + +“Have dinner with us?” finished his wife. + +Mr. Hungerford protested. + +“Oh, I couldn't think of it,” he declared. “No doubt you have guests--” + +“Oh, no, we haven't. We're all alone and it would be no trouble at all. +We should like to have you stay. Shouldn't we, Daniel?” + +“Sartin, no trouble at all,” said Daniel heartily. “Like to have you +first rate.” + +“Well, if you insist. It is a frightful imposition--I shouldn't think of +it, of course, but--well, thank you so much.” + +So Hapgood received orders to lay another plate, and Mr. Hungerford, +still murmuring protests, suffered himself to be conducted to the +dining-room. + +All through the meal the captain regarded him with puzzled curiosity. +That he had come to the house merely for a friendly call he could +scarcely believe. He had heard little or nothing of the conversation +between Hungerford and his friend at the table in the Rathskeller, and +yet the attitude of the former on that occasion had not indicated +a temperament likely to forgive “dear Aunt Lavinia” so freely or +to display such angelic cordiality toward those who had come into +possession of her property. But the cordiality remained unchanged, and +the visitor, so far from bearing a grudge toward his more fortunate +relatives, continued to treat them as though they were near and dear +friends, and do everything in his power to relieve their constraint and +to make himself agreeable. The dinner ended and they adjourned to the +drawing-room, with Captain Dan's mental question “What in the world is +this young chap really up to?” still unanswered. + +Serena had asked herself that same question when the caller first came, +but now she was beginning to be ashamed of her suspicions and to think +them unfounded. Mr. Hungerford was agreeable; there was no doubt of +that. Also he was good-looking, in an effeminate sort of way, and his +conversation was fluent and cultured. He led Serena into speaking of +the Chapter and her work there, and he displayed a knowledge of and an +interest in that Chapter and its members which was very gratifying. + +The coming reception was mentioned, and the visitor's interest in that +was more gratifying still. It was evident that receptions and society +functions generally were matters of every day, or every night, +occurrence to him. He asked Mrs. Dott who was to assist her in +receiving, and when she answered the question his approval of the +selections was unqualified. He suggested one or two little ideas which +he said might add to making the affair a success. Serena welcomed the +suggestions as a starving man might welcome a meal. + +“That'll be lovely,” she said, “and we can do it just as well as not. +And I had thought of having some bridge or something afterwards; but +Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--didn't seem to think bridge would be just +the thing after a reception. And there's music; I know we really ought +to have music, and I had meant to have somebody play the piano. But the +woman I wanted can't come, and now I don't know what to do. What would +you think about that, Mr. Hungerford?” + +Mr. Hungerford suggested hiring one or two professional musicians. “A +violinist, or harpist, or both, perhaps,” he said. “Music is always, as +you say, a great addition to such affairs, Mrs. Dott. I happen to know +of a young fellow who plays exceptionally well, and his sister is really +a very accomplished performer on the harp. Of course they should be +engaged in merely a professional capacity. They are not persons who +would mingle with our set, but they're not at all objectionable, +really.” + +The diplomatic phrasing of this remark had its effect. It indicated +that Mrs. Dott's “set” was an exclusive one and, incidentally, that the +accomplished and polished Mr. Hungerford considered his host and hostess +as social equals. + +“There!” exclaimed Serena. “I think that will be just fine. And you are +the first one, Mr. Hungerford, to think of it. Do you suppose you could +get these--these--er--persons you speak of to come and play for us?” + +“I think so. I have befriended the young man in various ways, and he is, +if you will excuse my saying so, under some obligations to me. I should +be glad to make the attempt if you wish it, Mrs. Dott.” + +“Cost somethin', won't it?” observed Captain Dan casually. Mr. +Hungerford regarded him with well-bred surprise. + +“Why, of course,” he said, “there will be some expense. I think fifty +dollars will cover the bill. The usual rate for musicians of their class +is somewhat higher.” + +There was no doubt that the captain was surprised. “Fifty DOLLARS!” he +repeated. “Why--” + +His wife interrupted. “That will be all right, Mr. Hungerford,” she +said. “That will be quite satisfactory.” + +“Of course, there are many whom you can obtain for less, and, if you +feel that that figure is too high, I shall be glad to try elsewhere. I +have had little experience outside of the best, but--” + +Serena interrupted again. “We don't want anybody but the best,” she +declared, emphatically. “Be still, Daniel. This isn't Trumet.” + +Daniel drew a long breath. “There ain't much doubt of that,” he +observed. “But, all right, Serena, if you and Mr. Hungerford think it's +all right, I guess it is. I'm more used to hirin' sailors than I am +folks to play the harp.” + +“Music,” went on Mr. Hungerford, “is almost a necessity, in these days, +when everyone dances. Is this a formal reception, or had you intended +clearing a floor for dancing, Mrs. Dott?” + +Mrs. Dott had not intended any such thing; she had not thought of it. +But she concealed the fact from her visitor with remarkable presence of +mind. + +“Oh, of course!” she said. + +The conversation continued, a conversation limited to Mr. Hungerford and +his hostess, while Captain Dan remained a silent and amazed listener. +The young gentleman was invited to attend the reception, Serena making +many apologies for the informality of the invitation, and the guest +expressing himself as delighted. + +“Of course,” he said, “I wouldn't intrude for the world, but I don't +feel like an intruder in this house, where I have spent so many happy +hours. Feeling as I do, I'm going to make another suggestion which, +under different circumstances, might be considered an impertinence. I am +at leisure to-morrow--in fact, all this week--and if there is anything +that I can do to help you and Cousin Daniel, in this matter of the +reception or any other, I shall be at your service. I do hope you +will permit me to help and that you will not consider me presuming in +offering to do so.” + +It was quite evident that the offer was very welcome. Mrs. Dott +accepted it with enthusiasm and called upon her husband to confirm the +acceptance. He did so, but with less warmth, and it was agreed that the +obliging Mr. Hungerford should drop in the next morning after calling +upon his protege, the violinist. A half hour later he said “Good-night,” + and departed. + +“There!” said Serena. “If that isn't Providence, then I don't know. And +it only goes to show how one person can misjudge another without +knowing anything about him. I've always had a prejudice against that Mr. +Hungerford simply because of what you told me of meeting him years ago, +and now I don't think I ever met a kinder, nicer young man. Did you, +Daniel?” + +The captain hesitated. “I--I,” he stammered, “well, Serena, I will give +in that he seemed nice and obligin' enough to-night, but you see there's +just one thing that--” + +Serena turned on him. “Yes, I know,” she said. “There's always 'one +thing' about everybody that _I_ like. He's smart and bright and well +dressed and polite. He's a gentleman! and a different kind from any that +we've ever met. That makes YOU suspicious, of course.” + +“Now you know it isn't that; but--but--” + +“But what?” + +There was more hesitation on the captain's part. He had intended to tell +of the meeting at the Rathskeller; then he remembered the young man's +explanation and apology and thought better of it. He and “Cousin Percy” + might have another interview on the morrow. Meanwhile, he would keep +still, particularly as his wife seemed to have forgotten their caller's +reference to the meeting. He finished his sentence in another way. + +“But I don't see what he came here for,” he said. + +“He came here to see us. And, I think, considering how he was treated in +Aunt Lavinia's will, it was awfully nice of him to come at all. And, +as for helping me out on that reception, he's been a perfect godsend +already. I should THINK you would appreciate it.” + +Before the next day was over, and long before the first of the evening's +guests arrived, the services of the new-found friend of the family were +appreciated even by the reluctant Daniel. Mr. Hungerford came early and +proceeded immediately to make himself useful. He had seen the violinist, +and the latter and his sister had promised to be on hand. He took +Hapgood in charge and superintended the arranging of the drawing-room +and the library for the reception and the dancing. When the messenger +from the florist came with the flowers which Serena, acting upon the +suggestion of Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, had ordered, he saw that they +were placed in exactly the right positions for effect. Being urged to +stay for lunch, he stayed. And his conversation during the meal was +so fluent, so aristocratic in flavor, and yet so friendly, that Serena +became more and more taken with him. With the captain he was not quite +as much at his ease. But he did his best to be agreeable, and Daniel, +still vaguely suspicious, found nothing tangible upon which to base +distrust. There was so much to be done in the afternoon that, acting +upon a hint so delicate that it could scarcely be called a hint, Mrs. +Dott urged him to send to the hotel for his bag and stay at their home +overnight. He accepted and was even busier than he had been during the +forenoon session. He was never so busy as to perform manual labor with +his own hands--he never stooped to that extent--but he managed to convey +the impression of being always ready and always helpful. + +To say that Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake were, upon their arrival, surprised +to find him there would be expressing their feelings far too mildly. +They knew Mr. Hungerford, but, heretofore, that gentleman had moved in +circles other than their own. It is true that he belonged to the same +club as did Mr. Black, but Mr. Hungerford's friends had been younger, +the ultra-fashionable set, the set which Annette had characterized as +“rather fast” but which, because of its money and society connections, +she secretly envied. To find him here, an associate and friend of the +people she had called “countrified,” was most astonishing. She wondered, +but she could not help being impressed, and her attitude toward her dear +friend Serena was never so gushingly cordial. As for Mr. Hungerford, he +greeted the Chapter representatives with condescending urbanity. When +the reception began, somehow or other, Cousin Percy was in the receiving +line. + +Captain Dan, uncomfortably starched and broad-clothed, received +likewise, but his remarks to those who pressed his hand and murmured +compliments were rather commonplace and very much alike; this consisted +principally of “How d'ye do's” and “Glad to see you's”; and it was only +when the Honorable and Mrs. Fenholtz came that he appeared to remember +anything else. It was evident that Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz were as +surprised as the rest to see Mr. Hungerford there. The Honorable, +seizing an opportunity when the captain was for a moment alone, +whispered in his ear. + +“Where did he come from?” he asked, with a jerk of the head in Cousin +Percy's direction. + +“Him?” replied Daniel. “Oh, he came last night.” + +“Is that so? Is he a friend of yours?” + +“Well, he ain't--isn't exactly a friend, I guess. He's a sort of +relation, a nephew of Aunt Laviny's.” + +“Oh, oh, I see--I see.” + +There was something in the tone which caused Captain Dan to ask a +question in return. + +“Know him, do you?” he inquired. + +“Yes, I know him, but--it is all right, Olga; I'm coming.” + +He passed on to make room for another assortment of new arrivals, lady +members of the Chapter, and Daniel's curiosity remained unsatisfied. + +After the reception proper, came a social and, to Daniel, very +uncomfortable hour, and then Mr. Hungerford, who seemed to have taken +upon himself the position of master of ceremonies, suggested dancing. + +Of all the captain's society experiences so far, this was the most +amazing. He had danced in his younger days, it is true, but his were +dances of quite another variety. Quadrilles and Virginia reels he was +acquainted with, but tangos and Bostons and all the infinite varieties +of the one-step were to him revelations, and revelations of a kind which +caused him to gasp. He saw middle-aged matrons dipping and hopping and +twisting about the room in company with middle-aged, stout, red-faced +men who looked as if on the verge of apoplexy. He saw Mr. Hungerford +laboring dutifully to pilot a woman of forty through the sinuosities +of the “hesitation waltz,” and when the lady, who was inclined toward +plumpness, had collapsed into an armchair, he sought out her late +partner and vented his feelings. + +“For the land sakes!” he demanded; “what did you do that for?” + +“Do what?” inquired Mr. Hungerford, himself as fresh and unwilted as an +Easter lily. + +“Why, that--to her. Look at her, she's pretty nigh gone! She ain't +caught more than two breaths in the last minute and a half. I've been +watchin' her.” + +Cousin Percy condescended to smile. “It's her own fault,” he observed. +“She said she was dying to learn the 'hesitation' and asked me to teach +it to her.” + +“Well, she ought to be satisfied. If she was dyin' before, she's pretty +near dead now. Why didn't you stop sooner? She all but capsized a dozen +times in the last two or three turns you and she took around the room.” + +Percy's smile became broader. “That is all part of the dance,” he +explained. “Watch this couple here.” + +Daniel watched as directed. The couple were a young man and a girl about +Gertrude's age. They were doing the “hesitation” with the hesitancy +emphasized. + +“My soul!” muttered the captain. “Where's that girl's mother? Somebody +ought to tell her.” + +Hungerford smiled once more. “That was her mother I was dancing with,” + he said. + +“Good Lord!” exclaimed Daniel. It was the only comment he made. He +watched the rest of the dancing in silence. + +The collation followed the dancing, and Azuba and Mr. Hapgood served it, +assisted by four waiters who, at Mr. Hungerford's suggestion, had been +hired for the occasion. The butler's serving was done with grace and +elegance, not to mention dignity. Azuba served as if the main object to +be attained was to provide each guest with as much food as possible in +the shortest possible time. She was arrayed in a new black gown, worn +under protest, for her own idea had been to wear her Sunday dress, a +vivid purple, with trimmings which, for color and variety, looked +“like a patchwork tidy,” as Captain Dan expressed it. Also, under still +greater protest, she wore a white apron and cap. + +“I feel like my grandmother doin' dishes,” Azuba declared when Mrs. Dott +brought the cap and apron to her and insisted on a dress rehearsal. “The +old woman lived to be ninety-five and wore a cap for all the world like +this one for thirty year. She had some excuse for wearin' it--it hid +the place where her hair was thin on top. But I ain't bald and I ain't +ninety-five neither. And why in the world you want me to put an apron on +in the parlor, _I_ don't see. You've been preachin' at me to leave one +off till I was just rememberin' to do it, and now you want me to put it +on again.” + +“Not this kind of an apron, Azuba. Mrs. Black's maids wear aprons like +that, and so do Mrs. Fenholtz's. It's the proper thing and I expect you +to do it.” + +“Humph! All right. Land knows I don't want to be improper. But I'd just +like to ask you this: Does that Fenholtz hired help have to wear black +clothes like this dress?” + +“Yes, always.” + +“Well, then I suppose I'll have to do the same, but I hope they don't +feel as much like bein' in mournin' as I do. I thought this reception +thing was supposed to be a good time, but when I looked at myself in the +glass just now, all I could think of was the Trumet post-office draped +up for President McKinley's funeral. I suppose it's style, so it'll have +to be. But if Labe, my husband, should see me now, he'd have a shock, I +guess. Cal'late he'd think he was dead and I'd got word of it afore he +did.” + +But the food was good and the guests seemed to enjoy it. Some of them +seemed to enjoy Azuba, and Mr. Fenholtz was observed by the indignant +Serena to laugh heartily every time the transformed maid-of-all-work +addressed him. + +As they were leaving he said to Captain Dan: “Captain, that maid of +yours is a wonder. If you ever want to get rid of her, let me know. I +thought Mrs. Fenholtz and I had tried every variety of servant, but she +is something fresh.” + +Daniel grinned. “She's fresh enough, if that's all you want,” he +admitted. “That's the main trouble with her, accordin' to my wife. I +like her myself. She reminds me of home.” + +The Honorable shook his hand. “Home is a good thing to remember,” he +said earnestly, “and a bedder thing not to be ashamed of. You are not +ashamed of your home and you do not forget it. That is why I like you. +Good night!” + +Somehow this remark pleased the captain greatly, but when he repeated it +to Serena, she did not seem pleased. + +“I don't know what we shall do with that Azuba,” she said. “She +mortifies me to death, and yet you won't let me get rid of her.” + +Her husband did not answer. In the matter of Azuba he was as determined +as ever. Amid the new life into which he had been thrown, head over +heels, the housekeeper was the one familiar substantial upon which he +could rely. He was used to her, her conversation, and her ways. As he +had said, she reminded him of home, his real home, the home from which +he was drifting further and further every day. + +Next morning Serena was suffering from headache and had breakfast in her +room. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not descend to the morning meal. Daniel +wrote a long letter to Gertrude, describing the reception, after his own +fashion, but taking care to seem as cheerful as ever. He did not feel +cheerful, but there was nothing to be gained by troubling his daughter, +as he reasoned. + +Mr. Hungerford remained through that day and the next day and the next. +At the end of that time he sent for his trunks and settled down to make +the Dott house his home, for “a short season,” he said. This, of course, +was done only after much protest on his part and strenuous urging on the +part of Serena. Cousin Percy had taken her fancy at the very beginning +of their acquaintance, and his conduct since then had strengthened that +liking tremendously. + +“Of course he can stay,” she said in conversation with her husband. +“Why, Daniel, I don't know what I should do without him. His coming was +a special Providence, just as I told you. Just see how he helped at that +reception. It would never have been the success it was if it hadn't been +for him. And see how he's helped me since. He knows just what is right +and proper for people in our station to do; he's been in society all +his life. He's educated and he has helped me with my paper for the next +meeting of the Chapter so much already. There's no reason why he can't +be here; we've got plenty of room. And it will only be while he's on his +vacation, anyway.” + +Daniel rubbed his chin. “I know,” he admitted; “so he says. But how long +a vacation is it goin' to be?” + +“How do you suppose I know that? I haven't asked him, it isn't likely.” + +“No, I didn't suppose you had; but it seems kind of funny he hasn't +told you himself. What's it a vacation from? What's he do for a livin'? +Anything but run receptions?” + +“That's it--sneer! He does a great many things. He is interested in +literary work, so he says. He writes for a living, I suppose that +means.” + +“Humph! Has he got any answer?” + +“Answer? Answer to what?” + +“Why, to his writing. Has the livin' sent him word 'twas on the way, +or anything like that? I don't want to be mean, Serena. You know well +enough I ain't stingy. But I can't quite make that young fellow out. Why +did he come here, anyway? that's what sticks in my mind. What sort of +a chap is he? You know what that lawyer man said about him. Nigh as I +could make out from that, he thought he was a kind of high-toned loafer, +sportin' round on his aunt's money. Why does that kind of a fellow come +to live along with us? WE ain't sports.” + +“Will you EVER remember not to say 'ain't'? He came here because he +isn't that kind of a fellow at all. He explained about that. It seems +that he and that young upstart of a Farwell, the lawyer, had had some +words and Farwell had a grudge against him. He thinks it was largely +owing to those lawyers' influence that Aunt Lavinia treated him as she +did in her will. But he doesn't hold any grudge. I never heard anybody +speak more forgiving or kind than he did about the whole affair. I +declare, it was positively affecting! He told me about his life and +about how he was all alone in the world; how he had never had to earn +much--never having been brought up to it--but that now he was trying to +do his best. I felt so sorry for him, and that was one of the reasons +why I thought we, the only relations he has, ought to be kind and +show him hospitality at least. I never thought you were inhospitable, +Daniel.” + +“I ain't, Serena. That is, I mean I are--am not. But--but--Well, I'll +tell you. I haven't told you before, although I meant to, but he and I +met once since we've been in Scarford. I told you about the meeting, but +I didn't know then who I met. Now I--” + +“I know. He told me about that, too. He was the one you met at the hotel +that afternoon. He said he was ashamed of his behavior that day, that +he was tired, out of sorts, and discouraged. He thought you had been +listening to what he and his friend had been saying, and it made him +cross. He said that he apologized when he first came to the house, and +I remember that he did, and he asked me whether I thought any further +apology was necessary. I said no, of course it wasn't.” + +“Well, I don't suppose it is. But--well, there was somethin' else. It +seemed to me that afternoon at the Rathskeller that he and that chum of +his had been drinkin'.” + +“Drinking? Do you mean that they were intoxicated?” + +“No, not exactly that; but they had a couple of cocktails while I was +there.” + +“Is that all? Oh, dear me! Daniel, you are SO old-fashioned. Your ideas +don't change a single mite. In Trumet a cocktail is a dreadful thing; +but here it isn't. Why, everybody drinks a cocktail before dinner. The +Blacks always have them. There were cocktails at that dinner at their +house.” + +“I know there was, but I didn't see you drinkin' yours, Serena.” + +His wife hesitated. “No,” she admitted rather reluctantly, “I didn't. +I've been temperance all my life and somehow I couldn't bring myself +to do it. I hope Annette didn't think it was bad manners, but I just +couldn't somehow. Perhaps I ought to have tried--” + +“Tried! My soul and body, Serena! Don't talk that way. If I see you +startin' in to drink cocktails I shall begin to think the world's comin' +to an end. SOMETHIN' will come to an end right then and there, I'll +tell you that! The first cocktail you drink will be the signal for me +to clear decks for action. There's some things I WON'T stand, and that's +one of 'em!” + +“There, there! Don't get excited! I shan't begin at my time of life. But +I shan't be narrow, either. I don't want you to be. If all you've got +against Cousin Percy is that he drinks a cocktail once in a while I +think you'd better get over it as soon as you can. He does help me, +Daniel, in my Chapter work and all the rest of it, and I'd like to have +him stay here at present. Now won't you be nice and obliging, same as +you usually are, and let him stay, for my sake? You will, won't you, +dear?” + +Captain Dan said that he would, and yet he said it with considerable +inward reluctance. There was no real reason why he should have +distrusted Percy Hungerford. At least he could think of none in +particular. His distrust was based upon generalities and a knowledge of +human nature acquired during his years of knocking about among men. +His wife's words made an impression. If what she said was true, his +conscience told him that he should be kind and generous in his attitude +toward the literary person. But--well, the “but” was still there. + +It was his intention to seek out Fenholtz and ask a few questions +concerning Cousin Percy, but the opportunity did not offer itself, and +shortly after the reception the Fenholtzes left for the South, where +they were to spend the winter. So that source of information was cut +off. + +During the next fortnight the captain's sense of desertion and of being +almost a stranger in his own house grew stronger than ever. There were +more callers and more calls to return; there were more bridge parties +and teas. His wife astonished him by announcing that she was going to +take lessons in bridge and that Mr. Hungerford had found a teacher to +perfect her in that branch of knowledge. + +“Of course,” she said, “it will cost quite a little, but Cousin Percy +says there's no use having a teacher at all unless you have a good one, +and three dollars a lesson isn't too much, because you learn so quickly +from an expert. I was sure you would be willing for me to take the +lessons, Daniel.” + +Daniel shook his head. “I'm willin' for you to do most anything that +pleases you, Serena,” he said, “but three dollars a lesson for learnin' +how to play cards seems to me a pretty good price. If it was me I should +feel as if 'twas doubtful whether I'd get as much out of it as I put in. +That's what Ezra Small, back home, said when he put his sprained foot +in a plaster cast. Ezra said he never expected to get more than half his +foot back, because the way that plaster stuck he cal'lated it would hang +on to the rest. I should feel the same way about the three dollars for a +bridge lesson.” + +“Oh, no, you wouldn't after you had taken a few. You'll like it then.” + +“_I_, like it! Good Heavens, you don't mean--” + +“I meant that you're going to take lessons, too, of course. You must +learn to play bridge--everybody plays it. And you used to like cards.” + +“I used to like high-low-jack, and I could manage to take a hand at +euchre without raisin' too big a disturbance; but I never could learn +that bridge and play it with those women friends of yours--never in this +world. More'n that, I don't intend to try.” + +And he positively refused to try in spite of his wife's pleading. +However, he consented to the employment of the bridge teacher for +her and, thereafter, two hours of each alternate afternoon, Sundays +excepted, were spent by Mrs. Dott and two other female students in +company with a thin and didactic spinster who quoted Elwell and Foster +and discoursed learnedly concerning the values of no-trump hands. The +lessons were given at the Dott home and Mr. Hungerford was an interested +spectator. Daniel, who was not interested, and felt himself in the way, +moped in his own room or went upon more of the lonely walks about town. + +Chapter meetings and Chapter activities occupied more of Serena's time. +There were “open” meetings occasionally and these Captain Dan seldom +attended. Mr. Hungerford acted as his wife's escort and seemed to enjoy +it, in his languid fashion. Chapter politics began now to have their +innings. There was to be a national convention of the Ladies of Honor, a +convention to be held in the neighboring city of Atterbury, and Scarford +Chapter was to send delegates. Mrs. B. Phelps Black, who aspired to +national honors, was desirous of being one of these delegates, but so +were many others, and Mrs. Black's candidacy was by no means unopposed. +She called upon Serena for help, and into the fight in aid of her friend +Serena flung herself, heart and soul. + +There were meetings, and more meetings, and letter writing, and +canvassing of voters. Here again, Daniel was of no use. Cousin Percy's +experience--he seemed to have had all sorts of experience--helped +amazingly. Mr. Hungerford's willingness to help in all things where no +particular labor was concerned was most astonishing. By this time he was +as much a member of the Dott household as Serena herself--more than the +captain, who began to feel that he was not a member at all. Even bridge +was side-tracked for the more absorbing political game, and evening +after evening Captain Dan spent alone. Occasionally Mr. Hungerford kept +him company, but his was company not too congenial. It is true that the +young man was agreeable enough, but he and the captain found nothing in +common to talk about, and Cousin Percy usually gave up the attempt at +conversation rather early and fell asleep upon the sofa or went out on +little excursions of his own to which Daniel was not invited. + +Mr. Hungerford smoked a good deal, and it was Daniel's cigars that he +smoked. His vacation seemed no nearer the end than it had when he first +came. The shrewd Azuba informed the captain that she guessed it was “one +of them vacations that didn't have any end, but was all beginnin'.” + Her employer reproved her for speaking in this way of a friend of the +family--he felt it was his duty to do that--but the rebuke was a mild +one. + +One night, or rather one morning, for it was nearly two o'clock, he was +awakened by a series of violent shakes, and opened his eyes to find his +wife bending over him. She had been out, attending a special meeting of +the Chapter, and had hastened upstairs without stopping to take off her +wraps. + +“Daniel, Daniel, wake up!” she cried. + +The captain groaned. “Hey! what is it?” he asked sleepily. Then, with a +little more interest, “Is the house afire?” + +“No, no, but do wake up and listen. I've had the greatest honor done me. +You will hardly believe it. The delegates to the Atterbury Convention +were elected to-night. Annette Black is one--I just KNEW she'd win--and +Mrs. Lake is another, and who do you suppose is the third?” + +Captain Dan sat up in bed. “Not you?” he shouted. + +“Yes, I. And, more than that, I was the one selected to read a paper +there. Annette expected to do that, but, when it came to the vote, my +last paper, the one I read Thursday night, the one Cousin Percy helped +me so in preparing, was selected over all the rest. The vote was nearly +two to one. I am to read it on the second day of the Convention. Isn't +it wonderful! Annette was so jealous she hardly said good-night to me. +But I don't care. There, Daniel Dott! aren't you proud of your wife?” + +There was a little hesitation in her husband's manner, and yet he tried +his best to be enthusiastic. “Oh, yes,” he said, “but then I was proud +of you before, Serena. But--but what does this mean? Have you and I got +to traipse way over to Atterbury?” + +“Not you. You're not going. None of the men are. This is a women's +convention. Men are not invited.” + +“I know. But I've got to go there with you. You ain't goin' off +travelin' by yourself.” + +“I'm going with the other Chapter delegates; we will travel together.” + +“I want to know! How long are you goin' to be gone?” + +“I'm not sure. Three or four days probably.” + +“And I've got to stay here alone?” + +“Why, you won't be alone. Cousin Percy will be here, and there's Azuba.” + +“Yes, and that everlastin' Hapgood, I suppose. Say, Serena, have you GOT +to go?” + +“Got to? Why, I WANT to! It's an honor. Don't you want me to go?” + +“Why--why, I suppose I do; but--but--” + +“But, what? Oh, you DON'T want me to go! I can see--and I thought you'd +be so glad!” + +She was almost in tears. Daniel's sensitive conscience smote him once +more. “Land sakes!” he protested. “Of course I want you to go, Serena! I +wouldn't have you do anything else for the world. I--I was just kind of +lonesome, that's all. I get that way sometimes, lately. Seems as if you +and I don't see as much of each other as we used to. Do you think it's +all worth while?” + +“Worth while! Why, Daniel Dott!” + +“There, there! don't take on. I guess it is. I suppose you know best +about such things. But I get kind of blue settin' around here thinkin', +without you to talk to; and Gertie isn't here. You see, I miss you +both.” + +“Yes, I suppose you do. Well, after this convention is over I shall have +a little more time, I hope. And Gertie will be home pretty soon. It's +almost time for her Christmas vacation.” + +“Yes, I know it is. I was thinkin' that to-day. My! we'll be glad to see +her, won't we?” + +“Of course we will. But, do you know, Daniel, I've been so busy that I +almost forgot about Christmas and Gertie's vacation and everything. It +was Cousin Percy that reminded me of it.” + +“Reminded you of what?--of Christmas?” + +“No, of course not--of Gertie's vacation. He said that she was coming +and that he should be glad to make her acquaintance.” + +“HE said so? How did he know? _I_ never told him.” + +“I don't remember that I did, either. But I suppose I must have. Anyhow, +he knew. He is very much interested in Gertie and how she was getting on +at college and all that. I saw him looking at her photograph that very +day of the reception. He knew that it was she, without being told.” + +“Humph! He seems to know a lot. But, there! I recollect now--Gertie said +she met him at college. Well, Serena, I won't complain any more. You can +go to Atterbury if you want to. I'll get along all right.” + +And to Atterbury Mrs. Dott went. It was the first time since the old +sea-going days that Captain Dan and his wife had been separated longer +than twenty-four hours. He saw her off on the train and then moped +drearily back to Aunt Lavinia's mansion, which he was now beginning to +hate, and, seating himself in the library, tried to find interest in a +novel. He did not find it, however, and went to bed early. Cousin Percy, +who was out that evening, did not retire early. Next morning he seemed +to have little appetite for breakfast, and was less agreeable than +usual. + +The three days passed somehow. The wanderer was to return on Thursday +morning, but she did not. Instead came a telegram, reading as follows: + + +“Meeting and paper great success. Send immediately one of my latest +photographs. Serena.” + + +The puzzled Daniel sent the photograph preceded by a telegram of his own +which read: + + +“When are you coming home? Why don't you write? Have been worried about +you. Answer.” + + +The answer was delayed still another day. When it came, it was in the +shape of a very short note stating that Saturday was the date of return. +Serena wrote that she was having a lovely time. She would tell him all +about it when she got back. “And,” she added, “I am sending you by this +mail copies of the Atterbury paper. Please show it to any of the Chapter +members whom you may meet.” + +Captain Dan unfolded the paper and gazed at the page marked with blue +pencil. Here, under black headlines, which screamed the success of +the convention of the Ladies of Honor, was a horrible blotted outrage +resembling a stout negress peering through a screen door and labeled, +“Mrs. Serena Sarah Dott, of Scarford, whose brilliant paper scored the +success of the meeting.” It was only by a process of deduction that +Daniel realized the thing to be a reproduction of the photograph he had +sent. He glanced hurriedly over the account of the meeting, catching +here and there phrases like “Mrs. Dott's forte is evidently platform +speaking”--“clear thought, well expressed”--“tumultuous applause.” He +felt that he ought to read the account from beginning to end, but also +that he could not. Azuba, however, when it was shown to her, had no such +feeling. She bore it to the kitchen, read it all, and returned to crow +vaingloriously. + +“Well, there now, Captain Daniel!” she exclaimed. “Ain't it wonderful! +Ain't it grand! Ain't you a lucky man to have a wife as notorious as +she's gettin' to be! I swan to man, if it ain't--” + +The captain interrupted her. “Azuba,” he said, rather testily for him, +“if you use that word again I don't know as I won't make you eat a +dictionary. My wife may be famous and she may be a platform speaker, but +I'm blessed if I'll have her notorious, not if I can help it.” + +“But she is notorious, ain't she? Look at her right there in the +newspaper, with all that piece about her in print! I wish Labe could +read such a piece in the paper about me. Why, what ails you, Daniel +Dott? Just look at that photograph!” + +Captain Dan rose. “Yes,” he said drily, “I've been lookin' at it. That's +part of what ails me.” + +On Saturday he was at the station to meet his wife. Serena was inwardly +jubilant, although, because of the presence of Mrs. Lake and Annette, +she tried to appear dignified and calm. But when she and her husband +were alone on their way to the house her jubilation burst forth. + +“Oh, it was a wonderful success!” she declared. “I declare, I wish you +might have been there. The way they applauded! And the entertainment +they gave me! And the reporters after interviews! And the things the +women of the other Chapters said! Oh, Daniel, it was splendid!” + +Lunch was a mere formality on her part. She talked incessantly, while +Cousin Percy and her husband listened. Mr. Hungerford's congratulations +were hearty. His praise was as close to fulsome flattery as it could be +and not overstep the mark. + +Daniel offered congratulations, too. He was glad that his wife had +succeeded, but the pleasure was solely because of her happiness. He was +not as happy on his own account. Several remarks which Serena had +made seemed to prophesy that the excursion to Atterbury was but the +beginning. + +All that afternoon Mrs. Dott spent in her room. She was going to be very +busy, she said, and she must not be interrupted. It was only just before +dinner that the captain found a moment for an uninterrupted interview. +He entered the room to find her seated at the writing table, her fingers +ink-stained, and the table covered with closely written sheets of +manuscripts. She looked up when he appeared. + +“Oh,” she said, “I'm so tired! I've written steadily all the afternoon. +My report had to be ready, and there was so much to say.” + +Daniel regarded her gravely. “You look tired, Serena. You're doin' +altogether too much of this sort of thing. You ought to stop, or you'll +be sick. Now, you just rest a while. My, it does seem good to have you +back again! We can have an evening together now. I'll tell you what +we'll do: You tell Hungerford you're tired and then come right up here, +and I'll come, too. Then we can sit and talk. I've got so much to say to +you.” + +But Serena shook her head. “No, Daniel,” she said. “I can't talk +to-night.” + +“Then don't; I'll do the talkin'. Land's sakes! it'll be enough just to +look at you. I don't feel as if I'd seen you for a hundred years.” + +Another shake of the head. “I'm sorry, Daniel, but I can't be with you +at all to-night. I must present my report to the Chapter and I shall +probably not be home till very late.” + +Daniel sprang from his chair. “Serena Dott!” he cried. “Do you mean +to tell me that you're goin' out to that Chapter thing again TO-NIGHT! +after bein' away from me all this time! Why, you've just got home!” + +“I can't help it, Daniel. I must present my report. It's my duty to do +it. The Chapter expects me and I must be there.” + +“Expects you! _I_ expected you, didn't I? And, by the everlastin', I +think I had a right to expect you! I'm your husband, ain't I? Seems to +me I am entitled to a little of your society.” + +“I can't help it, Daniel. The Chapter--” + +Captain Dan's feelings got the better of his prudence. “Damn the +Chapter!” he shouted. “I wish you and I had never heard of it, nor +anybody that belongs to it.” + +The instant after the words left his lips he would have given a good +deal to recall them, but it was too late. His wife slowly rose. + +“Daniel Dott!” she gasped. “Daniel Dott! You--YOU--why--my husband +talking to me like that! My own HUSBAND! the man of all men that I +expected would be proud of me! The man who should be proud and glad that +I have found my lifework--speaking to me like that! Oh! oh! what shall I +do! How CAN I bear it!” + +She fell back into the chair, her head sank upon her arms over the +manuscript of the precious report, and she burst into a storm of sobs. + +Daniel was as much overcome as she. He hurried to her side and in an +agony of remorse bent over her. + +“There, there, Serena,” he pleaded. “Don't do so. I didn't mean it. It +kind of--” + +He would have put his arms about her but she pushed them away. + +“And swearing at me,” she sobbed. “And using language that--” + +“I didn't mean to swear, Serena. I never swore at you before in my life. +I didn't mean to this time. It just seemed to come out all of itself. +Please forgive me, won't you? Please?” + +But Serena was not ready to forgive. The sleepless nights and days of +wild excitement had thrown her nerves into a state where it needed but +the slightest jar to break them completely. She sobbed, and choked, and +gasped, her fingers clutching at her hair. Daniel, hanging over her, +tried in vain to put in a word. + +“Please, Serena,” he kept saying. “Please.” + +Suddenly the sobs ceased. Serena's hands struck the desk and she rose so +abruptly that her husband had scarce time to get out of her way. + +“Serena,” he cried. + +But Serena cut him short. “Go away,” she commanded. “Go away and leave +me. I don't want to speak to you again.” + +“But, Serena--” + +“Go away. Don't come near me again to-night. Go, go, GO!” + +And Daniel went, slowly, reluctantly. He was scarcely past the sill, his +hands still upon the knob of the door, when that door was closed from +within with a slam. He made one more effort to speak, but he heard the +key turn and his wife's voice commanding him to go away. He descended +the stairs to the library and threw himself into a chair. Mr. +Hungerford, smoking one of his host's cigars and reading the evening +paper, looked at him curiously and asked what was the matter. + +Daniel turned on him. “Nothin',” he roared. “Nothin', do you hear?” Then +he rushed from the library to the hall, seized his hat and coat from the +rack and hurried out of the house. He walked and walked, but if, upon +his return, anyone had asked him where he had walked he could not have +told them. This was the first serious quarrel that he and his wife had +had during their married life. + +It was half-past seven when he returned and found Azuba fidgeting in the +dining-room. It was Mr. Hapgood's free evening and he had left early. + +“For mercy sakes!” Azuba demanded. “Where have you been?” + +“Out!” was the gloomy rejoinder. “Where's the rest of the folks?” + +“Gone to Chapter meetin'.” + +“Both of 'em?” + +“Yes. It was an open meeting and Mr. Hungerford went along, too. Where +are you goin' now? Don't you want anything to eat? It's been waitin' for +you for an hour.” + +“Let it wait; I don't want it.” + +He walked from the room. Azuba gazed after him open-mouthed. + +“Well!” she soliloquized in a voice loud enough for the captain to +hear. “Well, if anybody'll tell me what's the use of gettin' all het +up cookin' vittles in this house, then I'd like to have 'em do it. Here +I've worked and worked and fussed and fussed to get dinner and nobody's +ate a mouthful but one, and he's the one that gets it for nothin'. I +never saw such doin's. Don't talk to ME!” + +Captain Dan didn't talk to anybody. He sat alone in the library, +miserable and downhearted. After a while Azuba came and announced that +she guessed she'd get a mouthful of fresh air, if she wasn't needed. +Receiving no answer, she apparently considered the request granted +and the captain heard the back door shut. Still the captain sat in the +library, a huddled, pathetic heap in the armchair, gazing at vacancy. +Occasionally he sighed. + +The doorbell rang. Aroused from his doleful reverie by the sound, Daniel +jumped from his chair and, going to the hall, shouted for Azuba. Then +he remembered that Azuba was not on the premises and answered the ring +himself. He had forgotten to push the button of the porch light and, +peering out into the dark, he could see only that the person standing +upon the top step was a woman. A carriage had drawn up at the curb and +the driver was unloading a trunk from the rack. + +“Good evenin'!” said Daniel. + +The answer was a surprise. There was a laugh, and then a pair of arms +were thrown about Captain Dan's neck and a girlish voice said: “Good +evening! Is THAT all you've got to say to me? Why, Daddy, you dear old +goose, don't you know me?” + +Daniel's answer was a shout that might have been heard at the next +corner. + +“What!” he roared. “GERTIE! Good land of love! Where'd you come from?” + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +“But aren't you glad to see me, Daddy?” asked Gertrude. They were in +the library. The trunk had been carried upstairs and the young lady had +assured her father over and over again that she really didn't want +any dinner, as she had eaten on the dining car during the journey from +Boston. + +The captain, who had scarcely taken his eyes off her since her arrival +at the house, drew a long breath. + +“Glad to see you!” he repeated. “I never was more glad to see anybody in +MY life. How'd you happen to come so soon? We weren't expectin' you for +a week.” + +“I hadn't expected to come, but I changed my mind. Now tell me all about +yourself. How are you, and how's Mother? And how are you getting on? +Mother has gone to the Chapter meeting, you say. Did she go alone?” + +“No, she didn't go alone. That--Cousin Percy went with her.” + +“Cousin Percy? Oh, you mean Mr. Hungerford. Do you call him Cousin +Percy? How funny!” + +She seemed much amused. Her father smiled, but it was a rather sheepish +smile. + +“'Tis kind of funny, I suppose,” he admitted. “I don't know as he really +is a cousin. Fact is, I guess he ain't any real relation.” + +“Of course he isn't. He was Aunt Lavinia's second cousin, or something +like that, but she was only your aunt by marriage. I don't see why you +should speak of him as 'Cousin Percy.' Did he ask you to?” + +“No-o; I don't know as he did. But, you see, he always calls your mother +Cousin Serena and me Cousin Daniel, and--and--well, I guess we've kind +of got into the habit. Your mother began it and, now that he's been here +so long, I've caught the disease, I shouldn't wonder.” + +“Long! Why, he hasn't been here more than a month, has he?” + +“Hey? No; no; now that you mention it I don't suppose he has. But it +seems a lot longer than that to me.” + +He sighed. Gertrude regarded him keenly. Unconscious of the regard he +sat there, lost in thought, apparently forgetful of her presence. She +reminded him by saying: + +“Why does it seem longer?” + +He started and looked up. + +“Hey? Why?” he repeated. “Oh, I don't know. So many things have +happened, I guess.” + +“What kind of things?” + +“All kinds. But there--tell me about yourself. How's college? And how's +John? Land sakes! I ain't said a word about John, and he's about as +important as anything on earth just now, or he ought to be. Guess you +think I'm a selfish old pig, not to ask about him before this. How is +he?” + +“You couldn't be selfish if you tried, Daddy. You never knew how to be. +John is well and very busy. He sent his love to you and Mother, and he +hopes to run down here before very long and spend a few days with us.” + +“Does, hey? That's good. I suppose YOU don't hope he'll come. Ha! ha! +no, of course not. He's doin' all the hopin'.” + +“Well, perhaps not all. But there, Daddy, don't waste time talking of +John or me. I want to hear about you and about Mother, and how you like +living in Scarford.” + +“Why, I wrote you all about that.” + +“Yes, I know you did, but I want to hear more, lots more. And I want +to see the house. Just think, I haven't seen it at all. Now, Daddy, you +must show me all the rooms right away. We can talk as we go. Come on.” + +She led the way and Daniel followed. The house was shown from top to +bottom. Gertrude asked many questions, the majority of which seemed +to have little to do with the new establishment and more with the life +which her parents had spent in it. Captain Dan answered these questions +in the intervals between rooms, and his answers were less guarded than +they might have been under different circumstances. At length the young +lady ceased to question, and the tour of inspection was finished in +silence on her part. + +When they returned to the library, the captain, who had been waiting for +some expression of approval from his daughter, suddenly blurted out: + +“Well, why don't you say somethin', Gertie? Don't you like it?” + +Gertrude, seated in the easy chair, her elbow resting on the chair arm +and her chin supported by her hand, answered promptly. + +“No,” she said, “I don't like it at all.” + +“What! Don't LIKE it? Don't like this house? Well, for mercy sakes!” + +“Oh, not the house; I like that well enough. I liked our old one quite +as well--but never mind that now. The house is all right. It is the rest +of it that is all wrong. I don't like that.” + +“The rest of it? What do you mean?” + +Gertrude did not answer. Instead she raised her head and looked at him. +It was a long look and a steady one, and the captain found it hard to +bear. He fidgeted for a moment and then blurted out: + +“Well, what is it? Why are you starin' at me like that?” + +The stare continued. + +“What is it?” demanded Daniel. “What does ail you, Gertie? Or is it me?” + +His daughter nodded. “Yes,” she said, “it is you. Why don't you tell me +all about it, Daddy? I have a right to know. Why don't you tell me?” + +“Tell you? Tell you what?” + +“You know. Why don't you tell me? You have told me so much already that +you may as well make a clean breast of it. Why, you silly old Dad, what +do you suppose brought me here a week ahead of my vacation? Why do you +think I came?” + +“Why do I think--? Why--why, you came because you wanted to see your +mother and me, I suppose. That's reason enough--or I flattered myself +that 'twas. I thought you was as anxious to see us as we was to see +you.” + +“So I was; but that wasn't reason sufficient to make me leave my work at +college before the term was over, leave it for good, very likely. I came +because I was sure you needed me. And your letters made me sure.” + +Daniel gasped. His letters had been triumphs of diplomatic evasion, so +he considered. He had been so careful to write nothing of his troubles, +to leave out everything which should hint at his disturbed state of +mind. He had taken pains to express, in each epistle, his contentment +and happiness, had emphasized them. And now-- + +“My letters!” he exclaimed. “My letters made you think--made you sure--” + +“Yes; your letters and mother's. Hers were full of all sorts of things, +the very things that you never mentioned. She didn't say she was having +a good time here, but it was plain enough that she was. You said it in +every letter--that you were having the good time, I mean--but it was +perfectly plain that you weren't. And her last letter was so short--she +was so busy with the Atterbury preparations that she could not write +more, she said--and yours was so very, very long, and SO full of +lonesomeness--” + +Her father interrupted. Lonesomeness was the very thing he had tried to +keep out of that letter. + +“Gertrude Atwell Dott!” he shouted. “How you talk! I never wrote a +word--” + +“Yes, you did. It was all there, between the lines. I could read it, for +you and I have been acquainted a good many years. As soon as I received +that letter I made up my mind to come at once. Since I have been here +I have asked a good many questions, and you have answered them. But +I didn't need the answers. Just to look at you was enough. You are +miserable, Daddy dear, and, because you are you, you won't admit it. But +you've got to; you've got to tell me the whole story. I want to know all +about everything.” + +The wind was taken completely out of Daniel's sails. He could only +sit there, guilt written plainly upon his face, and stammer frantic +protestations. + +“No, no,” he declared. “It ain't so. You're all wrong, Gertie. You're +way off the course. The idea of you sayin' your mother was neglectin' +me.” + +“I didn't say it. You have said it a dozen times, but I haven't.” + +“_I_ said it? I never. Your mother is a fine woman, Gertie; as good a +woman as ever was.” + +“I know that. And she would not neglect you wilfully for the world. But +she has not had experience. She takes people and things at their face +value. She doesn't understand--Why are you smiling? Is it so funny?” + +Captain Dan rubbed the smile from his lips. In spite of his perturbation +he had been amused for the moment. + +“Why,” he observed, “I don't know as 'tis, but--but--well, I couldn't +help wonderin' how old you'd got to be in the last couple of months, +Gertie. You talk as if you was the grandmother and your ma and I were +young ones just out of school. About how much experience have YOU had, +young lady? now that we're speakin' of it.” + +Gertrude's earnestness was too real to be shaken by this pertinent +inquiry. + +“I have had a good deal,” she declared. “One can get a lot of experience +in college. There are as many kinds of character there, on a small +scale, as anywhere I know. I have seen girls--but there! this is all +irrelevant, away from the subject. You ARE neglected, Daddy; you are +lonely and miserable. Now, I want you to tell me all about it.” + +But her father had, in a measure, recovered his composure, and he +declined to tell. He had been longing for a confidant, and here was the +one he had longed for most; but his sense of loyalty to Serena kept him +silent. + +“There's nothin' to tell,” he vowed stoutly. “I'm all right. You're +dreamin', Gertie.” + +“Nonsense! I shall lose patience with you pretty soon, and I don't want +to. Judging by what I have seen and learned so far, I am likely to need +a great deal of patience in this house, and I can't waste any. Mother +has gone head over heels into this precious Ladies of Honor work of +hers, hasn't she?” + +“We-ll, she's terrible interested in it, of course; but she's so smart +anyhow, and here in Scarford she's got the chance she's been lookin' +for.” + +“And she is very much in society here, isn't she?” + +“Yes. That's natural, too, with her smartness and all.” + +“What kind of society is it?” + +“Hey? What kind? Why, it's the genuine gilt-edged kind, I should say. +_I_ never saw such clothes, nor such dinners, nor dances. It--” + +“Hush! Yes, I can believe all that. You wouldn't be likely to see +them--in Trumet. And I can believe in the gilt; the genuine part is what +I am most doubtful of. Mrs. Black is as influential with Mother as ever, +isn't she?” + +“Yes. She and Serena bein' such close friends, it--” + +“I know. Tell me, Daddy, are the rest of Mother's friends like the +Blacks?” + +“Pretty much. They're all the same tribe--that is, I mean they're all +brilliant, fashionable folks.” + +“I see. What sort of friends have YOU made?” + +This was straight from the shoulder and the captain was somewhat +staggered. + +“Well,” he admitted, after a slight pause, “I--I ain't made so dreadful +many friends, Gertie. Most of the men here are--are kind of different +from me, seems so. They belong to clubs and such, and they're out a lot +nights. I don't care for goin' out much; I've always been a great home +body--you know that, Gertie. I don't doubt, if I joined the club and +went to 'stag' dinners and so on, I'd have more friends. It ain't their +fault, you know, it's me.” + +“Yes, it always is you, isn't it, Daddy? No one else is to blame, of +course. Well, I'm very glad I came when I did. How many evenings have +you spent alone, as you were spending this one?” + +“Not a great many. I just--” + +“Why didn't you go to the Chapter to-night? It must have been an open +meeting, otherwise Mr. Hungerford couldn't have gone. Why didn't you go +with Mother?” + +Here was the one question Daniel had dreaded most. To answer it +truthfully meant telling of the quarrel between Serena and himself. He +could not tell that, not even to his daughter. + +“I--I didn't feel like goin', somehow,” he faltered. + +“That's strange. I knew that you were not particularly interested in the +Chapter--at least you never were in Trumet--but I never knew you to stay +at home when Mother asked you to go with her. Did she ask you?” + +“Now--now, Gertie, 'tain't likely I--I--” + +“Never mind; you needn't answer. Tell me more about this new relative of +ours, 'Cousin Percy.' Do you like him, now that you really know him?” + +“Why--why, yes, I like him all right enough, I guess. Course he and +I are different, in some ways; but, then, he's younger by a good many +years.” + +Gertrude nodded slowly. “I see,” she said. “You've made up your mind +not to tell me anything, haven't you, Daddy? You wouldn't hurt anyone's +feelings for the world, and you are afraid I may blame Mother. Well, +I am not going to blame anyone yet. And I am not going to quiz you any +longer. But I came home to find out things, and I am going to find out. +If you won't help me, I must help myself.” + +Her father leaned forward and patted her hand. + +“Now--now, Gertie,” he pleaded nervously, “don't be foolish. +Everything's all right, I tell you. Don't go stirrin' up any trouble. +I am so tickled to have you here I don't know what to do. Let's be +contented with that. Let's just be happy together. Don't--Hello! here +comes the Chapter folks now, I guess. Maybe your mother won't be glad to +see you! Oh, Serena, who do you think is here? I'll bet you'll be some +surprised!” + +There was no doubt of the surprise; neither was there any doubt as +to Serena's joy at seeing her daughter. An outburst of greetings and +questions and explanations followed. Gertrude explained that she had had +an opportunity to leave college a week earlier than the end of the term +and had availed herself of it. + +“I just had to see you and father,” she declared. “I couldn't wait any +longer. I've been telling father so; haven't I, Daddy?” + +She accompanied this question with a glance which Captain Dan recognized +as a warning. He nodded. + +“Yes,” he said. + +Serena suddenly remembered that the family was not alone. + +“Oh!” she exclaimed. “What have I been thinking of? Your coming +home like this, Gertie, has made me forget everything else. Cousin +Percy--Why, where is Cousin Percy?” + +Mr. Hungerford, who, from motives of delicacy or other reasons, had +stepped back into the hall, where he could see and hear without being +too conspicuous, now made his appearance. + +“Gertrude,” said Mrs. Dott, “this is our cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford. +You've heard him spoken of. Oh, yes--why, you and he have met. I +remember now, so you have.” + +Mr. Hungerford bowed. + +“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Dott one evening a year or two ago,” + he observed politely. “No doubt she has forgotten me, however, by this +time.” + +Gertrude shook her head. + +“Oh, no,” she said. “I remember you very well, indeed. How do you do, +Mr. Hungerford?” + +The young gentleman announced that he was quite well. He made a move as +if to shake hands, but as there was no corresponding move on Miss Dott's +part, he put his hand in his pocket instead. + +“That evening--the evening of the college dance--is one of my +pleasantest recollections,” he observed. “I made some delightful +acquaintances there. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten the names +of the young ladies, but forgetfulness is one of my failings.” + +“He meets so many people,” cut in Serena, by way of apology. + +Gertrude smiled. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. + +“I'm sure he hasn't forgotten us all,” she declared. “He could not be so +ungallant as that.” + +“He didn't forget you, anyway,” declared Daniel. “He knew your +photograph just as soon as he laid eyes on it.” + +“Oh, thank you, Daddy. You've saved my self-respect. But I was not +referring to myself. There are others whom I am sure Mr. Hungerford has +not forgotten. Isn't that true, Mr. Hungerford?” + +Cousin Percy appeared somewhat disconcerted. + +“Why,” he stammered, “I don't understand. I can't recollect--” + +“Can't you! Oh, that is dreadful! Do you correspond with so many young +ladies that you can't remember their identity? Oh! oh! and Margaret was +SO proud of those letters! Really, Mr. Hungerford!” + +She shook her head. Her eyes were brimming over with fun. Cousin +Percy's cheeks had lost something of their aristocratic pallor. Margaret +Babcock, the daughter of a well known glass manufacturer, had been one +of the list of feminine acquaintances whom he had honored with long +distance familiarity. She was an impressionable young person and her +papa was very wealthy. The correspondence had broken off when her +mother discovered one of the letters. Mrs. Babcock had definite views +concerning her daughter's future, and Mr. Hungerford was not included in +the perspective. The latter had forgotten, for the moment, that he met +Miss Babcock at the college dance; therefore he was confused. + +But the confusion was short-lived. He recovered quickly. + +“I BEG your pardon, Miss Dott,” he said with a laugh. “I had forgotten +Miss Babcock. Poor Margaret! She was of an age when letters, especially +masculine letters, are delightfully wicked. Forbidden fruit, you know. +She asked me to write, and I was foolish enough to do so. I presume my +humble epistles furnished harmless amusement for the class. Very glad to +have contributed, I'm sure.” + +“You did contribute. We all enjoyed them so much--especially Margaret. +She is a year older than I, Mr. Hungerford.” + +Serena, who, like the captain, did not understand a great deal of +all this, decided to change the subject. She did not address her +husband--she had not spoken to him since the scene in the room +upstairs--but the exaltation and triumph which the evening just passed +had brought to her soul now burst forth. She began to describe the +Chapter's meeting and to tell of her great success at Atterbury, and +the enthusiastic reception by the Scarford members of her report. Mr. +Hungerford seized the opportunity to deprive the family of his society. +He was rather tired, he explained, had a bit of writing to do before +retiring, and, if they would excuse him, would go to his room. Being +excused, with reluctance on Mrs. Dott's part and silence on the part of +Gertrude and her father, he said good-night and withdrew. + +“And now, Mother,” said Gertrude, “tell me more about yourself, and +about the Chapter, and the friends you have made, and everything. Father +has told me a little, and your letters and his have told me more, but I +want to know it all. I am very much interested.” + +Serena did not need to be asked twice. She told a great deal, warming to +her subject as she proceeded. She told of their arrival in Scarford, of +the kindness shown by the Blacks and Mrs. Lake and the rest. “Wonderful +women, Gertie! brilliant, intellectual, advanced thinkers, every one of +them. Not much like Abigail Mayo and the rest at Trumet.” + +She told of their adventures in society, of the Blacks' dinner, of the +reception, of her bridge lessons. Gertrude listened, saying nothing, but +watching both her parents intently as the narrative proceeded. + +Daniel, fidgeting in his chair, waited, nervously expectant, for the +protest which he felt sure his daughter might make at any moment. But no +protest came. Only once did the young lady interrupt, and then it was to +ask a question. + +“I suppose Daddy enjoys all this as much as you do, Mother?” she said. +“Doesn't he?” + +Mrs. Dott's expression changed. The radiant joy, which had illumined her +face as she described her progress at bridge, faded, and she seemed on +the verge of tears. + +“Don't, Gertie,” she begged. “Don't ask me about your father, please. +Enjoy it? No, he doesn't enjoy it at all. He has no sympathy for my aims +and ambitions. He takes no pride in my advancement. To-night--only this +very night, he said to me--Oh, I can't tell you what he said! Don't ask +me, please.” + +Captain Dan almost slipped from his chair in the agony of justification. + +“I never meant it, Gertie,” he declared. “It just happened, I don't know +how. I'll leave it to you; I'll leave it to anybody, if--” + +For the first time his wife noticed his presence. + +“Leave it to anybody!” she repeated wildly. “You'll leave it to anybody! +I wish you would! I wish you could hear what people think of it. Why, +Cousin Percy said--” + +For the second time since lunch the captain forgot to be prudent. + +“Cousin Percy said!” he shouted. “He said! Do you mean to say you told +him--THAT? What business was it of his, I'd like to know? What did he +say? If he says it to me, I'll--I'll--” + +Gertrude motioned him to stop. + +“There! there!” she commanded. “Daddy, be quiet. Mother, you're tired +out. You must go to bed. I'll go up with you, and we can talk while you +are getting ready. Daddy will wait here. Come, Mother, come.” + +She led the sobbing Serena from the room. Captain Dan, his feelings +divided between deep contrition at his own behavior and anger at Mr. +Hungerford's interference in the affairs of himself and wife, obeyed +orders and remained where he was. + +It was a long wait. He smoked a cigar half through, lighting it three +times in the process. When it went out for the fourth time he dashed the +stump into the fireplace and took to pacing up and down the room. This +reminded him of other days, days when he had paced the deck of his +three-master, counting the hours which separated him from his wife +and his home. He thought of the welcome he had always received when he +reached that home. Oh, why--WHY had he ever retired from the sea? That +was where he belonged; he was of some use in the world there. With a +groan he stopped pacing and went out into the hall to listen for sounds +from above. He heard the low murmurs of voices, the voices of his wife +and daughter, but he could not distinguish words. Back he went to the +library and lit another cigar. These cigars cost three times what his +old Trumet brand had cost, but he got not a hundredth of the enjoyment +from them. + +Twelve o'clock struck before Gertrude re-entered the library. She +entered quietly and, walking over to her father's chair, laid a hand on +his shoulder. He looked up at her in mute appeal. + +“It's all right, Daddy,” she said. “You can go up now.” + +“But--but she--is she--” + +“She has forgiven you, I think. You must be very kind to her.” + +“Kind to her? Kind! Why, Gertie, I never meant to be anything else. I +wouldn't have--” + +“Of course you wouldn't. Oh, Daddy, if you weren't the very worst +diplomat in all this world this wouldn't have happened. Why didn't you +tell me all about it? Why didn't you write me the truth long, long ago? +If I had only come sooner! If I had only known! Oh, WHY did you let +things reach this state? Why didn't you stop it?” + +“Stop it? Stop what?” + +“Oh, everything. Don't you remember that I told you to send for me +if you needed me? To send at any time and I would come? And don't you +remember that I wrote you if you felt this moving to Scarford was wrong +to say no and stick to it? Why didn't you do that?” + +“Why, I--I--Serena, she was so set on comin' and all that, that--” + +“I know. You needn't tell me. And yet, in a way, it seems strange. I +remember some things Laban Ginn, Azuba's husband, told me about you and +your ways aboard ship; he said your crews obeyed every order you gave +as if it was what he called 'Gospel.' You, and no one else, was master +there. However, that is not pertinent just now. Run along to bed, +there's a dear.” + +Daniel obediently rose. + +“But what are you goin' to do, Gertie?” he asked. + +“I don't know what I am going to do. First of all I am going to see and +find out for myself. Then I shall decide. One thing seems certain: I +shall not go back to college.” + +“Not go back! Not go back to college? Why, it's your last term! What'll +your mother say? What'll John say?” + +Gertrude's lips closed tightly and she gave a determined toss of her +head. + +“John will say what I say, I think,” she declared. “As for Mother--well, +what she says won't make any difference, not at present. Good-night, +Daddy. Now don't worry, and,” she repressed a smile, “be very careful +and, if you must express your opinion of the Chapter, do it in the back +yard or somewhere out of hearing. Good-night.” + +She kissed him and he went slowly and fearfully upstairs. Serena's +attitude of reproachful and self-sacrificing forgiveness he met with +meek repentance and promises not to offend again. He got into bed, worn +out and troubled, but with a ray of hope in his bosom, nevertheless. +Gertie had come home; Gertie was going to do something or other, he did +not know and could not guess what. At any rate she was with him, and he +could see her every day. Perhaps--perhaps--still wondering perhapses he +fell asleep. + +Next morning at breakfast the young lady seemed to be in good spirits +and, except for Serena's absence--Serena had breakfast in her room, a +proceeding which was apparently developing into a habit--the meal was +to Daniel quite like one of the happy breakfasts of Trumet days. Mr. +Hungerford marred the captain's pleasure somewhat by joining the pair +before they left the table, and to him Gertrude was surprisingly cordial +and communicative. Cousin Percy, who had been, at first, rather on his +guard, soon thawed and became almost loquacious. Gertrude and he found a +kindred taste for pictures and art in general, and before the captain's +second cup of coffee was disposed of Mr. Hungerford had invited Miss +Dott to accompany him to a water-color exhibition at a neighboring +studio. Gertrude said she thought she might accept the invitation, if +the exhibition was to remain for a few days. + +“Is the artist a friend of yours?” she asked casually. + +“Oh, no,” was the languid answer. “He's a queer old gink--old chap, I +mean--whose work is quite the go about here recently. Some very decent +people have taken him up, I believe. He's worth meeting, so I'm told, as +a curiosity. I've seen only two or three of his paintings, but they're +really not bad. Some of the fellows at the club were talking about him +the other night. I think you'd enjoy the exhibition, Miss Dott.” + +“I'm sure I should. I should like to see the pictures and the--er--gink +as well. Thank you very much, Cousin Percy.” + +When they were alone, Captain Dan turned to his daughter in puzzled +amazement. + +“What did you call him 'Cousin Percy' for?” he demanded. “Thought you +thought your mother and I callin' him that was funny; you said you did.” + +Gertrude laughed. “Did I?” she replied. “Well, perhaps I think so +still.” + +Whatever she may have thought, it did not prevent her continuing to be +very cordial to the newly discovered relative. He and she were together +a good deal during the day. She seemed to really enjoy his society. The +remainder of the time she spent with her mother. Captain Dan scarcely +saw her except at luncheon and dinner. Once he found her in the kitchen +talking with Azuba, and on another occasion she and Mr. Hapgood were in +conversation, but for her father she could spare only odd moments. The +captain did not know what to make of it. When, taking advantage of a +fleeting opportunity, he asked her she only laughed. + +“I am very busy, Daddy,” she said. “You mustn't bother.” + +“Bother! Well, I like that! How long since my company was a bother to +you, Gertie? It never used to be.” + +“It isn't now, and you know it. But, as I say, I am very busy. Business +first, pleasure afterwards.” + +“Humph! I'm glad I'm a pleasure, even if it's the kind that comes after +everything else. What have you and your ma been talkin' about upstairs +for the last hour?” + +“A great many things--society and the Chapter and--oh, all sorts.” + +“Want to know! What were you and Azuba talkin' about?” + +“About household matters and the people IN the house.” + +“People in the house! What people?” + +“You and mother and Mr. Hun--that is, Cousin Percy--and Hapgood.” + +“That's all there is, except yourself. What was you and Hapgood havin' a +confab on; more household matters?” + +“Yes, in a way. Daddy, have Mr. Hungerford and Hapgood known each other +long?” + +“I guess so. He was Aunt Laviny's butler for a good many years, and +Percy was a regular visitor there. What made you ask that?” + +“Feminine curiosity, probably. Has our cousin many friends here in +Scarford?” + +“Why, he seems to know 'most everybody; everybody that's in what he and +your mother call society, that is.” + +“But has he any intimate friends? Have you met any of them?” + +“I met one once. He seemed to be pretty intimate. Anyhow, they called +each other by their first names. Ho! ho! that whole thing was kind of +funny. I never wrote you about that, did I?” + +He told of the meeting in the Rathskeller. Gertrude evinced much +interest. + +“What was this friend's name?” she asked. + +“'Monty,' that's all I heard. Queer name, ain't it--isn't it, I +mean. But it ain't any queerer than 'Tacks'; that's what he called +Hungerford.” + +“Has this 'Monty' called here? Has he been here at the house?” + +“No-o, no, he hasn't. I caught a glimpse of him at the club, that time +when I went there with Barney--Godfreys! it's a good thing Serena didn't +hear me say that--with Phelps Black, I mean.” + +“Daddy, sometime when you have an opportunity, ask Mr. Black about this +Monty, will you?” + +“Sartin, if you want me to. But what do you care about Percy +Hungerford's friends?” + +“I don't--about his friends.” + +With which enigmatical remark she moved away to join Cousin Percy, who +had just entered the room. + +During the next three days, Daniel's feeling that his daughter was +neglecting him grew stronger than ever. Her “business,” whatever it +might be, occupied practically all her time, and the captain and she +were scarcely ever alone. He was disappointed. He had regarded her +coming as the life preserver which was to help him through the troubled +waters to dry land, and so far he was as helplessly adrift as before. +Serena had forgiven his profane expression concerning her beloved +Chapter, that was true, but Serena also was “busy” during the days and +evenings, and at bedtime she was too tired to talk. Gertrude was with +her mother a great deal, and with Cousin Percy almost as much. They +visited the water-color exhibition together, and would have gone on +other excursions if the cousin had had his way. Daniel did not like Mr. +Hungerford. He had grown to tolerate him because Serena liked him so +much, and declared him such a help in her literary and political labors, +but the captain had found secret comfort in the belief that his daughter +did not like him any better than he did. Now it looked as if she was +beginning to like him, after all. And there was no doubt whatever that +Cousin Percy liked her. + +Gertrude's apparent interest in her mother's social and Chapter affairs +was another disquieting feature of the situation, as Daniel viewed it. +Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called one afternoon and to them the young +lady was cordiality itself. They talked “Chapter,” of course, and to +her father's horror Gertrude talked it, too. Being invited to attend the +next meeting she announced that she should be delighted to go. + +“You didn't mean it, did you, Gertie?” pleaded the captain, when Serena +had escorted the guests to the door. “You didn't mean you was figgerin' +to go to that devilish--to that Chapter?” + +“Hush! Yes, of course I meant it.” + +“But--but YOU!” + +“Hush! Daddy, don't interfere. I know what I'm about.” + +Daniel was doubtful. If she had known she surely would not think of +going. And yet, on the evening of the meeting, go she did. The meeting +was a protracted one, and, on their return, Serena, finding the lower +rooms apparently deserted, went upstairs. Gertrude was about to follow, +but a figure stepped from the shadows of the library and detained her. + +“Why, Daddy!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing up at this hour?” + +“Sh-sh!” in an agitated whisper. “Don't let your mother hear you. +I--I've been waitin' for you, Gertie. I just had to talk to you. Come in +here.” + +He led the way into the library. + +“Don't say anything,” he whispered; “that is, don't say very much. +Serena'll be wantin' to know where I am in a minute. Gertie, what are +you up to? WHY did you go to that Chapter?” + +“Hush, Daddy, hush! It is all right.” + +“All right! Yes, I know it's all right so far. That's what your mother +used to say, back in Trumet, when she first started in. You begin by +sayin' it's all right and pretty soon it IS all right. It ain't all +right for me--it's all wrong. Why did you go to that meetin'?” + +“I went because I wanted to see for myself. And I saw.” + +“Yes, you saw. And you heard, too, I'll bet you. Well, did you like it?” + +“LIKE it! Daddy, tell me: There is another Woman's Club in Scarford, +isn't there? This can't be the only one.” + +“No, it ain't. I believe there's another. A different one--a sensible +one, so I've heard tell. Mrs. Fenholtz--you've heard me speak of her, +Gertie; she's a fine woman--she belonged to the other one. She wanted +Serena to join, but Annette Black had her innin's first, and after that +'twas all off.” + +“I see, I see.” + +“You see; but what are you goin' to do? Are you goin' to any more of +them blessed meetin's?” + +“I may. I probably shall. Daddy, dear, you must trust me. It is all +right, I tell you.” + +Ordinarily this would have been enough. But to-night it was not. Captain +Dan had spent some troubled hours since dinner and his nerves were on +the ragged edge. + +“All right!” he repeated impatiently. “Don't say that again. Is it all +right for you to be gettin' into the same mess your mother is in? Is it +all right for you to be talkin' about society and Chapters and--and I +don't know what all? I did trust you, Gertie. I said so. I told Serena +so this very afternoon. She was talkin' about Cousin Percy, she's always +praisin' him up, and she said you liked him just as much as she did. He +was a cultivated, superior young man, she said, and you recognized it. I +laughed at her. I says, 'That's all right,' I says, 'but I wouldn't take +too much stock in that. Gertie knows what she's up to. She's got some +plan in her head, she told me so. She may pretend--'” + +His daughter interrupted him. + +“Father!” she exclaimed indignantly. “Why, Daddy! did you tell Mother +THAT?” + +“Course I did! Why not? It's so, ain't it? What is the plan, Gertie? +What are you up to? You are pretendin', aren't you? Don't tell me you +ain't! Don't tell me--” + +“I shan't tell you anything. You don't deserve to be told. I'm out +of patience with you, altogether. You deserve to be miserable. You'll +spoil--But there! good-night.” + +“Gertie! Gertie! hold on. Don't--” + +Serena's voice sounded at the head of the stairs. + +“Gertie!” she called. “Who is it you're talking with? Is your father +there? Why doesn't he come to bed?” + +“He's coming, Mother, right away. So am I. Good-night, Daddy.” + +The next forenoon, as Azuba was blacking the stove, Gertrude entered the +kitchen. + +“Good-morning, Azuba,” she said. “Are you alone?” + +“Yes, yes, I'm alone.” + +“Where is Hapgood?” + +“Land knows! Upstairs, lookin' out for that Hungerford man's clothes, I +guess likely. He waits on that young critter as if he was the Prince of +Wales. Well, you went Chapterin' and advancin' last night, I understand. +What did you think of it?” + +“Think? I thought--Oh, Azuba!” + +“Yup. It's 'oh, Azuba,' I guess. That's what I've been sayin' to myself +for quite a spell. I'd have said it to your pa, too, if it would have +done any good.” + +“It wouldn't. We mustn't say a word to him, or anyone else.” + +“I know. And yet, when I think of the way things are goin' at loose ends +I have the shakes. Do you know what it's costin' to run this place the +way it's run? I know. And I know, too, that nobody else seems to know or +care. Your pa trusts everything to his wife, and she trusts everything +to that Hapgood. She can't be bothered, she says, and Hapgood's such a +capable buyer. Capable! he'll be rich as well as capable if it keeps on, +and the rest of us'll be capable of the poorhouse. And there's Serena's +health. She's gettin' more nervous all the time, and just wearin' +herself out with her papers and conventions and politics and bridge and +society. My land! Don't talk to me! And it ain't no use to talk to her. +There's got to be somethin' more'n talk.” + +Gertrude nodded. + +“So I think,” she affirmed. “Azuba, I have a scheme. It may be the best +idea in the world and it may be the worst, but I am going to risk it. +And you must help me. Will you?” + +“Sartin sure I will!” + +“And you won't tell a soul, not a living soul?” + +“Not one, livin' or dead. You needn't look at me like that. I swan to +mercy, I won't tell anybody.” + +“Good! Then listen.” + +Azuba listened, listened in silence. When her young mistress ceased +speaking she shook her head slowly. + +“Well,” she observed, “it looks some like hoppin' out of the fryin' pan +into the fire, but, even if it turns out that way, perhaps it's just as +well to be roasted as fried. Humph! no, 'twon't do to tell anybody. I +shan't, and you mustn't.” + +“I don't intend to.” + +“Um! Not even John Doane?” + +“Well,” doubtfully, “I may tell John later on. But I shall wait to tell +him, I shan't write. He'll have to trust me, too.” + +“So he will. Fur's that goes, it's a good thing for men folks to learn +to trust us women. If Labe, my husband, hadn't trusted me all these +years, he'd have done some worryin', I cal'late. All right, Gertie, I'm +with you till the last plank sinks. But,” with a chuckle, “I'm kind of +sorry for your pa. The medicine may cure us all in the end, but it'll be +a hard dose for him to take, won't it?” + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Captain Dan's foundations were slipping from beneath him. His daughter's +return had seemed to him like the first ray of sunshine breaking through +the clouds and presaging the end of the storm. Now, it began to look as +if the real storm was but beginning. Gertrude was apparently contracting +the society and Chapter disease. Gertrude, upon whose good sense and +diplomacy he had banked so heavily, was rapidly losing that sense. So +far from influencing her mother to give up the “crazy notions” which +were, Daniel firmly believed, wrecking their home and happiness, she was +actually encouraging and abetting these notions. + +The young lady was certainly spending a great deal of time with her +mother and her mother's friends. When Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called +for consultations concerning Chapter affairs, Gertrude took part in +these consultations. Daniel, peeping into the library, saw the four +heads together over the table, and heard his daughter's voice suggesting +this and that. Invitations to various social functions came, and it was +Gertrude who urged acceptance of these invitations. Captain Dan's pleas +for quiet evenings together at home went for nought. + +“You needn't go, Daddy,” said Gertrude. “Mother and I know you don't +care for such things. She and I can go without you.” + +“Go without me? The idea! Look pretty, wouldn't it, to have you two +chasin' around nights all by yourself, without a man to look after you!” + +“Oh, Cousin Percy will go with us. He is always obliging that way. +Cousin Percy will go, I am sure.” + +The captain was equally sure. Cousin Percy was altogether too willing +to go anywhere, at any time, provided Miss Dott went also. This very +obvious fact did not add to Daniel's peace of mind. Rather than have his +family escorted by its newest member, he resolved to sacrifice his own +inclinations and go himself. + + + +Miss Canby--the blonde young woman who played the piano at the Black +home on the night of the dinner--issued invitations for an “At Home” in +her apartments. All the Dott household--Mr. Hungerford included--were +invited. Mrs. Black, who came to call, was enthusiastic. Her jealousy +of Serena, which had manifested itself on the night of the latter's +appointment as an Atterbury delegate, had apparently disappeared. She +was again the dear friend and counselor, with all the old cordiality and +a good deal of the old condescension. + +This condescension, however, was confined to Serena and Captain Dan. +Toward Cousin Percy she was extremely polite, but never patronizing, +perhaps because that gentleman was so languidly at ease in her presence. +He listened to her conversation with apparent interest, but his answers, +gravely delivered, were at times a trifle sarcastic. She seemed to be a +bit afraid of Cousin Percy, afraid and somewhat suspicious. + +To Gertrude she was gushingly friendly, overwhelmingly so, and the +friendship was, to all outward seeming, returned. Daniel, who had +gathered from his daughter's previous remarks that she disliked the +great Annette, was surprised and dismayed. + +“For goodness sakes, Gertie,” he demanded, “what did you kiss her for? +Anybody'd think she was somebody near and dear that you hadn't laid eyes +on for ten years. And she was here only yesterday. Do you love her so +much you have to hug her every time you see her?” + +Gertrude laughed. “Do you think I do?” she asked. + +“I don't know what to think. It's a mighty sudden love, that's all I've +got to say. Do you want her here ALL the time?” + +“Well, when she is here I know where she is.” + +“So does anybody within hearin'. I never saw such a change in a person +as there is in you. And all inside of a week. You used to go out of +the room when that Black woman came into it. Now you kiss her when she +comes.” + +“No, Daddy; I kiss her when she goes.” + +With which puzzling statement the interview ended. + +B. Phelps accompanied his wife when the latter called to discuss +the Canby invitation. His coming was unusual, the Dotts had seen +comparatively little of him since their arrival in Scarford. Daniel was +glad he came. Black and he were not altogether congenial; the captain +would not have chosen him as an intimate; but at least there would be +someone present with whom he could exchange a word. As B. Phelps did not +care for Chapters and “At Homes” any more than he did, there was that +bond between them. + +Mr. Hungerford was, for a wonder, not in when the callers came. He went +out very little nowadays, except when Miss Dott and her mother went; +then he was always ready to go. + +Annette declared that the Canby “At Home” was certain to be a most +unusual affair. “So--er--well, so different,” she explained. “Miss Canby +is a very unusual woman, a unique woman, and her affairs are always +as unique as she is. So truly Bohemian. I adore Bohemians, don't you, +Gertrude?” + +Gertrude said she did. “I don't know that I've met a great many,” she +added, “but I'm sure they must be very enjoyable.” + +“Oh, they are! And Miss Canby is one. The very first time I attended a +gathering at her home I said to myself: 'THIS is true Bohemianism.'” + +Captain Dan was astonished. + +“Why!” he exclaimed, “Miss Canby's folks came from Down-East +somewheres--Bangor, Maine, I think 'twas. She told me so, herself.” + +The remark was received in various ways, by various individuals. Serena +frowned; Gertrude bit her lip; B. Phelps Black burst into a roar of +laughter. + +“I did not mean my statement literally, Captain Dott,” explained Annette +in gracious toleration. “But when people are independent and free from +the usual conventionalities, as Miss Canby is, we speak of them as +Bohemians. It is an--er--a term among artists and musicians, I believe.” + +Daniel understood little or nothing of this. He understood perfectly +well, however, that he had blundered somehow, a glance at his wife's +face told him that. Gertrude smiled at him kindly and observed: “Father +is like myself, his acquaintance in Bohemia has been limited.” + +Captain Dan muttered that he guessed likely that was so, adding that +he had an Armenian steward once who was a pretty good fellow. Then he +subsided. Serena took up the conversation, changing the subject to the +ever fruitful one of her beloved Chapter. In a moment the two ladies +were deep in a discussion concerning the election of National officers +for the Legion, an election which was to take place in Boston a few +months later. Gertrude joined in the discussion, a proceeding which her +father noticed with apprehension. + +Mr. Black accepted an invitation to smoke, and he and Captain Dan went +into the library. After the cigars were lighted, B. Phelps, lowering his +voice so as not to be heard in the adjoining room, said suddenly: + +“Dan, is that daughter of yours going off her head like the rest of the +females?” + +Daniel was indignant. + +“Off her head!” he repeated. “Gertie! She's as smart and sensible a +girl as ever lived. I say so, even if she is my daughter. What are you +talkin' about?” + +Mr. Black waved his hand. “Keep your hair on, Dan,” he counselled +pleasantly. “I like Gertrude, always have. I always thought she was as +sensible as she is pretty, and that's saying something. But what has got +into her since she got here in Scarford? You used to tell me she didn't +care anything for society and all the rest of it; now she seems to be as +daffy as her--well, as my wife, if you like that better.” + +“Daffy! See here, Barney Black, I--” + +“Hush! Don't begin to yell or we'll have that hen convention in the +parlor down on us. I'm not finding any fault with your daughter. I'm +only talking for her good and yours. What does she care about this +confounded Chapter foolishness?” + +“She don't care nothin' about it.” + +“Doesn't she? She seems to be mighty interested in that talk they're +having in there now. And she was as joyful as the rest of 'em over this +Canby woman's 'At Home.'” + +The captain was quite aware of the apparent joy; and Gertrude's growing +interest in her mother's Chapter and its members was too obvious to be +denied. Nevertheless, he tried to deny it. + +“Oh, that's nothin',” he declared. “She and Serena have always been +plannin' together over things, and this Chapter's like the rest, that's +all. As for the 'At Home,' why--why--well, Gertie's young, and young +folks generally like a good time.” + +“A good time! Great Scott! Have you ever been to that Canby apartment +and seen the crowd that--No, of course you haven't. Dan, if my wife +heard me she'd take my head off, but you're an old friend of mine and +I like your daughter. Listen to me: Don't let Gertrude go to that 'At +Home' if you can help it.” + +“Don't let her! How am I goin' to help it?” + +“I don't know. Keep her in the house. Lock the door and hide the key. +I would. If she was my daughter I'd--I'd chloroform her. Hanged if I +wouldn't!” + +Captain Dan's indignation was rapidly changing to alarm. + +“See here, Barney,” he demanded, “what are you tryin' to say, anyhow? +What's wrong with this Miss Canby? Out with it.” + +“Nothing's wrong with her, so far as I know. And yet there isn't +anything right. She's good enough, I guess, and she can play the piano +like a streak, but she's a fool. She and the gang she is with +are bleached-haired, frowzy-headed idiots, who hope they are +Bohemians--whatever that is. They like to do what they call unusual +things; they like to shock people--think it's smart. Don't let your +wife or Gertrude--Gertie, especially--get in with that crowd. They don't +belong there. And there's something else.” + +He hesitated. Daniel, trembling with anxiety, urged him to continue. + +“What is it?” he begged. “What is the somethin' else?” + +“Oh, nothing. It isn't my business anyhow. I ought to keep still.” + +“Keep still! After sayin' as much as you have? You go ahead or I'll +shake it out of you one word at a time. Heave ahead now! I'm waitin'.” + +“Well, then, don't get mad. Remember I'm saying it merely as a friend. +Is Gertie engaged to be married?” + +“Sartin she is. To a fine fellow, too. What of it?” + +“Why, this: If she is engaged why is she trotting about with this +precious cousin of yours--this Percy Hungerford?” + +Captain Dan started violently. He had asked himself that very question +many times during the week which had just passed. To have someone else +ask it, however, was too much. He bristled up like an angry cat. + +“By Godfreys!” he sputtered, “what do you mean? Do you mean to hint--” + +“I'm not hinting anything. Be quiet, or I'll stop right here. What do +you know about Hungerford, anyway? Why is he here at your house?” + +“Here! Why--why, he's here 'cause we asked him to stay. He's on his +vacation and he's just makin' us a visit. As to knowin' anything about +him, what do you mean by that? Do YOU know anything about him?” + +“Not much. Neither does anyone else; that's the queer part of it. While +old lady Dott--your Aunt Lavinia--occupied this house, he was here a +good deal. He didn't do anything then, except to be a general high-flyer +around town with a few chums like Monty Holway, who is another gay young +bird with money. After Mrs. Dott went abroad to live, he left Scarford +and went to Providence a while; after that to Boston and New York, and +various places. He had the reputation of being something of a sport, +and in with a fast set. Now, all at once, he comes back here and settles +down on--with you and your wife. What did he do that for?” + +“I--I don't know. He didn't intend to settle. Says he didn't, anyway. As +for bein' a sport--well, he's told us about that, told Serena the whole +yarn. He owned up that he never took life very seriously while Aunt +Laviny lived; had plenty of money and didn't have to. But now it's +different. He's realized that he must work, same as other folks, and +he's doin' it. He works for some magazine or other, doin' what he calls +literary work.” + +“Humph! What magazine is it?” + +“I don't know. I never asked.” + +“Well, all right. I tell you, honestly, Dan, there's a feeling that he +is working you and the family for easy marks. You give him a good home +and plenty to eat and smoke and it's a pretty soft thing for him. As to +work--Humph!” + +Daniel hesitated now. He had had faint but uneasy suspicions along this +very line, although these, like other suspicions and misgivings, he had +kept to himself. And Serena was such a firm believer in Cousin Percy; +at the least hint against that young gentleman she flew to arms. The +captain remembered this and his strong sense of loyalty to his wife +caused him to remonstrate. He shook his head. + +“No, no,” he said, “you're wrong there, Barney, sure you are. Why, Percy +has done a lot of writin' and such since he's been here. He goes to his +room 'most every afternoon to write, and he's helped Serena with her +Chapter papers and speeches more than you could imagine. As for Gertie's +trottin' around with him, that's just foolishness. She's gone to picture +shows and such when he asked her to, but that's only because she likes +such things and wanted company her own age. It's all foolishness, I +tell you. If anybody says 'tain't, you tell 'em I say they're lyin'. By +Godfreys! if they say it to me I'll--” + +“There! there! Keep your hair on, I tell you.” + +“'Tis on, what there is left of it. But, Barney, what sort of talk have +you been givin' me? If Hungerford ain't all right, how is it that +he knows so many folks in this town? How is it that he's invited +everywhere, to all sorts of places, into everybody's houses? +Invitations! Why, he gets more'n we do, and,” with a sigh, “land knows +that's enough, nowadays.” + +B. Phelps grunted contemptuously. “It is easy enough to get +invitations,” he observed. “When you've been in this town as long as +I have you'll know that any young fellow, who is as good looking and +entertaining as he is, will be invited to all sorts of things. The girls +like him, so do their mothers--some of them. But there! I may be all +wrong. Anyhow, I mustn't stay with you any longer or Annette'll be +suspicious that you and I are knocking her dashed Chapter. I've told +you this for your own good. Gertrude's a bully girl; I always liked +her--wished a good many times I had a daughter like her. I should hate +to see her get in wrong like--well, like some people you and I know. +You keep her at home as much as you can. Good Lord, man!” with sudden +vehemence, “do you want your house to get to be an empty d----d hole, +only fit to sleep in, like--like--Yes, Annette, I'm coming.” + +This conversation remained in Captain Dan's head for days. It disturbed +him greatly. Several times he made up his mind to speak to Serena +concerning it, but each time he changed his mind. He even thought of +writing a note to John Doane, urging the latter to run down to Scarford +for a few days, but he was fearful that to do this might be a mistake. +John would tell Gertrude, and she might not like it. Besides, Gertrude +had said that she expected John to come before very long. So Daniel did +nothing further than to remonstrate mildly concerning the acceptance of +Miss Canby's invitation. As he gave no reason for his objection, other +than the general one that he was tired and did not care about it, his +remonstrances were unheeded. He need not go unless he wished, said +Serena, she and Gertrude and Cousin Percy could go and he could stay at +home and rest. Gertrude said the same. When the evening came, the whole +family went, the captain included. + +Annette had characterized the gifted Miss Canby as unusual, and the +social affairs given by her as unique. After the first half hour in the +“Bohemian” apartments, Daniel would have agreed with her, although his +opinion might have been more emphatically expressed. Miss Canby WAS +unusual, her apartments were unusual, and the “Bohemians” there gathered +most unusual of all. + +Gertrude, strolling about in the company of a young gentleman--not +a Bohemian, but, like herself, merely a commonplace guest--found +her father seated in a corner, sheltered by a Japanese screen and +an imitation palm, and peering out at the assembled company with a +bewildered expression on his face. + +“Well, Daddy,” she asked, “are you having a good time?” + +Daniel, who had not noticed her approach, started and looked up. + +“Hey?” he asked. “A good time! My soul and body! Yes, I'm havin' a good +time. I haven't had a better one since I went to the sideshow at the +circus. Who's that long-legged critter with the lay-down collar and the +ribbon necktie? That one over there, talking to the woman with the hair +that don't match. What ails him?” + +Gertrude looked and laughed. “That is Mr. Abercrombie, the poet,” she +said. “Nothing ails him; he is a genius, that's all.” + +“Humph! That must be bad enough, then. What--” + +He stopped. His daughter's escort had caught his attention. The young +man's face was familiar. + +“Why!” he faltered, “isn't this--” + +“This is Mr. Holway, Daddy. I wanted you to meet him.” + +Her tone was quite serious, but there was an odd expression in her eye. +Mr. Holway, blond, immaculate and blase, bowed. Then he, too, started. + +“Eh!” he exclaimed. “Why, by Jove!” + +Captain Dan nodded. “Yes,” he observed, quietly. “Well, I'm much obliged +to you, Gertie, but Mr. Holway and I have met before.” + +Gertrude's surprise, real or assumed, was great. + +“Have you?” she cried. “Why, how odd! When?” + +Mr. Holway, himself, answered. He seemed confused and his explanation +was hurriedly given. + +“Your father and I met one afternoon at--at the Palatine,” he stammered. +“I--I should have known. Tacks told me, but--but I had forgotten. I'm +ashamed of my part in that, Mr. Dott. I really am. I owe you an apology. +I hope you--I hope--” + +Captain Dan nodded. “All right,” he said briefly. “Don't say any more +about it.” + +“But--but I hope you and Miss Dott won't--won't think--” + +“We won't. I won't, anyway. I stopped thinking about it long ago. Well, +Gertie, what have you been doin'? 'Most time to go home, is it?” + +“Time to go home? Why, Daddy, we've just got here. We haven't been here +an hour yet.” + +“Haven't we? I want to know! Seemed a good deal longer than that to me. +All right, don't you worry about me. I can stand it, I guess. Where's +your mother and--and Cousin Percy?” + +“Mother is in the next room with Mrs. Lake and some more of the Chapter +members. Cousin Percy is--Oh, here he comes now.” + +Hungerford appeared, strolling in their direction. He seemed surprised +when he saw his relatives in company with Mr. Holway. + +“Hello, Monty!” he said. “You here? How are you?” + +The two young men shook hands. Gertrude smiled upon them both. + +“Father and Mr. Holway were renewing acquaintanceship,” she observed, +cheerfully. “It seems that they have met before.” + +Cousin Percy's acknowledgment of this statement was a brief “Oh, +indeed!” He and his friend exchanged glances. + +“The--er--performance is about to begin, I believe,” announced Mr. +Hungerford. “Our hostess has--er--reluctantly consented to be led to the +piano. Shall you and I adjourn to the next room, Cousin?” + +Gertrude shook her head. + +“Oh, thank you,” she said, “but Mr. Holway has been telling me the most +interesting stories about Scarford and the people in it, and I want to +hear the rest. He is dreadfully sarcastic; I should not listen, I know, +but I want to. Come, Mr. Holway.” + +She moved away, the flattered “Monty” in her wake. Mr. Hungerford gazed +after them. He appeared not altogether pleased. + +“Very sociable, chatty chap, that friend of yours, I should judge,” + observed Captain Dan drily. + +“Um-hm!” grunted Cousin Percy. “Been chatting to you, has he?” + +“No-o, not much this time. But you remember I've had the pleasure +before.” + +Mr. Hungerford doubtless remembered; he looked as if he did. Then +he, too, strolled away. The captain, left alone, indulged in a quiet +chuckle. + +Miss Canby's rendition on the piano, of what she was pleased to call +“A sweet little thing of Tschaikovsky's--one of my favorites,” was +enthusiastically applauded, and she obliged with another, and still +another. Then Mr. Abercrombie was prevailed upon to read one of his own +outpourings of genius, a poem called “The Tigress,” in which someone, +presumably the author, described the torments involved in his adoration +of a feminine person with “jetty brows and lambent eyes,” whose kiss was +like “a viper's sting” and who had, so to speak, raised the very dickens +with his feelings. He read it with passionate fervor, and Captain Dan, +listening, decided that the Tigress must be a most unpleasant person. + +However, judging by the acclaim of the rest of the audience, she was +a huge success, and the poet was coaxed into reading again, this time +something which he had labeled “Soul Beams,” and in which “love” rhymed +with “dove” and “heart” with “dart” and “bliss” with “kiss” in truly +orthodox fashion. Mr. Abercrombie's poetic gems were not appreciated by +the mercenary and groveling minions who edited magazines, but here, +amid his fellow Bohemians, they were more than appreciated, a fact which +their creator announced gratified him more than he could express. +And yet, he seemed to have little difficulty and less hesitation in +expressing most things. + +Daniel was not enthusiastic over the poems. He could not understand a +great deal of them, but he understood quite enough. When B. Phelps Black +winked at him from his seat at the other side of the room, he did not +return the wink, although he knew perfectly well what it meant. + +The poems were bad enough, according to his figuring, but when Miss +Beatrice Dusante tripped into the circle to slip and twist and slide +and gyrate in “one of her delightful Grecian dances,” he found himself +looking about for a convenient exit. Discovering none he remained where +he was and blushed for the company. + +The Bohemians, however, did not blush; neither, to his amazement, did +Serena, who looked on and applauded with the rest. He found some comfort +in the absence of his daughter, who was not among the seated guests, +but, at last, even this comfort was dispelled. He caught a glimpse of +Gertrude, still accompanied by the attentive Mr. Holway, standing in +the back row. He tried to catch her eye and, by frowns and shakes of +the head, to indicate his disapproval of the dance and her presence as +a witness. He did not succeed in attracting her attention, but when, a +moment later, she and her escort moved off, he was somewhat relieved. +Gertrude looked as if she did not care for Miss Dusante's dancing any +more than he did. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not appear interested. He +was looking at Miss Dott and “Monty,” and there was a frown on his face. + +Upon their return, after they were together in the library at home, +Daniel's shocked indignation burst forth. + +“Well!” he declared, “that's enough. That's the limit, that is! What +kind of a gang IS that, anyway?” + +His wife regarded him with astonishment. Gertrude, after one glance at +his face, turned and walked to the other side of the room, where she +busied herself with a book on the table. Cousin Percy smiled broadly. + +“Gang!” repeated Serena. “Gang! Why, what are you talking about, +Daniel?” + +“I'm talkin' about that gang at that Canby woman's place to-night. +I never saw such a brazen gang anywhere. Haven't they got ANY +respectability? How'd they come to let that dancin' thing in there? +Couldn't they see her before she got in? Couldn't they stop her? Why--” + +Serena interrupted. “Stop her!” she repeated. “How could they stop her? +She was an invited guest.” + +“Who invited her? That's what I want to know. Who invited her?” + +“Miss Canby, I suppose. She is a friend of hers.” + +“A friend! A FRIEND!” + +“Yes. Now, Daniel, don't be silly. I know what you mean, and I must say +I sympathize with you just a little. Annette explained to me afterwards +though, so I suppose it is all right. Annette says that this Miss +Dusante's dancing is all the rage now. She has made a study of the +ancient Grecian dances and she does them everywhere. She is paid high +prices for it, too.” + +“I don't doubt it. I should think she'd want to be. Did you see the way +she was dressed? I never--” + +“Hush, Daniel! That was the old Greek costume. Miss Canby told me all +about it; the old Greeks used to dress like that.” + +“They did! Then it didn't take 'em long. Brazen thing! Why!” with a +sudden turn upon his daughter, “Gertie--Gertie Dott, stop fussin' with +that book and listen to me. You were there; I saw you lookin' on. YOU +didn't like that Greek dancin', did you?” + +Gertrude hesitated. Her cheeks were red and, for a moment, she seemed to +find it difficult to speak. Then, after a quick look at her mother, she +answered, calmly: + +“Like it! Why not, Daddy? It is all the rage, just as Mother says, +and it is certainly graceful. I rather think I should like to learn it +myself. I understand Miss Dusante gives lessons.” + +Daniel's mouth opened and remained open. Cousin Percy stared at the +speaker. Even Serena, defender of the dances of the ancient Greeks, +looked shocked. + +“Why, Gertie!” she cried. “Gertie! You! the idea!” + +“Why not, Mother?” + +“Why not! I should think you would know why not. I never heard you speak +like that before.” + +“I never saw any dances like those before. I have heard about them, +of course, but I never saw them. We never did--you or father or any of +us--a great many things that we are doing now. We are learning all the +time; that's what you told me, Mother. I never went to a Bohemian 'At +Home' before.” + +Serena's eyes snapped. “Well, you'll never go to another one,” she +declared, “if it's going to have this effect on you.” + +The young lady smiled. “Why, of course I shall,” she cried. “I want to +learn, just as you do, Mother. And I mean to. Good-night!” + +She left the room and they heard her ascending the stairs. Daniel and +Serena looked at each other. Cousin Percy looked at them both. + +Captain and Mrs. Dott had a long talk before retiring. The captain +derived some satisfaction from the talk; it seemed to him that their +daughter's declaration of independence had startled Serena somewhat. She +even went so far as to admit that, in spite of Mrs. Black's explanations +and gracious commendations, she, herself, had not been impressed by Miss +Canby's guests. She and Gertrude would have an interview in the morning, +she declared. + +Captain Dan waited hopefully for the result of that interview. The hope +was crushed when Serena reported to him. + +“It is all right, Daniel,” said Mrs. Dott. “I guess Gertie didn't +really mean what she said about taking lessons of the Dusante woman. +She thought the dances graceful, and they were, of course. But Gertie is +older now--yes, she is older, and she expects to have her own way more +than she has had it. She said a lot of things to me, things that she +hasn't said before. It seems that when she first came home she was +inclined to think I had exaggerated when I wrote her about the lovely +people here in Scarford, and the Chapter, and the brilliant women in it. +Now, she sees I was right. She has helped me a good deal already with my +Chapter work, and she means to do more. She is going to join the Chapter +herself. She--why, what's the matter?” + +Daniel had made a choking noise in his throat; he appeared to be +strangling. + +“Noth--nothin',” he gasped. “Nothin' much. I'm all right. But--but you +said--why, how can Gertie join the Chapter? She ain't goin' to stay +here. She's goin' back to college soon as her vacation's over.” + +Serena shook her head. There was just a shade of doubt, almost of +trouble, in her voice as she answered. + +“No-o,” she said, “no, Daniel, she isn't. She isn't going back any more. +She thinks it isn't necessary.” + +“Not necessary! Why, how you talk, Serena! Not necessary to finish out +her last term! What do you mean? One of the things that troubled me +most, back there in Trumet before we was rich, was that I might not +afford for her to finish out at that college, and now, when I can, she +ain't goin'. I say she is. I say she's got to.” + +“I don't believe that will make any difference, Daniel. She seems +to have made up her mind. I'm kind of sorry, I must say, but she is +obstinate. She says it is so much more interesting here that she is +going to stay. You can talk to her, if you want to, but I don't think it +will do any good.” + +Serena was right; although Captain Dan did talk to his daughter his +arguments and persuasions were quite useless. + +“No, Daddy,” said Gertrude, “I am going to stay right here. I told you +that if I were needed I should come home. I have come home and I am +needed. I shall not go back. It is only the last half term, anyway.” + +“Yes, but then's when the girls have all their best times, all the +dances and--and entertainments and society times. You said so. Do you +want to miss all those?” + +Gertrude smiled. “Oh,” she observed, “I expect to have a great many +'society times,' as you call them, right here in Scarford. There seems +to be no lack of them, and Mother is decidedly in the swim. It's no use, +Daddy; my mind is made up. Don't you worry, it is all right.” + +“Well--well, I--I must say--See here, are you really going to join that +Chapter thing?” + +“Yes.” + +“You are! After all you said--” + +“Yes, no matter what I may have said.” + +“By--by time! I don't know what to do with you. I--I set a lot of store +by you, Gertie. I kind of banked on you. And now--” + +Gertrude's expression changed. She patted his cheek. + +“Keep on banking on me, Daddy dear,” she whispered, “perhaps I'm not +altogether hopeless, even yet.” + +But her father, for once, refused to believe her. + +“I don't like it,” he declared. “And other folks don't like it, either. +Why, Barney Black got after me only the other day about you. He wanted +to know why you--you, an engaged girl--was cruisin' around so much with +this Cousin Percy of ours. He thought 'twas queer. I said--” + +Gertrude rose to her feet. Her arm was snatched from the captain's +shoulder so quickly that he jumped. + +“Daddy!” she cried, her cheeks blazing, “do you mean to say that you +have been discussing me with--with Mr. Black?” + +“I didn't start it, he did. He said--” + +“I don't care what he said. Oh, the impertinence of it! And you +listened! listened and believed--” + +“I didn't say I believed it.” + +“You did believe it, though. I can see you did. I shan't try to comfort +you any more. You deserve all that is coming to you. And,” with a +deliberate nod, “it is coming.” + +“Comin'! It's HERE! Gertie, there's another thing: What about John? +What do you think John would say if he knew you weren't goin' back to +college?” + +Gertrude looked at him. Her lips twitched. + +“Oh,” she said, mischievously, “as to that--well, Daddy, you see, he +DOESN'T know it.” + +That afternoon Daniel wrote a letter. He said nothing to anyone, not +even Serena, about the letter, but wrote it in the solitude of the +library and posted it with his own hands. Just before sealing the +envelope he added this postscript: “Whether you come or not, don't tell +a soul that I wrote you this. And, if you do come, just let them think +it was all on your own hook. THIS IS IMPORTANT.” + +On Saturday evening there was to be a meeting of the Chapter, and +on Tuesday Serena returned from committee with the joyful news that +Gertrude was to be admitted to membership at that meeting. The +young lady expressed herself as delighted. Cousin Percy extended +congratulations. Captain Dan said nothing. Later, he visited Azuba in +the kitchen, and there he received another shock. + +Azuba was not, as usual, busy with her cooking or scrubbing. She was +seated in a chair by the window, reading a paper. She looked up as he +entered, but immediately resumed her reading. The captain waited for her +to speak. As a general thing he did not have to wait. + +“Hello, Zuba,” he hailed. + +Azuba turned a page of the paper. She did not answer. + +“Hello!” he hailed again. “What's the matter, Zuba? Gone into a trance, +have you?” + +“Hey?” Azuba did look up then, but at once looked down again. “Hey?” she +repeated. “No, I ain't in no trance. I'm readin', that's all.” + +“I should think that was enough, if it fixes you so you can't speak to +anybody. Must be mighty interestin' readin'.” + +“Hey? Interestin'? I guess 'tis interestin'! It's more'n that, it's +upliftin', too. I'm just beginnin' to realize what I am.” + +“That so? Well, what are you?” + +“I'm a woman, that's what I am.” + +She made the declaration with the air of one imparting news of a +startling discovery. Daniel laughed. + +“Is that so!” he exclaimed. “Well, well! I want to know! I always +suspected it, Zuba, but I'm glad you told me, just the same. Does it say +so in that paper?” + +Azuba rose from her chair. She did not laugh; she was intensely serious. + +“It says a lot of things,” she announced, “a lot of things I never +thought of afore. I don't mean that exactly. I've thought of 'em, but I +never knew how to make anything out of my thoughts. I just kept thinkin' +and let it go at that. Now, I'm beginnin' to realize. I'm a woman, I +am, a free woman. That paper is for free women. Have you read it, Cap'n +Daniel?” + +Captain Dan took the paper which she extended to him at arm's length. He +recognized it immediately. It was “The Woman's Voice,” official organ of +the National Guild of Ladies of Honor. Serena was a subscriber. + +He glanced at the paper and tossed it on the table. + +“Yes,” he said shortly, “I've read some of it.” + +Azuba seized the discarded journal as if it were a precious treasure, a +thing to be treated tenderly and with reverence. + +“Some of it!” she repeated. “Humph! I'd read all of it, if I was you. +'Twould do the men good if they was made to read every number ten times +over. It's a wonderful paper. It's opened MY eyes, I can tell you that.” + +It had, apparently, opened her mouth as well, although to do that +required no great urging at any time. She went on to preach the glories +of the “Voice,” and concluded by reading an editorial which, like Mrs. +Lake's addresses at Chapter meetings, contained a great many words and, +to the captain's mind, little understanding. + +He listened, fidgeting impatiently, to perhaps two-thirds of the +editorial, and then he interrupted. + +“Hold on! Heave to!” he ordered. “For the land sakes, Zuba, what's set +you goin' like this? Are YOU goin' to--to--” + +“To what? Am I goin' to what?” + +“Are you goin' to 'advance' or whatever you call it? What ails all you +women, anyway?” + +“What ails us? Hain't I been readin' you what ails us?” + +“You've been readin' a whole lot, but I've heard it all before. You want +to be 'free'! Confound it, you ARE free, ain't you? You want to take +your place in the world! Why, you've had the front place ever since Eve +got Adam to eat the apple. She was skipper of that craft, wasn't she! +And us men--most of us, anyhow--have been fo'mast hands ever since. What +is it you want? Want to vote? Go ahead and vote. I'M willin'.” + +But Azuba laughed scornfully. + +“Vote!” she repeated. “I don't care whether I vote or not.” + +“Then what do you want?” + +“We want--” Azuba hesitated, “we want--what this paper says we want. +And,” with determination, “we're goin' to have it.” + +“All right, have it, then! Meantime, let's have dinner. It's pretty nigh +half-past five, and the table ain't set. And,” with a sniff, “there's +somethin' burnin' somewheres, I smell it.” + +This statement had an effect. Azuba dropped the precious paper and +sprang to open the oven door. + +“Well!” she declared, “it's all right. 'Twas that cranberry pie, and +'twas only beginnin' to scorch. It's all right.” + +“Glad to hear it. Now, say, Zuba, you take my advice; you're a +practical, sensible woman, I always said so. Don't you get to be silly, +at your age.” + +It was an impolitic remark. Azuba bristled. + +“At my age!” she repeated. “Humph! I ain't so much older than some folks +in this kitchen, nor in the rest of the house, either. What do you mean +by silly?” + +“I mean--I mean--well, I mean don't you get to joinin' lodges and +readin' papers and racin' out every night in the week to somethin' or +other. It ain't worth while. It's silly--just silly.” + +“Oh, is it! Well, other women do it. Your wife's been doin' it ever +since we got here. And now Gertie's startin' in. You always made your +brags that she was about as sensible, smart a girl as ever drawed +breath. _I_ ain't got money; nobody's left ME a cart load of dollars and +a swell front house. But I've got rights and feelin's. I'm a woman, a +free woman, and if it ain't silly for Mrs. Dott and Gertie to want to +advance and--and so on, I cal'late 'tain't silly for me either. Perhaps +you'd like to have me tell Serena that you said she was silly. Shall I?” + +Daniel did not answer, but his look was answer sufficient. Azuba smiled +triumphantly. + +“Practical,” she sneered. “No, Cap'n Daniel, I ain't been practical so +far, but I'm goin' to be. I'm a-goin' to be. You watch me.” + +Her employer's guns were spiked. He marched out of the kitchen, slamming +the door viciously. The library was tenanted by Cousin Percy, who was +taking a nap on the lounge. Upstairs, Gertrude was helping her mother +with a “report” of some kind. Hapgood, the butler, was in the hall, and +he bowed respectfully. + +“Yes, sir,” he said. “Did you wish anything, sir?” + +“No,” snarled Captain Dan, and went out for a walk. This was the last +straw. If Azuba was going crazy the situation was hopeless indeed. And +he had received no reply to his letter. + +Hapgood, left alone in the hall, grinned, strolled into the library and, +regardless of Mr. Hungerford's presence, filled his pockets with cigars +from his employer's box. Downstairs, in the kitchen, Azuba was busy +getting dinner. At intervals she burst out laughing. + +That evening Mr. “Monty” Holway called. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mr. Holway's call was, ostensibly, a call upon the Dott family +in general, but it was to Gertrude that he addressed most of his +conversation. The young lady was very affable and gracious. She +expressed herself as glad to see him, and she appeared to be. “Monty” + was a voluble person, and he talked a great deal, although a critic +might possibly have considered his remarks more remarkable for quantity +than quality. In the presence of Captain Dan he appeared a trifle ill +at ease, a fact which the captain attributed to circumstances attending +their first meeting. Serena seemed somewhat surprised at the call. She +regarded her daughter and Mr. Holway with an odd expression, and, so it +seemed to her husband, was apparently dissatisfied or disturbed. At all +events she said little and, when addressed, answered absent-mindedly. + +Mr. Hungerford was the most surprised of all. He had been out, and when, +returning, he found his friend in the drawing-room, his greeting was not +too cordial. Mr. Holway also seemed embarrassed, and a bit on his guard. + +“Hello, Tacks!” he said, rising and extending his hand. + +Cousin Percy did not see the hand, or, if he saw it, did not offer his +own. + +“Hello,” he said, gruffly. Then, after a quick glance at the quartette +in the drawing-room, he pulled forward a chair and, without waiting for +an invitation, seated himself. + +“How goes it?” inquired Monty. + +“All right enough. Oh--er--Gertrude, I've found out about that recital +affair. It is next Wednesday afternoon. I have arranged for us to go. +Rather difficult business to manage, at such a late date, but I managed +to pull it off.” + +Gertrude smilingly declared that she was much obliged. “I don't know, of +course,” she added, “what Mother's plans for that day may be, but if she +is not busy I'm sure we shall be pleased to go. Thank you for thinking +of us.” + +Mr. Hungerford hesitated. “Well,” he said, “to tell you the truth, I +had supposed that Mrs. Dott might be rather busy. It is your committee +meeting afternoon, isn't it, Mrs. Dott? and so I arranged for only two. +Awfully stupid of me, I know.” + +“Oh, that will be all right. You and Mother can go, then. I don't mind +at all. Really, I don't. And Mother is so fond of music. It is all +right, Mother,” turning to Serena, who had been about to speak, “you can +go just as well as not. You must. Never mind the committee meeting; I'll +act as your substitute there.” + +Cousin Percy was not overcome with joy; at least, he managed to restrain +his ecstasy. Mr. Holway volunteered a word. + +“Is it the Wainwright Recital you are talking about?” he inquired, +eagerly. “That's all right. I can get cards for that. It's a cinch. +I'll see that you go, Miss Dott. By George! I'll--I'll go myself. Yes, I +will, really. We'll all go.” + +This prompt suggestion should have cleared the air. Somehow it did not. +Mr. Hungerford merely grunted. Gertrude shook her head. + +“No,” she said, “I think, perhaps, I had better not go, after all. But +it is ever so nice of you to offer, Mr. Holway. You and Cousin Percy can +take Father and Mother. That will be splendid.” + +“Don't bother about me,” put in Daniel, hastily. Recitals were almost as +distasteful as Chapter meetings or “At Homes” to his mind. + +“It won't be any bother, I'm sure,” declared Gertrude. “Will it, Cousin +Percy? Will it, Mr. Holway?” + +Both the young gentlemen murmured their pleasure at the prospect of +acting as escorts to the elder members of the Dott family. Serena said +she would “see about it,” she couldn't say for certain whether or not +she would be able to attend the recital. Captain Dan said nothing. + +The conversation dragged somewhat after this. “Monty” and Mr. Hungerford +addressed the greater portion of their remarks to Gertrude, only +occasionally favoring Serena and Daniel with a word or question. To each +other they were very uncommunicative. At last, however, after Mr. Holway +had given a very full account of a “dinner dance” which he had recently +attended, “a very exclusive affair, only the best people, you know,” + Percy, who had been listening impatiently, turned toward him and +drawled: + +“I remember that dance. Beastly tiresome, I judged it would be, so I +sent regrets. I heard you enjoyed yourself, old chap. Said I imagined +so, considering your company. By the way, that must be getting quite +serious, that affair of yours. When may we expect the announcement?” + +Holway colored. His usual facility of speech seemed to have deserted +him. + +“Announcement!” he stammered. “Announcement! What--what--” + +His friend laughed. + +“Oh, it's all right, old man,” he observed. “Don't get excited. She's a +charming girl. No one blames you.” + +“Monty” continued to sputter. Gertrude was all excitement. + +“Oh, how interesting!” she said. “Do tell us about her, Mr. Holway. Do I +know her?” + +“Know her!” Mr. Holway's indignation was intense. “I--I don't know her +myself. He's just guying, Miss Dott. He--he thinks because he--he is so +confoundedly fascinating, and has so many--so many-- + +“Oh, that reminds me, Tacks,” turning upon the smiling Hungerford, +“I saw a friend of yours yesterday. She looked quite desolate, quite +broken-hearted, my word she did. You were a little cruel there, weren't +you, my boy? Just a bit cruel. Everyone expected--” + +He did not finish the sentence, but his expression indicated that much +was expected. It was Cousin Percy's turn to color. + +“Don't be an idiot, Monty,” he snapped. “That is, more of an idiot +than you can help. Don't mind him, Gertrude; he has an amazing idea of +repartee, that's all.” + +Serena volunteered a remark concerning the weather just then. She +observed that it might be raining, it had looked that way before dinner. +Mr. Holway possibly considered that a hint was involved; at any rate, +he rose and announced that he must be going. Gertrude begged him not +to hurry, they had all enjoyed his call so much, she said. Cousin Percy +suddenly declared that he would accompany his friend on his way, a walk +would do him good. Monty expressed no enthusiasm at the prospect of +company, but the pair left the house together. + +After they had gone, Daniel turned to his wife. + +“Humph!” he observed, “what sort of talk do you call that? I thought +those two were chums; and yet I didn't know but they was goin' to fight +one spell. It's a good thing you hove in that about the rain when you +did, Serena.” + +Serena was grave. “Gertie,” she inquired, “did you ask that young man to +call here?” + +Gertrude was the picture of surprised innocence. + +“Ask him to call?” she repeated. “Mr. Holway, do you mean? I don't know. +I think not. Why?” + +“WHY?” Captain Dan almost shouted it. His wife motioned him to be quiet. + +“Hush, Daniel,” she said. “You know why, Gertie, as well as I do. You +are engaged to be married.” + +Gertrude smiled. “Of course I am,” she answered. “What of it?” + +“What OF IT?” + +“Hush, Daniel, hush! Engaged girls, Gertie, are not supposed to have +young men calling upon them.” + +“Oh,” with a shrug. “I don't know that he was calling on me. He did +not ask for me when he came. And you and Daddy were here all the time. +Besides, merely because I am engaged isn't any reason why I should +retire from the world altogether, is it? Mrs. Lake says--” + +Daniel struck the table with his fist. + +“Mrs. Lake!” he shouted. “Mrs. Lake don't live with her husband. She's a +grass widow, that's what she is.” + +“She is one of Mother's dearest friends, and any friend of Mother's +should be good enough for me.” + +The captain choked. “You--you talk to her, Serena,” he stammered; “I +can't.” + +Serena looked more troubled than ever. + +“Gertie,” she faltered, “if Mrs. Lake has been advising you--to--to--” + +“She hasn't advised me at all. Now, Mother, what IS the use of all this? +If I have learned anything from you and your Chapter friends it is to +be broad-minded and independent. If Mrs. Lake is not a living example of +independence, who is?” + +Serena could not seem to find an answer at the moment. Her husband tried +again. + +“Gertie Dott,” he declared, “I--I don't know what to make of you, all at +once. And John Doane wouldn't either. If John knew--” + +Gertrude interrupted. “That's enough, Daddy,” she said, firmly. “I am +quite willing John shall know; when I am ready I shall tell him. He is a +dear, good fellow, in his way, but--” + +She hesitated. Her parents asked a question in concert. + +“But what?” they demanded. + +“Why--why, nothing of importance. But I am learning here in Scarford. My +opportunity has come, just as yours did, Mother. I am a free woman and I +shall not be a slave--a SLAVE to any man.” + +With which remark, a quotation from a paper read at the most recent +Chapter meeting, she walked from the room. Her astonished parents looked +at each other. Daniel was the first to speak. + +“My soul and body!” he gasped. “What--what--Serena, did you hear what +she said? That about John? That he was a good fellow--in his way? In his +WAY! My soul and body!” + +Serena shook her head. + +“I--I don't believe she meant it, Daniel,” she said. “I'm sure +she didn't. She's just a little carried away, that's all. All this +society--this altered social position of ours--has turned her head the +least bit. She didn't mean it. I'll have another talk with her pretty +soon.” + +“I should say you'd better. Serena, do you know what I've done? Done on +my own hook, I mean. I've written--” + +He paused. The disclosure which, on the impulse of the moment, he had +been about to make was, for him, a serious one. He had written the +letter “on his own hook,” without telling his wife of his action. What +would she say if he told her now, so long afterward? + +“You've done? What have you done?” asked Serena sharply. + +The captain still hesitated. Before his mind was made up the front +door opened and Cousin Percy made his appearance. He entered the hall +quickly, and to Mr. Hapgood--who hastened from somewhere or other to +take his coat and hat--he said nothing, except to snarl a comment on +the butler's slowness. He did not speak to the Dotts either, but tramped +savagely up the stairs. His face, as seen by the electric light, was +flushed and frowning. + +Serena turned to her husband. + +“How cross he looked,” she said, wonderingly. “I never saw him so +before. What do you suppose has happened?” + +Speculation concerning Cousin Percy's evident perturbation caused her +to forget the disclosure Captain Dan had been about to make. By the time +she remembered to ask about it the captain had decided not to tell. He +fabricated some excuse or other, and the excuse was accepted, to his +great relief. + +None of the Dott household attended the Wainwright recital. Mr. Holway +called on Wednesday, just after luncheon, to say that he had obtained +the necessary cards, but his kindness went for nought. He stayed, so +it seemed to Daniel, a good deal longer than was necessary, and Mr. +Hungerford, who remained in the room every moment of the time, evidently +thought so, too. So did Serena. Gertrude, however, was very cordial, and +again begged the visitor not to hurry. + +Saturday evening was that of the Chapter meeting, the meeting at which +Gertrude was to be made a member. That forenoon Azuba electrified her +mistress by expressing an ardent desire to become a member also. Her +wish was not received with enthusiasm. + +“Why, what do you want to do that for, Azuba?” asked Serena in +amazement. + +“Why shouldn't I want to? You're a member, ain't you? Gertie's goin' to +be a member to-night, ain't she?” + +“Yes. But--but--” + +“Well, but what?” + +“I didn't know you were interested in such things. You never were when +we lived in Trumet.” + +Azuba dismissed the past with a scornful sniff and a wave of the hand. + +“Trumet!” she repeated. “Trumet ain't nothin'. Nobody's anything in +Trumet. We're in Scarford now, and Scarford's a progressive, up-to-date +place. We've all changed since we've been here, and I'm changin' much as +anybody. I've been hearin' your papers, when you read 'em to Gertie and +the cap'n, and I've been readin' 'The Voice,' too. Yes ma'am, I've read +it and I've found out what a back number I've been. But, I ain't goin' +to be so no more. I'm goin' to be as up-to-date as the next one, even +if I do have to wash dishes for a livin'. Serena--Mrs. Dott, I mean--I'd +like first rate to join that Chapter of yours. You put my name in +to-night and maybe it can be voted on next meetin'.” + +“But--but, Azuba, are you sure you know what it means? Do you think your +husband would want you to--” + +“My husband! What's he got to do with it? If we free women have got to +be slaves to our husbands it's a pretty state of things, I must say. You +don't ask your husband every time you go to meetin' whether he likes +it or not. No, ma'am, you don't! You're above that, I cal'late. And I +shan't ask Labe neither--even if he was where I could ask him, which he +ain't. Husbands! Don't talk to me about husbands! THEY don't count.” + +Serena said that she would see what could be done and hurried away to +discuss the new development with the family. + +“Of course she can't join,” she declared. “It is ridiculous. The idea! I +supposed she had more sense.” + +Daniel chuckled. “So did I,” he observed, “until she got shoutin' +independence to me the other day. But it looked then as if she'd got it +bad. All right, Serena, if Zuba Jane Ginn is goin' to make speeches at +your Chapter meetin's, I'll go any time. You won't have to ask me but +once.” + +He laughed aloud. His wife was vexed. + +“Of course you think it's a great joke,” she said. “Anything that makes +trouble for me is a joke to you. She can't join. What do you suppose +Annette and Mrs. Lake and the rest would say if I proposed my servant +girl as a member? Do stop being silly, if you can. What are you grinning +at now?” + +Captain Dan, repressing his grin with difficulty, explained that he +was thinking of what they would say. Serena, giving him up in disgust, +turned to her daughter. + +“Gertie,” she begged, “why don't you say something? Azuba can't join +that Chapter and you know it.” + +Gertrude shook her head. + +“I suppose, she can't,” she replied. “And yet, I'm afraid, Mother, that +you will find that fact rather hard to explain to her. Azuba doesn't +consider herself a servant, in the ordinary sense, at all. She feels, +I think, that she is a friend of the family. And she has a right, of +course, to improve and advance in every way. I am very much pleased to +know she is so ambitious.” + +“Ambitious! Azuba Ginn! What does she know about progress or +advancement? Who put such ridiculous ideas in her head?” + +“Perhaps I did. She and I have had some long talks on the subject. She +asked questions and it was duty--and my privilege--to answer them. I am +very hopeful of Azuba. She is my first convert. I shall help her all I +can.” + +“Help her! Help her to what? To be too high and mighty for her place? +Help her to be dissatisfied with her station in life?” + +“Yes; why not? None of us should be satisfied, short of the very +highest. Why, Mother, if you had been satisfied we might all be +stagnating in Trumet.” + +Serena abandoned the argument. She refused to mention Azuba's desire +for advancement again. Several times during the day Captain Dan saw her +regarding her daughter with the same odd, doubtful look that she had +worn when Mr. Holway made his first call. + +After dinner that evening Gertrude and Serena hastened upstairs to dress +for the Chapter meeting. Mr. Hungerford, after expressing his regret +that the gathering was not to be an “open” one and he, therefore, would +not be permitted to see Miss Dott become one of the elect, went out. +When he first became a member of the household it was his custom, +on occasions of this kind, to remain in the library as “company” for +Captain Dan. Now, however, he seldom did this. The captain did not mind; +he preferred his own society to that of Cousin Percy. + +Just as the ladies descended the stairs the doorbell rang. Hapgood +answered the ring, and the voice which replied to his polite query +concerning the caller's name was a familiar one. + +“Why!” exclaimed Serena, “it is--isn't that--” + +“It's John!” cried Gertrude. “Why, JOHN!” + +Mr. Doane pushed past the butler and entered the hall. His glance took +in the group at the foot of the stairs, but it lingered upon only one +member of it. + +“Gertie!” he said, and stepped forward. Captain and Mrs. Dott looked the +other way; Hapgood gave his attention to the closing of the door. + +A moment later the young man was ready to shake hands with the less +important inhabitants of the mansion. He did so heartily. + +“My!” he exclaimed, “but I'm glad to see you all. It seems a hundred +years since I did see you. How are you?” + +Serena answered. Captain Dan, his first surprise over, seemed nervous. + +“We're real well,” declared Serena. “And it seems awfully good to have +you here. Gertrude and I--” + +Gertrude interrupted. + +“But, John,” she said, “how did you happen to come so unexpectedly? I +didn't know--you didn't write me a word about it.” + +“I didn't know it, myself. That is, I wasn't sure of it. You know our +junior partner, Mr. Griffin, has been very ill--I wrote you that. He +is very ill even yet, but he is a little better, and so I grabbed the +opportunity. I should have come before, just as soon as--” + +He paused. Daniel, in the background, was grimacing and shaking his +head. + +“As soon as what, John?” asked Gertrude. + +“As soon as--as soon as I could. You're glad I came, aren't you; even if +it was rather sudden?” + +“Of course I am. You know it.” + +Her tone was hearty enough, and yet Mr. Doane seemed to find something +lacking in it. Serena, too, looked quickly at her daughter. + +“Of course she's glad,” she declared. “So are we all. But what are we +thinking of? Take off your things. Where's your trunk? Have the man +bring it right in.” + +“There isn't any trunk. There's a bag outside there, that's all. My +visit is likely to be a very short one. If I should have a wire that +Mr. Griffin was worse it might be shorter still. I should have to go +at once. But we won't worry about that. Dinner? No, thank you, I have +dined.” + +Captain Dan ushered the newcomer into the drawing-room. John exclaimed +at the grandeur of the apartment. + +“Whew!” he whistled. “You're fine, aren't you? Gertie wrote me how grand +you were and I have been anxious to see the new house. Gertie--why, +Gertie! what is it?” + +Gertrude was standing in the doorway. She looked perplexed and troubled. +John noticed, for the first time, that she was wearing her coat and hat. + +“Were you going out?” he asked. + +Gertrude hesitated. Serena answered for her. + +“Gertie and I were going out,” she said. “It is Chapter night and she +was going to be made a member. But you won't go now, of course, Gertie. +I'll go--John will excuse me, I know--and you can join at the next +meeting. It will be all right, I think. It will have to be, of course.” + +But Gertrude still hesitated. Her father was surprised. + +“Why, Gertie!” he cried. “What are you standin' there for? 'Tain't +likely you'll go to that meetin' now that John's come all the way from +Boston to see you. Tell him you ain't goin'.” + +The young lady was plainly much disturbed. She looked at Mr. Doane and +it was evident that she wanted to say something very much indeed. What +she did say, however, was a surprise to everyone. + +“I--I ought to go, John,” she faltered. “It is a very important meeting. +I can't tell you--now--how important it is.” + +John's disappointment showed in his look, but his answer was prompt. + +“Then go, by all means,” he said. “I'll go with you, if I won't be in +the way.” + +But this self-sacrificing proposal was dubiously received by both the +ladies. Serena shook her head. + +“I'm afraid you couldn't do that, John,” she said. + +“It isn't an open meeting, and men are not admitted. But Gertie doesn't +need to go.” + +“Yes, I do, Mother.” + +“No, you don't. I'll explain to Mrs. Lake and the rest. Of course you +won't go and leave John here alone.” + +“Daddy will be with him and I shall hurry home as soon as I can. I must +go, John; I really must. I will explain why later. If I had only known +that you were coming! If you had only written me! WHY did you come +without writing?” + +Captain Dan, fearful of the answer, and indignant at his daughter's +conduct, burst into protest. + +“You ought to be glad he's come, anyhow,” he declared. “I cal'late he +thought--I don't care, Serena, I've said 'cal'late' all my life, and +I can't help forgettin' once in a while--I suppose John thought he'd +surprise you, Gertie. And now you're goin' to clear out and leave him, +just on account of that--that Chapter of yours. You never used to be +crazy about Chapters. You used to poke fun at 'em. You did and you know +it. But since you've got here to Scarford--I can't help it, Serena; I'm +mad clean through. Can't YOU tell that girl to stay to home where she +belongs?” + +“Gertie,” began Serena, again; but her daughter would not listen. + +“Don't, Mother!” she cried, “you are wasting time. We shall be late, as +it is. John knows that my going is necessary, or I should not do it. He +trusts me to that extent, I hope.” + +“Of course,” said Mr. Doane heartily. “Run along and don't say any more +about it. Come back as soon as you can, that's all. Shan't I come after +you? I can wait outside until the thing is over.” + +“No; I don't intend to wait until it is over. Mother and I can take a +cab. Come, Mother.” + +Serena reluctantly led the way to the hall. Hapgood opened the door. + +“One moment, Mother,” said Gertrude. She left Serena on the step and +hurried back to the drawing-room. Captain Dan and John were standing +there in silence. + +“Daddy,” said the young lady, “I think I left my pocketbook upstairs in +my room. Will you get it for me?” + +The captain ran to the stairs. Gertrude stepped quickly over to her +lover. + +“John,” she whispered, “you will forgive me, won't you, dear? I MUST go. +It will spoil everything if I don't. You see--why, Daddy! you haven't +found that pocketbook so soon!” + +Daniel had reappeared in the doorway. + +“I sent Hapgood for it,” he announced. “It's a good thing to make him +work once in a while. What's the use of my runnin' errands when I pay +him wages to run 'em for me? He'll be down in a minute.” + +Gertrude did not seem pleased. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Well, never mind. +Why! here is the pocketbook in my bag, after all. Good-by, John. I +will hurry back. You and Daddy will have a lot to talk about, I know. +Good-by.” + +The door closed behind her. Captain Dan stepped to the foot of the +stairs. + +“Found it yet?” he shouted. + +Hapgood answered from above. + +“No, sir, not yet.” + +“Then keep on lookin' till you do. It's a good excuse to keep him out +of the way,” he explained, turning to Mr. Doane. “He makes me nervous, +hangin' around and lookin' at me. I never was brought up to a butler and +I can't get used to this one. Come on into the sittin'-room--library, I +mean. The furniture ain't so everlastin' straight up and down there and +there's somethin' to smoke--or there ought to be, if Cousin Percy ain't +smoked it first. Come on, John.” + +In the library, with lighted cigars and in comfortable easy chairs, the +two men looked at each other. + +“Well, John,” began the captain, “you--you come, didn't you?” + +“Yes, of course. I should have come as soon as I got your letter, but I +couldn't get away. I was going to tell you that.” + +“Yes,” drily, “I know you was. If I hadn't cut across your bows, you +would. Whew! if you had I guess likely there'd have been somethin' +doin'. If Gertie or Serena knew I wrote you that letter I'd stand to +lose what hair I've got left. Didn't I write you not to mention that +letter to a livin' soul?” + +“You did. But I couldn't understand why. What is all this secrecy, +anyhow? And what is troubling you about Gertie?” + +“Well, now, I don't know as there's anything.” + +“Humph! I judged there was a little of everything. What is the matter? +Out with it. + +“Well--we-ell--you see--you see--” + +“I don't see anything, Captain Dott.” + +“You saw how she was set on goin' to that Chapter meetin', didn't you? +You saw that?” + +“Yes, but what of it?” + +“What of it? What OF it? Did she ever use to want to go to such things? +Down in Trumet did she ever want to go? I bet she didn't! But now she +does. And she's goin' to join the thing--join it, herself! As if one +loon--I mean as if one Chapter member in the family wasn't enough. I +thought when Gertie come home she'd probably keep her ma from goin' off +the course altogether. I thought, with her level head, she'd swing us +back into the channel again. But she didn't--she didn't. John, Gertie's +got the Chapter disease worse than her ma ever had it, I do believe. +You've got to talk to her, John, that's what you've got to do--talk to +her.” + +John laughed. He did not take the situation very seriously. If Gertrude +wished to become interested in the Chapter, he was willing she should. +She probably had a good reason for it. Her insisting upon attending a +meeting on the very evening of his arrival was odd--it did not seem like +her--but she doubtless had a good reason for that, too. + +“Why don't you talk to her yourself, Captain?” he asked. + +“Me! Me talk to her! I have, and what good has it done? She won't listen +to me any more. I don't mean she ain't kind to me and lovin' and all +that--she wouldn't be Gertie if she wasn't that--but when it comes to +Chapter business she's all on her ma's side.” + +“Why not talk to her mother, then?” + +Daniel straightened in his chair. “To Serena!” he repeated. “Talk +against Chapter to Serena! John, you don't know what you're sayin'. +One time--just one--I did talk that way. I biled over and I damned that +Chapter and the gang in it, cussed 'em in good plain United States. But +I'll never do it again. Once was enough.” + +He was so very serious that his companion fore-bore to laugh. + +“Why?” he asked. + +“Why! John, you ain't married or you wouldn't ask that. I'm a peaceable +body and I like peace in the house. More'n that, I hate to go 'round +feelin' like a sneak thief. That one damn made me miserable for two +days. I never swore to Serena afore and I never will again. She was all +cut up over it and in a way she was right. No, swearin' aboard ship is +one thing--I've had mates that couldn't navigate without it--but ashore +in your own house, to the women folks you care for, it don't go. I can't +talk to Serena about that Chapter--not even if I'm left alone ALL the +time, same as I'm left to-night.” + +John nodded. He thought that, at last, he had reached the milk in the +cocoanut. Captain Dan, with his love for home and his hatred of lodges +and societies, had refused to be interested in his wife's pet hobby, and +felt himself neglected and forsaken. He had brooded upon it, and this +outburst and the letter he had written were the consequences. + +“Oh, well,” he said. “I shouldn't worry. The Chapter here is a large one +and Mrs. Dott is interested in it. The interest will wear off when it +gets to be an old story.” + +“Wear off! With Gertie goin' it harder than her mother ever thought of?” + +“Oh, Gertie doesn't mean it.” + +“She DON'T! She don't! Perhaps you don't think she means it when she +goes to every 'tea' and 'recital' and 'at home' and crazy dido from here +to Beersheba and back. Is THAT goin' to wear off? Chasin' around with +Cousin Percy and that Holway and land knows who?” + +“What? Captain Dott, you're making mountains out of mole hills. Gertie +isn't that kind.” + +“That's what I said. That's what I used to think. It's this Scarford +that's doin' it. It's this Scarford and the society crowd we've got in +with. Annette Black--Barney Phelps's wife--is in society, and so's the +Lake woman and that Canby piano pounder and that Dusante--my Godfreys! +you ought to have seen her, John! She was the brazen thing. Dancin' +around! And all hands sittin' lookin' at her as if she was a Sunday +School. Everybody! Serena and Gertie and that Holway man and all. And +Gertie up and says she might like to dance that way. She! And Cousin +Percy laughin' because she said it.” + +“Hold on! Wait a minute, Captain. I never saw you so excited. What about +this Cousin Percy of yours? He's living here with you, I know that; but +what sort of a chap is he? And Holway--who is Holway?” + +Daniel went on to explain who Holway was. Also he spoke of Mr. +Hungerford and his ways and his intimacy with the family, particularly +Gertrude. For weeks the captain had been wanting to talk to someone +about these things and, now that he had that opportunity, he made the +most of it. He spoke of his own loneliness, and of Serena's infatuation +for society, of Gertrude's coming and the great change in her, of the +gay life in Scarford, and of his daughter's apparent love for it. He +gave his opinion of Hungerford and of Holway, the latter's friend. When +John asked questions which implied a belief that the situation was not +really as bad as the narrator thought it, Captain Dan, growing warmer +and more anxious to justify himself, proceeded to make his statements +stronger. He quoted instances to prove their truth. Serena was crazy on +the subjects of Chapter and Chapter politics and fashion and money and +society, and Gertrude was getting to be even worse. It wasn't any use to +talk to her. He had tried. He had told her she was engaged and ought to +be more careful. He wasn't the only one who thought so. Barney Black had +said the same thing. He quoted from Mr. Black's conversation. + +John Doane listened, at first with the smile of the disbeliever, then +with more and more uneasiness. He trusted Gertrude, he believed in +her, she was not a flirt, but if these stories were true--if they were +true--he could not understand. He asked more questions and the answers +were as non-understandable. Altogether, Captain Dan, with the best +intentions in the world, and with the happiness of his daughter and John +uppermost in his mind, succeeded in laying a mine which might wreck that +happiness altogether. + +At last something--perhaps the expression on his visitor's face--caused +him to feel that he might have said too much. He hastened to rectify the +mistake. + +“Of course you mustn't think Gertie ain't all right, far's you're +concerned, John,” he said. “She is--I--I'm dead sure she is. But, you +see--you see--You do see, don't you, John?” + +Mr. Doane did not answer. He seemed to be thinking hard. + +“You see, John, don't you?” repeated Captain Dan. + +“Yes, I suppose I do.” + +“And you know Gertie's all right--at heart, I mean? You mustn't be +jealous, nor anything of that kind.” + +John laughed. “Don't talk nonsense,” he said curtly. + +“No, I won't. But--er--what are you thinkin' about?” + +“Nothing. Humph! I can't understand--” + +“Neither could I. That's why I wrote you. You see why I wrote you, don't +you, John?” + +“Yes--yes, I see why you wrote me; but--but I can't see why she didn't. +She hasn't written me a word of all this.” + +And then the captain, in his anxiety to explain, made another indiscreet +remark. + +“Well,” he observed, “I suppose likely she was afraid you might +think that, now she had money--more money than she ever had before, I +mean--and was in a different, a higher-toned crowd than she had ever +been, that--that--well, that she was likin' that crowd better than the +old one. She might have thought that, you know, mightn't she?” + +Mr. Doane did not answer. Daniel had made a pretty thorough mess of it. + +“Of course,” went on the captain, “as far as Cousin Percy is +concerned--” + +John stirred uneasily. “Cousin Percy be hanged!” he snapped. “That's +enough of this foolishness. Let's change the subject. How is Nate Bangs +getting on with the store at home?” + +The Metropolitan Store at Trumet was the one thoroughly satisfactory +spot on the checkered map of Daniel Dott's existence at the present +time. Nathaniel Bangs was making a success of that store. He reported +each week and the reports showed increasing business and a profit, small +as yet, but a profit nevertheless. + +So the captain was only too glad to speak of the store and did so. John +appeared to listen, but his answers and comments were absent-minded. He +accepted a fresh cigar, at his host's invitation, but he permitted it to +go out. + +At half-past ten the doorbell rang. Daniel sprang to his feet. + +“Here they are!” he declared. “Gertie come home early, just as she said +she would. That's 'cause she wanted to see you, John. Hi!” shouting +at Mr. Hapgood, who had long since given up the search for the missing +pocketbook and had been dozing upstairs, “Hi! you needn't mind. Go +aloft again! Go below! Go somewhere! We don't need you. I'll let 'em in, +myself.” + +The butler, looking surprised, obeyed orders and went--somewhere. The +captain flung open the door. + +“Well!” he hailed. “Here you are! And pretty early for Chapter night, +too. We're waitin' for you, John and I. Shall I pay the cab man?” + +Serena, the first to enter, answered. + +“No,” she said, “he is already paid.” + +“That so? Did you pay him, Serena? Thought that was my job usually. +I--” Then, in a tone go entirely different that John Doane, in the +drawing-room, noticed the change, he added, “Oh! oh! I, see.” + +“Come in,” went on Serena. “Come right in, Cousin Percy.” + +She entered the drawing-room, followed by Gertrude and--Mr. Percy +Hungerford. Captain Dan, remaining to close the door, came last. + +“John,” said Serena proudly, “we want you to meet our cousin, Mr. +Hungerford. Percy, this is John.” + +John and Hungerford exchanged looks. The latter gentleman extended a +gloved hand. “Charmed,” he observed. + +John expressed pleasure at the meeting. The pair shook hands. + +“So--so Cousin Percy came home with you, did he?” inquired Daniel. “That +was kind of unexpected, wasn't it?” + +Mr. Hungerford himself answered. + +“Why,” he declared, “not altogether, on my part I hoped for the +pleasure. It seemed rather rough for Miss Dott and her mother to come +alone, and so I hung about until the affair was over.” + +“He had a carriage all ready for us,” declared Serena. “It was so +thoughtful of him.” + +“Not at all. Great pleasure, really.” + +Gertrude made the next remark. + +“We did not need a carriage,” she said. “Or, if we did, we could easily +have gotten one. Cousin Percy need not have troubled.” + +“John offered to come for you,” said Daniel. “So did I. We'd have both +come, but you wouldn't have us. Wouldn't accept our invitation, would +they, John? Gave us to understand they didn't like our company.” + +“Cousin Percy did not wait for an invitation,” explained Serena. “He +just came. He is so thoughtful.” + +Gertrude looked annoyed. She had been regarding Mr. Doane. + +“Mother,” she said sharply, “don't be silly. We did not ask for an +escort and we didn't need one. The whole thing was quite unnecessary and +unexpected. Come, Mother, do take off your things. Oh, I'm so glad to +get home.” + +The ladies retired to remove their wraps. John made a move to go to +their assistance, but Mr. Hungerford, attentive as usual, got ahead of +him. + +“Well, Daddy dear,” said Gertrude, as they re-entered, “what have you +and John been doing while we were away? I suppose you've had a long +talk?” + +Daniel colored. He looked at Mr. Doane, who, in spite of himself, +colored also, and was tremendously annoyed because he did so. + +“Yes,” said the captain hastily. “Yes, we talked. We talked, didn't we, +John?” + +“We did,” affirmed John. + +“I'm sure you did. And what about?” + +“Oh--oh, about everything. How did the Chapter doin's go off? You're a +member now, I suppose, Gertie?” + +“Yes,” was the brief reply, “I am a member.” + +“Um-hm! Well, I hope you're satisfied--I mean I hope you'll like it. +Didn't make a speech, did you? Ha! ha!” + +Gertrude did not answer. Serena, to her husband's surprise, appeared +vexed. + +“But she did though, by Jove!” exclaimed Cousin Percy. “She did, and I'm +told it created a great sensation. Miss Canby told me about it as I +was waiting for you to come out, Gertrude. She said you gave them a +brand-new idea. Congratulations, Gertrude. Wish I might have heard it. +Something about the privileges of the Chapter being extended to the hoi +polloi, wasn't it?” + +The new member of Scarford Chapter looked more annoyed than ever. + +“I spoke of the Chapter's advantages being extended,” she said, “that's +all.” + +“And enough, too,” cried her mother, impatiently. “Quite enough, I +should think. If I had known you were going to do that, I should have +stayed at home. It was that foolish Azuba who put the notion in your +head. You'll be proposing her name next, I suppose. The idea!” + +Daniel burst into a roar of laughter. + +“What do you think of that, John?” he cried. “Zuby Jane makin' speeches! +There's advancement for you, ain't it?” + +John smiled, but rather faintly. He had scarcely taken his eyes from +Cousin Percy's aristocratic presence. The latter gentleman turned to +him. + +“Well--er--Mr.--Mr. Doane,” he observed carelessly, “how do you like +Scarford, as far as you've seen it?” + +John replied that he had seen very little of it. + +“You will find it a bit different from--er--what is it? Oh, yes, Trumet. +You'll find it a bit different from Trumet, I imagine.” + +“No doubt. I can see that already.” + +“But John doesn't come from Trumet,” explained Serena; “that is, not +now. He is in business in Boston.” + +Cousin Percy seemed surprised. He favored the visitor with another look. +“Indeed!” he drawled. He did not add “He doesn't look it,” in words, but +his manner expressed just that. + +Daniel caught his wife's eye. “Well, Serena,” he observed, with a +meaning wink, “I guess likely you're tired, ain't you? Time to go aloft +and turn in, I should say.” + +Serena nodded. “Yes,” she answered. “Gertrude, you and John will excuse +us, won't you? John, Captain Dott and I will see you in the morning. +Good-night! Good-night, Cousin Percy.” + +“Good-night!” said Mr. Hungerford. + +“You'll excuse us, John, I'm sure,” went on Serena. “Of course you and +Gertie will want to talk, and,” with a slight pause and a glance at +Percy, “we will only be in the way. Come, Daniel.” + +Captain Dan paused in the doorway. “Ain't you tired, too, Cousin Percy?” + he inquired. + +It was a fairly broad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it. + +“Oh, no,” he replied; “not at all. Good-night, Captain.” + +He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife +upstairs. + +The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to +Hungerford and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less +opportunity to say it. Each remark made by the young lady was answered +by Percy, and that gentleman talked almost incessantly. His remarks also +were of a semi-confidential nature, dealing with happenings at various +social affairs which Gertrude and he had attended, and hints at previous +conversations and understandings between them. John began to feel +himself an outsider. After a time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed +into silence. + +Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her entertaining +cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost sharply: + +“John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five +minutes.” + +John said very little, even in reply to this accusation. + +“Haven't I?” he observed. “Well, what shall I say?” + +“You might say something, considering that you and I haven't seen each +other for so long.” + +Mr. Hungerford rose. “I hope I haven't interfered,” he announced. +“Didn't mean to intrude, I assure you. Beg pardon--er--Doane.” + +John did not answer. Gertrude also rose. + +“Good-night, Cousin Percy,” she said, with a gracious smile. “Thank you +so much for the carriage and your escort.” + +“Quite welcome. Pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Gertrude. Oh, by the way, +I believe you and I are to go over that paper of your mother's tomorrow. +She asked my advice and said you would assist, I think. I shall look +forward to that assistance. Good-night, Doane. Glad to have met you, I'm +sure.” + +He strolled out. Upon reaching his room he discovered that his cigar +case was empty. Hapgood not being on hand and, feeling the need of a +bedtime smoke, he tiptoed down the stairs and through the back hall into +the library. The room was dark, but sufficient light shone between the +closed curtains of the drawing-room to enable him to locate Captain +Dan's box. Silently and very slowly he refilled the case. + +John Doane and Gertrude, alone at last, looked at each other. The former +was very solemn. Gertrude, quite aware of the solemnity, but not +aware of its principal cause--her father's impolitic disclosure of his +apprehensions concerning herself--was nervous and a bit impatient. + +“Well, John,” she asked, after a moment's wait, “aren't you going to say +anything to me even now?” + +John tried his best to smile. It was a poor attempt. + +“Why, yes,” he said slowly, “I came all the way from Boston to see +you and talk to you, Gertie. There is no reason why I shouldn't +say--whatever there is to say, I suppose.” + +Gertrude looked at him. The tone in which this speech was delivered, +and the speech itself--the first part of it, especially--amazed and +hurt her. Incidentally, her temper having been sorely tried already that +evening by Mr. Hungerford, it made her angry. + +“All the way from Boston,” she repeated. “Well, I never knew you to +complain in that way before. I'm sorry to have caused you so much +trouble.” + +“It wasn't a trouble, Gertie. You know I would go around the world for +you.” + +“Then why speak of coming all the way from Boston? Whose fault was it, +pray? Did I ask you to come?” + +And now, John, who had been fighting his own temper for some time, grew +angry. + +“You did not,” he declared. “But I judge it was time I did.” + +“Indeed! Indeed! Why?” + +“Well--well, for various reasons. Of course, had I known my coming would +interfere with your--your precious Chapter affairs and--” + +“John, I had to go to that meeting. If you had written you were coming +I shouldn't have gone. I should have made other arrangements. But you +didn't write.” + +“I wrote every day.” + +“Yes, but you did not write you were coming here.” + +“I didn't think it was necessary. You wrote every day, too, but you +didn't write--you didn't write--” + +“What?” + +“A good many things that--that I have learned since I came here.” + +“Indeed! What things? How did you learn them?” + +“I--” John hesitated. To bring Captain Dan's name into the conversation +would be, he felt, disloyal. And it would surely mean trouble for the +captain. “I--I learned them with my own eyes,” he declared. “I could +see. Gertie, I can't understand you.” + +“And I don't understand you. I told you, at the only moment we have had +together, I told you then that I would explain about the Chapter. I said +that I must go or everything would be spoiled. You very nearly spoiled +it by coming as you did.” + +Mr. Doane's expression changed. It had softened when she reminded him +of the whispered word in the drawing-room. The last sentence, however, +brought his frown back again. + +“Well!” he exclaimed. “Well--humph! that's easily remedied. I came in a +hurry and I can go the same way.” + +“John! John, what do you mean? How can you speak so to me! Would you go +away now that--that--” + +“You wouldn't miss me so much, I should imagine. Cousin Percy will be +here, and you and he seem to be very confidential and friendly, to say +the least.” + +Gertrude gasped. She was beginning to understand, or imagined that she +was. She laughed merrily. + +“John! Why, John!” she cried. “You're not jealous! YOU!” + +John looked rather foolish. “No-o,” he admitted doubtfully, “I'm not +jealous. Of course I'm not, but--” + +“But what? Don't you trust me, John? Don't you?” + +“Of course I do. You know I do, but--See here, Gertie, you said you were +going to explain--to explain something or other. Do it, then. I think I +am entitled to an explanation.” + +But Gertrude's merriment had vanished. Her eyes flashed. + +“I shall not explain,” she said. “You don't trust me. I can see you +don't.” + +“I do. I do, Gertie, really; but--but--” + +“But you don't. You think--you think--oh, I don't know WHAT you think! +No, I shall not explain, not now, at all events. Good-night!” + +She hastened from the room. John ran after her. + +“Gertie,” he cried, “you're not going? You're not going to leave me in +this way, without a word? I do trust you. I only said--” + +“It wasn't what you said; it was the way you said it. I am going. I am +shocked--yes, and hurt, John. I shall not speak to you again to-night. +To-morrow perhaps, if you beg my pardon and I am really sure you do +trust me, I may tell you--what I was going to tell. But not now. I--I +didn't think you would treat me so.” + +She put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried up the stairs. John, +standing irresolute on the lower step, hesitated, fighting down his own +pride and sense of injury. That moment of hesitation was freighted with +consequence. Then: + +“Gertie,” he cried, hastening after her, “Gertie, wait! I do beg your +pardon. I'm sorry. I didn't mean--” + +But it was too late. Gertie's chamber door closed. John went slowly up +to his own room, the room to which the butler had carried his bag. A +few minutes after he had gone the curtains between the library and +drawing-room parted and Mr. Hungerford appeared. He was very cautious +as he, too, ascended the stairs. But his expression was a pleasant one; +there was no doubt that Cousin Percy was pleased about something. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Captain Dan stirred uneasily. In his dream he had navigated the +Bluebird, his old schooner, to a point somewhere between Hatteras and +Race Point light. It was night all at once, although it had been day +only a few minutes before, and Azuba, who, it seemed, was cook aboard +the Bluebird, was washing breakfast dishes in the skipper's stateroom. +She was making a good deal of noise about it, jingling pans and thumping +the foot of the berth with a stick of stove wood. The captain was about +to remonstrate with her when Serena suddenly appeared--her presence on +the schooner was a complete surprise--to ask him if he had not heard the +bell, and why didn't he come into the house, because dinner was ready. +Then Azuba stopped pounding the foot of the berth and began to thump him +instead. + +“Don't you hear the bell?” repeated Serena. “Wake up! Daniel! Daniel!” + +Daniel stirred and opened his eyes. The Bluebird had vanished, so had +Azuba, but the thumps and jingles were real enough. + +“Hey?” he mumbled, drowsily. “Stop poundin' me, won't you?” + +“Pounding you! I've been pounding and shaking you for goodness knows how +long. I began to think you were dead. Wake up! Don't you hear the bell?” + +Daniel, still but two-thirds awake, rolled over, raised himself on his +elbow and grunted, “Bell! What bell?” + +“The door bell. Someone's at the door. Don't you hear them?” + +Captain Dan slid out of bed. His bare feet struck the cold floor beneath +the open window and he was wide awake at last. The room was pitch dark, +so morning had not come, and yet someone WAS at the door, the front +door. The bell was ringing steadily and the ringer was varying the +performance by banging the door with his feet. The captain fumbled for +the button, found and pressed it, and the electric light blazed. + +“For mercy sakes!” he grumbled, glancing at his watch hanging beside the +head of the bed, “it's quarter past one. Who in time is turnin' us out +this time of night?” + +Serena, nervous and frightened--she, too, had been aroused from a sound +sleep--answered sharply. + +“I don't know,” she snapped. “It's something important though, or they +wouldn't do it. Hurry up and find out, can't you? I never saw such a +man!” + +Her husband hastened to the closet, found his slippers and bathrobe--the +latter was a recent addition to his wardrobe, bought because his +wife had learned that B. Phelps Black possessed no less than three +bathrobes--and shuffled out into the hall. The bell had awakened other +members of the household. A light shone under the door of John Doane's +room, and from Gertrude's apartment his daughter's voice demanded to +know what was the matter. + +Daniel announced that he didn't know, but cal'lated to find out, and +shuffled down the stairs. The lights in the hall and drawing-room were +still burning, Gertrude and John having forgotten to extinguish them. +Captain Dan unlocked the front door and flung it open. A uniformed +messenger boy was standing on the steps. + +“Telegram for John Doane,” announced the boy. “Any answer?” + +Daniel seized the proffered envelope. “How in time do I know whether +there's any answer or not?” he demanded pettishly. “I ain't read it yet, +have I? Think I've got second sight? Why in the nation didn't you +ring up on the telephone, instead of comin' here and routin' out the +neighborhood?” + +The boy grinned. “Against the rules,” he said. “Can't send telegrams by +'phone unless we have special orders.” + +“Well, I give you orders then. Next time you telephone. Hold on a minute +now. John! oh, John!” + +Mr. Doane, partially dressed, his coat collar turned up to hide the +absence of linen, was already at the head of the stairs, and descending. + +“Coming, Captain Dott,” he said. “For me, is it?” + +“Yes. A telegram for you. What--good land, Gertie! you up, too?” + +Gertrude, in kimono and cap, was leaning over the rail. “What is it?” + she asked quickly. + +John announced, “A wire for me,” he said. “I'm afraid--” He tore open +the envelope. “Yes, I thought so. Mr. Griffin is worse and they want me +at once. Every minute counts, they say. I must go--now. When is the next +train for Boston, Captain?” + +Daniel was very much flustered. “I don't know,” he stammered. “There's +a time-table around on deck somewheres, but--you ain't goin' now, John? +To-night?” + +“Yes, I must.” + +Gertrude hastened to find the time-table. John turned to the messenger. + +“Know anything about Boston trains?” he asked. + +“Yup. Two-twenty express through from New York. That's the next.” + +John stepped to the drawing-room and looked at the clock. “I can get it, +I think,” he announced. “I must. If I can get a cab--” + +“I'll 'phone for one. But--but, John, you hadn't ought to--” + +“Any answer?” demanded the messenger boy, intent on business. + +“Yes. Say that I am leaving on the two-twenty. On the two-twenty. Got +that, have you?” + +“Sure, Mike! Prepay or collect?” + +“I'll--I'll pay it, John.” Captain Dan reached under his bathrobe. +“Hey!” he exclaimed. “I declare I forgot I didn't have on--All right, +John, I'll pay it. You go get ready.” + +Mr. Doane was on his way to his room. Daniel hurried after him, +a difficult progress, for the slippers and bathrobe made hurrying +decidedly clumsy. He located his trousers and the loose change in their +pockets, explaining the situation to Serena as he did so. He and his +wife descended the stairs together. The captain paid the messenger and +hastened to telephone for the cab. + +When the vehicle arrived, John was ready. His farewells to Daniel and +Serena were hurried ones. + +“I'm awfully sorry I can't stop longer,” he declared. “I really +shouldn't have come at all, under the circumstances. I--” + +He paused. Gertrude was standing by the door. She was very grave and her +eyes looked as if she had not slept. John went over to her; he, too, was +grave. + +“Gertie,” he faltered, “Gertie--” + +Serena interrupted. “Daniel!” she said, “Daniel!” + +The captain looked at her. She frowned and motioned with her head. The +light of understanding dawned in her husband's eyes. + +“Hey? Oh, yes!” he cried hastily. “Come into the front room, Serena, +just a minute. I want to speak to you.” + +They entered the drawing-room together. Gertrude and John were alone. +For a moment neither spoke. Then the young man, bending forward, +whispered: “Gertie,” he asked anxiously, “aren't you--haven't you +anything to say to me?” + +“I thought, perhaps, you had something to say to me, John.” + +“I have. Gertie, I--” + +There was a sound from above. Cousin Percy Hungerford, fully dressed and +debonnair as always, was descending the stairs. + +“What's the row?” he drawled. “I heard the racket and decided the house +must be on fire. What's up?” + +Whatever else was “up” it was quite plain John was sorry that Mr. +Hungerford was up because of it. His tone was decidedly chilly as he +answered. + +“A wire for me,” he said shortly. “I'm called to Boston at once.” + +“Really! How extraordinary! It wasn't a fire then, merely a false alarm. +Sorry to have you go, Doane, I'm sure.” + +He spoke as if he were the host whose gracious pleasure it had been to +entertain the guest during the latter's stay. John resented the tone. + +“Thanks,” he said crisply. “Gertie, I--I hope--” + +He hesitated. It was not easy to speak in the presence of a third +person, particularly this person. Cousin Percy did not hesitate. + +“Gertie,” he observed, “your--er--friend is leaving us at the wrong +time, isn't he? There's so much going on this coming week. Really, +Doane, you're fortunate, in a sense. Miss Dott and I are finding the +social whirl a bit tiresome; you will escape that, at least.” + +Captain Dan appeared at the entrance to the drawing-room. + +“I say, Hungerford! Percy!” he hailed impatiently. + +Mr. Hungerford did not seem to hear him. He was regarding Miss Dott with +anxious concern. + +“Really, Gertrude,” he said, “I shouldn't stand by that open door, if +I were you. You have a slight cold and for--all our sakes--you must be +careful. Step inside, I beg of you.” + +His begging was so tender, so solicitous, so intimate. John Doane's +fists clenched. + +“Hi!” It was the cabman calling from the street. “Hi! we've only got +twelve minutes to catch that train.” + +John turned, involuntarily, toward the door. Gertrude, startled by the +cabman's voice and aware of the need of haste, stepped to one side. +Cousin Percy chose to put his own interpretation upon her movement. + +“Thank you, Gertrude,” he said feelingly. “That's better; you will be +out of the draft there. Thank you.” + +John Doane, who was still hesitating, hesitated no longer. He seized his +bag. + +“Good-by, all,” he said, in a choked voice. “Good-by, Captain Dott.” + +He strode through the doorway. Gertrude, for a moment, remained where +she was. Then she followed him. + +“John!” she cried, “John!” + +John, half way down the steps, halted, turned, and looked up at her. + +“Good-by, Gertie,” he said. + +“But, John, are you--aren't you--” + +She stretched out her hands. Mr. Hungerford, pushing by the captain and +Serena, stepped in front of her. + +“Here, you!” he shouted, addressing the cabman; “what are you thinking +about? Why don't you take the gentleman's bag?” + +The driver sprang to get the bag, incidentally he seized his prospective +passenger by the arm. + +“Come on!” he shouted. “Come on! We'll miss the train. Ten to one we've +missed it, anyhow.” + +“Oh, DO hurry, John!” cried Serena, anxiously. “You WILL miss it. You +MUST go!” + +And Mr. Doane went. The cab rattled away up the street, the old horse +galloping, the driver shouting, and the whip cracking. Daniel drew a +long breath. + +“Well!” he said slowly, “he's gone. Yes, sir, he's gone, ain't he.” + +Serena turned on him. + +“Yes, he's gone,” she observed sarcastically, “but he isn't going very +fast. Why in the world didn't you order an electric cab instead of that +Noah's Ark? Half the neighbors have been waked up and they'll see it. +How many times must I tell you? You NEVER learn!” + +“Well, now, Serena--” + +“Don't talk to me! Don't! My nerves are all of a twitter. I--I--oh, do +let me go to bed! Gertie--why, Gertie, where are you going?” + +Gertrude was on her way to the stairs. She did not appear to hear her +mother's question. + +“Gertie!” cried Serena again. + +There was no answer. The young lady hurried up the stairs and they heard +her chamber door close. Cousin Percy shrugged his shoulders. + +“Too bad our friend was called away so suddenly,” he observed. “Very +much of a surprise, wasn't it? Too bad.” + +No one replied, not even Serena, who was not wont to ignore the comments +of her aristocratic relative. Her next remark was in the nature of an +order and was addressed to her husband. + +“Come! Come! Come!” she said fretfully. “Do come to bed!” + +Daniel, pausing only to extinguish the lights, obeyed. Mr. Hungerford, +with another shrug and a covert smile, preceded him up the stairs. As +the captain was about to enter his bedroom, a voice, which sounded as if +the speaker was half asleep, called from the third floor. + +“Is there anything I can do, sir?” asked Hapgood. “I 'ave just been +aroused, sir.” + +Daniel turned. Here was a heaven-sent vent for his feelings. + +“Do!” he repeated. “Anything you can do? Yes, there is. Shut your door +and turn in.” + +“But, sir--” + +“And shut your head along with it!” + +There were some inmates of the Dott mansion who, probably, slept +peacefully the remainder of that night, or morning. Cousin Percy +doubtless did, also Mr. Hapgood. Azuba, sleeping at the rear of the +house, had not been awakened at all. But neither Captain Dan or Serena +slept. Mrs. Dott's nerves kept her awake, and the combination prevented +Daniel from napping. Nerves were a new acquisition of Serena's; at least +she had never been conscious of them until recently. Now, however, they +were becoming more and more in evidence. She was fretful and impatient +of trifles, and the least contradiction or upset of her plans was likely +to bring on fits of hysterical weeping. It was so in this case. Daniel, +trotting for smelling salts and extra pillows and the hot water bottle, +was not too calm himself. His plans, the plans founded upon John Doane's +remaining in Scarford for a time, had been decidedly upset. He pleaded +with his wife. + +“But I don't see what ails you, Serena,” he declared. “John's gone, +that's true enough, but you didn't know he was comin'. He was here, a +little while, and that's some gain, ain't it? I don't see--” + +“See! You wouldn't see if your eyes were spyglasses. Oh, dear! why +does everything have to go wrong with me? I thought when John came that +Gertie--” + +“Yes. That Gertie what?” + +“Oh, nothing, nothing! Oh, my poor head! It aches so and the back of it +feels so queer. Where are the pillows? Can't you get me another pillow?” + +“Sure I can! You've got three already, but I can fetch another. It's all +this society business that's breakin' you down, Serena. That everlastin' +Chapter--” + +He was sorry as soon as he said it, but said it had been. He spent the +next hour in explaining that he did not mean it. + +Serena was not on hand at breakfast time. Neither was Gertrude. That +young lady came into the library at ten o'clock, looking pale and worn +and with dark circles under her eyes. She had a thick envelope in her +hand. + +“Daddy,” she said, “will you post this for me?” + +Her father looked up from the pile of papers on the writing table before +him. He, too, appeared somewhat worried. + +“Sartin,” he announced promptly. “I've got a stack of stuff for the +postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena usually +attends to the house bills, but she's kind of under the weather this +morning. Say, Gertie,” gravely, “it costs a sight to run this place, did +you know it?” + +“I suppose it does.” + +“You bet it does! Why, I never realized--But there, I suppose likely +these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. Good land! if +they ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask Serena about 'em by and +by, when she's better. Give me your letter, Gertie, I'll mail it.” + +“You won't forget?” + +“Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em to +the postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? You're pretty +prompt in your writin', ain't you? But that's natural; I remember when +I used to write your mother twice a day. It's a wonder she stood it and +kept her health, ain't it. Ha! ha!” + +He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. Gertrude +left the room. + +Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of envelopes +on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford entered, seeking the +cigar box. + +“Good-morning,” he observed, cheerfully. + +Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy +smiled. A querulous voice called from the second floor. + +“Daniel!” called Serena. “Daniel, where are you? Why don't you come up? +I am all alone.” + +The captain sprang to his feet, “Comin'! Serena!” he shouted. “Comin'!” + +He hurried out. Mr. Hungerford, left alone, helped himself to a cigar +and strolled about the room. The pile of letters on the table caught his +attention. Idly he turned the envelopes over, examining the addresses. +All at once his interest became less casual; one of the written names +had caught his attention. + +Five minutes later the postman rang the doorbell. Captain Dan ran +downstairs, entered the library, seized the letters from the table and +hastened to hand them to the carrier. + +“Daddy!” called Gertrude from above, “did you post my letter?” + +“Sure!” was the prompt answer. “Just gave it to the mail man. It's on +the road now.” + +Serena's “nerves” were in much better condition the following day, +and her spirits likewise. Gertrude, however, was still grave and +absent-minded and non-communicative. Toward Mr. Hungerford in particular +she was cool and distant, answering his chatty remarks and solicitous +inquiries concerning her health with monosyllables, and, on several +occasions, leaving the room when he entered it. This state of affairs +was even more marked on the second day after Mr. Doane's abrupt +departure, and still more so on the third. She seemed nervously +expectant when the postman brought the mail, and depressed when +each consignment contained no letter for her. On the fourth day this +depression was so marked that her father asked the cause. + +“What ails you, Gertie?” he inquired. “You look as if you just come from +a funeral. What's wrong?” + +Gertrude, who was standing by the window, looking out, answered without +turning her head. + +“Nothing,” she said shortly. + +“Well, I'm glad of that. I thought you was troubled in your mind about +somethin'. Ain't frettin' about John, are you?” + +His daughter looked at him now, and the look was a searching one. + +“About--Why should I fret about him, pray?” she asked slowly. + +“I don't know. I thought maybe his goin' away so sudden was a sort +of disappointment to you. 'Twas to the rest of us. Hey? Did you say +somethin'?” + +“No.” + +“Oh, I thought you did. Well, you mustn't be disappointed, Gertie. You +see, business is business. John did what he thought was right and--” + +“Daddy, do be still. I do not intend to trouble myself about--him. Don't +talk to me, please. I don't feel like talking.” + +Daniel talked no more, at that time, but he wondered, and determined to +ask Serena her opinion when the opportunity came. + +It did not come immediately. A new development in Chapter politics was +occupying Mrs. Dott's mind, a development so wonderful and so glorious +in its promise that that lady could think or speak of little else. +Mrs. Lake's term as president of Scarford Chapter was nearing its end. +Annette Black, the vice-president, would have been, in the regular +course of events, Mrs. Lake's successor to the high office. But Mrs. +Lake and Annette, bosom friends for years, had had a falling out. At +first merely a disagreement, it had been aggravated and developed into +a bitter quarrel. The two ladies did not speak to each other. Annette +announced her candidacy in meeting, and the very next day Mrs. Lake came +to Serena with an amazing proposition. + +The proposition was this: Mrs. Lake, it seemed, wished to become +secretary of the National Legion. In order to do this--or to become even +a prominent candidate--it was necessary for her to have the support of +the officers of her own Chapter. If Mrs. Black was elected president she +most decidedly would not have this support. + +“That woman is a cat,” she declared, “a spiteful underhanded cat. After +all I have done for her! Why, she never would have been vice-president +if it had not been for me! And just because she heard that I said +something--something about her that was perfectly true, even if I did +not say it--she broke out in committee and said things to me that--that +I never shall forget, never! She shan't be president. I have as many +friends as she has and I'll see to that. Now, my dear Mrs. Dott, I am +counting on you--and your daughter, of course--as among those friends. +We must select some woman for the presidency who will command the +respect and get the votes of all disinterested members. Miss Canby wants +the office, but she is too closely identified with me to be perfectly +safe. But our party--I and my friends, I mean--have been considering +the matter and we have decided that a dark horse--that is what the +politicians call it--a dark horse is bound to win. We must get the right +kind of dark horse. And we think we have it--him--her, I mean. YOU shall +be our candidate. YOU shall be president of Scarford Chapter.” + +Serena gasped. + +“Me?” she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured +correctness of speech. “Me? President?” + +“Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are known to +be rich--I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. We can elect +you and we will. Isn't it splendid? I'm SO proud to be the one to bring +you the news!” + +There was one strong qualification possessed by Mrs. Dott which the +bearer of good news omitted to mention. Serena was supposed to be +Annette Black's most devoted friend. Announcement of her candidacy would +have the effect of splitting the Black party in twain. Mrs. Lake and her +followers were very much aware of this, although their spokeswoman said +nothing about it. + +“You'll accept, of course,” gushed Mrs. Lake. “Of course you will. I +shall be so proud to vote and work for you.” + +Serena hesitated. The honor of being president of her beloved Chapter +was a dazzling prospect. And yet--and yet-- + +“You will, won't you?” begged the caller. + +“No,” said Serena. “No, Mrs. Lake, I can't. I could not run against +Annette Black. She is my best and dearest friend. If it were not for her +I should not have come to Scarford at all. It would be treachery of the +meanest kind. No, Mrs. Lake, I am not that kind of a friend. No.” + +“But--” + +“Please don't speak of it again. I am ashamed even to hear you. Let's +talk of something else.” + +But Mrs. Lake did not want to talk of anything else. She urged and +argued and pleaded in vain. Then she began to lose her temper. The +parting was not cordial. + +And then came Mrs. Black, herself. She, somehow or other, had learned of +the offer to be made Serena. When she found that the latter had refused +that offer because of loyalty to her, she fairly bubbled over. + +“You dear!” she cried, embracing her hostess. “You dear, splendid thing! +It was what I expected; I knew you'd do it; but I'm SO happy and SO +grateful. I never shall forget it--never. And whenever I can prove my +loyalty and devotion to you, be sure I shall do it.” + +Serena was touched and gratified, but there was just a shade of +disappointment in her tone as she answered. + +“I know you will,” she said. “Of course, I had rather be president of +Scarford Chapter than anything else in the world, but--” + +And then Annette had an idea. She clasped her hands. + +“You shall be,” she cried. “You shall be. Not this term, but the +next--the very next. This term I shall be president, and you--YOU shall +be vice-president. With you as our candidate we can beat that Canby +creature to death. Oh, lovely! It is an inspiration.” + +And on that basis it was settled. The opposing tickets were Black and +Dott against Canby and a lady by the name of Saunderson, another of Mrs. +Lake's “dear friends.” The Chapter was racked from end to end. Politics +became the daily food of its members. + +For Serena it was almost the only food. She was too busy to eat, +except at odd times and hurriedly, and she slept less than ever. Her +nervousness increased and she lost weight. Daniel was worried concerning +her health and would have mentioned his worriment to Gertrude had not +that young lady's mental state and behavior worried him almost as much. + +Gertrude, for the first week after John Doane's departure, was depressed +and silent and solemn. Once, her father found her in her room, crying +and when he anxiously asked the reason she bade him go away and leave +her, so sharply and in a tone so unlike her, that he went without +further protestation. He did, however, go to Serena for advice. + +“Oh, I don't know,” said Serena impatiently. “She misses John, I +suppose. She thought he was going to stay and he didn't, and she was +disappointed. Don't bother me! Don't! I've checked this voting list +over three times already and it has come out different each time. I'm +so tired and headachy and nervous I think I shall die. Sometimes I don't +care if I do. Go away.” + +“But, Serena, there's--there's somethin' queer about Gertie and John. +I don't believe she's heard from him since he left. I don't believe she +has.” + +“Then, why doesn't she write and find out what is the matter? Perhaps +he's sick.” + +“Maybe so, but perhaps she don't want to write. Perhaps she's waitin' +for him to do it.” + +“He can't write if he's sick, can he? Why don't she telegraph him?” + +“That would be just the same, the way she may look at it.” + +“Then wire him yourself, why don't you? Oh, please go away--PLEASE. +I'll speak to her, Daniel, when I get time; I was going to. But just now +I--oh, my POOR head!” + +Daniel made up his mind to telegraph Doane that very afternoon, but he +did not. A happening in the household prevented him. Mr. Hapgood was +summarily discharged. + +Azuba was responsible for the affair. Serena was out--“committeeing” as +usual--Gertrude was with her. Mr. Hungerford, also, was absent. Captain +Dan, in the library, dolefully musing in an arm chair, heard a violent +altercation in the kitchen. As it did not cease, but became more +violent, he hastened to the scene. + +Azuba was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her back against the +table, facing the butler. Mr. Hapgood's face was red, his fists were +clenched, and he was shaking one of them under the housekeeper's nose. + +“Give it to me!” he ordered. “'And it over now, or I'll bash you good +and 'ard.” + +Azuba merely smiled. “You'll bash nobody,” she declared. “You're a +thief, that's what you are--a low-down thief. I've always cal'lated you +was one, ever since I laid eyes on you; now I know it. Don't you dare +shake your fist at me. If my husband was here he'd--” + +Hapgood interrupted, savagely consigning the Ginns, both male and +female, to a much hotter place than the kitchen. Captain Dan strode into +the room. + +“Here!” he said sharply. “What's all this? You,” addressing Hapgood, +“what, do you mean by shakin' your fist at a woman?” + +Mr. Hapgood's bluster collapsed, like a punctured toy balloon. He +cringed instead. + +“W'y, sir,” he pleaded, “it wasn't anything. I lost my temper a bit, +sir, that's all. She”--with a malignant snarl at Azuba--“she's got a +letter of mine. She stole it and won't give it up. I was angry, sir, +same as any man would 'ave been, and I forgot myself. Make 'er 'and over +my letter, sir.” + +The captain turned to the defiant Mrs. Ginn. + +“Have you got a letter of his, Zuba?” he demanded. + +Azuba laughed. “I have,” she declared, “and I'm glad of it. I've been +waiting to get somethin' like it for a long spell. Stealin'! HE accuse +anybody of stealin'! Here, Daniel Dott, you read that letter. Read it +and see who's been doin' the stealin' around here.” + +She extended the letter at arm's length. The butler made a snatch at it, +but Captain Dan was too quick. He unfolded the crumpled sheet of paper. +It bore the printed name and address of one of Scarford's newer and more +recently established grocers and provision dealers, and read as follows: + + +EDWARD H. HAPGOOD, + +SIR:--Our order clerk informs us that you expect a higher percentage of +commission on goods ordered by your household. We do not feel that we +should pay this. While we, being a new house, were willing, in order +to obtain your business, to allow a fair rate of commission to you for +putting it in our way, and while, during the past three months, we have +paid such commission, we do not feel-- + + +Daniel tossed the note on the floor. He marched to the door leading to +the back yard and threw it open. Then he turned to the butler. + +“See that door?” he inquired, pointing toward it. “Use it.” + +Hapgood did not seem to comprehend. + +“Wh-what, sir?” he faltered. + +“Use that door. Get out! Out of this house, and don't you dare show your +nose inside it again. Here!” stepping to the rack behind the open door. +“These are your--duds--aren't they? Take 'em and get out. Quick!” + +He threw an overcoat and hat at the astonished man-servant, who caught +them mechanically. + +“Get!” repeated the captain. + +Hapgood apparently understood at last. His usual expression of polite +humility vanished and he glowered malevolently. + +“So I'm fired, am I?” he demanded. “Fired, without no notice or nothin'. +'Ow about my two weeks' wages? 'Ow about square treatment? 'Ow about my +things upstairs? I've got rights, I 'ave, and you'll find it out. Blame +your eyes, I--” + +He darted through the doorway just in time. Captain Dan was on the +threshold. + +“You can send for your things upstairs,” said the captain. “They'll be +ready--either up there or on the sidewalk. Now, my--hum--thief,” with +deliberate and dangerous calmness, “I'm comin' out into that yard. If I +was you I'd be somewhere else when I get there. That's my advice.” + +The advice was taken. Mr. Hapgood was in the street by the time his +employer reached the gate. Bolting that gate, Daniel walked back to the +kitchen. + +“Thank you, Zuba,” he said quietly. “You've only confirmed what I +suspected before, but thank you, just the same.” + +Azuba was regarding him with a surprise in which respect was strongly +mingled. + +“You're welcome,” she said drily. “It's good riddance to bad rubbish, +that's what I call it. But,” her surprise getting the better of her +judgment, “I must say I ain't seen you behave--I mean--” + +She stopped, the judgment returning. But Captain Dan read her thoughts +and answered them. + +“He's a man,” he said shortly, “or an apology for one. I know how to +deal with a MAN--his kind, anyway.” + +Azuba nodded. “I should say you did,” she observed. “Well, if you'd like +to hear the whole yarn, how I come to suspect him and all, I can tell +you. You see--” + +But Daniel would not listen. “I don't want to hear it,” he said. “Tell +Serena, if you want to, when she comes home. I've got too much else on +my mind to bother with swabs like him. If he should try to come back +again you can call me, otherwise not. I ain't interested.” + +And yet, if he could have seen and heard his ex-butler just at that +moment, he might have been interested. Hapgood, on the next corner, out +of sight from the Dott home, had met and waylaid Mr. Percy Hungerford. +To the latter gentleman he was telling the story of his discharge. +Cousin Percy seemed disturbed and angry. + +“It's your own fault,” he declared. “You ought to have been more +careful.” + +“Careful! 'Ow should I know the fools was going to write a letter? +I told 'em not to. And 'ow did I know the old woman--blast 'er--was +watchin' me all the time? And now I've lost my job, and a good soft job, +too. You've got to get it back for me, Mr. 'Ungerford; you've got to +'elp me, sir.” + +“I'll help you all I can, of course, but I doubt if it will do any good. +I can't stand talking with you here. Drop me a line at the club, telling +me where you are, and I'll let you know what turns up. Oh, say, have any +more letters come for--you know who?” + +“No, that was the only one, sir. But a telegram came this morning.” + +Mr. Hungerford started. “A telegram?” he repeated. “For her?” + +“Yes, sir. And from 'im, it was, too.” + +“Did she get it?” + +Mr. Hapgood winked. “It was 'phoned up from the telegraph office, sir,” + he said, “and I answered the 'phone. 'Ere's the copy I made, sir.” + +He extracted a slip of paper from his pocket. Cousin Percy snatched the +slip and read the penciled words. Hapgood smiled. + +“Looks good, don't it, sir,” he observed. “'Frisco's a long way off.” + +Hungerford did not answer. He tore the paper into small pieces and +tossed them away. + +“Well,” he said, after a moment, “good by and good luck. Let me know +where you are and meanwhile I'll see what can be done for you. Good by.” + +He was moving off, but his companion stepped after him. + +“Just a minute, sir,” he said. “Could you 'elp me out a bit, in the +money way? I'm flat broke; the old 'ayseed chucked me without a penny; +'e did, so 'elp me.” + +Cousin Percy looked distinctly annoyed. + +“I'm pretty nearly broke myself,” he declared, impatiently. + +“Is that so, sir, I'm sorry, but I think you'll 'ave to 'elp me a bit. I +think--I think you'd better, Mr. 'Ungerford, sir.” + +Hungerford looked at him. The look was returned. Then the young +gentleman extracted a somewhat attenuated roll of bills from his pocket, +peeled off two and handed them to his companion. + +“There you are,” he replied. “That's all and more than I can spare, just +now. Good by.” + +“Good by, sir--for now. And thank you kindly.” + +Captain Dan, for all his prompt handling of the thieving butler and his +professed ability to deal with men--Mr. Hapgood's kind of man--awaited +the return of his wife and daughter with considerable uneasiness. +Hapgood, in his capacity as trained, capable, aristocratic servant, had +been a favorite of Serena's. The captain dreaded telling his wife what, +in the heat of his anger, he had done. But his dread was needless. +Serena's mind was too much occupied with politics and political ambition +to dwell upon less important matters. + +“I suppose it is all right,” she said. “If he was a thief he should be +discharged, of course. No doubt you did right, Daniel, but we shall miss +him dreadfully. I don't know where we can get another butler like him.” + +Daniel gasped. “Good land of love!” he cried; “we don't WANT another +like him, do we! I should hope we didn't.” + +“I don't mean another thief. Oh, dear me! Why do you pick me up in that +way? One would think you took a delight in worrying me all you could. +Get me a cup of tea. I want it right away. My nerves are all unstrung. +Gertie--” + +But Gertie had gone to her room; she spent the greater part of her time +there now. Her mother sighed. + +“She's gone,” she declared. “Just when I need her most, of course. +I can't see what has got into her for the last few days. She was so +interested in the Chapter. Even more than I, I began to think. And yet, +at the committee meeting this afternoon--the most important meeting +we've had; when we were counting the votes which we can be sure of and +those that are doubtful, she scarcely said a word. Just sat there and +moped. I don't know what is the matter with her.” + +Daniel nodded. “I think I do,” he said. “It's John. Somethin's the +matter between her and John. If he had only stayed here! If he would +only come back!” + +“Then for mercy sakes get him back! Telegraph him. You said you were +going to.” + +Captain Dan rose. “I will,” he declared. “I'll do it right now, this +minute. Not till I see you to your tea, Serena,” he added, hastily. +“I'll tell Zuba about that first, of course.” + +He sent the telegram within the hour. It was an inquiry concerning Mr. +Doane's whereabouts, his employer's health, how he was getting on, +and when he--John--was to return to Scarford. The answer arrived, via +telephone, about eight that evening. It was a surprising answer. + +“Doane gone to San Francisco on business of the firm,” it said. “Left at +midnight yesterday.” + +It was signed by the senior partner. Serena had gone out, of course; she +was scarcely ever in now, but Gertrude, having finished dinner, was in +her room as usual. Her father hurried up the stairs. + +“Gertie,” he cried, entering without knocking, “Gertie, what do you +suppose I've just found out? It's the most astonishing news. John is--he +has--Why, you'd never guess!” + +Gertrude, who was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, showed her +first sign of interest. At the mention of the name she turned quickly. + +“What?” she cried, in a startled voice. “What? Is it--is it bad news? He +isn't--isn't--” + +“No, no! No, no! He's all right. Don't look like that, you scare me. +John's all right; that is, I suppose he is. But he--Here! read it +yourself.” + +Gertrude took the paper upon which he had written the message. She +read the latter through; read it and reread it. Then she turned to her +father. + +“But I can't understand,” she faltered. “I can't--I can't understand. He +didn't send this himself. He has gone to San Francisco; but--but this is +signed by someone else. What does it mean?” + +Daniel was frightened. It was time to explain, and yet, considering his +daughter's look and manner, he was afraid to explain. + +“You see,” he stammered, “well, you see, Gertie, that's an answer, that +is. John didn't send it, he'd gone. But, I presume likely they thought +my telegram ought to be answered, so--” + +Gertrude interrupted. “Your telegram?” she repeated. “YOUR telegram? +What telegram?” + +“Why, the telegram I sent to John. I knew you hadn't heard from him, and +I thought probably--” + +“Wait--wait a minute. Did YOU send a telegram to--to him?” + +“Yes; sure I did. I--” + +“What did you say?” + +“I said--why, I said that you--we, I mean--was wonderin' about him +and--and missin' him and when was he comin' back here. That's about what +I said. I wrote it in a hurry and I don't remember exactly. That's about +it, anyhow. Why, what's the matter?” + +Gertrude had risen. + +“You said that!” she cried. “You--without a word to me--said--you begged +him to come back! Begged him! on your knees! to--to--” + +“No, no! I never got on my knees. What would I do a fool thing like that +for, when I was sendin' a telegram? I just asked--” + +“You just asked! You said that I--_I_--And this was your answer! THIS!” + +She dashed the message to the floor, covered her face with her hands +and threw herself upon the bed. Daniel, aghast and alarmed, would have +raised her but she pushed him away. + +“Oh!” she cried. “The shame of it! Don't touch me! Please don't touch +me!” + +“But, Gertie--what on earth?” + +“Don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Just go away, Daddy. Go and +leave me. I mustn't talk to you now. If I do, I shall say--Please go. I +want to be alone.” + +Daniel went. That he had made another blunder was plain enough, but just +now he was too hurt and indignant to care a great deal. + +“All right,” he said shortly; “I'm goin'. You needn't worry about that. +That's about all the orders I get nowadays--to go away. I ought to be +used to it, by this time. I'm a fool, that's what I am, an old worn-out, +useless fool.” + +He slammed the door and descended the stairs. He had been in his +accustomed refuge, the library, for perhaps twenty minutes, when the +bell rang. He waited for Hapgood to answer the ring and then, suddenly +remembering that the butler had departed, answered it himself. + +Mr. Monty Holway smiled greeting from the steps. + +“Good evening, Captain Dott,” he said. “Is Miss Dott in?” + +Daniel hesitated. “Yes,” he said, “she's in, but--” + +“May I see her? Will you be good enough to give her my card?” + +The captain took the card. + +“Ye-es,” he said, “I'll give it to her, but--but--Well, you see, she +ain't feelin' very well this evenin' and I don't know as she'll want to +see anybody.” + +Gertrude herself called from the head of the stairs. + +“Who is it, Daddy?” she asked. “Someone for me?” + +“It's--er--Mr. Holway.” + +“Oh, is it!” The tone was one of delighted surprise. “Ask him to come +in, Daddy. I'll be right down.” + +She came almost immediately. She greeted the caller with outstretched +hand. + +“I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Holway,” she said. “I was lonely. It was +nice of you to come.” + +She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent +than ever, but the eyes themselves were shining brightly. She was gay +and, for her, extremely vivacious. Mr. Holway looked gratified and +happy. Captain Dan looked astonished and bewildered. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The bewilderment and astonishment remained with the captain for some +time, just as his daughter's apparent light heartedness remained with +her. Holway's call was longer than usual, lasting until Serena, escorted +by Mr. Hungerford, returned from Mrs. Black's, where they had been +discussing the all-important election. Hungerford and his friend greeted +each other with a marked lack of warmth; in fact, they scarcely spoke. +Serena was too tired to talk, but Gertrude talked enough for all. She +chatted and laughed with almost feverish gaiety until the caller, after +many false starts and with evident reluctance, finally tore himself +away. Then her manner changed, she was silent and thoughtful and, soon +afterward, said goodnight and went up to her room. + +Captain Dan forebore to trouble his wife with the news of the telegram +announcing John Doane's departure for the West, and the reception of +that news by Gertrude. After hearing Serena's complaints of her “nerves” + and weariness, he decided that there was trouble sufficient for that +night. But the next morning he spoke of it. Serena was surprised, of +course, and worried likewise. + +“You're right, Daniel,” she said, “I am afraid you're right. She and +John must have had some disagreement. I suppose it is only a lover's +quarrel--young engaged people are always having foolish quarrels--and +they always get over them and make up again. But, oh, dear! why did they +quarrel just now? Haven't I got enough on my mind without fretting about +them? Well, I'll talk to Gertie this very forenoon.” + +She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting anxiously +to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook her head. + +“I can't make Gertie out,” she declared pettishly. “She acts so queer. +Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all right, and why +should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so different, somehow. She was +willing enough to discuss my chances for the vice-presidency. She asked +twenty questions about that and declares she is going to help me. And +yesterday, when I wanted her to help, she didn't take any interest. I +never saw such a change. And she is so--so fidgety and--and nervous and +high-spirited and silly. She laughed at nothing and kept jumping up and +walking about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME jumpy just +to look at her.” + +Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan to +feel “jumpy” more than once. Her determination to help her mother in the +campaign she put into immediate practice. She called Cousin Percy into +council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter members, and the pair spent +hours checking that list together. Then Gertrude announced that she was +going to make some calls. She made them and returned, exultant. + +“I think I have made two converts this afternoon,” she said. “I am +almost sure they will vote for you, Mother. You and I must go to +Mrs. Black's to-night and talk it over with her. We MUST; it is very +important.” + +Serena, who had hoped for an early bedtime, expressed weariness, and +protested, but her protests were overruled. They went to the Blacks' and +Captain Dan and Mr. Hungerford went, also. Annette was delighted to see +them. Mr. Black succeeded in repressing his joy. + +“For the Lord's sake, Dan!” he exclaimed, when, he and the captain were +alone, “isn't there EVER going to be any let-up to this tom-foolery? Are +these women of ours going stark crazy?” + +Daniel gloomily replied that he didn't know. + +“You're worse off than I am,” continued B. Phelps. “There's two lunatics +in your family and only one in mine. Your daughter's just as bad as her +mother, every bit--worse, if anything. But, it seems to agree with HER. +I never saw her so lively or so pretty either. Humph! your pet cousin +there is badly gone, or I'm no judge. Well, you remember what I told you +about him.” + +Daniel nodded. He was too depressed for words. + +“All right, it's your funeral, not mine. But, say! there's one ray of +hope. The whole crowd may be licked to death in this election. If they +are, my wife says she'll resign from the Chapter and never speak to one +of the bunch again. It sounds too good to be true, but it may be. It's +enough to make a fellow hop in and do some political work himself--for +the other side. What?” + +The political work continued, mornings and afternoons, evenings and far +into the nights. Serena was in it, Gertrude was in it, and Cousin +Percy and Mr. Holway were in it because she was. Monty's calls were of +frequent occurrence. Mr. Hungerford and his erstwhile chum did not speak +to each other at all now. But at receptions and teas and dances and +musicals and committee meetings one or the other was on hand at Miss +Dott's elbow. And Gertrude was very gracious to them both; not more to +one than the other, but exceptionally kind and agreeable to each. + +The social affairs were of almost as frequent occurrence as the +political meetings. Gertrude accepted all invitations and urged her +mother to accept. + +“You must, Mother,” she declared. “Now is the time when you can't afford +to offend or neglect anyone. You may need their votes and influence.” + +“But, Gertie,” pleaded poor, tired Serena, “I can't go everywhere.” + +“You must. If this vice-presidency is worth all the world to you, as you +say it is, you must sacrifice everything else to get it.” + +“But, I can't! I'm almost worn out. I--I--oh, sometimes I feel almost +willing to give it all up and go back to--to--almost anywhere, even +Trumet, if I could rest there.” + +“You don't mean that, Mother.” + +“No; no, of course I don't.” + +“Because if you do, why--well, that is different. If you WANT to go back +to dead and alive old Trumet--” + +“I don't. I--I wouldn't for anything. I shouldn't think you, of all +people, would hint at such a thing. You! When I have climbed so high +already; when our social position has become what it is. You! talking of +going back to Trumet.” + +“I'm not. You mentioned it; I didn't. I'm having a beautiful time. I +just love our social position. The Blacks and the Kellys and--er--that +Miss Dusante! Oh, I adore them. I wouldn't leave such cultured people +for anything. And you enjoy it so, Mother. You look so happy.” + +Was there a trace of sarcasm in this outburst? Serena was, for the +moment, suspicious. She tried her hardest to look very happy indeed. + +“I am happy, of course,” she declared. + +“I know it. And we want to keep on being happy, don't we. So we must not +decline anyone's invitation. We must go, go, go, all the time.” + +“But some of the invitations are from people I scarcely know at all. And +some I don't like.” + +“That makes no difference. They may be of value to you in your campaign, +or socially, or somehow. Don't you see, Mother? In politics or society +one wishes to advance, to climb higher all the time. And to do that +one must use one's acquaintances as rounds in the ladder. Use them; get +something from them; pretend to love them, no matter whether you really +hate them or not. They may hate you, but they want to use you. That's +part of the game, Mother.” + +This was worldly advice to be given by a young lady scarcely out of +college. And it sounded so unlike Gertrude. But, then, Gertrude had +changed, was changing more and more daily. + +“We don't entertain enough,” went on the adviser. “We should be +giving some affair or other at least once a week. Invite everybody you +know--everyone but the Lake crowd, of course. I'll make out a list of +eligibles to-day and we'll give an 'At Home' next week.” + +“But, Gertie--the expense. It costs so dreadfully. We're not rich; that +is, not very rich.” + +“No matter. Everyone thinks we are. If they didn't, most of them would +cut us dead to-morrow. We must pretend to be very rich. I'll make out +the list. Mr. Holway will help me. He is coming to call this evening.” + +Serena looked more troubled than ever. + +“Gertie,” she said earnestly, “I think I ought--yes, I am going to warn +you against that Mr. Holway. I don't like your having him call or being +seen in his company.” + +“You don't! I am surprised. I'm sure he is very polite and agreeable. He +belongs to the best club and he dresses well, and as to society--why, he +is in the very heart of it; our kind of society, I mean.” + +“I know, I know. But--well, Cousin Percy doesn't speak well of him. He +says he is a very fast young man.” + +Gertrude bit her lip. “Did Percy say that!” she exclaimed. “How odd! +Why, Monty--I mean Mr. Holway--said almost the same thing about him. And +I KNOW you like Cousin Percy, Mother.” + +Mrs. Dott scarcely knew how to answer. As a matter of fact she did not +like their aristocratic relative quite as well as she had at +first. There were certain things about him, little mannerisms and +condescensions, which jarred upon her. He was so very, very much at home +in the family now; in fact, he seemed to take his permanent membership +in that family for granted. He had ceased to refer to himself as being +on a vacation, and, as for his “literary work,” he appeared to have +forgotten that altogether. + +But these were not the real reasons for Serena's growing dislike and +uneasiness. She hinted at the real reason in her next remark. + +“I don't think,” she said, “I don't think, Gertie, that you and he +should be so much together. You are engaged to be married, you know, and +John--” + +Gertrude interrupted. She ignored the mention of Mr. Doane's name. + +“Oh, Cousin Percy is all right,” she said lightly. “He's good company. +Of course he may be something of a sport, but that is to be expected. +The trouble with you and me, Mother, is that we are too old-fashioned; +we are not sporty enough.” + +“GERTIE!” Serena's horror was beyond words. + +Gertrude laughed. “But that can be mended,” she went on. “Mother, you +should learn to drink cocktails and tango. I think I shall. Everybody's +doing it, doing it, doing it!” + +Humming this spirited ditty, which the street pianos had rendered +popular, and smiling over her shoulder at her mother, she “one-stepped” + from the room. Serena put both hands to her head. Her “nerves” were more +troublesome than ever the remainder of that day. + +There were enough troubles to rack even a healthy set of nerves. The +domestic situation was decidedly complicated. No successor to the +departed Hapgood had, as yet, been selected. Mr. Hungerford was +partially responsible for this. At first, when told of the butler's +misbehavior and its consequences, he had expressed sorrow, but had +advised forgiveness and the reinstallation of the discharged one. +The crime was, after all, not so very serious. Most butlers exacted +commissions from tradespeople, so he had been told. Of course it was all +wrong, a pernicious system and all that, but they did do it. And many +employers winked at the system. Hapgood was an exceptional fellow, +really quite exceptional. Aunt Lavinia had treated him as one of the +family, almost. Captain Dan, to whom these statements were made, was +stubbornly indignant. He wouldn't wink at a thief, and he wouldn't fire +him and then hire him over again, either. If “that everlastin' sneak +showed his white-washed face on the premises again, he'd have that face +damaged.” All the captain hoped for was a chance to inflict the damage. + +So Cousin Percy, finding Daniel obdurate, tried his influence upon +Serena, whom he regarded, and justly, as the real head of the house. But +Serena, too, refused to consider Mr. Hapgood's re-employment. She had +talked with Azuba, and Azuba had declared that she should leave in “just +about two-thirds of a jiffy” if the butler came back. “When he comes +into my kitchen,” she said, “I get out. I should hate to quit the folks +I'd worked for the biggest part of my life, but there's some things I +won't stand. He's one of 'em. Don't talk to me about HIM!” + +Mr. Hapgood was not re-engaged nor forgiven, and Hungerford kindly +volunteered to find a competent successor. He would make some inquiries +among his friends, the right sort of people, he said, and his manner +indicated that the said people were accustomed to employing butlers in +droves. + +Azuba, therefore, was left with all the domestic cares upon her hands. +These hands were quite competent, had they been disengaged, but just +now they were full. Azuba was “advancing,” just as she had proclaimed +to Captain Dan that she intended to do. She read “The Voice” and +kindred literature a great deal, and quoted from her readings at every +opportunity. Denied admittance to the Chapter, in spite of Gertrude's +efforts in her behalf--Gertrude had warmly advocated the formation of +a Servants' Branch--she had made search on her own hook and suddenly +announced that she had found what she was looking for. This, so she +affirmed, was an organization called “The Free Laborers' Band,” and it +met in a hall somewhere or other, though no one but its members seemed +to know just where that hall was. Serena made inquiries, but neither +servants nor mistresses had ever heard of the “Band.” Gertrude, when she +heard of it, at first seemed to be much amused, and laughed heartily. +Then she became very grave and declared it a splendid thing and that she +was delighted because Azuba had found her opportunity. She was entitled +to that opportunity, as was every free woman, and certainly neither +Gertrude or her mother, being “free women” themselves, must offer +objection or permit mere household drudgery to interfere. + +So Azuba “advanced” and preached and went out at night and occasionally +during the day. Gertrude and Serena went out all the time, when they +were not entertaining themselves. Life became a never-ending round +of politics and society functions, followed by, on Mrs. Dott's part, +sleepless nights and “nerves” and fretful worriment concerning Gertrude. +Gertrude did not appear to worry. She grew gayer and more gay, more +careless in her manner and more slangy in her speech. Mr. Holway +continued to call and Cousin Percy to dance solicitous attendance. John +Doane's name was never mentioned in his fiancee's presence. She would +not speak, or permit others to speak, of him. + +And then Mr. Holway ceased to call. His final call was a lengthy +one, and he and Gertrude were alone during the latter part of it. The +following day Daniel met him on the street and was barely recognized. +The captain was not greatly troubled at the slight--he did not care +greatly for the lively Monty--but he was surprised. When he mentioned +the meeting to his daughter the young lady smiled, but offered no +explanation. Her father did not press the point. As Holway came no +more and it became apparent that he was not coming, the captain was +satisfied. + +Gertrude's strange behavior alarmed and troubled him, but his wife's ill +health and her worn, weary expression alarmed him more. He was actually +frightened concerning her. + +“Oh, Serena,” he begged, “what makes you do it? It isn't worth it. +You're killin' yourself. Let's give it up and go somewhere and rest. The +Queen of Sheba's job ain't worth it, let alone just bein' vice-president +of Scarford Chapter.” + +But Serena shook her head. “I can't give it up, Daniel,” she declared +hysterically. “I--I think I would if I could. I really do. Sometimes I +feel as if I would give up everything just to be at peace and happy and +contented again.” + +“You bet!” with enthusiasm. “So would I. And we were contented at +Trumet, wasn't we? That is, I was; and you was enough sight better +contented than you are now.” + +“I know, I know. But I can't give it up, Daniel. Don't you see? I can't! +I mustn't think of myself at all. See how loyally Annette and the rest +have stood by me. Their splendid loyalty is the one thing that makes it +worth while. I must keep up and fight on for their sakes. I must be as +true to them as they are to me. Would they desert me for anything? No! +And I shan't desert them. I am going to be elected. I know it. After +that, after the election is over, I may--I might, perhaps--” + +“You might go somewhere with me and have a good, comfortable time. All +right, we will. And Gertie can go, too.” + +The mention of her daughter's name seemed to be more disturbing than all +the rest. Serena burst into tears. + +“She wouldn't go, Daniel!” she cried. “You know she wouldn't. She--she +is going crazy, I do believe. She is wild about society and bridge--she +told me only yesterday she wasn't sure that playing for money was wrong. +All my friends and her friends did it and why shouldn't we? And she +dances all these dreadful new dances and uses slang and--and--oh, she +is--I don't know WHAT she will be if this keeps on. Why does she do it? +WHO is responsible?” + +Daniel did not answer. He had a feeling that he could, without moving +from his chair, lay a hand upon the person chiefly responsible, but he +kept that feeling to himself. + +“She'd go, if we wanted her to,” he affirmed stoutly. + +“No, she wouldn't.” + +“By time! she would. You and I would make her. I couldn't do it alone, +I know that, but if you'll say the word and stand by me she'll go, if +I have to--to give her ether and take her while she's asleep. Say the +word, that's all I want you to do.” + +Serena did not say the word, not then. She continued to moan and wring +her hands. + +“She's all wrong, Daniel!” she cried. “She does wrong things. She +is with--with Cousin Percy too much. He and she are getting to be +altogether too friendly. She has dropped John for good, I'm afraid. Oh, +suppose she should--” + +The captain's anger burst forth at this expression of his own secret +dread. + +“Suppose she should marry that Hungerford, you mean!” he cried. “She +won't! She won't! She's too sensible, anyway; but, if she should, I--I'd +rather see her dead. Yes, sir, dead!” + +“So had I. But Cousin Percy--” + +“D--n Cousin Percy!” + +For once his profanity met with no rebuke. Serena did not appear to +notice it. + +“He is not the right sort of man for her,” she declared. “He is polite +and aristocratic and he has helped us in society; but he is dissipated +and fast, I'm sure of it. He has been out a great deal lately and comes +home late, and I have heard him come up the stairs as if--as if--Oh, WHY +did you insist on his staying here, living here with us?” + +“Why did _I_--Humph! Well, that's all right. That's all right, Serena. +You back me up in that, too, and he'll go out a sight quicker than +he came in. I'll see that he does. He'll fly. I can handle MEN even +yet--though I don't seem to be good for much else.” + +But Mrs. Dott wouldn't hear of it. They couldn't PUT him out, she +declared; think of the scandal! No, no, no! The interview ended by +the captain's dismissal and Serena's getting ready for that evening's +committee meeting. + +It developed that Azuba's “Band” met on that same evening. Gertrude +and her mother had gone--they were to dine with the committee at +Annette's--and when Daniel, at seven o'clock, shouted for his dinner, no +dinner was ready. + +“I can't stop to fuss with dinner,” said Azuba firmly. “I've got to get +ready for my Band meetin'. All the afternoon I've been fussin' with my +speech--I'm goin' to speak to-night--and now it's time for me to change +my clothes. I'm sorry, Cap'n Dott; I never neglected you afore; but this +time I've got to. There's plenty to eat in the ice-chest and you must +wait on yourself. No use to talk! I ain't got time to listen.” + +Captain Dan was furious. This was a trifle too much. + +“You get that dinner!” he roared. “Get it, or you'll never get another +meal in this house!” + +“Won't I? Why not? Mrs. Dott said I might go to this meetin'. She'll +understand.” + +“By time, Zuba Ginn, I'll discharge you! I will! I don't care if you +have been with us since Methusalem's time. You old foolhead! At your +age--” + +“I'm no older than your wife, Dan'l Dott. And you can't discharge me, +neither. I wouldn't go. I'm no Hapgood. I've got rights and I'll stand +up for 'em. You ain't the boss, I guess. If Serena discharges me, all +right; but she won't. There! don't talk to ME. I've got other fish to +fry.” + +She marched up the back stairs. Daniel sprang after her, but she closed +the door in his face. For a moment he hesitated. Then he turned back +and, re-entering the kitchen, began to pace up and down, his hands in +his pockets. + +He strode from the sink to the back door, wheeled and strode back +again. There was an odd expression on his face. He frowned, muttered to +himself, whistled, smiled, and once broke into a short laugh. But, as he +continued the pacing, gradually the frown and smile disappeared and his +expression became one of grim determination. His lips closed, his eyes +puckered, and his stride lengthened. His heels struck the oilcloth with +sharp, quick thumps. If one of his former shipmates, a foremast hand +on the schooner Bluebird, could have seen him then, that foremast hand +would have interpreted his behavior as a forerunner of trouble. He +would have known that the “old man” was making up his mind to a definite +course of action and that, having made it up, he would keep to that +course so long as he could see or breathe. + +And that interpretation would have been correct. Captain Dan was +desperate. He had made up his mind to fight, to “put his foot down” at +last. Serena's ill health, Gertrude's conduct, the aggravating insolence +of Cousin Percy, all these had helped to spur him to this pitch. And +now came Azuba's open rebellion and her declaration that his command +amounted to nothing, that he was not the “boss.” It was true, that was +the humiliating fact which stung. He was not the boss; he was not even +cabin boy, and he knew it. But, to be openly told so, and by his cook, +was a little too much. The worm will turn--at least we are told that it +will--and Daniel Dott was turning. + +He jerked his hands from his pockets and opened his mouth. + +“Azuba!” he roared. “You, Zuba, come here!” + +Azuba did not answer. She was in her room at the top of the house and, +of course, did not hear the shout. Before the captain could repeat it +someone knocked at the back door. + +The knock was no hesitating, irresolute tap. It was an emphatic, solid +thump. Daniel heard it, but, in his present state of mind, was in no +mood to heed. + +“Zuba!” he repeated. “Zuba Ginn, are you comin' here or shall I come +after you? ZUBA!” + +The back door was merely latched, not locked. Now it was thrown open, a +heavy step sounded in the entry and a voice, a man's voice, said, in +a shout almost as loud as the captain's, “Yes, Zuba; that's what I was +cal'latin' to say, myself. Who--why, hello, Cap'n Dan! How are you?” + +Daniel turned. A man had entered the kitchen, a big man, wearing a cloth +cap, and carrying in one hand a lumpy oilcloth valise. He tossed the +valise to the floor, grinned, and extended a hand. + +“Well, Cap'n Dan,” he observed, “you look as natural as life. _I_ must +have changed, I cal'late. Don't you know me?” + +The captain's eyes were opening wider and wider. “Labe!” he exclaimed; +“Laban Ginn! Where in the world did you come from?” + +The person who had so unceremoniously entered the kitchen was Azuba's +husband, mate of the tramp steamer. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +“For the land sakes! Laban Ginn!” repeated Daniel. + +Mr. Ginn grinned cheerfully. He was six feet tall, or thereabouts, and +more than half as wide. His hair and beard were grayish red and his face +reddish brown. He was dressed in the regulation “shore togs” of a deep +sea sailor, blue double-breasted jacket, blue trousers and waistcoat, +white “biled” shirt, low collar--celluloid, by the look--and a “made” + bow tie which hung from the button by a worn loop of elastic. His hands +were as red as his face and of a size proportionate to the rest of him. +He seized the captain's hand in one of his, crushed it to a pulp, and +returned the remains to the chief mourner. + +“Well, say,” he cried, his grin widening, “that feels natural, don't it? +Last time you and me shook hands was over three years ago. How are you? +Blessed if it ain't good to see you again.” + +Captain Dan was slowly regaining his equilibrium. + +“Same to you, Labe,” he returned heartily. “But--but, by Godfreys, +you're the last person I expected to see just now.” + +“Yep, I shouldn't wonder.” + +“Sit down, sit down. Humph! Does Azuba know you're comin'?” + +“No, not yet.” + +“Well, sit down and I'll call her. She's here with us, of course.” + +“Sartin she is. Where else would she be? I knew she was here; heard you +hailin' her just as I made port at the back door. Set down?” He threw +himself into a chair, which groaned under the pressure. “Sure, I'll set +down! Feels kind of good to drop anchor when you've been cruisin's long +as I have. No, Zuby don't know I'm comin'. Last time I wrote her +was from Mauritius. I've been to clink and gone since. She WILL be +surprised, won't she? Ho! ho! Did I leave the hatch open? Here, let me +shut it.” + +But Daniel himself shut the “hatch,” that is to say, the back door. He +was on his way to the stairs, but Mr. Ginn detained him. + +“Hold on a shake, Cap'n,” he said. “I ain't hardly seen you yet. Let's +have a look at you.” Crossing his legs--his feet were like miniature +trunks--he added, “How are you, anyway?” + +Daniel replied that he was fair to middling. + +“Sit still and make yourself comfortable, Labe,” he went on. “I'll tell +Zuba you're here.” + +“What's your hurry? Give me a chance to catch my breath. I lugged that +dunnage bag,” indicating the valise, “from the depot up here, and I feel +as if I'd strained every plank in my hull. Ought to go into dry dock and +refit, I had. I landed in Philadelphy a week ago,” he continued. “Quit +the old steamer for good, I have. Me and the skipper had some words and +I told him where he could go. Ho! ho! I don't know whether he went or +not; anyhow, I started for Trumet. Got there and found you'd come into +money and had moved to Scarford and was livin' with the big-bugs. Some +house you've got here, ain't it! Soon's I see it I headed for the back +door. 'A first cabin companion like that's no place for me,' I says. Ho! +ho! Besides, I cal'lated to find Zuby Jane out in the fo'castle here. +Didn't expect to locate you, though, in this end of the ship. How's it +seem to be rich? Ain't got fat on it, have you.” + +Daniel, amused in spite of his recent ill temper, shook his head. + +“Not yet,” he answered. “So you've been ashore a week and your wife +doesn't know it? Why didn't you write to her from Philadelphia?” + +“Oh, I don't know. Zuby and me's got an understandin' about that, and +other things. There's nothin' like havin' a clear understandin' to make +married folks get along together. We write letters, of course, but we +don't write very often. I'm li'ble to be 'most anywheres on the face of +the earth, and it makes me fidgety to think there's letters chasin' me +round and I ain't gettin' 'em. I say to Zuby, 'Long's you don't hear +from me you'll know I'm all right, and long's I don't hear from you I'll +know the same. We'll write when we feel like it. I'll come home as often +as I can, and when I come I'll fetch you my share of the wages.' That's +our understandin' and it's a good one. We ain't had a fight since we was +spliced; or, if we have, I always stop it right off--stop her part, I +mean. Where IS the old gal, anyhow?” + +“She's up in her room, I presume likely.” + +“Oh, is she? Well, she'll be down in a jiffy. If she ain't I'll go up +and give her a surprise.” + +“I'll call her, if you give me a chance.” + +“No, no, you needn't. No 'special hurry. She's waited for three years; +cal'late ten minutes more won't hurt neither of us. Had your supper +yet?” + +Daniel smiled grimly. “Not yet,” he replied. + +“Then she'll be down to get it, of course. I shan't stop her; I'm empty +as a rum bottle four days out of port. You folks eat late, don't you?” + +“Sometimes.” + +“I should think so. What's Zuby doin' up in her room this time of +night?” + +“She said she was goin' to change her clothes.” + +“Oh, yes, yes; I see. Well, 'twon't take her long. If I went up I'd +only hold her back, and I want my supper. Let's have a smoke, Dan, while +we're waitin'.” + +He patted one pocket after the other and finally located a chunky, +battered pipe, which he proceeded to fill with shavings from a black +plug. Daniel watched him. A new idea was dawning in his mind, an idea +which seemed to afford him some pleasurable anticipation. Mr. Ginn +looked up from his tobacco shaving. + +“Now, tell me about all this money of yours,” he commanded. “I didn't +hear nothin' else at Trumet; that and your wife's gettin' to be +commodore of some woman's lodge or other was all they talked about. +Hey? Why, where's your pipe? Ain't you goin' to smoke? I've got plenty +terbacker.” + +Daniel looked dubious. “I guess not, Labe,” he said. “Zuba--well, the +fact is, Zuba doesn't like people to smoke in her kitchen.” + +Laban's face expressed astonishment. “She don't!” he cried. “She don't? +How long since?” + +“Oh, almost ever since she came here. It is one of her new ways.” + +“'Tis, hey? Well, I like the old ones better, myself. Never you mind her +ways; trot out your pipe and light up. I--” + +He was interrupted by his companion, who made a flying jump toward the +stove. The teakettle was boiling over. + +“Let it bile,” commented Mr. Ginn. “'Tain't your funeral, is it? You +ain't supposed to boss the galley. That's the cook's business, not the +skipper's.” + +But Daniel carefully removed the kettle to a place of safety. + +“It's my business to-night,” he said. “I'm gettin' my own supper.” + +Mr. Ginn straightened in his chair. “You be?” he exclaimed. “You BE? +What for? Ain't there no women folks in the house? Ain't Zuby--why, you +said--” + +“I know I said, but what I say don't seem to amount to much. You see, +Labe, your wife has got some of what MY wife calls advanced ideas. +She belongs to some kind of a lodge herself, and this is their meetin' +night. Just before you came Zuba made proclamations that I could cook +my own supper. She said she couldn't stop to do it; she'd be late to the +meetin' if she did.” + +Laban's mouth opened. The pipe fell from it, scattering sparks like a +Roman candle, and bounced upon the spotless floor of the kitchen. Daniel +would have picked it up, but his visitor intervened. He put one mammoth +foot upon the sparks and, leaning forward, demanded instant attention. + +“For thunder sakes, Dan Dott!” he cried. “Never mind that pipe; let it +alone. For thunder sakes, tell me what you're talkin' about? Zuby--Zuby +Jane Ginn racin' to lodges and tellin' you--YOU--to cook your own meals! +Go on! You're loony.” + +“Maybe I am, Labe, but it's so.” + +“It's so? And you let it be so? I don't believe it. What do you mean? +How long has it been so?” + +Captain Dan proceeded to tell of his housekeeper's conversion to +progress and advancement. He did not suppress any of the details; in +fact, he magnified them just a bit. + +“She's a free woman, so she says, Labe,” he said, in conclusion. “And a +free woman has a right to be free.” + +“Is that so! That's what she says, hey? And you let her say it? Why, +you--you--” He hesitated, hovering between candid expression and the +respect due an ex-skipper of a three-master. “Wh-what do you have such +goin's on in your house for?” he demanded. “What makes you let the +gang afore the mast run over you this way? Why don't you--who's that +upstairs; your wife?” + +“No, my wife is out. I shouldn't wonder if that was Zuba. She's on her +way to the door, probably.” + +“She is, hey? Call her down here. Sing out to her to come down. Hi!” as +the captain stepped to the stairs, “don't say nothin' about me.” + +Daniel, suppressing a grin, shouted up the stairs. + +“Zuba!” he called. “Zuba, come down here a minute.” + +Azuba answered, but in no complacent tone. “Don't bother me, Cap'n +Dott,” she protested. “I'm late as 'tis.” + +“Just a minute, Zuba, that's all. One minute, please.” + +Mr. Ginn snorted at the “please.” They heard the housekeeper descending. +At the bottom step she sniffed loudly. + +“I do believe it's tobacco smoke!” she exclaimed. “Cap'n Dott, have you +been smokin' in my kitchen?” + +She entered the room, waving an indignant arm. She was dressed in her +Sunday best, bonnet and all. + +“What!” she began, and then, suddenly aware that her employer was not +alone, turned to stare at his companion. “Why!” she exclaimed; “who--oh, +my soul! LABAN!” + +“Hello, Zuby!” roared her husband, rising to greet her. “How be you, old +gal?” + +Before she could speak or move he seized her in his arms, squeezed her +to him, and pressed a kiss like the report of a fire-cracker upon her +cheek. “How be you, Zuby?” he repeated. + +“Oh, Labe!” gasped Azuba. “Labe!” + +“I'm Labe, all right. No doubt about that.... Well, why don't you say +somethin'? Ain't you glad to see me?” + +Azuba looked as if she did not know whether she was glad or not; in +fact, as if she knew or realized any little of anything. + +“Labe!” she said again. “Laban Ginn! When--WHERE did you come from?” + +“Oh, from all 'round. Trumet was my last port and I made that by way of +Malagy and Philadelphy. But I'm here, anyhow, and that's somethin'. My! +it's good to see you. You look as natural as life. Set down and let's +look at you.” + +The housekeeper sat down; she appeared glad of the opportunity. Her +husband faced her, grinning broadly. + +“Just as handsome as ever; hey, old lady,” he observed. “And look at +the duds! Say, you're rigged up fine, from truck to keelson, ain't you, +Zuby! Never seen you rigged finer. A body would think she knew I was +comin', wouldn't they, Cap'n Dan?” + +Daniel did not answer, although he seemed much interested in the +situation. + +Azuba drew a hand across her forehead. + +“I DIDN'T know it,” she declared emphatically. “Indeed, I didn't! Why +didn't you write me, Laban Ginn?” + +“Write! Write nothin'! I wanted to surprise you. But there, there! Don't +set around in that rig any longer. Makes me feel as if you'd come to +call on the parson. Take off your coat and bonnet and let's be sociable. +And while we're talkin' you turn to and get supper. I'm pretty nigh +starved to death. So's the cap'n; he said so.” + +Mrs. Ginn looked at Captain Dan. There was a twinkle in his eye. Azuba +noticed that twinkle. + +“Laban,” she stammered, “I--I--I CAN'T stay here and get supper +to-night. I can't.” + +Laban was tremendously surprised--at least he pretended to be. + +“Can't!” he repeated. “Can't stay here, when I've just got home?” + +“No, I can't. If I had known you was comin' 'twould have been different. +But I didn't know it.” + +“What difference does that make? Zuby, don't make me laugh; I'm too +hungry for jokin'. Take off your bonnet, now; take it off.” + +“I mustn't, really, Labe. It's lodge night and they expect me. I--” + +“Take off your bonnet!” + +“I can't! ... Well, I will, for just a minute.” The last sentence was +added in a great hurry, for her husband showed signs of preparing to +remove the headgear with his own hands. She placed the bonnet on the +table and fidgeted in her chair, glancing first at her employer and then +at the clock. Captain Dan was smiling broadly. + +“That's fine!” exclaimed Mr. Ginn. “Now you look like home folks. Now +she'll get us some supper, won't she, Cap'n?” + +Again Daniel did not answer, but his smile, as Azuba interpreted it, was +provokingly triumphant. Her lips closed tightly. + +“I can't get any supper to-night, Laban,” she declared firmly. “I just +can't. I'm awful sorry, bein' as you've just got home, but you'll have +to forgive me. I'll explain when you and me are alone.” + +“Explain? Explain what?” + +“Why--why--” with another look, almost vindictive, at the grinning +captain, “what my reason is. But I can't tell you now--I can't.” + +“That's all right. I don't care about explainin's. You can explain any +old time; just now, me and the cap'n want our supper.” + +“I shan't get your supper. I told Cap'n Dott I couldn't before I went +upstairs. I'm goin' out.” + +“No, no, you ain't. Quit your foolin', old lady. I'm gettin' emptier +every minute. So are you, ain't you, Cap'n?” + +Daniel hesitated, looked at his housekeeper's face, and burst into a +roar of laughter. That laugh decided the question. Azuba rose. + +“Don't talk to me,” she snapped. “I'm sorry, but it serves you right, +Laban, for comin' home without sendin' me word; and just at the wrong +time, too. Give me that bonnet.” + +She reached for the bonnet, but her husband reached it first. “'Tain't +much of a bonnet, anyhow, Zuby,” he said. “Now I look at it closer I +don't think it's becomin' to your style of complexion. Some day I'll buy +you another.” + +“Give me that bonnet, Laban Ginn!” + +“I don't like to see that bonnet around, Zuby. Let's get it out of sight +quick.” + +His wife sprang at the bonnet, but he barred her off with an arm like a +fence-rail, removed a lid from the stove, put the unbecoming article +in on the red-hot coals, and replaced the lid. “There!” he said, “that +helps the scenery, don't it? Now let's have supper.” + +Captain Dan laughed again. For an instant Azuba stared, white-faced, at +the cremation of the bonnet. Then she darted to the door. “I'll go now,” + she cried, “if I have to go bareheaded! I'll show you! Let go of me!” + +Mr. Ginn had thrown an arm about her waist. She pulled his hair and gave +him some vigorous slaps on the cheek, but he smiled on. “You want to get +supper, Zuby,” he coaxed. “I know you do. You just think it over now. +It's too noisy out here to do much thinkin'. Where's a nice quiet place? +Oh! this'll be first rate.” + +He bore her, kicking like a jumping-jack, across the kitchen to the +closet where the pans and cooking utensils were kept. “Think it over in +there, Zuby,” he said calmly, shutting the door and planting himself in +a chair against it. “That's a fine place to think. Now, Cap'n, you and +me can have our smoke, while she's thinkin' what to give us to eat; +hey?” + +Judging by the thumps and kicks and screams inside the closet the +housekeeper's thoughts were otherwise engaged. + +“You let me out, Labe Ginn!” she screamed. “Cap'n Dott, you make him let +me out!” + +Daniel, weary from laughing, could only gasp. + +“I can't, Zuba!” he answered, choking. “I can't! It ain't my affair. I +couldn't interfere between husband and wife. You're a free woman, Zuba, +you know. You ought to be advanced enough by this time to fight your own +battles.” + +“That's right, Zuba,” counseled Mr. Ginn. “Fight 'em out in there. You +can be just as free in there as you want to. Have some of my terbacker, +Cap'n?” + +Captain Dan declined. The prisoner continued to thump and kick and +threaten. Her jailer refilled and lighted his pipe. + +“Thought over that bill of fare, Zuby?” he shouted, after a time. + +More thumps and threats; tears as well. Daniel began to feel pity +instead of triumph. + +“Hadn't you better, Labe,” he began. Mr. Ginn waved him to silence. + +“How about supper, Zuby?” he called. “Oh, all right, all right. I don't +know as I'm as hungry as I was, anyway. Appetite's kind of passin' off, +I cal'late. You stay in there and think till mornin', and we'll have it +for breakfast.” + +Silence--actual silence--for a moment. Then Azuba asked, in a +half-smothered but much humbler voice, “Oh, Labe! WON'T you let me out?” + +“Sure thing--if you've thought up that supper for me and Cap'n Dan'l.” + +“But I did so want--oh, if I could only tell you! It was SO necessary +for me to go to that meetin'. You've spiled everything, and just as +'twas goin' so nice. What Gertie'll say I don't know.” + +Daniel developed a new interest. + +“Gertie?” he repeated. “Hush, Labe! wait a minute. What's Gertie got to +do with it?” + +“Nothin', nothin'. Oh, Labe, PLEASE.” + +“Well, I tell you, Zuby: it's close to nine now, and that's too late for +you to be cruisin' out to meetin's. Sorry you have to miss the speeches +and things, but--Say, I tell you what I'll do. If it's a sermon you want +I'll preach you one, myself. Make it up while you're settin' the table. +Ready to come out and be good? That's right. Now, I bet you she's +thought up somethin' that'll make our mouths water, Cap'n.” + +The crestfallen housekeeper emerged, blinking, from her thinking +place. She removed her coat and, without even a glance at her employer, +proceeded to adjust the dampers of the stove. Captain Dan rose from his +chair. + +“I'm afraid I can't stop to have supper with you, Labe,” he said. “I've +got an--an errand to do outside, myself. I'll eat at a restaurant or +somewhere. You'll stay here to-night, of course. I'll see you in the +mornin'. Good-night! Good-night, Zuby!” + +Azuba did not reply. Laban shouted protests. What was the sense of going +just when supper was being made ready at last? Daniel, however, did +not stay to listen. He climbed the back stairs to the hall, put on his +overcoat and hat and went out. He had been too tender-hearted to remain +in the kitchen and gloat, or appear to gloat, over a “free woman's” + humiliation. Nevertheless, he astonished the waiter at the restaurant +where he ate dinner by bursting into laughter at intervals, and with +no obvious cause. The waiter suspected that the old gentleman from the +country had been drinking, and the size of the tip he received helped to +confirm his suspicion. + +His dinner eaten, Captain Dan walked slowly home. Unlocking the front +door with his latchkey he tiptoed through the hall and listened at the +head of the back stairs. There was a steady murmur of voices in the +kitchen. He heard a bass grumble from Mr. Ginn and Azuba's shrill reply. +Then the pair burst into a laugh. Evidently some sort of understanding +on a peaceful basis had been reached. Still chuckling, the captain went +up to his bedroom, removed his outer garments and his shoes, put on his +bathrobe and slippers, and settled himself, with the evening paper, to +await his wife's return. He resolved to be awake when she did return; +he had news for her. Filled with this resolution, he read for +three-quarters of an hour steadily, then at intervals between naps, and +at last dropped into a sound sleep, the paper in his lap. + +Gertrude and Serena came home at a surprisingly early hour. Not that the +committee meeting was over; it was not. In fact, the elaborate dinner +spread before her supporters by the grateful Mrs. Black had scarcely +reached its last course when Gertrude suddenly rose from the table and +hastened to her mother's side. She had been watching the latter with +increasing anxiety all the evening. + +“What is it, Mother?” she asked. “What is it?” + +Serena, sitting with her elbow on the table, her hand to her forehead, +and her untasted ice before her, looked up in a bewildered way. + +“What--why, what do you mean, Gertie?” she stammered. “What--I don't +think I understood you.” + +“What is the matter, Mother?” repeated Gertrude. “Don't you feel well?” + +Still Mrs. Dott did not seem to understand. She tried to smile, but the +vague uncertainty of the smile caused even Annette, who had been deep in +discussion of a plan for securing the vote of a still doubtful member, +to cease speaking and regard her guest with surprise. + +“What is it, Mother?” urged Gertrude. “You look so strange. Are you +ill?” + +Serena gazed at her for a moment, rose, stood looking about in the same +hesitating, uncertain manner, and then, throwing her arms about her +daughter's neck, burst into hysterical sobs. + +The alarmed guests clustered about them, asking questions, exclaiming, +and offering suggestions. + +“What IS it?” demanded Annette. “My DEAR! What IS it?” + +Serena, still clinging to Gertrude, continued to sob. + +“I--I don't know,” she moaned. “I--I feel so strange. I'm--I'm tired, +I guess. I'm--I'm worn out. I--oh, Gertie, take me home. Take me +home--please.” + +“Yes, yes, Mother, dear. We will go home at once. Come.” + +She led her into the next room. Annette, hastening with a glass of wine +and the smelling salts, caught the young lady's arm. + +“She isn't going to be ill, seriously sick, is she?” she demanded. “You +don't think she is. It would be dreadful if she was.” + +Gertrude shook her head. + +“I don't know,” she answered. “I certainly hope not. Will you call a +carriage, Mrs. Black?” + +“Yes, yes, I'll call one right away. Oh, I hope she isn't going to be +sick. It would be dreadful--just now. The election is only two weeks +off, and without her I--we should be almost certain to lose. I know we +should. Oh, Serena, DEAR! you WON'T be sick, will you? for my sake!” + +It did not seem to occur to the agitated Annette that her friend might +not care to be ill, for her own sake. But it was evident that Gertrude +was thinking just that. The young lady's tone was sharp and decidedly +cold. + +“She is tired out,” she said. “She has worn herself out working for +her--for her friends, Mrs. Black. Will you call the carriage?” + +“Yes, yes. They are calling it now. I'm so sorry the chauffeur--or--or +Phelps--is out. If he--if they were not you could use our car. But, oh, +Serena--” + +Serena looked up. She was calmer now, she had heard, and loyally she +answered. + +“Don't worry, Annette,” she said. “I am not going to be sick. I won't. +You can depend on me. Oh, Gertie, I'm SO tired! My poor head!” + +The carriage came and she and Gertrude were driven home. Annette did not +offer to accompany them. It was such an important meeting and there were +so many things to talk about, she explained. She would call the very +next day. Serena thanked her; Gertrude said nothing. + +Serena seemed better on the way home. When they reached the house she +announced bravely that she was all right again; all she needed was a +night's rest, that was all. Gertrude insisted on accompanying her to +her room. They found Daniel asleep in the chair, and to him his daughter +explained the situation. The captain was too greatly disturbed to think +of his “news,” the news of Mr. Ginn's arrival and Azuba's subjection. + +“You get right into bed, Serena,” he ordered. “Gertie, you call the +doctor.” + +But his wife would not hear of the doctor. “Nonsense!” she declared. “I +don't need any doctor. I want to go to bed. I'm tired--tired. I won't +see the doctor or anybody else. Go, Gertie, please go. Your father will +be with me. Please go! I am all right now.” + +Gertrude went, but she whispered to the captain that she would wait in +the library and, if they needed her, he was to be sure and call. + +In the library she took a book--one of Aunt Lavinia's legacies--from the +shelf and tried to read, but that was impossible. She could not read, +she could only think, and thinking was most unpleasant. Her conscience +was troubling her. Had she been wrong? Had she gone too far? She had +meant well, her plan had seemed the only solution of the family problem, +but perhaps she had made a mistake. She loved her mother devotedly. Oh, +if anything serious should happen--if, because of her, her mother should +be ill--if--if she should. She could not think of it. She would never +forgive herself, never. It had been all wrong from the beginning, and +she had been wicked and foolish. It had cost her so much already; her +own life's happiness. And yet--and yet, she had meant to do right. But +now, after that misunderstanding and consequent sacrifice, if her mother +should-- + +She broke down and was very, very miserable. + +Someone was at the front door, fumbling with a latchkey. Gertrude +hurriedly sprang from her chair, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief +and was on her way to the hall when the door opened. The hall was dark; +she had turned off the light when she came downstairs; and for a moment +she could not see who it was that had entered. She, however, was in the +full glow from the electrolier in the library and Mr. Hungerford saw +her. + +“Ah, Gertrude,” he said cheerfully. “Is that you? Don't go. Don't go.” + +He was at the doorway before she could reach it. He had been dining out +with some masculine friends--“old college chums,” he had explained when +announcing the situation--and was in evening dress. + +“Don't go,” he repeated. “What's the hurry? Wait a minute and I'll join +you.” + +He removed his overcoat and silk hat and tossed them carelessly upon the +hall table. The hat fell to the floor, but he did not heed it. Then he +entered the library. + +“What!” he exclaimed. “Alone? Burning the midnight oil and all that sort +of thing. Where is old--er--where's your father?” + +Gertrude replied that her father had retired. She was about to do so, +she added. It was untrue, but she was not in the mood for a conversation +with anyone, least of all with Cousin Percy. + +Cousin Percy, however, appeared decidedly conversational. His face was a +trifle flushed and he smiled more than seemed necessary. + +“Well,” he observed, “this is an unexpected pleasure. Didn't expect to +find anyone up at this hour.” + +Gertrude curtly remarked that it was not late. + +“I didn't mean up, I meant in. Did I say 'up'? Most extraordinary. I +thought you and Mrs. Dott were playing the political game this evening. +Expected to find you out and old--the respected captain, I mean--in the +arms of--what's his name?--Morpheus. That's all right, though; that's +all right. So much the better. We can talk--you and I.” + +“I don't feel like talking. You must excuse me.” + +“What? Don't feel like talking? Cruel! Why not? It isn't late; you said +so yourself.” + +“I know but--really, you must excuse me.” + +She was moving toward the door, but again he stepped in her way. + +“Now, Gertie,” he said. Then he broke into a laugh. “Called you Gertie, +didn't I?” he said. “Beg pardon. Quite unintentional. It slipped out +before I thought. But you don't mind, do you? It's a pretty name. Just a +little bit less formal than Gertrude, eh? Don't you think so--Gertie?” + +Gertrude hesitated. She was humiliated and angry, but she did not wish +a scene. Her parents might hear and her mother must on no account be +disturbed. + +“Perhaps it is,” she answered. + +“Then you don't mind?” + +“No. Now, Percy, you must excuse me. Goodnight!” + +“Wait! Wait! Gertie, I have something to say to you. Been wanting to say +it for a long time, but haven't had the opportunity. You have kept out +of my way. Ha! ha! you know you have. Perhaps you guessed I wanted to +say it. Was that it? Ha! ha! was it now? Confess; was it?” + +Gertrude did not answer. She moved toward the door. Mr. Hungerford +laughingly blocked the passage. + +“No, no!” he cried. “No, no! Mustn't run away. I am going to say it, and +you must hear me. Come, don't be cross.” + +“Mr. Hungerford, will you stand aside? I can not talk with you to-night, +or listen. I am going to my room.” + +The tone in which this was uttered should have been a warning, but +Cousin Percy was in no condition to recognize warnings, or to heed them +if he had. His smile grew more tender and his tone more intimate. + +“Not yet,” he smiled; “not just yet. I can't permit it. Gertie, I--” + +“If you don't stand aside I shall call my father.” + +“What? Call the old gentleman? No, you don't mean it. Of course you +don't. You wouldn't be so unreasonable. Come, come! we're friends at +least. We understand each other, don't we?” + +“I understand YOU, thoroughly.” + +“Of course you do,” with a triumphant leer. “And you know what I am +going to say. Ah ha! I was sure you did. And you've confessed. Gertie, +my dearest girl, I--What! Going? Not until you pay toll. I'm keeper of +the gate and you must pay before you pass, you know. If you won't listen +you must pay. Ha! ha!” + +He held out his hands. Gertrude shrank back. She was not afraid of him, +but she did fear a scene. She had threatened to call her father, but she +could not do that. If she did her mother would be frightened. She moved +away, to the other side of the library table. + +Cousin Percy interpreted her retreat as a sign of surrender. He followed +her, laughing. + +“Come!” he insisted. “I knew you didn't mean it. Come, my dear! Just +one. I--” + +He tripped over the captain's favorite footstool and fell to his knees. +With a sudden movement Gertrude jerked the cord of the electrolier on +the table. The lights went out. She dodged around the table, through the +doorway, into the hall, and up the stairs. Mr. Hungerford, pawing in the +darkness at the offending footstool, swore. Then he laughed. + +“Good!” he exclaimed. “Very good, but not good enough. You can't escape +that way. I shall find you. Where are you hiding? Eh! Ah, there you +are!” + +He had scrambled to his feet and hurried to the doorway. There were the +sounds of footsteps and the rustle of skirts at the other end of the +hall. + +“There you are!” he cried. “I've caught you. Now you must pay--twice.” + +He put his arm about a feminine waist and imprinted a kiss upon a +feminine cheek. Then his own cheek received a slap which made his head +ring, and the hall echoed with a shrill scream. + +“Labe!” shrieked Azuba. “Oh, Labe! Help! Come quick!” + +Mr. Ginn came up the back stairs three steps at a time. + +“What is it? What's the matter, Zuby?” he demanded. + +“A man! A man! He--he--” + +“Where is he? What's he doin'?” + +“He--there he is. Hear him? There!” + +Mr. Hungerford, paralyzed with astonishment and dizzy from the slap, had +moved, injudiciously. Laban heard him. + +“Hey?” he bellowed. “Ah! I've got him. Stand still, dum you! I've got +him, Zuby. Who is he? What did he do?” + +“I--I don't know who he is,” panted the frightened housekeeper. “He--he +kissed me.” + +“KISSED you! YOU? Why--” + +“It's a mistake!” cried Cousin Percy, frantically struggling in the +grasp of his captor. “I--Stop! Stop! Help! Help!” + +The hall became a pandemonium of thumps, struggles, cries for help, +and pleas for mercy. Azuba added her shrieks to the tumult. From above +Captain Dan shouted and Serena screamed. Then the chandelier blazed. +Gertrude had pressed the button at the top of the stairs. + +“Let him be!” ordered the young lady, rushing to the rescue. “Don't! +don't! Azuba, stop him!” + +“Labe! stop! stop!” pleaded the housekeeper. “You--My soul! it's Mr. +Hungerford.” + +It was what there was left of Mr. Hungerford. Mr. Ginn extended the +disheveled, whimpering remnant at arm's length and regarded it. + +“Humph!” he grunted. “You know him, do you?” + +“Know him! Of course I do. But--but I must say--” + +Captain Dan came tearing down the stairs, his bathrobe fluttering and +a slipper missing. In one hand he held a pair of scissors, the only +offensive weapon which he had found available at the moment. + +“What in blazes?” he demanded. “Burglars, is it?” + +Gertrude answered. “No, Daddy,” she said gravely. “It's no one but +Cousin Percy. And--and Mr. Ginn. Why, Mr. Ginn, is--is it you?” + +Laban nodded. “It's me, all right,” he observed grimly. “Who the devil +is this? That's what I want to know.” + +Daniel turned to the captive. + +“Why--why, Percy!” he gasped. “What--what's happened to you? Let go of +him, Labe Ginn! Percy Hungerford, what--what's all this?” + +Mr. Hungerford, suddenly freed from the grasp upon his torn shirt +collar, staggered against the wall. + +“It's--it's a mistake,” he panted. “I--I--this--this blackguard +assaulted me. I--I--” + +“Assaulted you! I should say he had. Labe Ginn, what did you assault him +for?” + +Mr. Ginn glared at his victim. + +“Blackguard, am I?” he growled. “Humph! Well, if he starts to callin' me +names, I'll--” + +“Belay! Answer me! What have you been doin' to him? Look at him! What do +you mean by assaultin' him that way?” + +“What do I mean? When a man comes home from sea and finds another man +kissin' his wife, what would he be likely to mean?” + +Daniel could not answer. He looked about him in absolute bewilderment. +Gertrude choked and turned away. + +“Kissin'!” repeated Captain Dan. “Kissin' your wife? Kissin' ZUBA! +I--I--am I crazy, or are you, or--or is he?” + +Apparently he judged the last surmise to be the most likely. Cousin +Percy, frantic with rage and humiliation, tried to protest. + +“It's a lie!” he cried. “It's a lie!” + +The captain turned to his housekeeper. + +“Zuba,” he demanded, “what sort of lunatic business is this? Do you +know?” + +Azuba straightened. + +“I don't know much,” she announced sharply. “All I know is that I come +upstairs in the dark and he grabbed me and--and said somethin' about my +payin' him--and then he--he--done the other thing. That's all I +know, and it's enough. Don't talk to ME! I never was so surprised and +mortified in MY life.” + +“But--but what's it mean? Can't anybody tell me, for the Lord sakes?” + +Gertrude stepped forward. “I think I understand,” she said. “Our cousin +made a mistake, that's all. I will explain at another time, Daddy. +If--if you will all go away, he and I will have an interview. I think I +can settle it better than anyone else. Go, please. I'm sure Mother needs +you.” + +The mention of his wife caused her father to forget everything else, +even his overwhelming curiosity. + +“My soul!” he cried. “She heard this; and--and I left her all alone.” + +He bolted up the stairs. Gertrude's next remark was addressed to the +housekeeper. + +“Azuba,” she said, “would you and your husband mind leaving us? Perhaps +you'd better not go to bed. I--I may need Mr. Ginn later on; perhaps I +may. But if you and he were to go down to the kitchen and wait just a +few moments I should be so much obliged. Will you?” + +Azuba hesitated. + +“Leave you?” she repeated. “With--with him?” + +“Yes. I have something to say to him. Something important.” + +She and Azuba exchanged looks. The latter nodded. + +“All right,” she said decisively; “course we'll go. Come, Labe.” + +But Laban seemed loath to move. + +“I ain't got through with him yet,” he observed. “I'd only begun.” + +“You come with me. Have you forgot all I told you so soon? Come!” + +“Hey? No; no, I ain't forgot. Is this part of it?” + +“Part of it's part of it; the rest ain't. You come, 'fore you do any +more spilin'. Come, now.” + +Mr. Ginn went. At the head of the back stairs he paused. + +“You'll sing out if you need me?” he asked. “You will, won't you? You'll +only have to sing once.” + +He tramped heavily down. Gertrude walked over to the victim of the +“mistake” and its consequences. + +“I think,” she said coldly, “that you had better go.” + +“Go?” Mr. Hungerford looked at her. “Go?” he repeated. + +“Yes. I give you this opportunity. There will not be another. Go to your +room, change your clothes, pack your trunk, and go--now, to-night.” + +“What do you mean? That I am to go--and not come back?” + +“Yes.” + +“But, Gertrude--Gertie--” + +“Don't call me that. Don't DARE to speak to me in that tone. Go--now.” + +“But, Ger--Miss Dott, I--I--don't you see it was all a mistake? I--” + +“Stop! I am trying very hard to keep my temper. We have had scenes +enough to-night. My mother is ill and she must not be disturbed again. +If you do not go to your room and pack and leave at once, I shall call +Mr. Ginn and have you put out, just as you are. I am giving you that +opportunity. You had better avail yourself of it. I mean what I say.” + +She looked as if she did. Cousin Percy evidently thought so. His +humbleness disappeared. + +“So?” he snarled angrily. “So that's it, eh? What do you think I am?” + +Gertrude's eyes flashed. She bit her lip. When she spoke it was with +deliberate distinctness. Every word was as sharp and cold as an icicle. + +“Do you wish to know what I think you are?” she asked. “What I thought +at the very beginning you were, and what I have been taking pains to +make sure of ever since I came to this house? Very well, I'll tell you.” + +She told him, slowly, calmly, and with biting exactness. His face was +flushed when she began; when she finished it was white. + +“That is what you are,” she said. “I do not merely think so. I have +studied you carefully; I have stooped to associate with you in order +to study you; I have studied you through your friends; I KNOW what you +are.” + +His anger and mortification were choking him. + +“You--you--” he snarled. “So that is it, is it? You have been using me +as a good thing. As a--as a--” + +“As you have used my father and mother and their simple-minded goodness +and generosity. Yes, I have.” + +“You have been making a fool of me! And Holway--confound him--” + +“Mr. Holway was useful. He helped. And he, too, understands, now.” + +“By--by gad--I--I won't go. I'll--” + +Gertrude walked to the rear of the hall. + +“Mr. Ginn!” she called, “will you come, please?” + +Laban came. He looked happy and expectant. + +“Here I be,” he observed eagerly. + +“Mr. Ginn,” said Gertrude, “this--gentleman--is going to his room for +a few minutes. He is preparing to leave us. If he doesn't come down and +leave this house in a reasonable time will you kindly assist him? He +will, no doubt, send for his trunks to-morrow. But he must go to-night. +He must. Do you understand, Mr. Ginn?” + +Laban grinned. “I cal'late I do,” he said. “Zuba's been tellin' me some. +He'll go.” + +“Thank you. Good-night!” + +She ascended the stairs. The first mate looked at his watch. + +“Fifteen minutes is enough to pack any trunk,” he observed. “I'll give +you that much. Now, them, tumble up. Lively!” + +At the door of her parents' room Gertrude rapped softly. Captain Dan +opened it and showed a pallid, agitated face. + +“She's mighty sick, Gertie,” he declared. “I wish you'd telephone for +the doctor.” + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The doctor came, stayed for some time and, after administering a +sleeping draught and ordering absolute quiet for his patient, departed, +saying that he would come again in the morning. He did so and, before +leaving, took Captain Dan and Gertrude into his confidence. + +“It is a complete collapse,” he said gravely. “Mrs. Dott is worn out, +physically and mentally. She must be kept quiet, she must not worry +about anything, she must remain in bed, and she must see no one. If +she does this, if she rests--really rests--we may fight off nervous +prostration. If she does not--anything may happen. With your permission +I shall send a nurse.” + +The permission was given, of course, and the nurse came. She was a +quiet, pleasant, capable person, and Daniel and Gertrude liked her. +She took charge of the sick room. Azuba--the common sense, adequate, +domestic Azuba of old, not the rampant “free woman” of recent days--was +in charge of the kitchen. Her husband remained, at Daniel's earnest +request, but he spent his time below stairs. + +“Sartin sure I won't be in the way, Cap'n, be you?” he asked earnestly. +“I can go somewheres else just as well as not, to some boardin' house or +somewheres. Zuby Jane won't mind; we can see each other every day.” + +“Not a mite of it, Labe,” replied Daniel earnestly. “There's plenty of +room and you can stay here along with your wife just as well as not. I'd +like to have you. Maybe--” with a suggestive wink, “maybe you can kind +of--well, kind of keep things runnin' smooth--in the galley. You know +what I mean.” + +Laban grinned. “Cal'late you won't have no more trouble that way, +Cap'n,” he observed. “I guess that's over. Zuby and I understand each +other better'n we did. I THOUGHT she was mighty--” + +“Mighty what?” Mr. Ginn had broken off his sentence in the middle. + +“Oh, nothin'. It's all right, Cap'n Dott. Don't you worry about Zuby and +me. We'll boss this end of the craft; you 'tend to the rest of it. Say, +that Hungerford swab ain't come back, has he?” + +“No. No, he hasn't. He's gone for good, it looks like. Sent for his +trunk and gone. That's queer, too. No, he hasn't come back.” + +Laban seemed disappointed. “Well, all right,” he said. “If he should +come, just send for me. I'd just as soon talk to him as not--rather, if +anything.” + +The captain shook his head in a puzzled way. + +“That business of--of him and Zuba was the strangest thing,” he +declared. “I can't make head nor tail of it, and Gertie won't talk about +it at all. He said 'twas a mistake, and of course it must have been. +Either that or he'd gone crazy. No sane man would--” + +“What's that?” It was Mr. Ginn's turn to question, and Daniel's to look +foolish. “What's that no sane man would do?” demanded Laban sharply. + +“Why--why, go away and leave us without sayin' good-by,” explained the +captain, with surprising presence of mind. “Er--well, so long, Laban. +Make yourself at home. I've got to see how Serena is.” + +He hurried up the back stairs. Mr. Ginn, who seemed a trifle suspicious, +called after him, but the call was unheeded. + +At the door of his wife's room--his room no longer--Captain Dan rapped +softly. The nurse opened the door. + +“How is she?” he whispered. + +“She is asleep now,” whispered the nurse in reply. “You must not come +in.” + +“I wasn't goin' to. But--but--has she been askin' for me?” + +“Yes. I told her you were out. If she wakes and asks for you I will +call. You may see her then for a minute or two. She is easier when you +are with her--or near by.” + +This was true. The one person Serena wished to see most of all was her +husband. She asked for Gertrude, of course, but it was Daniel for whom +she asked continually. If he were near her she seemed almost happy and +contented. It was when he sat beside the bed that she ceased tossing +upon the pillow and lay quiet, looking at him. + +“You are a good man, Daniel,” she whispered, on one of these occasions. +“A dear, good, unselfish man.” + +“No, no, I ain't any such thing,” protested the captain hastily. + +“But you are. And--and WHAT should I do without you now?” + +“Sh-sh! I'm not much help. Land knows I wish I was more.” + +“You ARE the help; all the help I have. Gertie--Daniel, you will keep an +eye on Gertie, won't you. You won't let her do anything foolish.” + +“Who? Gertie? She won't do foolish things. She ain't that kind.” + +“I know, but she has changed so. It worries me. Percy--” + +“Now don't you worry about Percy. He isn't here now.” + +“Not here? Where is he?” + +“I don't know. He's gone away--for a spell, anyhow. Maybe that vacation +he used to talk about is over. I guess that's it.” + +Serena was too weak to ask further questions, even concerning so +surprising a matter as Cousin Percy's sudden departure. But she did make +one further plea. + +“Daniel,” she begged, “if Annette calls about the Chapter you tell +her--” + +“I've told her. She understands. She says it's all right.” + +“Does she? I'm so glad. Oh, Daniel, you'll have to take charge of +everything now. I can't, and Gertrude--you must do it, yourself, Daniel. +You MUST. Of Azuba and Gertie and everything. I rely on you. You WILL, +won't you, Daniel?” + +“Sure I will. I'm skipper now, Serena. You ought to see how the hands +jump when I give an order.” + +It was true, too; the hands did “jump” at the captain's orders. He +was skipper, for the time being. His wife's illness, Mr. Hungerford's +absence, Gertrude's meekness--she was a silent and conscience-stricken +young lady--all combined to strengthen Daniel's resolution, and he was, +for the first time in years, the actual head of the household. He took +active charge of the bills and financial affairs, he commanded Azuba to +do this and that, he saw the callers who came and he sent them to the +rightabout in a hurry. + +His statement concerning Mrs. Black was not the literal truth. Annette +had called, that was true; she had called the very next morning after +her chief aide was stricken. But she had not declared that everything +was “all right”; far from it. + +“But can't I see her, Captain Dott?” she begged. “I MUST see her for +just a minute.” + +“Sorry, ma'am, but you can't do it. Doctor's orders. She mustn't be +disturbed.” + +“But I've got to see her. I must talk with her.” + +“I know, but I'm afraid you can't. You can talk to me, if that will do +any good.” + +“It won't. Of course it won't. Where is Gertrude? Let me talk to her.” + +Daniel climbed the stairs to his daughter's room. He found her sitting +at her desk; she had been writing “regrets” in answer to various +invitations. She turned a careworn face in his direction. + +“What is it, Daddy?” she asked. “Mother is not worse, is she?” + +“No, no; she's better, if anything. But that--er--Annette Black has come +and, long as she can't see Serena, she wants to talk to you.” + +“About her precious politics, I suppose.” + +“Your supposin' is as nigh right as anything mortal can be, Gertie. +That's what she wants.” + +“I can't see her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear the word +politics. I--” + +“That's enough, that's enough. I'll 'tend to HER. You stay right here.” + +He descended to the drawing-room, where Annette was fidgeting on the +edge of a chair, and announced calmly that Gertrude was not at home. + +The caller's agitation got the better of her temper. + +“Nonsense!” she snapped. “I don't believe it. How do you know she +isn't?” + +“Because she said so. Lovely mornin' for a walk, isn't it?” + +Mrs. Black rose and stalked to the threshold. But there she turned once +more. + +“If your wife knew,” she cried hysterically, “how I, her best friend, +was treated in her house, she--she--” + +Daniel stepped forward. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Black,” he said. “Maybe +I have been pretty plain spoken. I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelin's. +But, you see, we're all upset here. I'm upset, and Gertie's as much so +as the rest. She can't talk to you, or anybody else, now. I'm willin' to +try, but you say my talkin' won't do any good.” + +“Of course it won't. Oh, don't you SEE? I'm sorry Serena is not well, +but this is IMPORTANT.” + +“I know, but so's her health, 'cordin' to my thinkin'.” + +“If I might see her just a moment. It is so provoking. Just at this +critical time! Doesn't my--her election mean ANYTHING to you? Don't you +care about the cause?” + +The captain shook his head. “All I'm carin' for is my wife, just now,” + he said. “She's all I can think about. If some of us had thought more +about her, maybe--” He stopped, cleared his throat, and added: “I know +you'll understand and forgive us, when you think it over. I'll tell her +you called. Good-mornin'.” + +If he supposed this was the end, he was mistaken. Annette was not so +easily whipped or discouraged. She called again that afternoon, and +again the next day. Each morning for a week she came, and, between +times, other adherents of the Black-Dott party called. They all asked +concerning the invalid, but their interest plainly centered upon her +part in the campaign. Would she be well enough to take part in the +election, that was the question. They sent flowers and notes. The +flowers reached the lady for whom they were intended; the notes did +not. And, after the first week, the calls became fewer. Annette and her +followers had, apparently, given up hope of aid and advice from their +candidate for vice-president. At any rate they ceased to trouble the +captain and his daughter. + +“It's all the better, Daddy, dear,” said Gertrude. “Mother will have a +chance to rest and improve now.” + +And Serena did improve, slowly at first, then with gratifying rapidity. +She began to sit up for a portion of each day and to sleep through +the greater part of each night. At the end of the tenth day the doctor +announced that the nurse's services were no longer necessary. + +“She will be all right now,” he said, referring to his patient. “But +she must continue to have absolute rest and she must not be worried or +permitted to worry. If you and she could go somewhere, Captain Dott, to +some quiet place in the country, and stay there for six months, I think +it would help her more than anything. Can you do it?” + +“_I_ can do it, Doctor,” replied Daniel eagerly. “I'd like to do it. +I'll go anywhere, if it will help her.” + +“Good! Then I will advise it and you and Miss Dott must back my advice. +Will you?” + +“I will, and so'll Gertie, I'm sure. You speak to her, Doctor. We'll do +the backin' up.” + +So the doctor made the suggestion. Serena received it quietly, but, +when her husband came to do his share of the “backing up,” she shook her +head. + +“I'd like to, Daniel,” she said. “I'd like to, but I can't.” + +“You can't? Course you can! Now let's think where we'll go. Niagara +Falls, hey? You always wanted to go to the Falls.” + +“No, Daniel.” + +“No? Well, then, how about Washin'ton? We'll see the President, and the +monument, and the Smithsonian Museum, and Congress--we'll see ALL the +curiosities and relics. We'll go to--” + +“Don't, Daniel. It makes me tired out just to hear about them. I +couldn't stand all that.” + +“Course you couldn't! What a foolhead I am! The doctor said you needed +rest and quiet, and Washin'ton is about as quiet as the Ostable Cattle +Show. Well, what do you say to the White Mountains?” + +“In winter? No, Daniel, if I went anywhere I should like to go to--to--” + +“Where, Serena? Just name it and I'll buy the tickets.” + +“Daniel, I'd rather go to Trumet than anywhere else.” + +Captain Dan could scarcely believe it. + +“WHAT!” he cried. “Trumet? You want to go to Trumet, Serena? YOU?” + +“Yes. I've been wanting to go for some time. I never told you; I +wouldn't even admit it to myself; but I've thought about it a great +deal. I was getting so tired, so sick of all the going about and the +dressing up and the talking, talking all the time. I longed to be +somewhere where there was nothing going on and where you and I could be +together as we used to be. And, oh, Daniel--” + +“Yes, Serena? Yes?” + +“Oh, Daniel, since I've been really sick, since I've been getting better +and could think at all, I've been thinking more and more about our old +house at Trumet, and how nice and comfortable we were there, and what +pleasant evenings you and I used to have together. It was home, Daniel, +really and truly home, and this place never has been, has it?” + +“You bet it hasn't! It's been--well, never mind, but it wasn't home. +Lordy, but I'm glad to hear you talk this way, Serena! _I_ haven't +thought anything else since we first landed, but I never imagined you +did.” + +“I didn't, at first. It has been only lately since I began to feel so +tired and my head troubled me so. Daniel, I'm not sure that our coming +here wasn't a mistake.” + +The captain was perfectly sure. He sprang to his feet. + +“That's all right, Serena,” he cried. “If it was a mistake it's one that +can be straightened out in two shakes of slack jib sheet. You stay here +and rest easy. I'll be back in a few minutes.” + +“Where are you going?” + +“I'm going to make arrangements for our trip to Trumet. 'Twon't take me +long.” + +“Daniel, stop! Sit down. I didn't say I was going. I said I should like +to go.” + +“That's the same thing. Now, Serena, I know what's frettin' you. You're +thinkin' what'll become of this house and all the fine things in it. +They'll be all right. We could rent this house in no time, I know it. I +ain't sure but what we could sell it if we wanted to. That real estate +fellow, the one Barney--B. Phelps, I mean--introduced me to down street +one time, met me t'other day and told me if I ever thought of sellin' +this place to let him know. Said he had a customer, or thought he had, +that knew the house well and always liked it. He believed that feller +would buy, if the price was right. Course I didn't pay much attention +then; I judged you wouldn't think of sellin', but--” + +“Stop! stop, Daniel! You are so excited it makes me nervous again to +hear you. I wasn't thinking of the house at all. The way I feel now I +had as soon sell it as not. But that isn't it. I can't leave Scarford. I +can't!” + +Daniel's enthusiasm faded. There was determination in his wife's tone. +He sat down again. + +“Oh!” he observed wistfully, “you can't? You're sure you can't, Serena? +You know what the doctor said. Why can't you go?” + +“Because I can't. It is impossible. I couldn't leave the Chapter. Don't +you SEE, Daniel? I am a candidate for vice-president. My friends--the +truest, most loyal friends a woman ever had--are depending upon me. I +couldn't desert them. I told you that before. Would they desert me?” + +“I suppose likely they wouldn't,” reluctantly. + +“You know they wouldn't. No personal considerations, no selfish reasons, +NOTHING could make them do it. But I've said this all before, Daniel. +You must see why I have to stay. I'd like to go, I'd love to, but I +can't. Let's talk of something else.” + +Captain Dan sighed. “I presume likely you're right, Serena,” he +admitted. “It would seem like a mean trick, the way you put it. But +after the election? You said, when we was talkin' before, that after you +was elected maybe you would go with Gertie and me somewhere. And we'll +go to Trumet, that's where we'll go.” + +“All right, Daniel, dear, we'll see. And don't worry about me. I am +almost well again and I am going to be completely well. Now won't you +ask Gertie to come in and talk with me? I am beginning to think about +the election. Gertrude must go. We need her vote and her influence. +Has she been helping Annette? I hope she has. Send her to me, Daniel, +please.” + +So the captain, his hopes somewhat dashed, but finding comfort in his +wife's new longing to visit the one spot on earth which spelled home to +him, left the room to carry Serena's message to their daughter. + +He was busy at the desk in the library when, several hours later, +Gertrude entered. She was wearing her hat and coat and, coming into the +library, stood beside him. He looked up. His expression surprised and +alarmed her. + +“Why, what's the matter, Daddy?” she asked anxiously. “You look as if +something dreadful had happened. What is it?” + +Her father put down his pen. A sheet of paper, covered with figures, +was on the desk before him; so, also, was the family checkbook which had +been, until the illness of Mrs. Dott, in that lady's sole charge. + +“Matter?” he repeated. “Matter? Humph! Do I look as if somethin' was the +matter? Where have you been?” + +“I have been out. Mother was so anxious about the election that I +promised her I would see Mrs. Black and some of the others this very +day. I have been calling on them.” + +“Have, hey? Well, what's the prospect? The cause of right and Black, and +justice and Dott is goin' to prevail, I presume likely, isn't it?” + +“I don't know. I couldn't find out anything. Mrs. Black was not in, at +least that is what the maid said; but I am almost sure she was in. I +think I saw her peeping between the curtains as I went down the steps.” + +“That so? Perhaps she was dosin' you with the same medicine I handed her +when she called that first day after Serena was taken down.” + +“I thought of that. But I called on three other leaders of Mother's +party--” + +“Yours and your mother's, you mean?” + +“Yes, of course. I called on three of our leaders. Two of them were +in and I talked with them. I could learn nothing from either about the +election. They would not discuss it, except to say that everything would +be all right. They behaved so oddly and were so embarrassed. It was +perfectly obvious that they wanted to get rid of me. I can't understand +it.” + +“There's lots of things we can't understand in this world. Don't fret +your mother about it.” + +“I shan't, of course. But what is troubling you, Daddy? Something, I +know.” + +“Look that way, do I? My looks don't belie me, then. See here, Gertie, +I'm stumped. I've been goin' over back bills and the bankbook and the +checkbook and--and--well, I'm on my beam ends, that's where I am.” + +“Why? Don't the books balance?” + +“They balance all right. That's what's kicked me over. If they're +true--course they can't be, but IF they are--we've spent close to five +thousand dollars since we made this town.” + +“Indeed! Well?” + +“WELL! Five thousand dollars! I'm sayin' five THOUSAND; do you +understand?” + +“I understand. I'm not surprised. Living as we do, and moving in the--in +the best society as we have, the expense is large, naturally. You must +expect that.” + +“Expect! Gertie Baker Dott, STOP talkin' that way! Our income, not +countin' what the store at Trumet is fetchin' in, ain't over six +thousand at the outside. Six thousand a YEAR, that is. And we've got rid +of five thousand in a few months! We've got a thousand or so to live the +rest of this year on. One thousand--” + +“Hush, Daddy! Don't shout and wave your arms. We shall have to use a +part of the principal, I presume.” + +“Part of the prin--Oh, my soul and body! Use part of it this year, and +some more next year, and some more the next, and--and--Do you know where +we'll be ten year from now? In the poorhouse, that's where.” + +“Oh, I hope not as bad as that. And, besides, think what a beautiful +time we shall have during those ten years. Just as beautiful as we have +had so far; better, no doubt, for we have really only begun.” + +“Ger-tie DOTT!” + +“Just think of it, Daddy. We have only begun.” + +“I--I won't think of it! I'll stop it, that's what I'll do!” + +Gertrude smilingly shook her head. + +“Oh, no, you won't, Daddy,” she said. “You never stop anything.” + +She turned to go. Captain Dan sat, speechless in his chair, staring +at the bills, the figures, the checkbook, and the prospect of the +poorhouse. Then he felt her hand upon his shoulder. + +“Never mind, Daddy, dear,” she said softly. “I wouldn't worry any more, +if I were you. I think--I am beginning to hope that YOUR worries are +almost over.” + +She kissed him and hurried out before he could collect his senses +sufficiently to ask what she meant. He did ask her at their next +meeting, but she only smiled and would not tell him. + +The next morning Serena's first remark was concerning the election, +which was to take place that evening. All that day she spoke of little +else, and when the evening came she insisted upon Gertrude's leaving for +the hall immediately after dinner. Laban went with her as escort, Mr. +Hungerford's former enviable duty, and one which that gentleman had +appeared to enjoy more than did its present occupant, who grumbled at +missing his “after supper” smoke. Laban returned early. Gertrude did +not. + +It was after ten when the young lady appeared. She was very grave when +her father met her in the hall. + +“How is Mother?” she asked. “Asleep, I hope.” + +Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he said, “she's asleep, for a wonder. She vowed +and declared she was goin' to stay awake until you came, but I read out +loud to her and she dropped off while I was doin' it.” + +“Then don't wake her, for the world. Tell her I have returned, that I am +tired and have gone to bed, and will give her the news in the morning.” + +“That won't do. She'll want to know to-night. What is the news? Can't +you leave some message? She won't rest if you don't.” + +Gertrude pondered. “Tell her,” she began slowly, “tell her Mrs. Black is +elected. That is all to-night. Perhaps she will take--other things for +granted.” + +But when morning, very early morning, came, Captain Dan summoned his +daughter from her room. + +“She's wide awake, Gertie,” he said, “and she wants to know it all. +You'd better come and tell her.” + +But Gertrude had been thinking. “I think you had better tell her first, +Daddy,” she said. “I think it may be wiser for you to tell her. Things +were said and done at that election which she must not know. They were +so mean, so contemptible that she ought never to know. If I am not there +she cannot ask about them. I will tell you the result and how it came +about and you can tell her. Perhaps that will be sufficient. I hope it +may be. Listen, Daddy.” + +Daniel listened. “My soul and body!” he exclaimed, when the tale was +ended. “My Godfreys! and those were the folks she figgered were her +friends!” + +“Yes.” + +“And Annette Black--” + +“She was the moving spirit in the whole of it, I'm certain.” + +“My Godfreys! And she--and she--well, I guess maybe Serena'll be willin' +to go back to Trumet NOW. She wanted to go before; 'twas only loyalty to +that gang that kept her from goin'. She's sick of society, and sick of +politics, and sick of Scarford. She said she'd give anything to go back +to the old house and be comfortable same as we used to be; she said--” + +“Daddy!” Gertrude seized his arm. She was strangely excited. “Did +she--did Mother really say that?” she demanded eagerly. + +“Sure, she said it! Twice she told me so.” + +“And she meant it?” + +“She acted as if she did. Course we both realized 'twould be hard for +you, Gertie, but--” + +“Go! Go and tell her about the election. Quick! quick!” She fairly +pushed him from her. “Don't wait,” she urged, “go.” + +Daniel was on his way when she called him back. + +“I almost forgot, Daddy, dear,” she said repentantly. “I was so gl--I +mean--well, never mind. What I want to say is that if you think the news +will be too great a shock, if you think she is not strong enough to hear +it now--” + +Her father interrupted. “She's stronger than I've seen her for a +fortnight,” he declared. “And one thing's sure, she won't rest till she +does hear it. I shall tell her, and get it over.” + +“Then be as gentle as you can, won't you?” + +“I'll try. But, Gertie, what did you mean by sayin' you was so--so glad? +That was what you was goin' to say, wasn't you? I don't see as there's +much to be glad about.” + +“Don't you? Well, perhaps.... Run along, Daddy, run along.” + +She closed the door of her room. Daniel, much perplexed, departed on his +unpleasant errand. + +His wife was eagerly awaiting him. + +“Where's Gertie?” she demanded. “Isn't she coming?” + +“She'll come by and by, Serena. She isn't quite dressed yet.” + +“What difference does that make? Why doesn't she come, herself? Didn't +you tell her I was dying to hear about the election? She must know I +am.” + +“She does; she knows that, Serena. But she thought--she thought I'd +better tell you first, myself.” + +Serena leaned forward to look at him. His expression alarmed her. + +“Why don't you tell, then?” she asked. “Is it--oh, Daniel, it isn't bad +news, is it?” + +“It ain't very good, Serena.” + +“You don't mean--why, you said that Annette was elected; you said so +last night.” + +“Yes--yes, she was elected, Serena; but--” + +“But--but _I_ wasn't. Is that what you mean, Daniel?” + +“Well now, Serena--” + +“I wasn't. Yes, it is true, I can see it in your face. I was defeated. +Oh--oh, Daniel!” + +Captain Dan put his arm about her. + +“There! there! Serena,” he said chokingly, “don't cry, don't. Don't +feel too bad about it. Politics is politics, inside Chapters and out, +I guess. I'm as much disappointed as you are, for your sake, but--but +don't care too much, will you? Don't make yourself sick again. Don't cry +no more than you can help.” + +Serena raised her head from his shoulder. + +“I'm not crying,” she said. “Really I'm not, Daniel. It is a relief to +me, in a way.” + +“A RELIEF?” + +“Yes. If it had happened a month ago I should have felt it terribly. I +was crazy for office then. But lately I have dreaded it so. If I were +vice-president I should have so much care, so much responsibility. Now, +I shan't. The honor would have been great, I appreciate that. But, for +the rest of it, I don't really care.” + +“Don't CARE! My soul and body!” + +“No, I don't. And now,” bravely, “tell me all about it. I don't quite +see how Annette could win if I did not; but Miss Canby is popular, she +has a great many friends. I hope,” wistfully, “I hope I got a good vote. +Did I, Daniel?” + +Daniel's indignation burst forth. + +“You didn't get any votes, Serena,” he cried angrily. + +“What? What? No votes? Why--” + +“Not a blessed one. They put up a low-down political trick on you, +Serena. They left you out to save themselves. They took advantage of +your bein' sick to--to--Here, I'll tell you just what they did.” + +What they had done was this: Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, heads of the +opposing factions, each realizing how close the vote was likely to be, +had, with their lieutenants--Mrs. Dott excepted--gotten together five +days before the election and arranged a compromise, a trade. By this +arrangement, Annette was to receive the Lake party's support +for president; Miss Canby was to be given the Black support for +vice-president; and the united support of both factions was to be +behind Mrs. Lake in her struggle for office in the National body. This +arrangement was carried through. Serena, not being on hand to protect +her own interest, had been sacrificed, her name had not even been +brought before the members to be voted upon. + +Captain Dan told of this precious scheme, just as it had been told him +by his daughter. At first his wife interrupted with exclamations and +questions; then she listened in silence. + +“That's what they did,” cried the captain angrily. “Chucked you into the +scrap heap to save themselves. And you sick abed! This was the gang you +worked yourself pretty nigh to death for. These were the FRIENDS you +thought you had. And Annette Black was the worst of all. 'Twas her idea +in the first place. Why, Serena--” + +But Serena could hear no more. She threw her arms about her husband's +neck and the tears, which she had so bravely repressed at the tidings of +her own disappointment, burst forth. + +“Oh--oh, Daniel,” she sobbed, “take me away from here. I hate this +place; I hate Scarford and all the dreadful people in it! Take me to +Trumet, Daniel. Take me home! Take me home!” + +Half an hour later Captain Dan shouted his daughter's name over the +balusters. + +“Gertie!” he called; “Gertie! come up here, will you?” + +Gertrude came. She entered the room hastily. She had feared to find +her mother prostrate, suffering from a new attack of “nerves.” She was +prepared to obey her father's order to 'phone for the doctor. + +But Serena did not, apparently, need a doctor. She was not prostrate, +and, although she was nervous, it was rather the nervousness of +expectancy, coupled with determination. + +“Gertie,” said the captain, “I've got some news for you. Your mother +and I have made up our minds to go back to Trumet, and we want you to go +along with us.” + +The young lady did not answer at once. She looked first at Serena and +then at Daniel. The troubled expression left her face and was succeeded +by another, an odd one. When she spoke it was in a tone of great +surprise. + +“To Trumet?” she repeated. “Go back to Trumet? Not to live there?” + +Captain Dan hesitated, but his wife did not. + +“Yes,” she said decidedly, “to live. For the present, anyhow. At least +we shan't live here any longer.” + +“Not live here? Not live in Scarford, Mother! Why, what do you mean?” + +Her father answered. “She means what she says, I presume likely,” he +observed impatiently. “Think she's talkin' for the fun of it? This ain't +April Fool Day.” + +“But she can't mean it. She can't! Give up the Chapter, and all our +friends--” + +“Friends! They're a healthy lot of friends, they are!” + +“Hush, Daddy; I'm not talking to you. Do you realize what you are +saying, Mother? Give up the Chapter, and all your ambitions there? Give +up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake and Miss Canby--” + +“And that twist and squirm, antique Greece disgrace of a Dusante +woman--don't forget her. Gertie, you stop now. Your ma knows--” + +“Daddy, be still. Be still, I say! Mother, are you willing to give them +up? And all our society! You say yourself--I've heard you often--that +there is no society in Trumet. Give up our bridge lessons, and our +dancing, and our teas, and--” + +“For the land sakes! What is this; a catalogue you're givin' us? Stop +it! Serena, you tell her to stop.” + +But Gertrude would not stop. She ignored her father utterly. + +“Think what it would mean,” she protested. “Think of your social +position, Mother, the position we have worked so hard to attain.” + +Serena shook her head. “I don't care,” she said firmly. “Our social +position was good enough in Trumet.” + +“WHAT! Why, Mother! how often I have heard you say--” + +“Never mind what I said. I have said a lot of foolish things, and done a +lot, too. But I'm through. I'm sick and disgusted with it all. I'm going +to be simple and comfortable and happy--yes, happy. Oh, Gertie, DON'T +talk to me about society! There isn't a real, sincere person in it, not +in the set we have been in. I hate Scarford and I hate society.” + +“Mother! how can you! And opportunity and advancement--” + +“I hate them, too.” + +Gertrude gasped. “Why, Mother!” she exclaimed. “And it was you who first +showed me the way. Who showed me how common and dull and unambitious +I had been all my life? Think what leaving here would mean to me. What +would Miss Dusante think? I had almost arranged to take dancing lessons +of her. Think of Mr. Holway. Is there a young man like him in Trumet? +Think of Cousin Percy!” + +That was quite enough. Serena rose, her eyes flashing. + +“Stop!” she cried. “Stop this minute! Gertrude Dott, your father and I +are going back to Trumet and you are going with us.” + +“Oh, no, I'm not. Why, Cousin Percy--” + +“Don't you dare mention his name to me.” + +“Why not? He is very gentlemanly and very aristocratic. You told me +that when I first came, Mother. You were always talking about him and +praising him then. And I'm sure he moves in the highest circles; he says +he does, himself.” + +“He is a good-for-nothing loafer. He has sponged upon your father--” + +“You have often spoken of him as an honor to the family.” + +“A good-for-nothing, dissipated, fast--” + +“Oh, a little dissipation is expected in society, isn't it?” + +“I should think you would be ashamed!” + +“Why? I haven't done a thing that you haven't done, Mother. That is, +nothing which your friends don't do every day. They are ever so much +more advanced than I am. I have only begun. No, indeed, I am not going +back to plain, common, everyday old Trumet. I shall stay here and +progress. You and your friends have shown me what is expected of a girl +in my position and I shall take advantage of my opportunities. Why, Mrs. +Black says that, if I play my cards well, I may catch a millionaire, +perhaps a foreign nobleman. How would you like to be mother-in-law to +a--well, to a count, for instance?” + +Mrs. Dott did not answer this question. Instead she turned to her +husband. + +“Daniel,” she cried, “are you going to stand this? Are you that girl's +father, or aren't you? Are you going to make her mind, or not?” + +Daniel would have spoken, but his daughter got ahead of him. + +“Oh, Father doesn't count,” she observed lightly. “No one minds what he +says. He didn't want to move to Scarford at all. No one minds him.” + +Serena stamped her foot. “Daniel Dott,” she cried, “do you hear that? I +call upon you, as the head of this family, to tell that girl what she's +got to do, and make her do it.” + +Captain Dan stepped forward. Gertrude merely laughed. That laugh settled +the question. + +“Gertie,” ordered the captain, his voice, the old quarter-deck voice +which had been law aboard the Bluebird, “you march your boots to your +room and pack up. We're goin' to Trumet and you're goin' along with us. +March! or, by the everlastin', I'll carry you there and lock you in! You +speak another word and I'll do it, anyway. Serena, I'll 'tend to her. +You're tired out; lie down and rest.” + +“But, Daniel--” + +“Lie down and rest. I'm runnin' this craft. Well,” wheeling upon his +daughter, “are you goin'? Or shall I carry you?” + +Gertrude looked at him and then at her mother. Her lips twitched. + +“I'll go, Daddy,” she said meekly, and went. + +When Captain Dan descended to the lower floor he found Mr. Ginn in the +library. + +“Hello!” hailed the latter, “you look kind of set-up and sassy, seems to +me. YOU ain't had nothin' to drink, have you?” + +“Drink? What do you mean by that? Has anybody around here had anything +to drink?” + +“I don't know. Some of 'em act as if they had. When I came into the +kitchen a spell ago I found my wife and Gertie dancin' like a couple of +loons.” + +“Dancin'?” + +“Yes, sir, holdin' hands and hoppin' around like sand fleas in a clam +bake. I asked 'em what set 'em goin' and they wouldn't tell me. I +couldn't think of anything but liquor that would start Zuby Jane +dancin'. I don't know's that would--I never tried it on her--but 'twas +the only likely guess I could make.” + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Captain Dan was seated in his old chair, at his old desk, behind the +counter of the Metropolitan Store. His pipe, the worn, charred briar +that he had left in the drawer of that very desk when he started for the +railway station and Scarford, was in his mouth. Over the counter, beyond +the showcases and the tables with their piles of oilskins, mittens, +sou'westers, and sweaters, through the panes of the big front windows, +he could see the road, the main street of Trumet. The road was muddy, +and the mud had frozen. Beyond the road, between the shops and houses on +the opposite side, he saw the bare brown hills, the pond where the city +people found waterlilies in the summer--the pond was now a glare of +ice--the sand dunes, the beach, the closed and shuttered hotel and +cottages, and, beyond these, the cold gray and white of the wintry sea +rolling beneath a gloomy sky. To the average person the view would have +been desolation itself. To Captain Dan it was a section of Paradise. It +was the picture which had been in his mind for months. And here it was +in reality, unchanged, unspoiled, a part of home, his home. And he, at +last, was at home again. + +They had been in Trumet a week, the captain and Serena and Gertrude. +Azuba had been there two days longer, having been sent on ahead of the +family to open the house and get it ready. Laban remained behind as +caretaker of the Scarford mansion. His term of service in that capacity +was not likely to be a long one, for the real estate dealer was in +active negotiation with his client, and the dealer's latest report +stated that the said client was considering hiring the house, furnished, +for a few months and, in the event of his liking it as well as he +expected, would then, in all probability, buy. + +Laban's remaining as caretaker was his own suggestion. + +“Me and the old gal--Zuby Jane, I mean--have talked it over,” he +explained, “and it seems like the best thing to do. You've got to have +somebody here, Cap'n Dott, you've got to pay somebody, and it might as +well be me. I'm out of a job just now, anyway. As for me and my wife +bein' separated--well, we're different from most married folks that way; +it seems the natural thing for us to BE separated. We're used to it, +as you might say. I don't know as we'd get along so well together if we +wasn't separated. There's nothin' like separation to keep husband and +wife happy along with one another. I've been with Zuby for most three +weeks steady now; that's the longest stretch we've had in a good many +years. We ain't quarreled once, neither.” + +He seemed to consider the fact remarkable. Captain Dott grinned. + +“I suppose that shuttin' her up in the dish closet wasn't what you'd +call a quarrel, hey?” he observed. + +Mr. Ginn was momentarily embarrassed. + +“Oh, that!” he exclaimed. “Humph! I forgot that, for the minute. But +that wasn't a quarrel, rightly speakin'. 'Twas just a little difference +of opinion on account of my not understandin' her reason for bein' so +sot on havin' her own way. Soon's I understood 'twas all right. And you +see yourself how peaceable she's been ever since.” + +So, after consultation with Azuba, the arrangement was perfected. Laban +was to receive ten dollars a week, from which sum he was to provide +his own meals. He was to sleep in the house, but the meals were to be +obtained elsewhere. Mrs. Dott would not consider his cooking in her +kitchen. + +Serena bore the fatigue of the journey well and the sight of her old +home, with the table set for supper, plants in the dining-room windows, +and all the little familiar touches which Azuba's thoughtfulness had +supplied, served to bring her the contentment and happiness she had been +longing for. Each day she gained in health and strength, and the rest +and freedom from care, together with the early hours--they retired at +nine-thirty each night--were doing wonders for her. Her husband was +delighted at the improvement. He was delighted with everything, the +familiar scenes, the smell of the salt marshes, and of the sea, the +clear, cold air, the meeting with friends and acquaintances, the +freedom from society--he had not even unpacked his dress suit, vowing to +Gertrude that it might stay buried till Judgment, he wouldn't resurrect +it--all these things delighted his soul. And now, on the Saturday +morning at the end of his first week at home, as he sat in his arm +chair behind the counter of the Metropolitan Store, looking at the view +through the windows and at the store itself, he was a happy man. There +was one flaw in his happiness, but that he had forgotten for the moment. + +He glanced about him, took a long pull at his pipe, and said aloud: +“Well, if I didn't know 'twas the same place, I wouldn't have known it. +I never saw such a change in my life.” + +Nathaniel Bangs, standing by the front window, turned. + +“I don't see much difference,” he said. “The old town looks about the +same to me.” + +The captain smilingly shook his head. + +“'Tain't the town,” he observed. “It's this store. Nate, you're a +wonder, that's what you are, a wonder.” + +For, if the view had not changed, if it was the same upon which Daniel +Dott had looked for many winters, through the windows of that very +store, the store itself had changed materially. Mr. Bangs had wrought +the change and it was distinctly a change for the better. The stock, and +there was a surprising deal of it, was new and attractively displayed. +The contents of the showcases were varied and up-to-date. Neatly +lettered placards calling attention to special bargains hung in places +where they were most likely to be seen. There was a spruce, swept, and +garnished look to the establishment; as Azuba said when she first saw it +after her return, it looked as if it had had a shave and a hair cut. In +other words, the Metropolitan Store appeared wide awake and prosperous, +as if it was making money--which it was. + +It was not making a great deal, of course, as yet. This was the dullest +season of the year. But the Christmas trade had been good and, thanks +to Nathaniel's enterprise and effort, the scallop fishermen, the quahaug +rakers, and the members of the life-saving crews were once more buying +their outfits at the Metropolitan Store instead of patronizing Mr. +J. Cohen and The Emporium. Mr. Bangs was already selecting his summer +stock; and his plans for the disposal of that stock were definite and +business-like. + +“If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott,” he had explained, “I'm going to +try putting on a horse and wagon this summer. There's no reason why we +shouldn't get the cottage trade down at the Neck, and all along shore. +Jim Bartlett, Sam's older brother, would like the job driving that +wagon. He's smart as a whip, Jim is, and he's willing to work on +commission. Let him start out twice a week with a load of hats and +oilskins and belts and children's shovels and pails--all the sort of +stuff the boarders and cottage folks buy and that they'd buy more of +if it was brought right to their doors--and he'll catch a heap of trade +that goes to Bayport or Wellmouth or The Emporium now. What he don't +carry he can take orders for and deliver next trip. If you don't say +no, Cap'n Dott, I'm going to try it. And I'll bet a month's wages it's a +go.” + +Captain Dan had not said no. On the contrary he expressed enthusiastic +approval of his manager's plans and enterprise. Also, he had been +thinking of some adequate reward, some means of proving his gratitude +real. + +“You're a wonder, Nate,” repeated Daniel. “I don't know how to get even +with you, but I've got an idea. I've talked it over with Serena already +and she's for it. I want to ask Gertie's opinion and if she says yes, +and she will, I'm almost sartin, I'll tell you what it is.” + +“All right, Cap'n. Don't you worry yourself trying to 'get even,' as you +call it, with me. I've enjoyed being in charge here. I always said there +was money in a store in Trumet, if it was run as it should be. One year +more and I can show you a few things, I'll bet.” + +“You've shown 'em already. Land of love! I should say you had.” + +“Give me time and I'll show you more. We have only begun.... Why, what's +the matter? What made you look that way?” + +“Oh, nothin', nothin'. Only your sayin' we'd only begun reminded me +of--of other things. I don't suppose I'll ever hear 'only begun' without +shiverin'. Humph! there's some kind of beginnin's I hope I'll never hear +of again. Gertie been in this mornin', has she? She isn't in the house.” + +“No, I saw her go down street a little while ago. Gone for her morning +walk, perhaps. How is Mrs. Dott to-day?” + +“Fine. Tip top. I ain't seen her so satisfied with life for two months +or more. She's gettin' better every minute.” + +“That's good. Contented to be back in Trumet, is she?” + +“Seems to be. _I_ am; you can bet high on that.” + +“And--er--Gertie, is she contented, too?” + +This question touched directly the one uncertainty, the one +uncomfortable doubt in the captain's mind. He looked keenly at the +questioner. + +“What makes you ask that?” he demanded. + +“Oh, nothing much. She seems changed, that's all. She used to be so full +of spirits, and so bright and lively. Now she is quiet and doesn't talk +much. Looks thinner, too, and as if something was troubling her. Perhaps +it is my imagination. When's John Doane coming down? 'Most time for him +to be spending a Sunday with you, ain't it? Engaged folks don't usually +stay apart more than a week, especially when the one is as near the +other as Boston is to Trumet.” + +Daniel knocked the ashes from his pipe into the wastebasket. + +“Oh, oh, John'll be along pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder,” he said +hastily. “He--he's pretty busy these days, I suppose.” + +“Nice thing his bein' taken into the firm, after Mr. Griffin died, +wasn't it. Well, he's a pretty smart fellow, John is, and he deserves to +get ahead. Did he tell you the particulars about it?” + +“No. No, not all of 'em. Is that a customer in the other room?” + +Mr. Bangs hurried away to attend to the customer. The captain seized the +opportunity to make a timely exit. He went into the house, remained +a while with his wife, and then returned. Nathaniel had gone on an +order-taking trip and Sam Bartlett, the boy, was in charge. Just as +Daniel entered the store from the side door Gertrude came in at the +front. + +“Hello, Daddy,” she said. “All alone?” + +“Not quite, but I'd just as soon be. Sam, go into the other room; I'll +hail you if I need you. Gertie, come here. I want to have a talk with +you.” + +Gertrude came. She took her old position, perching upon the arm of her +father's chair, with her own arm about his neck. + +“Gertie,” began the captain, “what would you think of my makin' Nate +Bangs a partner in this concern?” + +Gertrude uttered an exclamation of delight. + +“Splendid!” she cried. “Just what I wanted you to do. I thought of it, +but I said nothing because I wanted you to say it first. It will be just +the right thing.” + +“Ye-es, so it seemed to me. All that's good here in this store is due +to Nathaniel. He's made a real, live business out of a remains that was +about ready for the undertaker. I ought to give him the whole craft, +but--but I hate to.” + +“You could. You could sell out to him and still have sufficient income +to live upon in comfort here in Trumet. You might sell out, retire, and +be a gentleman of leisure, one of the town's rich men. You could do that +perfectly well.” + +Daniel grunted in disgust. + +“Don't talk that way,” he repeated. “I've had enough gentleman of +leisure foolishness to last me through. What do you think I am; a +second-hand copy of Cousin Percy, without the gilt edges? _I_ might be +kissin' Zuba by mistake if I did that.” + +The story of that eventful evening and the “mistake” had been told him +by his daughter since the return home. Gertrude smiled. + +“I guess not,” she declared. “You are not in the habit of 'dining +out'--in Trumet, at any rate. Have you told Mother?” + +“Yes, I told her. I don't think she was much surprised. She'd guessed as +much before, so I gathered from what she said.” + +“No doubt; the explanation was obvious enough. Well, Daddy, I did not +expect you would be contented to retire and do nothing. That is not your +conception of happiness. But, if you do take Mr. Bangs into partnership, +let him manage the entire business. You can be in the store as much as +you wish, and be interested in it, so long as you don't interfere. And +you and Mother can be together and take little trips together once in a +while. You mustn't stay in Trumet ALL the time; if you do you will grow +discontented again.” + +“No, no, I shan't. Serena may, perhaps, but I shan't.” + +“Yes, you will. You both have seen a little of outside life now, and it +isn't all bad, though you may think so just at this time. You +mustn't settle down and grow narrow like some of the people here in +Trumet--Abigail Mayo, for instance.” + +“Humph! I'd have to swallow a self-windin' talkin' machine before I +could get to be like Abigail Mayo. But you may be right, Gertie; perhaps +you are. See here, though, how about you, yourself? You've seen a heap +more of what you call outside life than your ma and I have. How are YOU +goin' to keep contented here in Trumet?” + +“Oh, I shall be contented. Don't worry about me.” + +“But I do worry, and your mother is beginnin' to worry, too. There's +somethin' troublin' you; both of us see that plain enough. See here, +Gertie, you ain't--you ain't feelin' bad about--about leavin' that +Cousin Percy, are you?” + +The young lady's cheeks reddened, but with indignation, not +embarrassment. + +“DADDY!” she protested sharply. “Daddy, how can you! Cousin Percy!” + +“Well, you know--” + +“I hate him. I've told you so. Or I should, if he was worth hating; as +it is I despise him thoroughly.” + +“That's good! That's one load off my mind. But, you see, Gertie--well, +when your mother and I first told you we'd made up our minds to come +back here, you--you stood up for him, and said he was aristocratic +and--and I don't know what all. That's what you said; and 'twas after +the Zuba business, too.” + +Gertrude regarded him wonderingly. “Said!” she repeated. “I said and +did all sorts of things. Daddy--Daddy, DEAR, is it possible you don't +understand yet that it was all make-believe?” + +“All make-believe? What; your likin' Cousin Percy?” + +“Yes, that and Mr. Holway and everything else--the whole of it. Haven't +you guessed it yet? It was all a sham; don't you see? When I came back +from college and found out exactly how things were going, I realized at +once that something must be done. You were miserable and neglected, +and Mother was under the influence of Mrs. Black and that empty-headed, +ridiculous Chapter and would-be society crowd of hers. I tried at first +to reason with her, but that was useless. She was too far gone for +reason. So I thought and thought until I had a plan. I believed if I +could show her, by my own example, how silly and ridiculous the kind +of people she associated with were, if I pretended to be as bad as the +worst of them, she would begin by seeing how ridiculous _I_ was, and be +frightened into realizing her own position. At any rate, she would be +forced into giving it all up to save me. Of course I didn't expect her +to be taken ill. When THAT happened I was SO conscience-stricken. I +thought I never should forgive myself. But it has turned out so well, +that even that is--” + +“Gertie! Gertie Dott! stop where you are. Do you mean to tell me that +all your--your advancin' and dancin' and bridgin' and tea-in' and +Chapterin' was just--” + +“Just make-believe, that's all. I hated it as much as you did; as much +as Mother does now.” + +“My SOUL! but--but it can't be! Cousin Percy--” + +“Oh, do forget Cousin Percy! I was sure he was exactly what he was and +that he was using you and Mother as conveniences for providing him with +a home and luxuries which he was too worthless to work for. I was sure +of it, morally sure, but I made up my mind to find out. So I cultivated +him, and I cultivated his particular friends, and I did find out. I +pretended to like him--” + +“Hold on! for mercy sakes, hold on! YOU pretended, but--but HE didn't. +If ever a feller was gone on a young woman he was, towards the last of +it. Why, he--” + +“Hush! hush! Don't speak of it. It makes me disgusted with myself even +to think of him. If he was--was as you say, it is all the better. It +serves him right. And I think that it was with my--with your money, +Daddy, much more than your daughter, he was infatuated. I had the +satisfaction of telling him my opinion of him and his conduct before he +left.” + +“Ho! you did, hey? Humph! I wish I might have heard it. But, Gertie,” + his incredulity not entirely crushed, “it wasn't ALL make-believe; all +of it couldn't have been. Even Zuba, she got the advancin' craziness. +She joined a--a 'Band,' or somethin'.” + +“No, she didn't. She pretended to, but she didn't. There wasn't any such +'Band.' She was helping me to cure Mother, that's all. It was all part +of the plan. Her husband understands now, although,” with a laugh, “he +didn't when he first came.” + +Daniel drew his hand across his forehead. + +“Well!” he exclaimed. “WELL! and I--and I--” + +“I treated you dreadfully, didn't I? Scolded you, and told you to go +away, and--and everything. I COULDN'T tell you the truth, because you +cannot keep a secret, but I was sorry, so sorry for you, even when you +were most provoking. You WOULD interfere, you know. Two or three times +you almost spoiled it all.” + +“Did I? I shouldn't wonder. And--and to think I never suspicioned a bit +of it!” + +“I don't see why you didn't. It was so plain. I'm sure Mother +suspects--now.” + +“Probably she does. If I wasn't what I've called myself so much lately, +an old fool, I'd have suspected, too. I AM an old fool.” + +“No, you're not. You are YOU, and that is why I love you--why, everyone +who knows you loves you. I wouldn't have you changed one iota. You are +the dearest, best father in the world. And you are going to be happy +now, aren't you?” + +“I--I don't know. I ought to be, I suppose. I guess I shall be--if I +ever get over thinkin' what a foolhead I was. So Zuba was part of it +all, hey? And John, too? He was in it, I presume likely.” + +Gertrude's expression changed; so did her tone. + +“We won't talk about John, Daddy,” she said. “Please don't.” + +“Why not? I want to talk about him. In a way--yes, sir! in a way I ain't +sure that--that I didn't have a hand in spoilin' that, too. Considerin' +what you've just told me, I wouldn't wonder if I did.” + +His daughter had risen to go. Now she turned back. + +“What do you mean?” she asked. “What do you mean? Spoiling--what?” + +“Why--why, you and John, you know. Whatever happened between you and +him happened that night when he come to Scarford. And he wouldn't have +come--not then--if I hadn't written for him.” + +Gertrude was speechless. Her father went on. + +“Long's we're confessin',” he said, “we might as well make a clean job +of it. I wrote him, all on my own hook. You see, Gertie, 'twas on your +account mainly. I was gettin' pretty desperate about you. Instead of +straightenin' out your ma's course you were followin' in her wake, +runnin' ahead of her, if anything. It looked as if you'd have her hull +down and out of the race, if you kept on. _I_ couldn't hold you back, +and, bein' desperate, as I say, I wrote John to come and see if he +could. And I told him to come quick.... Hey? What did you say?” + +The young lady had said nothing; she had been listening, however, and +now she seemed to have found an answer to a puzzle. + +“So that was why he came?” she said, in a low tone, as if thinking +aloud. “That was why. But--but without a word to me.” + +“Oh, I 'specially wrote him not to tell you he was comin'. I didn't want +you to know. I wanted to have a talk with him first and tell him just +how matters stood. After you'd gone to Chapter meetin' that night--I +always thought 'twas queer, your bein' so determined to go, but I see +why now; 'twas part of your plan, wasn't it?” + +“Yes, yes, of course. Go on.” + +“Well, I judge John thought 'twas funny, too--but never mind. After +you'd gone, he and I had our talk. I told him everything. He was kind +of troubled; I could see that; but he stood up for you through thick and +thin. He only laughed when I told him--told him some things, those that +worried me most.” + +Gertrude noticed his hesitation. + +“What were those things?” she asked. + +“Oh, nothin'. They seem so foolish now; but at that time--” + +“Daddy, did you tell him of my--my supposed friendship for Mr. +Hungerford?” + +Daniel reluctantly nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “I told him some. Maybe I +told him more than was absolutely true. Perhaps I exaggerated a little. +But he was so stubborn in not believin', that.... Hey? By Godfreys!” as +the thought struck him for the first time, “THAT wasn't what ailed John, +was it? He wasn't JEALOUS of that consarned Percy?” + +Gertrude did not answer. + +“It couldn't be,” continued Daniel. “He's got more sense than that. +Besides, you told him, when you and he were alone together, why you was +actin' so, didn't you? Or did he know it beforehand? I presume likely he +did. Your mother and I seem to have been the only animals left outside +the show tent.” + +Again there was no answer. When the young lady spoke it was to ask +another question. + +“Daddy,” she said, not looking at him, but folding and unfolding a bit +of paper on the counter, “are you SURE you mailed that letter I gave you +the morning after--after he went away?” + +“What? That letter to John that you gave me to mail? I'm sure as I can +be of anything. I put it right in amongst the bills and checks I had +ready, and when the postman came I gave 'em all to him with my own +hands. Yes, it was mailed all right.” + +“And no letters--letters for me--came afterwards, which I didn't +receive? You didn't put one in your pocket and forget it?” + +“No. I'm sure of that. Why, your mother's cleaned out all my pockets a +dozen times since. She says I use my clothes for wastebaskets, and she +has to empty 'em pretty nigh as often. No, I didn't forget any letter +for you, Gertie. But why? What made you think I might have?” + +“Oh, nothing; nothing, Daddy.” Then, throwing down the bit of paper and +moving toward the door, “I must go in and see Mother. I have scarcely +seen her all the morning.” + +“But hold on, Gertie! Don't go. I haven't found out what--Stop! Gertie, +look at me! Why don't you look at me?” + +She would not look and she would not stop. The door closed behind her. +Captain Dan threw himself back in the chair. When Mr. Bangs, returning +from his trip after orders, entered the store he found his employer just +where he had left him. Now, however, the expression of high, good humor +was no longer upon the captain's face. + +“Well, Cap'n,” hailed Nathaniel cheerfully. “Still on deck, I see. What +are you doing; exercising your mind?” + +“Humph! What little mind I'VE got has been exercised too blessed much. +It needs rest more'n anything, but it don't seem likely to get a great +deal. Nate, this world reminds me of a worn-out schooner, it's as full +of troubles as that is full of leaks; and you no sooner get one patched +up than another breaks out in a new place. Ah hum! ... What you got +there? The mail, is it? Anything for me?” + +There was one letter bearing the captain's name. Nathaniel handed it +to the owner of that name and the latter inspected the envelope and the +postmark. + +“From Labe Ginn,” he observed. “Nobody else in Scarford that I know +would spell Daniel with two 'l's and no 'i.' What's troublin' Laban? +Somethin' about the house, I presume likely.” + +He leisurely tore open the envelope. The letter was a lengthy one, +scrawled upon a half dozen sheets of cheap note paper. The handwriting +was almost as unique as the spelling, which is saying considerable. + +“From Laban, is it?” asked Mr. Bangs casually. + +“Yup, it's from Labe.” + +“There was another from him, then. At any rate there was one addressed +in the same hen-tracks to Azuba. I met her as I was coming out of the +post-office and gave it to her; she was on her way to the grocery store, +she said.” + +Daniel nodded, but made no comment. He was doing his best to decipher +Mr. Ginn's hieroglyphics. Occasionally he chuckled. + +Laban began by saying that he expected his term as caretaker of the +Scarford property to be of short duration. He had dropped in at the real +estate office and had there been told that arrangements for the leasing +of the mansion, furniture, and all, were practically completed. The new +tenant would move in within a fortnight, he was almost sure. Mr. +Ginn, personally, would be glad of it, for it was “lonesomer than a +meeting-house on a week day.” + +“I spend the heft of my daytimes out in the Back yard,” he wrote. “I've +lokated a bordin house handy by, but the Grub thare is tuffer than the +mug on a Whailer two year out. I don't offen meet anybody I know, but +tother day I met barney Black. He asked about you and your fokes and I +told him. He was prety down on his Luck I thort and acted Blue. His +wife is hed neck and heles in Chapter goins on. I see her name in the +Newspaper about evry day. + +“He said give you his Regards and tell you you was a dam lukky Man.” + +Captain Dan's chuckle developed into a hearty laugh. He sympathized with +and understood the feelings of B. Phelps. + +“He has sold his summer Plase at Trumet,” the letter went on. “Mrs. +Black don't want to come thare no more. He wuddent say why but I +shuddent wonder if it was becos she ain't hankering to mete your Wife +after the way she treted her. He has sold the Plase to some fokes name +of Fenholtz. I know thats the rite name becos I made him spel it for me. +Do you know them?” + +Daniel uttered an exclamation of delight and struck his thigh a +resounding slap. + +“What's up?” asked Nathaniel. “Got some good news?” + +“You bet! Mighty good! Some people I knew and liked in Scarford have +bought the Black cottage here in Trumet. I rather guess I am responsible +in a way; I preached Cape Cod to 'em pretty steady. The Fenholtzes! +Well, well!” + +“What I realy wrote you for,” continued Mr. Ginn, at the top of page +four, “was to tell you that I had a feller come to see me Yesterday. It +was that forriner Hapgood who used to work for you. He looked prety run +to seed. He haddent got anny Job since he left you, he sed, and he +was flat Broke. I gave him a Square meel or what they call one at the +bordin' house and he and me had a long talk. He told me a lot of things +but manely all he wanted to talk about was that Swab of a Coussin of +yours, that Hungerford. Hapgood was down on him like a Gull on a sand +ele. He sed Hungerford was a mene sneak and had treted him bad. He told +me a Lot about how Hungerford worked you fokes for sukkers and how he +helped. Seems him and Hungerford was old shipmates and chums and had +worked your ant Laviny the same way. Hungerford used to pay him, but now +that he is flat Broke and can't help no more, he won't give him a cent. +Hapgood says if you knew what he knows you'd be intterested. He says +Hungerford pade him to get a hold of Tellygrams and letters that he +thort you had better not see. He had one Coppy of a tellygram that he +says come to him over the Tellyfone 3 days after John Doane left your +house. I lent him a cupple of dollars and he gave me the Coppy. It is +from John to Gertie, but she never got it becos Hapgood never told her. +I send it in this letter.” + +Captain Dan, who had read the latter part of this long paragraph with +increasing excitement, now stopped his reading and began a hurried +search for the “Coppy.” He found it, on a separate sheet. It was written +in pencil in Hapgood's neat, exact handwriting and was, compared to Mr. +Ginn's labored scrawl, very easy to read. And this was what the captain +read: + + +“MISS GERTRUDE DOTT, + +“No. -- Blank Avenue, +“Scarford, Mass. + +“Why haven't you written? Did you receive my letters? The firm are +sending me on urgent business to San Francisco. I leave to-night. If you +write me there I shall know all is well and you have not changed. If not +I shall know the other thing. I shall hope for a letter. San Francisco +address is--” + + +Then followed the address and the signature, “John Doane.” + +The “Coppy” dropped in Daniel's lap. He closed his eyes. Nate Bangs, +glancing at him, judged that he was falling asleep, but Mr. Bangs's +usually acute judgment was, in this instance, entirely wrong. So far +from sleeping, the captain was just beginning to wake up. + +“Why haven't you written?” That meant that John had never received the +letter which Gertrude wrote, the letter which she had given him--her +father--to post. Why had it not been received? It had been posted. He +gave it to the carrier with his own hands. + +Before the captain's closed eyes that scene in the library passed in +review. He was at his desk, Gertrude entered and handed him the letter. +He commented upon its address and placed it with the others, the +envelopes containing bills and checks, upon the table. Then the postman +came and-- + +No--wait. The postman had not come immediately. Serena had called and +he, Daniel, had gone up to her room in answer to the call. But he had +come down when the postman rang and.... Wait again! There had been +someone in the library when he was called away. He dimly remembered.... +What? ... Why, yes! Cousin Percy had come in and-- + +Daniel leaped to his feet. His chair slid back on its castors and struck +the safe behind him. Mr. Bangs looked up. + +“Why, what's the matter?” he cried, in alarm. “Is--Where are you going?” + +Captain Dan did not answer. He was running, actually running, toward +the door. Bareheaded he dashed across the yard. His foot was on the +threshold of the back porch of the house, when he stopped short. For a +moment he stood still; then he turned and ran back to the store again. + +Nathaniel, who had followed him to the side entrance of The +Metropolitan, met him there. + +“For mercy sakes, Cap'n Dott!” he began. “What IS it?” + +Daniel did not answer. He pushed past his perturbed manager and, rushing +to the closet in which the telephone instrument hung, closed the door +behind him. He jerked the receiver from the hook, placed it at his ear, +and shouted into the transmitter. + +“Hello! Hello there, Central!” he bellowed. “I want a long distance +call. I want to talk to Saunders, Griffin and Company, Pearl Street, +Boston.... Hey? ... Yes, I want to talk to Mr. Doane.... NO, not Cone! +Doane--Doane--Mr. John Doane.... Hey? ... You'll call me? ... All right, +then; be as quick as you can, that's all.” + +He hung up the receiver and, flinging the door open, dashed out into the +store again, and began pacing up and down. + +Nathaniel ventured one more question. + +“Of course it ain't any of my business, Cap'n Dott,” he stammered, +“but--” + +Daniel waved his hand. + +“Sshh! shh!” he commanded. “It's all right. I'll tell you by and by. But +now I want to think. To think, by time!” + +Ten minutes later the telephone bell rang. + +“Hello! Here is your Boston call,” announced Central. + +“All right! all right! Is this Saunders, Griffin and Company? ... Hey? +... Is Mr. Doane there?... What? I want to know! Is that you, John? +... This is Dott, speakin'.... Yes, Dan Dott.... No, no, of Trumet, +not Scarford.... Yes.... YES.... Here! you let me do the talkin'; you +listen.” + + + +Captain Dan ate scarcely any luncheon that day. He seemed to have lost +his appetite. This was a good deal of a loss and his wife commented upon +it. + +“What does ail you, Daniel?” she asked anxiously. “Why don't you eat?” + +“Hey? Oh, I don't know, Serena. Don't feel hungry, somehow.” + +“Well, it's the first time you haven't been hungry since you came back +to Trumet. I was beginning to think Azuba and I couldn't get enough for +you TO eat. And now, all at once, you're not hungry. What does ail you?” + +“Ail me? Nothin' ails me.” + +“Don't you feel well?” + +“Never felt better in my life. Don't believe I ever felt quite so good.” + +“You act awfully queer.” + +“Do I? Don't you worry about me, Serena. My appetite'll be back all +right by dinner time. You want to lay in an extra stock for dinner. I'll +probably eat you out of house and home then. Better figure on as much as +if you was goin' to have company. Ain't that so, Zuba?” + +He winked at the housekeeper. His wife noticed the wink. + +“What is it?” she demanded. “There's something going on that I don't +know about. Are you and Azuba planning some sort of surprise?” + +“Surprise! What sort of surprise would Zuba and I plan? She's had one +surprise in the last six weeks and that ought to be enough. Laban's +droppin' in unexpected was surprise enough to keep you satisfied, wasn't +it, Zuba? I never saw anybody more surprised than you was that night in +the kitchen. Ho! ho!” + +Azuba smiled grimly. “A few more surprises like that,” she observed, +“and I'll be surprised to death. Don't talk to ME about surprises.” + +“_I_ wasn't talkin' about 'em, 'twas Serena that started it.” + +Mrs. Dott was still suspicious. She turned to her daughter. + +“Gertie,” she asked, “do YOU know what your father is acting so +ridiculous about? Is there a secret between you three?” + +Gertrude had been very quiet and grave during the meal. + +“No,” she said. “There is no secret that I know of. Father is happy +because we are back here in his beloved Trumet, I suppose.” + +“Humph! Well, his happiness hasn't interfered with his appetite before. +There's something else; I'm sure of it. Why, Gertie! aren't you going to +eat, either? You're not through luncheon!” + +The young lady had risen from the table. + +“You've eaten scarcely anything, Gertie,” protested her mother. “I never +saw such people. Are YOU so happy that you can't eat. Sit down.” + +Gertrude did not look happy. She did not sit down. Instead she hastily +declared that she was not hungry, and left the room. + +Serena stared after her. + +“Was she crying, Daniel?” she asked. “She looked as if she was just +going to. Ever since she came in from her walk she has been so downcast +and sad. She won't talk and she hasn't smiled once. Daniel, has she said +anything to you? Do you know what ails her?” + +The captain shook his head. + +“She and I had a little talk out in the store,” he admitted. “I +shouldn't wonder if she was thinkin' about--about--” + +“About John, do you mean?” + +“Maybe so.” + +“Did she talk with you about HIM? She won't let me mention his name. +Daniel, I feel SO bad about that. I'm afraid I was to blame, somehow. If +we hadn't gone to Scarford--if ... Daniel, I'm going to her.” + +She rose. Her husband laid a hand on her arm. + +“Sit down, Serena,” he urged. “Sit down.” + +“But, Daniel, let me go. I must go to her. The poor girl! Perhaps I +can comfort her, though how, I don't know. John Doane!” with a burst of +indignation. “If I ever meet that young man I'll give him my opinion of +his--” + +“Sshh! shh! Serena! You sit down and finish your luncheon. Don't you +worry about Gertie. And you needn't worry about her appetite or mine. +I tell you what I'll do: If she and I don't have appetite enough for +dinner to-night--or breakfast to-morrow mornin', anyhow--I'll swallow +that platter whole. There! A sight like that ought to be worth waitin' +for. Cheer up, old lady, and possess your soul in patience. This craft +is just gettin' out of the doldrums. There's a fair wind and clear +weather comin' for the Dott frigate, or I'm no sailor. You just trust me +and wait. Yes, and let Gertie alone.” + +He positively refused to explain what he meant by this optimistic +prophecy, or to permit his wife to go to their daughter. Gertrude went +out soon afterward--for another walk, she said--and Serena retired to +her room for the afternoon nap which the doctor had prescribed as +part of her rest cure. For a time she could not sleep, but lay there +wondering and speculating concerning her husband's strange words and his +equally strange attitude of confident and excited happiness. What did it +mean? There was some secret she was sure; some good news for Gertrude; +there must be. She, too, began to share the excitement and feel the +confidence. Daniel had asked her to trust him, and she did trust him. +He, and not she, had been right in judging Mrs. Black and Cousin Percy, +and Scarford, and all the rest. He had been right all through. She +had reason to trust him; he was always right. With this comforting +conclusion--one indication of the mental revolution which her Scarford +experience had brought about--she ceased wondering and dropped to sleep. + +Captain Dan and Azuba had a short conference in the kitchen. + +“Understand, do you, Zuba?” queried the captain. “A late dinner and +plenty of it.” + +“I understand. Land sakes! I ain't altogether a numskull or a young-one, +even if I do have to be shut up in the closet to make me behave.” + +“Ho! ho! I expect you could have knocked my head off for bein' in the +way just at that time.” + +“Humph!” with a one-sided smile, “I could have knocked my own off for +not listenin' afore I come downstairs. If I'd heard Laban's voice I bet +you I wouldn't have come. All I needed was a chance to be alone with him +and explain what Gertie and I were up to.” + +“Well, I'm glad you didn't have the chance. I wouldn't have missed that +show for somethin'. It beat all my goin' to sea, that did. How you did +holler!” + +He roared with laughter. Azuba watched him with growing impatience. + +“Got through actin' like a Bedlamite?” she inquired tartly, when he +stopped for breath. “If you have you can clear out and let me get to my +dish-washin'.” + +“I'm through. Oh, by the way, what did Labe say in your letter? I've +told you what he wrote me, but I forgot that he wrote you, too.” + +Mrs. Ginn looked troubled. “I don't know what to do with that man,” she +declared. “I expect any minute to get word that he's been put in the +lock-up. If that house of yours ain't rented or sold pretty quick, so +he can get to sea again, he will be. Do you know what he's done to that +Hungerford critter?” + +“DONE to him! What do you mean? He hasn't seen him, has he?” + +“No, he ain't seen him, thank goodness, but Labe is so wrought up over +what that Hapgood thief told him, about your precious cousin stealin' +your telegrams and so on, that he and Hapgood have gone in cahoots to +play a trick on Mr. Percy. Labe says Hapgood told him that Percy was +keepin' company now with another woman there in Scarford, a young +woman with money, of course--he wouldn't chase any other kind. Well, +Hapgood--he's a healthy specimen for my husband to be in with, he +is--Hapgood knows a lot about Hungerford and his goin's on in the past, +and he's got a lot of the Percy man's old letters from other girls. +Don't ask ME how he got 'em; stole 'em, I suppose, same as he stole that +telegram from John. Anyhow, Labe and Hapgood have sent those letters to +the present young woman's pa.” + +Daniel whistled. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “That's interestin'.” + +“Ain't it, now! Laban says the old commodore--meanin' the pa, I +suppose--is a holy terror and sets more store by his daughter than +he does by his hopes of salvation, enough sight. Good reason, too, I +presume likely; he's toler'ble sure of the daughter. Well, anyhow, the +letters are gone and Labe says he's willin' to bet that Cousin Percy'll +be GOIN'--out of the window and out of Scarford--when papa gets after +him. Nice mess, ain't it!” + +Captain Dan whistled again. “Well, Zuba,” he observed, “we can't help +it, as I see. What's done's done and chickens do come home to roost, +don't they?” + +“Humph! I wish my husband would come home and roost where I can keep my +eye on him. He says he's gettin' sick of bein' a land lubber. He'll be +aboard some ship and off again afore long, that's some comfort. The +only time I know that man is safe is when he's a thousand miles from dry +land.” + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Serena and Daniel were together in the parlor. It was past dinner time, +but Azuba, for some reason or other, had not gotten dinner ready. This +was unusual for, if there was one thing upon which the housekeeper +prided herself, it was in being “prompt at meal times.” She was setting +the table now, however, and they could hear her rattling the knives and +forks and singing, actually singing. + +“Azuba is in good spirits, isn't she,” observed Serena. “I haven't heard +her sing before for a long time. I suppose, like the rest of us, she has +been too troubled to sing.” + +Captain Dan listened to the singing, shook his head, and remarked +whimsically, “There's some comfort to be got out of trouble, then. Say, +the 'Sweet By and By' would turn sour if it could hear her sing about +it, wouldn't it?” + +“Hush, Daniel, don't be irreverent. Why don't you light the lamp, or let +me light it? It's getting so dark I can hardly see you.” + +“Never mind; let's sit in the dark a spell. Gertie comin' down pretty +soon, is she?” + +“Yes. She's changing her dress, because you asked her to. Why did you +ask her? Why should she dress up just for you and me?” + +“Oh, just a notion of mine. I like that red dress of hers, anyway; the +one with the fringe trimmin's along the upper riggin'.” + +“That dress isn't red, it's pink.” + +“I don't care. I thought 'twas about the color of my nose, and if that's +pink then I'm losin' my complexion.” + +“Daniel!” with a laugh, “how you do talk and act to-day! At luncheon +you were as queer as could be and now you're worse. I never saw you so +fidgety and excited. What IS going to happen? Something, I know. You +wouldn't tell me this noon; will you tell me now?” + +“Pretty soon, Serena; pretty soon. Now let's talk about somethin' +interestin'; about ourselves, for instance. How do you like bein' back +here in Trumet? Ain't gettin' tired of it, are you? The old town doesn't +seem stupid; hey?” + +“No, indeed! Don't speak that way, Daniel.” + +“Well, I just mentioned it, that's all. Soon as you do get tired and +want to see somethin' new, we'll take that cruise to Washin'ton or the +Falls or somewheres. Never mind the price. Way I feel now I'd go to +the moon if 'twould please you. Say the word and I'll hire the balloon +to-morrow--or Monday, anyway; no business done in Trumet on Sunday.” + +Serena laughed again. “I shan't say it for a long while,” she declared. +“I am having such a good time. The house seems so snug and homey. And +all our old friends and neighbors have been so kind. They seemed so +glad to see us when we came, as if they were real friends, not the +make-believe sort.” + +“Not the Annette kind, you mean. That particular breed of cats is scarce +on the Cape--at least I hope it is.” + +“So do I. I never want to see her again. I am so glad they have sold +their cottage here, and that the Fenholtzes have bought it--if they +have bought it, as you say you heard. You always liked the Fenholtzes, +Daniel. I did, too, or I should if Annette hadn't told me--” + +“I know, I know. Some day that woman will tell the truth by accident and +the Ladies of Honor crowd'll be mournin' a leadin' light that went out +sudden. But never mind her. The folks here HAVE been nice to us, haven't +they?” + +“Indeed they have! And so thoughtful! Why, Sophronia Smalley even came +to ask me if I wouldn't consider taking my old place as president of +Trumet Chapter. She is president now, but she declared she would resign +in a minute in my favor.” + +For an instant Captain Dan's exuberant spirits were dashed. + +“She did!” he cried. “Well, if that woman ain't.... Humph! Are you +thinkin' of lettin' her resign, Serena?” + +“No.” + +“I--I wouldn't stand in your way if you did, you know. I mustn't be +selfish. Trumet ain't Scarford, and if you want to--” + +“I don't, I don't. I may attend a meeting once in a while, later on, +but I never shall hold office again. I have had all the 'advancement' I +want.” + +“Advancin' backwards, some folks would call what you're doin' now, +Serena, I cal'late. There! I've said 'cal'late' again. I haven't said it +before for a long time. This Cape sand has got into my grammar, I guess. +I must be careful.” + +“You needn't be. Say 'cal'late' if you want to, I am not going to fret +you about your grammar any more, Daniel. I've got over that, too. I'd +rather have you, just as you are, than any other man in the world, +grammar or no grammar.” + +“Whew! Hold on, old lady! If you talk that way I'll get so puffed up +I'll bust into smoke when you touch me, like a dry toadstool. I--Hello! +what was that? The train whistle, was it?” + +“Yes. Here is the night train in; it is almost mail time, and no dinner +yet. What IS the matter with Azuba? I'll speak to her.” + +She was rising to go to the dining-room, but her husband detained her. + +“No, you wait; no, you mustn't,” he said, hastily. “Sit right down, +Serena. Speakin' of dinners, this talk of ours is like that everlastin' +long meal that you and I went to at Barney Black's house just after we +landed in Scarford. You remember it took half an hour to get to anything +solid in that dinner, don't you? Yes, well, I'm just gettin' to the meat +of my talk. And I want Gertie to come in on that course. She is on her +way downstairs now; I hear her. Hi! Gertie! come in here, won't you!” + +Gertrude entered the room. + +“Where are you, Daddy?” she asked. + +“Here I am, over here by the window.” + +“But why haven't you lighted the lamp? Why are you sitting here in the +dark?” + +Serena answered. “Goodness knows,” she replied. “Your father would +insist on it. I think he is going crazy; he has acted that way ever +since lunch.” + +The demented one chuckled. + +“You see, Gertie,” he explained, “'twas on account of my bashfulness. +Your mother, she wanted to sit along with me and hold hands, so--. Oh, +all right; all right. You can show a glim now, Serena, if you want to. +I'll cover up my blushes.” + +The maligned Mrs. Dott announced that she had a good mind to box his +ears. “That's what I should do to a child,” she added, “and nobody could +act more childish than you have this afternoon.” + +“Second childhood, Serena. Second childhood and dodderin' old age are +creepin' over me fast. There!” as the lamp blazed and the parlor was +illuminated, “now you can see for yourself. Do I dodder much?” + +Even Gertrude was obliged to laugh. + +“Daddy!” she cried; “you silly thing! I believe you ARE getting +childish.” + +“Am I? All right, I'm willing to be, at the price. My! Gertie, you +look awfully pretty. Don't she look 'specially pretty to you to-night, +Serena?” + +Serena smiled. “That gown was always becoming,” she said. + +“I know it was; that's why I wanted her to put it on. And she's fixed +her hair the way I like, too. My! my! if some folks I know could see you +now, Gertie, they'd.... Ahem! Well, never mind. She looks as if she was +expectin' company and had rigged up for it, doesn't she, Serena?” + +Gertrude paid little attention to this rather strained attempt at a +joke. She merely smiled and turned away. But her mother appeared to +suspect a hidden meaning in the words. She leaned forward and gazed at +her husband. + +“Daniel,” she cried, sharply and with increasing excitement; “Daniel +Dott, what are you--” + +The captain waved her to silence. She would have spoken in spite of +it, but his second wave and shake of the head were so emphatic that she +hesitated. Before the moment of hesitation was at an end Captain Dan +himself began to speak. He spoke in a new tone now and more and more +rapidly. + +“Serena, don't interrupt me,” he ordered. “Gertie, listen. I'm goin' to +tell you both a story. Once there was a couple of married folks that had +a daughter.... Hush, I tell you! Listen, both of you. I AIN'T crazy. If +ever I talked sense in my life I'm talkin' it now.... This couple, as +I say, had a daughter. This daughter was engaged to be married. The old +folks moved away from the place they had always lived and went somewhere +else. There they both commenced to make fools of themselves. The place +was all right enough, maybe, but they didn't belong in it. The daughter, +she came there and she saw how things were goin' and, says she: 'I'll +fix 'em. I'll cure 'em and save 'em, too, by showin' 'em an example, my +example. I'll--'” + +Gertrude broke in. + +“Daddy,” she cried, with a warning glance at her mother, “be careful. +Don't be silly. What is the use--” + +“Hush! Hush and be still! Never mind what she did. All is, she showed +'em and she cured 'em and she saved 'em. But meanwhile her meddlesome +old father had got worried, not understandin' what was goin' on, and he +put his oar in. He wrote for the young chap she was engaged to to come +down and help cure HER. The father meant all right. He--” + +Again the young lady interrupted. + +“Mother,” she said, “this is nonsense, the way father is telling it. +I meant to tell you, myself, by and by. I'm sure you have guessed it, +anyway, but--” + +“There's one part she hasn't guessed,” shouted Captain Dan; “or that you +haven't guessed either, Gertie, God bless you. _I_ guessed it myself, +this very day, and I guessed it because I had a letter from Labe Ginn +up at Scarford that put me on the right track. Gertie, that letter you +wrote to John WASN'T mailed; the postman DIDN'T get it; John himself +never got it.” + +“Daddy! Daddy, what--” + +“Wait! wait! How do I know? you were goin' to say. I know because I +know who did get it. Cousin Percy Hungerford--confound his miserable, +worthless hulk! HE got it; he stole it from my table, where it laid +along with my other letters, when I was out of the room. And--wait! that +isn't all. John DID write you, Gertie. He wrote you two or three times +and he telegraphed you once. And you didn't get either letters or +telegram because that Hapgood butler--Oh, if I had only known this when +I chased him out of the back yard! He'd have gone over the fence instead +of through the gate--he was helpin' our dear cousin and gettin' paid for +it, and HE stole 'em. There! that's the truth and.... My soul! I believe +I've scared the girl to death.” + +He sprang forward. Serena, too, although she was almost as much +surprised and agitated as her daughter, hastened to the latter's side. + +But Gertrude, although white and shaken, was far from being “scared to +death.” She was very much alive. + +“Are you sure, Daddy?” she cried. “Are you SURE? How do you know?” + +“I know because Labe wrote that Hapgood told him. That's how I know +about the telegram. And I know that's what happened to your letter +because John didn't get it.” + +“How do you know he didn't get it? Please, Mother, don't worry about me. +I am all right. How do you know John didn't get my letter, Father?” + +“I know because.... Is that a wagon stoppin' at our gate, Serena?” + +“Never mind if it is. Answer Gertie's question. HOW do you know?” + +Steps sounded on the front porch. Captain Dan strode to the hall and +stood with one hand on the knob of the front door. + +“I know,” he declared triumphantly, “because I telephoned John this very +day and he told me so. And now, by the everlastin', he'll tell you so +himself!” + +He flung the door wide. + +“Come in, John!” he shouted, in a roar which was heard even by deaf old +Ebenezer Simpkins, driver of the depot wagon, who was just piloting his +ancient steed from the Dott gate. “Come in, John!” roared Captain Dan. +“There she is, in there, waitin' for you.” + +And Mr. Doane came, you may be sure. + +Serena and Daniel waited in the dining-room. They were obliged to wait +for some time. The captain's triumphant exuberance continued to bubble +over. He chuckled and laughed and crowed vaingloriously over his success +in keeping the secret ever since noon. + +“I was bound I wouldn't tell, Serena,” he declared. “I was bound I +wouldn't. I told John over the 'phone; I said: 'I won't tell a soul +you're comin', John. We'll give 'em one surprise, won't we.' And, ho! +ho! he didn't believe I could keep it to myself; he said he didn't. But +I did, I did--though I felt all afternoon as if I had a bombshell under +my jacket.” + +Serena laughed; she was as pleased as he. “You certainly exploded it +like a bombshell,” she declared. “I didn't know at first but that you +really had gone crazy. And poor Gertie! you didn't prepare her at all. +You blurted it out all at once. The words fairly tumbled over each +other. I wonder she didn't faint.” + +“She isn't the faintin' kind. Serena, we never can be grateful enough +to Gertie for what she's done for us. And she sacrificed her own +happiness--or thought she did--for you and me and didn't whimper or +complain once.” + +“I know, Daniel, I know. And pretty soon now we must give her up to +someone else. That's the way of the world, though. WE'LL have to be +brave then, won't we.” + +“So we will. But I'd rather give her to John than any other man on +earth. The thought that it was all off between them and that she was +grievin' over it was about the hardest thing of all.” + +“So it was. Well, now we can be completely happy, every one of us.” + +Azuba flounced in from the kitchen. “Ain't they come out of that parlor +YET?” she demanded. “I can't keep roast chicken waitin' forever, even +for engaged folks.” + +But the “engaged folks” themselves appeared at that moment. As one of +those who, according to Mrs. Dott, were to be completely happy, Mr. +Doane looked his part. Gertrude, too, although her eyes were wet, was +smiling. + +John and the Dotts shook hands. Daniel turned to his daughter. + +“Well, Gertie,” he asked, “are you ready to forgive me for what happened +on account of my sendin' that summons to John--that one up in Scarford, +I mean?” + +“I think so, Daddy.” + +“I thought maybe you would be, considerin',” with a wink at Mr. Doane, +“the answer you got to my telephone to-day. But, see here, young lady, +I want to ask you somethin' and I expect a straight answer. Can I keep a +secret, or can't I?” + +“You can, Daddy, dear. You kept this one almost seven hours.” + +“Eight! eight, by Godfreys! 'Twas a strain, but I kept it.” + +“You managed it all beautifully, Daniel,” declared Serena. “I am proud +of you.” + +“We're all proud of you, Captain Dan,” said John. + +The captain smiled happily. + +“Much obliged,” he said, “but I ain't the one you ought to be proud +of. When it comes to real managin' I ain't knee-high to the ship's cat +alongside of Gertie there. She's the one who pulled this family through. +No sir-ee! if you've got any time to spare bein' proud of folks, don't +be proud of Cap'n Dan, but of Cap'n Dan's daughter. Sit down, all hands. +Here comes dinner--at last.” + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Cap'n Dan's Daughter, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 6718-0.txt or 6718-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/7/1/6718/ + +Produced by Don Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Lincoln + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cap'n Dan's Daughter, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +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: Cap'n Dan's Daughter + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: June 6, 2006 [EBook #6718] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Joseph C. Lincoln <br /> <br /> 1914 + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety Store at Trumet Centre was open for + business. Sam Bartlett, the boy whose duty it was to take down the + shutters, sweep out, dust, and wait upon early-bird customers, had + performed the first three of these tasks and gone home for breakfast. The + reason he had not performed the fourth—the waiting upon customers—was + simple enough; there had been no customers to wait upon. The Metropolitan + Dry Goods and Variety Store was open and ready for business—but, + unfortunately, there was no business. + </p> + <p> + There should have been. This was August, the season of the year when, if + ever, Trumet shopkeepers should be beaming across their counters at the + city visitor, male or female, and telling him or her, that “white duck + hats are all the go this summer,” or “there's nothin' better than an + oilskin coat for sailin' cruises or picnics.” Outing shirts and yachting + caps, fancy stationery, post cards, and chocolates should be changing + hands at a great rate and the showcase, containing the nicked blue plates + and cracked teapots, the battered candlesticks and tarnished pewters, + “genuine antiques,” should be opened at frequent intervals for the + inspection of bargain-seeking mothers and their daughters. July and August + are the Cape Cod harvest months; if the single-entry ledgers of Trumet's + business men do not show good-sized profits during that season they are + not likely to do so the rest of the year. + </p> + <p> + Captain Daniel Dott, proprietor of the Metropolitan Store, bending over + his own ledger spread on the little desk by the window at the rear of his + establishment, was realizing this fact, realizing it with a sinking heart + and a sense of hopeless discouragement. The summer was almost over; + September was only three days off; in another fortnight the hotels would + be closed, the boarding houses would be closing, and Trumet, deserted by + its money spending visitors, would be falling asleep, relapsing into its + autumn and winter hibernation. And the Dott ledger, instead of showing a + profit of a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars, as it had the first + summer after Daniel bought the business, showed but a meager three hundred + and fifty, over and above expenses. + </p> + <p> + Through the window the sun was shining brightly. From the road in front of + the store—Trumet's “Main Street”—came the rattle of wheels and + the sound of laughter and conversation in youthful voices. The sounds drew + nearer. Someone shouted “Whoa!” Daniel Dott, a ray of hope illuminating + his soul at the prospect of a customer, rose hurriedly from his seat by + the desk and hastened out into the shop. + </p> + <p> + A big two-horsed vehicle, the “barge” from the Manonquit House, had + stopped before the door. It was filled with a gay crowd, youths and + maidens from the hotel, dressed in spotless flannels and “blazers,” all + talking at once, and evidently carefree and happy. Two of the masculine + members of the party descended from the “barge” and entered the store. + Daniel, smiling his sweetest, stepped forward to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin', good mornin',” he said. “A fine mornin', ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + The greeting was acknowledged by both of the young fellows, and one of + them added that it was a fine morning, indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know as I ever saw a finer,” observed Daniel. “Off on a cruise + somewhere, I presume likely; hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Picnic down at the Point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've got picnic weather, all right. Yes sir, you have!” + </p> + <p> + Comment concerning the weather is the inevitable preliminary to all + commercial transactions in Trumet. Now, preliminaries being over, Daniel + waited hopefully for what was to follow. His hopes were dashed. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is Miss Dott about?” inquired one of the callers. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dott? Oh, Gertie! No, she ain't. She's gone down street somewheres. + Be back pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, I'm afraid we can't wait. We hoped she might go with us on + the picnic. We—er—we wanted her very much.” + </p> + <p> + “That so? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid she couldn't go, even if she was here. + You see, it's her last day at home, and—we—her mother and I—that + is, I don't believe she'd want to leave us to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “No; no, of course not. Well, tell her we wish she might have come, but we + understand. Yes, yes,” in answer to the calls from the “barge,” “we're + coming. Well, good by, Captain Dott.” + </p> + <p> + “Er—good by. Er—er—don't want anything to take along, do + you? A nice box of candy, or—or anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not. We stopped at the Emporium just now, and loaded up with + candy enough to last a week. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + “How are you fixed for sun hats and things? I've got a nice line of hats + and—well, good by.” + </p> + <p> + “Good by.” + </p> + <p> + The “barge” moved off. Daniel, standing dejectedly in the door, remembered + his manners. + </p> + <p> + “Hope you have a nice time,” he shouted. Then he turned and moved + disconsolately back to the desk. He might have expected it. It was thus in + nine cases out of ten. The Emporium, Mr. J. Cohen, proprietor, was his + undoing in this instance as in so many others. The Emporium got the trade + and he got the good bys. Mr. Cohen was not an old resident, as he was; Mr. + Cohen's daughter was not invited to picnics by the summer people; Mrs. + Cohen was not head of the sewing circle and the Chapter of the Ladies of + Honor, and prominent socially, as was Mrs. Dott; but Mr. Cohen bought + cheap and sold cheap, and the Emporium flourished like a green bay tree, + while the Metropolitan Store was rapidly going to seed. Daniel, looking + out through the front window at the blue sea in the distance, thought of + the past, of the days when, as commander and part owner of the three + masted schooner Bluebird, he had been free and prosperous and happy. Then + he considered the future, which was bluer than the sea, and sighed again. + Why had he not been content to stick to the profession he understood, to + remain on the salt water he loved; instead of retiring from the sea to + live on dry land and squander his small fortune in a business for which he + was entirely unfitted? + </p> + <p> + And yet the answer was simple enough. Mrs. Dott—Mrs. Serena Dott, + his wife—was the answer, she and her social aspirations. It was + Serena who had coaxed him into giving up seafaring; who had said that it + was a shame for him to waste his life ordering foremast hands about when + he might be one of the leading citizens in his native town. It was Serena + who had persuaded him to invest the larger part of his savings in the + Metropolitan Store. Serena, who had insisted that Gertrude, their daughter + and only child, should leave home to attend the fashionable and expensive + seminary near Boston. Serena who—but there! it was all Serena; and + had been ever since they were married. Captain Daniel, on board his + schooner, was a man whose word was law. On shore, he was law abiding, and + his words were few. + </p> + <p> + The side door of the store—that leading to the yard separating it + from the Dott homestead—opened, and Azuba Ginn appeared. Azuba had + been the Dott maid of all work for eighteen years, ever since Gertrude was + a baby. She was married, but her husband, Laban Ginn, was mate on a steam + freighter running between New York and almost anywhere, and his shore + leaves were short and infrequent. Theirs was a curious sort of married + life. “We is kind of independent, Labe and me,” said Azuba. “He often says + to me—that is, as often as we're together, which ain't often—he + says to me, he says, 'Live where you want to, Zuby,' he says, 'and if you + want to move, move! When I get ashore I can hunt you up.' We don't write + many letters because time each get t'other's, the news is so plaguey old + 'tain't news at all. You Dotts seem more like home folks to me than + anybody else, so I stick to you. I presume likely I shall till I die.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba entered the store in the way in which she did most things, with a + flurry and a slam. Her sleeves were rolled up, she wore an apron, and one + hand dripped suds, demonstrating that it had just been taken from the + dishpan. In the other, wiped more or less dry on the apron, she held a + crumpled envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “If some human bein's don't beat the + Dutch then <i>I</i> don't know, that's all. If the way some folks go + slip-slop, hit or miss, through this world ain't a caution then—Tut! + tut! tut! don't talk to ME!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan looked up from the ledger. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he asked absently. + </p> + <p> + “I say, don't talk to ME!” + </p> + <p> + “We—ll,” with deliberation, “I guess I shan't, unless you stop + talkin' yourself, and give me a chance. What's the matter now, Zuba?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter! Don't talk to ME! Carelessness is the matter! Slip-sloppiness is + the matter! Here's a man that calls himself a man and goes mopin' around + pretendin' to BE a man, and what does he do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I'd tell you better, maybe, if I knew who he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Who he was! I'll tell you who he was—is, I mean. He's Balaam + Hambleton, that's who he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Bale Hamilton, hey? Then it's easy enough to say what he does—nothin', + most of the time. Is that letter for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Course it's for you! And it's a week old, what's more. One week ago that + letter come in the mail and the postmaster let that—that Hambleton + thing take it, 'cause he said he was goin' right by here and could leave + it just as well as not. And this very mornin' that freckle-faced boy of + his—that George Washin'ton one—what folks give such names to + their young ones for <i>I</i> can't see!—he rung the front door bell + and yanked me right out of the dish water, and he says his ma found the + letter in Balaam's other pants when she was mendin' 'em, and would I + please excuse his forgettin' it 'cause he had so much on his mind lately. + Mind! Land of love! if he had a thistle top on his mind 'twould smash it + flat. Don't talk to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I won't,” drily; “I WON'T, Zuba, I swear it. Let's see the letter.” + </p> + <p> + He bent forward and took the letter from her hand. Then, adjusting his + spectacles, he examined the envelope. It was of the ordinary business size + and was stamped with the Boston postmark, and a date a week old. Captain + Dan looked at the postmark, studied the address, which was in an + unfamiliar handwriting, and then turned the envelope over. On the flap was + printed “Shepley and Farwell, Attorneys, ——- Devonshire + Street.” The captain drew a long breath; he leaned back in his chair and + sat staring at the envelope. + </p> + <p> + Azuba wiped the suds from her wet hand and arm upon her apron. Then she + wrapped it and the other arm in said apron and coughed. The cough was + intended to arouse her employer from the trance into which he had, + apparently, fallen. But it was without effect. Captain Daniel did stop + staring at the envelope, but he merely transferred his gaze to the + ink-spattered blotter and the ledger upon it, and stared at them. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” observed Azuba. + </p> + <p> + The captain started. “Hey?” he exclaimed, looking up. “Did you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “I said 'Well?'. I suppose that's speakin'?” + </p> + <p> + “'Well?' Well what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin'! I was just wonderin'—” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderin' what?” + </p> + <p> + “I was wonderin' if that letter was anything important. Ain't you goin' to + open it and see?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Open it? Oh, yes, yes. Well, I shouldn't wonder if I opened it some + time or other, Zuba. I gen'rally open my letters. It's a funny habit I + have.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, all right, then. I didn't know. Course, 'tain't none of my + business what's in other folks's letters. <i>I</i> ain't nosey, land + knows. Nobody can accuse me of—” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody can accuse you of anything, Zuba. Not even dish washin' just now.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba drew herself up. Outraged dignity and injured pride were expressed + in every line of her figure. “Well!” she exclaimed; “WELL! if that ain't—if + that don't beat all that ever <i>I</i> heard! Here I leave my work to do + folks favors, to fetch and carry for 'em, and this is what I get. Cap'n + Dott, I want you to understand that I ain't dependent on nobody for a job. + I don't HAVE to slave myself to death for nobody. If you ain't satisfied—” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Zuba! I was only jokin'. Don't get mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Mad! Who's mad, I'd like to know? It takes more'n that to make me mad, + I'd have you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good; I'm glad of it. Well, I'm much obliged to you for bringin' + the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “You're welcome. Land sakes! I don't mind doin' errands, only I like to + have 'em appreciated. And I like jokes well as anybody, but when you tell + me—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! don't get het up again. Keep cool, Zuba, keep cool! Think of + that dish water; it's gettin' cooler every minute.” + </p> + <p> + The answer to this was an indignant snort followed by the bang of the + door. Azuba had gone. Captain Daniel looked after her, smiled faintly, + shook his head, and again turned his attention to the letter in his hand. + He did not open it immediately. Instead he sat regarding it with the same + haggard, hopeless expression which he had worn when he first read the + firm's name upon the envelope. He dreaded, perhaps, as much as he had ever + dreaded anything in his life, to open that envelope. + </p> + <p> + He was sure, perfectly sure, what he should find when he did open it. A + letter from the legal representatives of Smith and Denton, the Boston hat + manufacturers and dealers, stating that, unless the latter's account was + paid within the next week, suit for the amount due would be instituted in + the courts. A law suit! a law suit for the collection of a debt against + him, Daniel Dott, the man who had prided himself upon his honesty! Think + of what it would mean! the disgrace of it! the humiliation, not only for + himself but for Serena, his wife, and Gertrude, his daughter! + </p> + <p> + He did not blame Smith and Denton; they had been very kind, very lenient + indeed. The thirty-day credit originally given him had been extended to + sixty and ninety. They had written him many times, and each time he had + written in reply that as soon as collections were better he should be able + to pay in full; that he had a good deal of money owed him, and as soon as + it came in they should have it. But it did not come in. No wonder, + considering that it was owed by the loafers and ne'er-do-wells of the town + and surrounding country, who, because no one else would trust them, + bestowed their custom upon good-natured, gullible Captain Dan. The more + recent letters from the hat dealers had been sharper and less kindly. They + had ceased to request; they demanded. At last they had threatened. And now + the threat was to be fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + The captain laid the envelope down upon the open ledger, rose, and, going + to the front of the store, carefully closed the door. Then, going to the + door communicating with the other half of the store, he made sure that no + one was in the adjoining room. He had a vague feeling that all the eyes in + Trumet were regarding him with suspicion, and he wished to shut out their + accusing gaze. He wanted to be alone when he read that letter. He had half + a mind to take it to the cellar and open it there. + </p> + <p> + His fingers shook as he tore the end from the envelope. They shook still + more as he drew forth the enclosure, a typewritten sheet, and held it to + the light. He read it through to the end. Then, with a loud exclamation, + almost a shout, he rushed to the side door, flung it open and darted + across the yard, the letter fluttering from his fingers like a flag. The + store was left unguarded, but he forgot that. + </p> + <p> + He stumbled up the steps into the kitchen. Azuba, a saucer in one hand and + the dish towel in the other, was, to say the least, startled. As she + expressed it afterward, “the everlastin' soul was pretty nigh scart out of + her.” The saucer flew through the air and lit upon the top of the + cookstove. + </p> + <p> + “What—what—what—” stammered Azuba. “Oh, my land! WHAT is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Serena?” demanded Captain Daniel, paying no attention to the + saucer, except to tread upon the fragments. + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Oh, what IS it? Is the store afire?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Where's Serena?” + </p> + <p> + “She—she—what—” + </p> + <p> + “Where's SERENA, I ask you?” + </p> + <p> + “In her room, I cal'late. For mercy sakes, what—” + </p> + <p> + But the captain did not answer. Through dining-room, sitting-room, and + parlor he galloped, and up the front stairs to the bedroom occupied by + himself and wife. Mrs. Dott was standing before the mirror, red-faced and + panting, both arms behind her and her fingers busily engaged. Her + husband's breath was almost gone by the time he reached the foot of the + stairs; consequently his entrance was a trifle less noisy and startling + than his sky-rocket flight through the kitchen. It is doubtful if his wife + would have noticed even if it had been. She caught a glimpse of him in the + mirror, and heaved a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, is it!” she panted. “My, I'm glad! For mercy sakes fasten + those last three hooks; I'm almost distracted with 'em.” + </p> + <p> + But the hooks remained unfastened for the time. Captain Dan threw himself + into a chair and waved the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Serena,” he cried, puffing like a stranded porpoise, “what—WHAT do + you suppose has happened? Aunt Laviny is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Serena turned. “Dead!” she repeated. “Your Aunt Lavinia Dott? The rich + one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; she's gone. Died in Italy a fortnight ago. Naples, I think + 'twas—or some such outlandish place; you know she's done nothin' but + cruise around Europe ever since Uncle Jim died. The letter says she was + taken sick on a Friday, and died Sunday, so 'twas pretty sudden. I—” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Dott interrupted. “What else does it say?” she asked excitedly. + “What else does that letter say? Who is if from?” + </p> + <p> + “It's from her lawyers up to Boston. What made you think it said anything + else?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm not blind and I can see your face, Daniel Dott. What else + does it say? Tell me! Has she—did she—?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan nodded solemnly. “She didn't forget us,” he said. “She didn't + forget us, Serena. The letter says her will gives us that solid silver + teapot and sugar-bowl that was presented to Uncle Jim by the Ship + Chandlers' Society, when he was president of it. She willed that to us. + She knew I always admired that tea-pot and—” + </p> + <p> + His wife interrupted once more. + </p> + <p> + “Tea-pot!” she repeated strongly. “Tea-pot! What are you talking about? Do + you mean to say that all she left us was a TEA-POT? If you do I—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Serena. Hush! She's left us three thousand dollars besides. Think + of it! Three thousand dollars—just now!” + </p> + <p> + His voice shook as he said it. He spoke as if three thousand dollars was + an unheard-of sum, a fortune. Mrs. Dott had no such illusion. She sat down + upon the edge of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand dollars!” she exclaimed. “Is that all? Three thousand + dollars!” + </p> + <p> + “All! My soul, Serena! Why, ONE thousand dollars just now is like—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Do be still! Three thousand dollars! And she worth a hundred + thousand, if she was worth a cent. A lone woman, without a chick or a + child or a relation except you, and that precious young swell of a cousin + of hers she thought so much of. I suppose he gets the rest of it. Oh, how + can anybody be so stingy!” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-sh, sh-h, Serena. Don't speak so of the dead. Why, we ought to be + mournin' for her, really, instead of rejoicing over what she left us. It + ain't right to talk so. I'm ashamed of myself—or I ought to be. But, + you see, I thought sure the letter was from those hat folks's lawyers, + sayin' they'd started suit. When I found it wasn't, I was so glad I forgot + everything else. Ah hum!—poor Aunt Laviny!” + </p> + <p> + He sighed. His wife shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” she said, “I—I declare I try not to lose patience with + you, but it's awful hard work. Mourning! Mourn for her! What did she ever + do to make you sorry she was gone? Did she ever come near us when she was + alive? No, indeed, she didn't. Did she ever offer to give you, or even + lend you, a cent? I guess not. And she knew you needed it, for I wrote + her.” + </p> + <p> + “You DID? Serena!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. Why shouldn't I? I wrote her six months ago, telling her how + bad your business was, and that Gertie was at school, and we were trying + to give her a good education, and how much money it took and—oh, + everything. When your Uncle Jim's business was bad, in the hard times back + in '73, who was it that helped him out and saved him from bankruptcy? Why, + his brother—your own father. And he never got a cent of it back. I + reminded her of that, too.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel sprang out of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “You did!” he cried again. “Serena, how could you? You knew how Father + felt about that money. You knew how I felt. And yet, you did that!” + </p> + <p> + “I did. Somebody in this family must be practical and worldly-minded, and + I seem to be the one. YOU wouldn't ask her for a cent. You wouldn't ask + anybody for money, even if they owed it a thousand years. You sell + everybody anything they want from the store; and trust them for it. You + know you do. You sold that good-for-nothing Lem Brackett a whole suit of + clothes only last week, and he owes you a big bill and has owed it for a + year.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband looked troubled. “Well,” he answered, slowly, “I suppose + likely I didn't do right there. But those Bracketts are poor, and there's + a big family of 'em, and the fall's comin' on, and—and all. So—” + </p> + <p> + “So you thought it was your duty to help support them, I suppose. Oh, + Daniel, Daniel, I don't know what to do with you sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan looked very grave. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're right, Serena,” he admitted. “I ain't much good, I'm + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott's expression changed. She rose, walked over, and kissed him. + “You're too good, that's the main trouble with you,” she said. “Well, I + won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three thousand anyway—and + the tea-pot.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the sugar-bowl's + almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and think + of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her fortune. No + wonder she didn't leave him the tea-pot; precious little tea he drinks, if + stories we hear are true. Well, there's one good thing about it—Gertie + can keep on with her college. This is her last year.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I thought of that. I thought of a million things when I was racin' + across the yard with this letter. Say, Serena, you've never told Gertie + anything about how trade was or how hard-up we've been?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I knew you wouldn't. She's such a conscientious girl; if she thought + we couldn't afford it she wouldn't think of keepin' on with that college, + and I've set my heart on her havin' the best start in life we can give + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Ah hum! I wish she could have the start some people's daughters + have. Mrs. Black was with me at the lodge room yesterday—we are + decorating for the men's evening to-morrow night, you know—and Mrs. + Black has been helping me; she's awfully kind that way. You'd think she + belonged here in Trumet, instead of being rich and living in Scarford and + being way up in society there. She and her husband are just like common + folks.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Barney Black IS common folks. He was born right here in Trumet and + his family was common as wharf rats. HE needn't put on airs with me.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't. And yet, if he was like some people, he would. So successful + in his big factory, and his wife way up in the best circles of Scarford; + she's head of the Ladies of Honor there as I am here, and means to get a + national office in the order; she told me so. But there! that reminds me + that I was going to meet her at the lodge room at ten, and it's half-past + nine now. Do help me with these hooks. If I wasn't so fleshy I could do + them myself, but I almost died hooking the others.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you call Zuba? She'd have hooked 'em for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Azuba! Heavens and earth! She's worse than nobody; her fingers are all + thumbs. Besides, she would talk me deaf, dumb and blind. She doesn't know + her place at all; thinks she is one of the family, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she is, pretty nigh. Been here long enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. She isn't one of the family; she's a servant, or ought to + be. Oh dear! when I hear Annette Black telling about her four servants and + all the rest it makes me so jealous, sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't make ME jealous. I'd rather have you and Gertie and this place than + all Barney Black owns—and that means his wife, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel, I keep telling you not to call Mr. Black 'Barney.' He is B. + Phelps Black now. Mrs. Black always calls him 'Phelps.' So does everybody + in Scarford, so she says.” + </p> + <p> + “Want to know! He was Barney Black when he lived here regular. Havin' a + summer cottage here and a real house in Scarford must make a lot of + difference. By the way, speakin' of Scarford, that's where Aunt Laviny + used to live afore she went abroad. She owned a big house there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, so she did! I wonder what will become of it. I suppose that cousin + will get it, along with the rest. Oh dear! suppose—just suppose + there wasn't any cousin. Suppose you and I and Gertie had that house and + the money. Wouldn't it be splendid? WE could be in society then.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I'd look pretty in society, wouldn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you would. You'd look as pretty as Barney—B. Phelps + Black, wouldn't you? And I—Oh, HOW I should love it! Trumet is so + out of date. A real intelligent, ambitious woman has no chance in Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head. He recognized the last sentence as a quotation + from the works of Mrs. Annette Black, self-confessed leader in society in + the flourishing manufacturing city of Scarford, and summer resident and + condescending patroness of Trumet. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he observed; “we've got more chance, even in Trumet, than we've + had for the last year, thanks to Aunt Laviny's three thousand. It gives us + a breathin' spell, anyhow. If only trade in the store would pick up, I—Hey! + Good heavens to Betsy! I forgot the store altogether. Sam hadn't got back + from breakfast and I left the store all alone. I must be crazy!” + </p> + <p> + He bolted from the room and down the stairs, the legacy forgotten for the + moment, and in his mind pictures of rifled showcases and youthful Trumet + regaling itself with chocolates at his expense. Azuba shrieked another + question as her employer once more rushed through the kitchen, but again + her question was unanswered. She hurried to the window and watched him + running across the yard. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she exclaimed, in alarmed soliloquy. “WELL, the next time I fetch + that man a letter I'll fetch the doctor along with it. Has the world + turned upside down, or what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + She might have made a worse guess. The Dott world was turning upside down; + this was the beginning of the revolution. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Captain Dan's fears concerning the safety of his showcases were + groundless. Even as he sprang up the steps to the side door of his place + of business, he heard familiar voices in the store. He recognized the + voices, and, halting momentarily to wipe his forehead with his + handkerchief and to regain some portion of his composure and his breath, + he walked in. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, his daughter, was seated in his chair by the desk, and John + Doane was leaning upon the desk, talking with her. In the front of the + store, Sam Bartlett, the boy, who had evidently returned from breakfast, + was doing nothing in particular, and doing it with his usual air of + enjoyment. It was only when required to work that Sam was unhappy. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked up as her father entered; prior to that she had been + looking at the blotter on the desk. John Doane, who had been looking at + Gertrude, also changed the direction of his gaze. Captain Dan struggled + with the breath and the composure. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dad!” exclaimed Gertrude. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Cap'n Dott?” asked Mr. Doane. + </p> + <p> + Daniel did his best to appear calm; it was a poor best. At fifty-two one + cannot run impromptu hurdle races against time, and show no effects. + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” he panted. “Matter? Nothin's the matter. I left the store alone for + a minute and I was in a kind of hurry to get back to it, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + The explanation was not entirely satisfactory. Gertrude looked more + puzzled than ever. + </p> + <p> + “A minute,” she repeated. “Left it a minute! Why, John and I have been + here fifteen minutes, and Sam was here when we came.” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at his watch. “Well, maybe 'twas a little more'n a + minute,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + Master Bartlett sauntered up to take part in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I got here twenty minutes ago,” he observed, grinning, “and you wasn't + here then, Cap'n Dan'l. I was wonderin' what had become of ye.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel seized the opportunity to change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody been in since you came?” he asked, addressing Sam. + </p> + <p> + “No, nobody special. Abel Calvin was in to see if you wanted to buy some + beach plums for puttin' up. He said he had about a bushel of first-rate + ones, just picked.” + </p> + <p> + “Beach plums! What in time would I want of beach plums? I don't put up + preserves, do I? Why didn't he go to the house?” + </p> + <p> + “I asked him that, myself, and he said 'twa'n't no use.” + </p> + <p> + “No use! What did he mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said—he said—” Sam seemed suddenly to realize that + he was getting into deep water; “he said—he said somethin' or other; + I guess I've forgot what 'twas.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you ain't. WHAT did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said—he said Serena—Mrs. Dott, I mean—was + probably gallivantin' down to the lodge room by this time. Said 'twa'n't + no use tryin' to get her to attend to common things or common folks + nowadays; she was too busy tryin' to keep up with Annette Black.” + </p> + <p> + This literal quotation from the frank Mr. Calvin caused a sensation. + Captain Dan struggled to find words. His daughter laid a hand on his + sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Dad,” she said, soothingly. “You know what Abel Calvin is; + you don't mind what he says. Sam, you shouldn't repeat such nonsense. Run + away now and attend to your work. I'm sure there's enough for you to do.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you go and clean up the cellar,” ordered the irate captain. Sam + departed cellarward, muttering that it wasn't his fault; HE hadn't said + nothin'. Gertrude spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mind that, Dad,” she urged. “Why, how warm you are, and how excited + you look. What is it? You haven't spoken a word to John.” + </p> + <p> + Her father shook his head. “Mornin', John,” he said. “I beg your pardon. I + ain't responsible to-day, I shouldn't wonder. I—I've had some news + that's drivin' everything else out of my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “News? Why, Dad! what do you mean? Bad news?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Good as ever was, and.... Humph! no, I don't mean that. It is bad + news, of course. Your Great-aunt Laviny's dead, Gertie.” + </p> + <p> + He told of the lawyer's letter, omitting for the present the news of the + legacy. Gertrude was interested, but not greatly shocked or grieved. She + had met her great-aunt but once during her lifetime, and her memory of the + deceased was of a stately female, whose earrings and brooches and rings + sparkled as if she was on fire in several places; who sat bolt upright at + the further end of a hotel room in Boston, and ordered Captain Dan not to + bring “that child” any nearer until its hands were washed. As she had been + the child and had distinctly disagreeable recollections of the said hands + having been washed three times before admittance to the presence, the + memory was not too pleasant. She said she was sorry to hear that Aunt + Lavinia was no more, and asked when it happened. Her father told what he + knew of the circumstances attending the bereavement, which was not much. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone, anyhow,” he said. “It's liable to happen to any of us, bein' + cut off that way. We ought to be prepared, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so. But, Daddy, Aunt Lavinia wasn't cut off exactly, was she? + She was your aunt and she must have been quite old.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Why, let's see. She was your grandpa's brother's wife, and he—Uncle + Jim, I mean—was about four years older than Father. She was three + years younger'n he was when he married her. Let's see again. Father—that's + your grandpa, Gertie—was sixty-five when he died and... Humph! No, + Aunt Laviny was eighty-eight, or thereabouts. She wasn't exactly cut off, + was she, come to think of it?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's brown eyes twinkled. “Not exactly—no,” she said, gravely. + “Well, Daddy, I'm sure I am sorry she has gone, but, considering that she + has never deigned to visit us or have us visit her, or even to write you a + letter for the past two years, I don't think we should be expected to + mourn greatly. And,” glancing at him, “I don't understand just what you + meant by saying first that the news was good, and then that it was bad. + There is something else, isn't there?” + </p> + <p> + Her father smiled, in an embarrassed way. “Well, ye—es,” he + admitted, “there is somethin' else, but—but I don't know as I didn't + do wrong to feel so good over it. I—I guess I'll tell you by and by, + if you don't mind. Maybe then I won't feel—act, I mean—so + tickled. It don't seem right that I should be. Let me get sort of used to + it first. I'll tell you pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + His daughter laughed, softly. “I know you will, Dad,” she said. “You + couldn't keep a secret in that dear old head of yours if you tried. Not + from me, anyway; could you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” regarding her fondly. “Anyhow, I shan't try to keep this + one. Well, this time to-morrow you'll be back at college again, in among + all those Greek and Latin folks. Wonder she'll condescend to come and talk + plain United States to us Cape Codders, ain't it, John.” + </p> + <p> + John Doane admitted that it was a wonder. He seemed to regard Miss Dott as + a very wonderful young person altogether. Gertrude glanced up at him, then + at her father, and then at the blotter on the desk. She absently played + with the pages of the ledger. + </p> + <p> + “Dad,” she said, suddenly, “you are not the only one who has a secret.” + </p> + <p> + The captain turned and looked at her. Her head was bent over the ledger + and he could see but the top of a very becoming hat, a stray lock of wavy + brown hair, and the curve of a very pretty cheek. The cheek—what he + could see of it—was crimson. He looked up at Mr. Doane. That young + man's face was crimson also. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Captain Daniel; and added, “I want to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you're not the only one. We—I—there is another secret. + Daddy, dear, John wants to talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at Mr. Doane, then at the hat and the face beneath it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I—I—” She rose and, putting her arms about her father's + neck, kissed him. “I will be back before long, dear,” she whispered, and + hurried out. Mr. Doane cleared his throat. Captain Dan waited. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” began the young man, and stopped. The captain continued to + wait. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” began Mr. Doane, again, “I—I—” For one who, as + Gertrude had declared, wished to talk, he seemed to be finding the + operation difficult. “I—Well, sir, the fact is, I have something to + say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, who was looking very grave, observed that he “wanted to + know.” John Doane cleared his throat once more, and took a fresh start. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he said, “I have something to say to you—er—something + that—that may surprise you.” + </p> + <p> + A faint smile disturbed the gravity of the captain's face. + </p> + <p> + “May surprise me, hey?” he repeated. “Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see, I—Gertie and I—have—are—” + </p> + <p> + Daniel looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Hard navigatin', ain't it, John?” he inquired, whimsically. “Maybe I + could help you over the shoals. You and Gertie think you'd like to get + married sometime or other, I presume likely. Is that what you're tryin' to + tell me?” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt of it. The young man's face expressed several emotions, + relief that the great secret was known, and surprise that anyone should + have guessed it. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir,” he admitted, “that is it. Gertie and I have known each + other for years, ever since we were children, in fact; and, you see—you + see—” he paused once more, began again, and then broke out + impatiently with, “I'm making an awful mess of this. I don't know why.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan's smile broadened. + </p> + <p> + “I made just as bad a one myself, once on a time,” he observed. “Just as + bad, or worse—and <i>I</i> didn't know why either. There, John, you + sit down. Come to anchor alongside here, and let's talk this thing over in + comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane “came to anchor” on an empty packing case beside the desk. As he + was tall and big, and the box was low and small, the “comfort” was + doubtful. However, neither of the pair noticed this at the time. + </p> + <p> + “So you think you want Gertie, do you, John?” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” was the emphatic answer. + </p> + <p> + “So. And she thinks she wants you?” + </p> + <p> + “She says so.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” with a sidelong glance. “Think she means it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm trying to believe she does.” + </p> + <p> + The tone in which this was uttered caused Captain Dan to chuckle. “'Tis + strange, I'll give in,” he remarked, drily. “No accountin' for taste, is + there—Well,” his gravity returning, “I suppose likely you realize + that her mother and I think consider'ble of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I realize that thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't realize it as much as you will some day, perhaps. Yes, we think + Gertie's about right. She's a smart girl and, what's more, she's a good + girl, and she's all the child we've got. Of course we've realized that she + was growin' up and that—Oh, good mornin', Alphy. Fine weather, ain't + it. Lookin' for somethin', was you?” + </p> + <p> + He hurried out into the store to sell Mrs. Theophilus Berry, known locally + as “Alphy Ann,” a box of writing paper and a penholder. The transaction + completed, he returned to his chair. John Doane, who had recovered, in a + measure, from his embarrassment, was ready for him. + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n Dott,” said the young man, “I know how you feel, I think. I know + what Gertie is to you and how anxious you and her mother must be + concerning her future. If I did not feel certain—practically certain—that + I could give her a good home and all that goes with it, I should not have + presumed to speak to her, or to you, concerning marriage. My business + prospects are good, or I think they are. I—” + </p> + <p> + The captain held up his hand. “Er—er—John,” he said, uneasily, + “maybe you'd better tell about that part of it when Serena's around. She's + the practical one of us two, I guess, far's money's concerned, anyway. I + used to think I was pretty practical when I was on salt water, but—but + lately I ain't so sure. I'm afraid—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, began to speak again, and then relapsed into silence, seeming + to forget his companion altogether. The latter reminded him by saying: + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to tell Mrs. Dott everything, of course. I have been with + the firm now employing me for eight years, ever since I left high school. + They seem to like me. I have been steadily advanced, my salary is a fairly + good one, and in another year I have the promise of a partnership. After + that my progress will depend upon myself.” + </p> + <p> + He went on, in a manly, straightforward manner, to speak of his hopes and + ambitions. Daniel listened, but the most of what he heard was + incomprehensible. Increased output and decreased manufacturing costs were + Greek to him. When the young man paused, he brought the conversation back + to what, in his mind, was the essential. + </p> + <p> + “And you're certain sure that you two care enough for each other?” he + asked. “Not just care, but care enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I guess I ain't got much to say. There's one thing, though. + Gertie's young. She ain't finished her schoolin' yet, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And you think she should. So do I. She wishes to do it, herself, and I + should be the last to prevent her, even if I could. We have agreed that + she shall have the final year at college and then come back to you. After + that—well, after that, the time of our marriage can be settled. + Gertie and I are willing to wait; we expect to. In a few years I shall + have a little more money, I hope, and be more sure of success in life. I + may never be a rich man, but Gertie's tastes and mine are modest. She does + not care for society—” + </p> + <p> + The captain interrupted. “That's so,” he said, hastily, “she don't. She + don't care for 'em at all. Her mother has the greatest work to get her to + go to lodge meetin's. No, she don't care for societies any more'n I do. + Well, John, I—I—it'll come pretty hard to give her up to + anybody. Wait till you have a daughter of your own and you'll know how + hard. But, if I've got to give her up, I'd rather give her to you than + anybody I know. You're a Trumet boy and I've known you all my life, and + so's Gertie, for that matter. All I can say is, God bless you and—and + take good care of my girl, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + He extended his hand and John seized it. Then the captain coughed, blew + his nose with vigor, and, reaching into his pocket, produced two battered + cigars. + </p> + <p> + “Smoke up, John,” he said. + </p> + <p> + At dinner, a meal at which Mrs. Dott, still busy with the lodge room + decorations, was not present, Gertrude and her father talked it over. + </p> + <p> + “It comes kind of hard, Gertie,” he admitted, “but, Lord love you, there's + a heap of hard things in this world. John's a good fellow and—and, + well, we ain't goin' to lose you just yet, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude rose and, coming around the table, put her arms about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you're not, dear,” she said. “If I supposed my marriage meant + giving you up, I shouldn't think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Want to know! Wouldn't think of John, either, I suppose, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—I might think of him a little, just a tiny little bit.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder. That's all right. You can't get rid of me so easy. + After you two are all settled in your fine new house, I'll be comin' + around to disgrace you, puttin' my boots on the furniture and—” + </p> + <p> + “Dad!” + </p> + <p> + “Won't I? Well, maybe I won't. I cal'late by that time I'll be broke to + harness. Your mother's gettin' in with the swells so, lately, Barney + Black's wife and the rest, that I'll have to mind my manners. There! let's + go into the sittin'-room a few minutes and give Zuba a chance to clear + off. Sam's tendin' store and his dinner can wait a spell; judgin' by the + time he took for breakfast he hadn't ought to be hungry for the next + week.” + </p> + <p> + In the sitting-room they spoke of many things, of Gertrude's departure for + school—she was leaving on the three o'clock train—of the + engagement, of course, and of the three thousand dollar windfall from Aunt + Lavinia. The captain had told that bit of news when they sat down to + dinner. + </p> + <p> + “What is that cousin's name?” asked Gertrude. “The one who inherits all of + your aunt's fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “Let's see. His name? I ought to know it well's I know my own. It's—it's + Starvation, or somethin' like that. Somethin' about bein' hungry, anyhow. + Hungerford, Percy Hungerford, that's it!” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Not Percy Hungerford—of Scarford!” she cried. “What sort of a man + is he? What does he look like?” + </p> + <p> + “Looked like a picked chicken, last time I saw him. Kind of a spindlin' + little critter, with sandy complexion and hair, but dressed—my soul! + there wasn't any picked chicken look about his clothes.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude nodded. “I believe it is the same one,” she said. “Yes, I am sure + of it. He came out to the college at one of our commencements. One of the + girls invited him. He danced with me—once. They said he was very + wealthy.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! All the wealth he had come from Aunt Laviny, far's I ever heard. + He was her pet and the only thing she ever spent money on, except herself. + And you met him! Well, this is a small world. Like him, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Gertrude, and changed the subject. + </p> + <p> + Before her father departed for the store and she went to her room to + finish packing, she sat upon the arm of his chair and, bending down, said: + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, if you hadn't got this money, this three thousand dollars, do you + know what I had very nearly made up my mind to do?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm sure I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I had almost decided not to stay at college, but to come back here and + live with you and mother.” + </p> + <p> + “For the land sakes! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was sure you needed me. You never told me, of course—being + you, you wouldn't—but I was sure that you were troubled about—about + things.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Troubled? What put that into your head? I'm the most gay, + happy-go-lucky fellow in the world. I don't get troubled enough. Ask your + mother if that ain't so.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not ask anybody but you. Tell me truly: Weren't you troubled; + about the business, and the store? Truly, now.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan rubbed his chin. He wished very much to deny the allegation, + or at least to dodge the truth. But he was a poor prevaricator at any + time, and his daughter was looking him straight in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he faltered, “I—I—How in time did you guess that? I—Humph! + why, yes, I was a little mite upset. You see, trade ain't been first rate + this summer, and collections were awful slow. I hate to drive folks, + especially when I know they're hard up. I was a little worried, but it's + all right now. Aunt Laviny's three thousand fixed that all right. It'll + carry me along like a full sail breeze. You go back to school, like a + sensible girl, and don't you worry a mite. It's all right now, Gertie.” + </p> + <p> + “Honest?” + </p> + <p> + “Honest to Betsy!” with an emphatic nod. + </p> + <p> + He meant it; he really thought it was all right. The fact that he owed a + thousand already and that the remaining two would almost certainly be + swept into the capacious maw of the Metropolitan Store did not occur to + him then. Daniel Dott was a failure as a business man but as an optimist + he was a huge success. + </p> + <p> + “Then you're sure you can afford to have me go back for my last year?” + </p> + <p> + “Course I am. I couldn't afford to do anything else.” + </p> + <p> + His absolute certainty stifled his daughter's doubts for the time, but she + asked another question. + </p> + <p> + “And there's nothing that troubles you at all?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o.” The captain's answer was not quite as emphatic this time. Gertrude + smiled, and patted his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, dear,” she said, “you're as transparent as a window pane, aren't + you. Well, don't worry any more. That will be all right pretty soon, too. + Mrs. Black doesn't stay in Trumet all the year.” + </p> + <p> + Her father gasped. That this child of his, whom he had always regarded as + a child, should dive into the recesses of his soul and drag to light its + most secret misgivings was amazing. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean. I'm not blind. I can see. Mother is just a little + carried away. She has heard so much about big houses and servants and + society and woman's opportunity, and all the rest of it, that she has been + swept off her feet. But it won't last, I'm sure. She isn't really + discontented; she only thinks she is.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel sighed. “I know,” he said. “Fact is, I ain't up-to-date enough, + myself, that's what's the matter. She's a mighty able, ambitious woman, + your mother is, Gertie, and I don't wonder she gets to thinkin', + sometimes, that Trumet is a kind of one-horse town. I like it; I AM + one-horse, I suppose. But she ain't, and she ain't satisfied to be + satisfied, like me. It's a good thing she ain't, I guess. Somebody's got + to live up to the responsibilities of life, and—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude laughed. “She said that, didn't she,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, she did. She says it every once in a while. How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed. And I imagine Mrs. Phelps Black said it first. But there, Dad, + be patient and.... Sh-sh! here's Mother now.” + </p> + <p> + It was Serena, sure enough, breathless from hurrying, her hat a bit on one + side, one glove off and the other on, but full of energy and impatience. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you've had dinner,” she exclaimed. “Well, all right, I don't + care. I couldn't help being late, there was so much to do at the lodge + rooms and nobody to do it right, except me. If Mrs. Black hadn't helped + and superintended and—and everything, I don't know where we should + have been. And those visiting delegates from Boston coming! I must get a + bite and hurry back. Where's Azuba? Azuba!” + </p> + <p> + She was rushing in the direction of the kitchen, but her husband detained + her. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Serena,” he shouted. “Goin' back! What do you mean? You ain't + goin' back to that lodge this afternoon, are you? Why, Gertie's goin' on + the up-train!” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but I must go back, Daniel. Goodness knows what would happen if I + didn't. If you had seen some of the decorations those other women wanted + to put up, you would think it was necessary for someone with respectable + taste to be there. Why, Sophronia Smalley actually would have draped the + presiding officer's desk—MY desk—with a blue flag with a white + whale on it, if I hadn't been there to stop her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—Why, Serena, you know Sophrony thinks a sight of that flag. + Simeon Smalley, her father, was in the whalin' trade for years, and that + flag was his private signal. She always has that flag up somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she shan't have it on my desk. Annette—Mrs. Black, I mean—said + it was ridiculous. If such a thing happened in Scarford the audience would + have hysterics. Would you want your wife to make a spectacle of herself, + before those Boston delegates, standing behind a white whale, and a dirty + white at that! Gertie, I shall be at the depot to say good by, but I must + be at that lodge room first. I MUST. You understand, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude said she understood perfectly and her mother hurried to the + kitchen, where she ate lukewarm fried fish and apple pie, while Azuba + washed the dishes and prophesied darkly concerning “dyspepsy.” Gertrude + went to her room to put the last few things in her trunks, and Captain Dan + returned to the store, where he found the Bartlett boy pacifying a gnawing + appetite with chocolate creams abstracted from stock. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter to three the captain was at the railway station, where he was + joined by John Doane, who, his vacation over, was returning to Boston. + After a five-minute wait Serena and Gertrude appeared. The latter had + called at the lodge room for her mother and, during the walk to the + station, had broken the news of her engagement. + </p> + <p> + Serena was not surprised, of course; she, like everyone else, had expected + it, and she liked John. But she was a good deal agitated and even the + portentous business of the lodge meeting was driven from her mind. She and + Mr. Doane shook hands, but the young man felt very much like a thief, and + a particularly mean sort of thief, as young men are likely to feel under + such circumstances. Farewells were harder to say than usual, although + Gertrude tried her best to seem cheerful, and the captain swallowed the + lump in his throat and smiled and joked in a ghastly fashion all through + the ceremony. Just before the train started, his daughter led him to one + side and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Now, Daddy, remember—you are not to worry. And, if you need me at + any time, you will tell me so, and I shall surely come. You'll promise, + won't you? And you will write at least once a week?” + </p> + <p> + The captain made both promises. They kissed, Serena and Gertrude exchanged + hugs, and John Doane solemnly shook hands once more. Then the train moved + away from the station. + </p> + <p> + Daniel and Serena walked homeward, Mrs. Dott wiping her eyes with a damp + handkerchief, and her husband very grave and silent. As they passed the + lodge building the lady said: + </p> + <p> + “I ought to go right back in there again. I ought to, but I just can't, + not now. I—I want to be with you, Daniel, a time like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows I want you, Serena; but—but for mercy sakes don't + call it a 'time like this.' Sounds as if we'd just come from the cemetery + instead of the depot. We ain't been to a funeral; we're only lookin' + for'ard to a weddin'.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of this philosophical declaration the remainder of that afternoon + was rather funereal for Captain Dan. He moped about the store, waiting + half-heartedly upon the few customers who happened in, and the ring of the + supper bell was welcome, as it promised some company other than his + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + But the promise was not fulfilled. He ate his supper alone. Mrs. Dott had + gone back to the lodge room, so Azuba said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think she was intendin' to,” remarked the latter, confidentially. + “She said she guessed she'd 'lay down a spell'; said she was 'kind of + tired.' But afore she got upstairs scarcely, along comes that Black + automobile with that Irish 'shover man'—that's what they call 'em, + ain't it?—drivin' it and her in the back seat, and he gets out and + comes and rings the front door bell, and when I answer it—had my + hands all plastered up with dough, I did, for I was makin' pie, and it + took me the longest time to get 'em clean—when I answered it he said + that she said she wanted to see her and—” + </p> + <p> + “Here! hold on, Zuba!” interrupted her bewildered employer. “'Vast heavin' + a second, will you? You ought to run that yarn of yours through a sieve + and strain some of the 'hes' and 'shes' out of it. 'He said that she said + she wanted to see her.' Who wanted to see what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Barney Black's wife. She wanted to see Serena. So in she came, all + rigged up in her best clothes and—” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know they were her best ones?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Well, they would have been MY best ones, if <i>I</i> owned 'em, I + tell you that. I never see such clothes as that woman has! All trimmin' + and flounces and didos, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Hi! steady there, Zuba. Keep your eye on the compass. You're gettin' off + the course again. Annette—Mrs. Black, I mean—came to see Mrs. + Dott; that's plain sailin' so far. What happened after that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they went off together in the automobile and Serena said to tell you + she had to go to lodge, and she'd be back when she could and not to wait + supper. That's all I know.” + </p> + <p> + The captain finished his lonely meal and returned to the store, where he + found Abel Blount's wife and their twin boys, aged eight, waiting to + negotiate for rubber boots. The boots were for the boys, but Mrs. Blount + did the buying and it was a long and talky process. At last, however, the + youngsters were fitted and clumped proudly away, bearing their leather + shoes in their hands. It was a dry evening, but to separate the twins from + those rubber boots would have been next door to an impossibility. + </p> + <p> + “There!” exclaimed the lady, as she bade the captain good night, “that's + done; that much is settled anyhow. I'm thankful I ain't got four twins, + instead of two, Cap'n Dott.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, entering the sale in the ledger, was thankful also. If the lengthy + Blount account had been settled he would have been still more so. + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock he and Sam locked up, extinguished the lamps, and closed + the Metropolitan Store for the night. Crossing the yard to the house, + which he entered by the front door, he found Serena in the sitting-room. + She was reclining upon the couch. She was tired, and out of sorts. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, acknowledging her husband's greeting with a + nod, “I am just about worn out, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you would be, Serena. You've been makin' tracks between + here and that lodge room all to-day and yesterday, too. I should think + you'd be about dead.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't that. I don't mind the work. It's the thanklessness of it all + that breaks me down. I give my time and effort to help the lodge, and what + does it amount to?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—I give in that it don't seem to me to amount to much, + 'cordin' to my figurin'. I don't care much for lodge meetin's and + sociables and such, myself. I'd rather have one evenin' at home with you + than the whole cargo of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + This statement was frank, but it was decidedly undiplomatic. Serena + sniffed contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you would!” she said. “I don't get a bit of encouragement here + at home, either. I should think you'd be proud to have your wife the head + of the Chapter, presiding at meetings and welcoming the visiting delegates + and—and all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” hastily. “I'm proud of you, Serena. Always have been, far's that + goes. But I'm just as proud of you here in this sittin'-room as I am when + you're back of that pulpit, poundin' with your mallet and tellin' Alphy + Ann Berry to 'come to order.' Notwithstanding that you're the only one can + make her come—or go, either—unless she takes a notion. Why,” + with a chuckle, “it takes her husband half an hour to make her go home + after meetin's over.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott did not chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “You think it's a joke,” she said. “I don't. It is the Berry woman and her + kind that make me disgusted. I'm tired of them all. I'm tired of Trumet. I + wish we were somewhere where I had an opportunity; somewhere where I might + be appreciated.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> appreciate you, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + Serena ignored the remark. “I wish we had never settled here,” she went + on. “I'd leave in a minute, if I could. I'd like to be in with nice + people, cultivated people, intelligent, up-to-date society, where I could + have a chance to go on and be somebody. I'd like to be a leader. I could + be. Annette says I would be in a city like Scarford. She says I 'have the + faculty of the born leader.' All I lack is the opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband sighed. He had heard all this before. Inwardly he wished Mrs. + Black at Scarford, or China, or anywhere, provided it was not Trumet. + </p> + <p> + His wife heard the sigh. “There, Daniel,” she said; “I won't be + complaining. I try not to be. But,” she hesitated, “there is one thing I'd + like to ask, now that we've got your Aunt Lavinia's three thousand: Don't + you suppose I could have some new clothes; I need at least two dresses + right away.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, I guess likely you could, Serena. Yes, course you can. You + go see Sarah Loveland right off.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Loveland was the Trumet dressmaker. At the mention of her name Serena + shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want Sarah to make them, Daniel,” she said. “Mrs. Black says the + things she makes are awful old-fashioned; 'country,' she calls them.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel snorted. “I want to know!” he exclaimed. “Well, I remember her + husband when his ma used to make his clothes out of his dad's old ones. I + don't know whether they was 'country' or not, but they were the dumdest + things ever <i>I</i> saw. Country, huh! Scarford ain't any Paris, is it? I + never heard it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn't Trumet. No, Daniel, if we could afford it, I'd like to + have these dresses made up in Boston, where Gertie gets hers. Mrs. Black + often speaks of Gertie's gowns; she says they are remarkably stylish, + considering.” + </p> + <p> + “CONSIDERIN'! What does she mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cross. I suppose she meant considering that they were not as + expensive as her own. DO you suppose I could go to that Boston dressmaker, + Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan's reply was slow in coming. He hated to say no; in fact, he + said it so seldom that he scarcely knew how. So he temporized. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Serena,” he began, “I—I'd like to have you; you know that. If + 'twasn't for the cost I wouldn't hesitate a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “But we have that three thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we ain't got all of it. Or we shan't have it long. I was footin' up + what I owed—what the store owes, I mean—just now, and it come + to a pretty high figure. Over twelve hundred, it was. That's GOT to be + paid. Then there's Gertie's schoolin' and her board. Course, I never tell + her we ain't so well off as we were. You and I agreed she shouldn't know. + But it takes a lot of money and—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott sat up on the couch. Her eyes snapped. “Oh!” she cried; “money! + money! money! It's always money! If only just once I had all the money I + wanted, I should be perfectly happy. If I wouldn't GO IT!” + </p> + <p> + Steps sounded on the front porch, and the patent door bell clicked and + clanged. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through Trumet. It + spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it grew. The Dotts + had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The Dotts were millionaires! + Captain Daniel's brother had died and left him fifty thousand dollars! His + brother's wife had died and left him a hundred thousand! It was not his + brother's wife, but Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance was + two hundred and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story reached + Trumet Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott relatives on + both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole survivors of the + family all the money and property in the world, with a few trifling + exceptions. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,—one must eat, or try to eat, even + though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is moving in a + sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always present—Captain + Dan, coming into the house for dinner, expressed his opinion of Trumet + gossip mongers. + </p> + <p> + “My heavens and earth, Serena!” he cried, sinking into his chair at the + table, “am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or what's + happened to me, or don't I?” + </p> + <p> + Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him across the + table. + </p> + <p> + “I should hope you did, Daniel,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if <i>I</i> do, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. + I've heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had alive. And + yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and body! Say, did you know + you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?” + </p> + <p> + “I? In California? Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a epileptic or + an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or a palace or a jail, + and he was worth four millions or forty, I forget which, and fell out of + an automobile or out of a balloon or out of bed—anyhow, it killed + him—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this + forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to folks that + come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And some of 'em was + people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My head's kind of wobbly + this mornin', after the shock that hit it last night, but it's a regular + Dan'l Webster's alongside the general run of heads in this town. Aunt + Laviny's will has turned Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all + runnin' loose.” + </p> + <p> + “But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?” + </p> + <p> + “'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen folks you + meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell you you had one. + They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a grandmother or a + step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or the Cape of Good Hope, but + they all know it's dead now, and we've got anywheres from a postage stamp + to a hogshead of diamonds. Serena, if you hear yells for help this + afternoon, don't pay any attention. It'll only mean that my patience has + run out and I'm tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at + least. There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed.” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to be + excited. I'm excited myself.” + </p> + <p> + The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. “<i>I</i> ain't exactly a + graven image, now that you mention it,” he admitted. “But you and I have + got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to see you; or did + you lock the doors?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. Tripp, and + the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The first four pretended + they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge woman to get my recipe for + chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I knew what they really came for. + Daniel, HOW do you suppose the news got out so soon? I didn't tell a soul + and you promised you wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down at the + Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over one seed of a + yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll have a crop of lies + next mornin' that would load a three-master. They come up in the night, + like toadstools.” + </p> + <p> + “But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' to hire + a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the job was + finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell your gang?” + </p> + <p> + “I simply said,” Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke with a + gracious dignity; “I said they might quote me as saying it was NOT a + million.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; “I don't + know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I done the + best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a mercy I didn't + fry the platter.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more wonderful + and surprising than falling heir to three thousand dollars and a silver + tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the Metropolitan Store the previous + evening and started for the house, the bearer of the great news was on his + way from the Manonquit House, where he had had supper. When Serena + bewailed her fate and expressed a desire for an opportunity, he was almost + at the front gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted her + conversation with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in the + person of Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of Shepley + and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young, a + fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much + professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat + of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown + into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to + remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the + pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain + assured him that he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and its + wearer to remember etiquette. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you—won't you sit down, Mr. er—er—” began the + captain. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After a glance + about the room, which took in the upright piano—purchased + second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons—the + what-not, with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, + and West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the mantel of + Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded directly to + business. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Dott,” he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely to + Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, “you received a + letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his caller's + identity, shook his head. “As a matter of fact,” he stammered, “I—I + only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, it got as far as the + post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it over to Balaam Hamilton, to + bring to me. Well, Balaam is—well, his underpinnin's all right; he + wears a number eleven shoe—but his top riggin' is kind of lackin' in + spots. You'd understand if you knew him. He put the letter in his pocket + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” cut in Serena, impatiently, “what do you suppose Mr. Farwell + cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. Farwell, and we + only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't been answered. What about + the letter?” + </p> + <p> + The visitor did not answer directly. “I see,” he said. “That letter + informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott—your aunt, Captain,—was + dead, and that we, her legal representatives, having, as we supposed, her + will in our possession, and being in charge of her affairs—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since she + learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not notice the + peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did. + </p> + <p> + “As you supposed?” she repeated. “You did have the will, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years ago. But + we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was another, a much + more recent one, which superseded the one in our possession. Of course, + that being the case, the bequests in the former were not binding upon the + estate. That is to say, our will was not a will at all.” + </p> + <p> + Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her. + </p> + <p> + “Then we—then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?” she + cried. + </p> + <p> + “Or—or the tea-pot?” faltered Captain Dan. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation. + However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense + too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart. + </p> + <p> + “She left you a great deal more than that,” he said. “In the former will, + her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal legatee. + He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of her + property—some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities, and + her estate at Scarford—to him. But last February it appears that he + and she had a falling out. He—Mr. Hungerford—is, so I am told, + a good deal of a sport—ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of + fashionable and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, + rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was grouchy—er—not + well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically disinheriting him. + Under the new will he receives twenty thousand dollars in cash. The + balance—” Mr. Farwell, who, during this long statement, had + interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional lapse into youthful + idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,—“the balance,” he said, + “one hundred thousand in money and securities, and the house at Scarford, + which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five thousand more, she leaves to + you, as her only other relative, Captain Dott. I am here to congratulate + you and to offer you my services and those of the firm, should you desire + legal advice.” + </p> + <p> + Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to enjoy + the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be the complete + stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were characteristic. + </p> + <p> + “My soul and body!” gasped Captain Dan. “I—I—my land of love! + And only this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Serena. “And that beautiful house at + Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. “A very handsome little windfall,” he + observed, with condescension. + </p> + <p> + “We get a hundred thousand!” murmured the captain. “My! I wish Father was + alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young + Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand!” breathed his wife, her hands clasped. “And that + lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to! + Yes, and live there! Oh—oh, Daniel! I—I don't know why I'm + doing it, but I—I believe I'm going to cry.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, old lady,” he commanded. “Cry, if you want to. I—I'm + goin' to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!” + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and it was + the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which set all + Trumet by the ears next day. + </p> + <p> + Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast had + been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they could not eat. + They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or the other was certain to + break out with an exclamation or a wondering surmise, and the meal was, as + the captain said, “all talk and no substantials.” They had scarcely risen + from the table when the doorbell rang. + </p> + <p> + Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had remembered + this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried it in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a-goin',” she declared; “I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can.” + </p> + <p> + She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “You stay right where you are,” he ordered. “I'll answer that bell myself + this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” cried his wife, “what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' to do. + They shan't get in here to pester you to death with questions, not if I + can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult people.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em—I'll tell 'em you're sick and + can't see anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I am,” said Captain Dan. “They make me sick. Shut up, will you?” + addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. “I'll come when I get + ready.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he strode from + the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba heard him tramping + through the front hall. + </p> + <p> + “What—WHAT is he going to do?” faltered Serena; “or say?” + </p> + <p> + Azuba shook her head. “Land knows!” she exclaimed. “I ain't seen him this + way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for THAT with the + hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't talk to ME!” + </p> + <p> + But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. The + anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they were subdued + ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked troubled. + </p> + <p> + “It's Barney Black and his wife,” he answered, in a whisper. “I couldn't + tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, waitin'. I suppose + we'll have to see 'em, won't we?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and patting + her hair into presentable shape. + </p> + <p> + “See 'em!” she repeated. “Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think + it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way round + under your ear.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her + husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. and Mr. Black—scanning them in the order of their importance—rose + as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to + view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife, + and did not look his height. Annette swept forward. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own + gloved one. “We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't + resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + Serena admitted that it was wonderful. “We can hardly believe it yet, + ourselves,” she said. “But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down + again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. “Sit down anywhere, Barney,” said + the former. “Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in the + leg.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank into + an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word “Barney,” and + the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were entirely lost upon + the latter. + </p> + <p> + “We had that rocker up in the attic till last month,” he observed; “but + Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go + now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all + right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want folks + to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that “nothing was the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “The rocker isn't very strong,” she explained, addressing Mrs. Black. “But + it belonged to my great—that is, it has been in our family for a + good many years and we think a great deal of it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a + “dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I love old-fashioned things,” she said. “So does Mr. Black. Don't you, + Phelps?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be + over-enthusiastic. + </p> + <p> + “But do tell us about your little legacy,” went on the lady. “Of course we + have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than to + believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million. Naturally, + THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in + his direction, and he closed it again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, “that was absurd, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people + exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that + your cousin had died—that is, <i>I</i> heard it was a cousin; Phelps + heard it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “So,” went on Mrs. Black, “we didn't know which it was.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and + again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had + quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't it funny!” she gushed. “I don't wonder you laugh. Here was I + saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. It was so odd + and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; which was it, really, + Captain Dott?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. “Why,” he + stammered, “it was—it was—” He looked appealingly at Serena. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?” inquired his wife, rather sharply. + </p> + <p> + “It was my Aunt Laviny,” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black nodded and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! your aunt!” she exclaimed. “There! isn't that funny! And SO + characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an aunt. What + did you say her name was?” + </p> + <p> + “Laviny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. Laviny—what an odd name! I don't think I ever heard it + before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?” + </p> + <p> + Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't Laviny at all,” she said. “That is only Daniel's way of + pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a child. A—a + sort of pet name, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I ever + heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of Sheba. She—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was Lavinia. + She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James Dott, Daniel's + father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew her. She has spent most + of her time in Europe lately, but her home, her American home, was where + you live, in Scarford.” + </p> + <p> + This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped audibly, and + leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first sign of interest. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't say! Why, + of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. Everybody in Scarford + did. Her place is one of the finest in town.” + </p> + <p> + Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments than + this. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, calmly, “so we understand. The place—er—that + is, the estate—is a PART—” she emphasized the word—“a + PART of what she left to my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott!” exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her face + was a study. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan crossed his knees. + </p> + <p> + “I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it,” he + observed, reminiscently. “I tell you it looked big enough to me! I was + only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house looked big as + a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got inside and was sittin' in + the front parlor, I declare I was all feet and hands! didn't know what to + do with 'em.... Hey? did you speak, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + “I was only going to say,” replied his wife, “that that was a good while + ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a great deal since. + Things look different after we grow up, don't they, Mrs. Black?” + </p> + <p> + Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time. + Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “They do, indeed,” she said. “I remember the Dott house, of course. It was + very fine, I believe, in its day.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband interrupted. “In its day!” he repeated. “Humph! there's + nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I had as good. Why—” + </p> + <p> + “Phelps!” snapped Annette, “don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands what I + meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, indeed. Perhaps + some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that is a matter of taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old-fashioned—I + thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. That's what she + said, wasn't it, Dan?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark entirely. + Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an uncertain fashion. + It was Serena who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any doubt it is lovely,” she said. “We're just dying to see it, + Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. Black. You might + suggest some improvements, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Improvements!” the visitor repeated the word involuntarily. + “Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we haven't made + up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a beautiful city. Mrs. + Black has told us so ever so many times. What were you going to say, Mrs. + Black?” + </p> + <p> + The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several things, + particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. But what she + did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and agree that Scarford + was beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she added. “A very charming, + quaint old house. But—you'll excuse my saying so, won't you; you + know Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a city estate—don't + you think it might prove rather expensive for you to maintain?” + </p> + <p> + Serena's armor was not even dented. “Oh,” she said, lightly, “that + wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the + expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, Mrs. + Black.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” rather feebly, “wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and our + affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I must find time + to run down there this afternoon for a last look around. I want this open + meeting to go off nicely. Who knows—well, I may not have the care of + the next one.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “The minister and his wife's comin',” she announced. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott turned. + </p> + <p> + “The minister and his wife?” she repeated. “The bell hasn't rung, has it? + How do you know they're coming here?” + </p> + <p> + “See 'em through the window,” replied Azuba, cheerfully. “They was at the + gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and he was helpin' + her. Here they be,” as the callers' footsteps sounded on the porch. “Shall + I let 'em in?” + </p> + <p> + “Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was havin' + dinner, I thought—oh, that reminds me,” addressing the horror + stricken Daniel, “Sam was in just now and wanted you to come right out to + the store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another pair of them checkered + overalls, same as he had afore.” + </p> + <p> + That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early hour, + the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge meeting, Daniel + voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed his mind ever since the + Blacks' call. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Serena,” he asked, “ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends any + more?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this afternoon. + Slappin' each other back and forth—” + </p> + <p> + “Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What DO you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely I meant + that. But the way you talked to each other—and the way you looked. + And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked you four or five + times who it was that had died and you wouldn't tell, so, of course, I + supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when she asked me and I was backin' + and fillin', tryin' to get off the shoals, you barked out why didn't I + 'answer her'? That may be sense, but I don't see it, myself.” + </p> + <p> + Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own. + </p> + <p> + “Did I bark?” she asked. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did make me + cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty way—” + </p> + <p> + “It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she didn't act + as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small craft better get + out from under her bows.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and nice to + me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, and Doctor + Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the summer folks, that she + has anything to do with.” + </p> + <p> + The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him like + her any better. His wife continued. + </p> + <p> + “I was a little put out by her to-day,” she admitted. “You see, she was SO + anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be very rich, and SO + certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big house, that—that I + just had to give her as good as she sent.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel chuckled. “You did that all right,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But I wouldn't hurt her feelings—really hurt them—for the + world. I like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other I'm goin' + out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard you admirin' Zuba + out in the kitchen just before we left.” + </p> + <p> + “Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell her; she + will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she shouldn't. Just + think what she said about you when the minister called. It was just + Providence, and nothing else, that kept her from telling the Blacks what + you said and how you acted at dinner. That's it—laugh! I expected + you'd think it was funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though it + didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba talkin' any + more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's awful good-hearted—yes, + and sensible, too, in her way.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of having her + up there at Scarford, behaving as she does.” + </p> + <p> + The captain caught his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Scarford!” he repeated. “At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what are you + talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black woman about our + goin' to Scarford to live?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I don't say + I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely house, hasn't + she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What are we going to do with + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, I—I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. + We've got our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do we?” + </p> + <p> + “We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what we + shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of—you and I will go + to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, don't argue, + please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you don't tell anyone how + much money we've got or anything about it. They'll all ask, of course, and + they'll all talk about us, but you must expect that. Our position in life + has altered, Daniel, and rich folks are always looked at and talked over. + Are your shoes clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and don't + applaud too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told that + Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't order + him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her mouth. She + isn't married and ain't likely to be, but.... Oh, Mrs. Black, I'm SO glad + to see you! It's real lovely of you to come so early.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love for + lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished him to, but + he was not happy while they were going on. At this one he was distinctly + unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black exchange greetings as if the + little fencing match of the afternoon had been but an exchange of + compliments. He saw the two ladies go, arm in arm, to the platform, where + sat the “Boston delegates.” He nodded to masculine acquaintances in the + crowd, other captives chained, like himself, to their wives' and + daughters' chariot wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's + opening speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and + Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from the + president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when it was over, + he could not have repeated a sentence of all those which had reached his + ears. + </p> + <p> + No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful “open meeting” + ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of Honor. He was + thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will had changed their + position in life, so Serena had said. She had said other things, also, and + he was beginning, dimly, to realize what they might mean. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + “SCARFORD!” screamed the brakeman, throwing open the car door. “Scarford!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott, umbrella in hand, was already in the aisle. Captain Dan, + standing between the seats, was struggling to get the suitcase down from + the rack above. It was a brand-new suitcase. Serena had declared that + their other, the one which had accompanied them on various trips to Boston + during the past eight years, was altogether too shabby. She had insisted + on buying another, and, the stock in the store not being good enough, had + selected this herself from the catalog of a Boston manufacturer. Her + umbrella, silk with a silver handle, was new also. So was her hat, her + gown and her shoes. So, too, was the captain's hat, and his suit and light + overcoat. There was a general air of newness about the Dotts, so apparent, + particularly on Daniel's part, that various passengers had nudged each + other, winked, and whispered surmises concerning recent marriage and a + honeymoon trip. + </p> + <p> + The suitcase, the buckle of which had caught in the meshes of the rack, + giving way, came down unexpectedly and with a thump on the seat. The + captain hurriedly lifted it. A stifled laugh from the occupants of + adjacent seats reached Serena's ears. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she demanded impatiently. “Aren't you coming? Do hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm comin',” stammered her husband, thrusting his fist into the + new hat which, as it lay on the seat, had received the weight of the + falling suitcase. “I'm comin'. Go ahead! I'll be right along.” + </p> + <p> + He pounded the battered “derby” into more or less presentable shape, + clapped it on his head, and, suitcase in hand, followed his wife. + </p> + <p> + Through the crowd on the platform they passed, through the waiting room + and out to the sidewalk. There Captain Dan put down the case, gave the + maltreated hat a brush with his sleeve, and looked about him. + </p> + <p> + “Lively place, ain't it, Serena?” he observed. “Whew! that valise is + heavy. Well, where's the next port of call?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll go to the hotel first. Oh, dear, it's a shame things happened so we + had to come now. In another fortnight the Blacks would have been here and + we could have gone right to their house. Mrs. Black felt dreadfully about + it. She said so ever so many times.” + </p> + <p> + The captain made no answer. If he had doubts concerning the depths of the + Blacks' sorrow he kept them to himself. Picking up the suitcase, he + stepped forward to the curb. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” demanded his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Why, to the hotel. That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; but how were you going? You don't know where it is.” + </p> + <p> + “No, so I don't. But I can hail one of those electrics and ask the + conductor to stop when he got to it. He'd know where 'twas, most likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Electric” is the Down East term for trolley car, lines of which were + passing and repassing the station. Daniel waved his disengaged hand to the + conductor of the nearest. The car stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” said Serena quickly. “How do you know that car is going + the right way?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Well, of course I don't know, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you don't. Besides, we don't want to go in an electric. We must + take a carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “A carriage? A hack, you mean. What do we want to do that for?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it's what everyone does.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they don't. Look at all the folks on that electric now. Besides, we—” + </p> + <p> + “Hi there!” shouted the conductor of the car angrily. “Brace up! Get a + move on, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott regarded him with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “We're not coming,” she said. “You can go right along.” + </p> + <p> + The car proceeded, the conductor commenting freely and loudly, and the + passengers on the broad grin. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Daniel,” said Serena, “you get one of those carriages and we'll go + as we ought to. I know we've always gone in the electrics when we were in + Boston, but then we didn't feel as if we could afford anything else. Now + we can. And don't stop to bargain about the fare. What is fifty cents more + or less to US?” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head, but he obeyed orders. A few minutes later they + were seated in a cab, drawn by a venerable horse and driven by a man with + a hooked nose, and were moving toward the Palatine House, the hostelry + recommended by Mrs. Black as the finest in Scarford. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Serena, leaning back against the shabby cushions, “this is + better than an electric, isn't it? And when we get to the hotel you'll see + the difference it will make in the way they treat us. Mrs. Black says + there is everything in a first impression. If people judge by your looks + that you're no account they'll treat you that way. But what were you and + the driver having such a talk about?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan grinned. “I got the name of the hotel wrong at first,” he + admitted. “I called it the Palestine House instead of the other thing. The + driver thought I was makin' fun of him. It ain't safe to mention Palestine + to a feller with a nose like that.” + </p> + <p> + The Palatine House was new and gorgeous; built in the hope of attracting + touring automobilists, it was that dreary mistake, a cheap imitation of + the swagger metropolitan article. Scarford was not a metropolis, and the + imitation in this case was a particularly poor one. However, to the Dotts, + its marble-floored lobby and gilded pillars and cornices were grand and + imposing. Their room on the third floor looked out upon the street below, + and if the view of shops and signs and trucks and trolleys was not + beautiful it was, at least, distinctly different from any view in Trumet. + </p> + <p> + Serena gloried in it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she sighed, “this is something like. THIS is life! There's something + going on here, Daniel. Don't you feel it?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel was counting his small change. + </p> + <p> + “What say?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + His wife repeated her question, raising her voice to carry above the + noises of the street. + </p> + <p> + “Feel it! Yes, yes; and hear it, too. How we're ever goin' to sleep with + all that hullabaloo outside I don't know. Don't you suppose we could get a + quieter room than this, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want a quiet room. I don't want to sleep. I feel as if I'd been + asleep all my life. Now, thank goodness, I am where people are really + awake. What are you doing with that money?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just lookin' at it, while I can. I shan't have the chance very long, + if the other folks in this town are like that hack driver. A dollar to + drive half a mile in that hearse! Why, the whole shebang wa'n't worth more + than two dollars, to buy. And then he had the cheek to ask me to give him + 'a quarter for himself.'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was his tip. We must expect that. Gertrude says she always has + to tip the servants and drivers and such at college. Did you give it to + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Me? I told him I was collectin' for a museum, and I'd give him a + quarter for the horse, just as it stood—or WHILE it stood. I said + he'd better take the offer pretty quick because the critter looked as if + 'twould lay down most any minute.” + </p> + <p> + He chuckled. Serena, however, was very solemn. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” she said, “I must speak to you again about your language. You've + lived in Trumet so long that you talk just like Azuba, or pretty nearly as + bad. You mustn't say 'critter' and 'wa'n't' and 'cal'late.' Do try, won't + you, to please me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try, Serena. But I don't see what difference it makes. We DO live in + Trumet, don't we?” + </p> + <p> + “We HAVE lived there. How long we shall—But there, never mind. Just + remember as well as you can and get ready now for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband muttered that he didn't see where the “getting ready” came in; + he had on the best he'd got. But he washed his hands and brushed his hair + and they descended to the dining-room, where they ate a 'table d'hote' + meal, beginning with lukewarm soup and ending with salty ice cream. + </p> + <p> + They had left Trumet the previous evening, spending the night at + Centreboro and taking the early morning train for Scarford. Two weeks had + passed since the fateful visit of young Mr. Farwell, and, though the + wondrous good fortune which had befallen the Dott family was still + wonderful, they were beginning to accept it as a real and established + fact. All sorts of things had happened during those two weeks. They had + gone to Boston, where they spent the better part of two days with the + lawyers, going over the lists of securities, signing papers, and arranging + all sorts of business matters. Serena and the attorneys did the most of + the arranging. Captain Dan looked on, understanding very little, saying + “Yes” or “No” as commanded by his wife, and signing his name whenever and + wherever requested. + </p> + <p> + After another day, spent in the Boston shops, where the new clothes were + purchased or ordered, a process which Serena enjoyed hugely and her + husband endured with a martyr's patience, they had paid a flying visit to + the college town and Gertrude. They found the young lady greatly excited + and very happy, but her happiness was principally on their account. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad for you both, Daddy,” she told her father. “When I got + Mother's letter with the news the very first thing I thought was: 'There! + now Father won't have to worry any more about the old store or anything + else. He can be comfortable and carefree and happy, as he deserves to be.' + And you won't worry, will you, Dad?” + </p> + <p> + The captain seemed oddly doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't if I can help it,” he said. “But I'm the most foolish chap that + ever lived, in some ways, seems so. When the business was so I had to + worry about it all the time I used to set up nights wishin' I didn't own + it. Now that we're fixed so it don't make much difference whether I get a + profit or not, I find myself frettin' and wonderin' how Nathaniel and Sam + are gettin' along. I wake up guessin' how much they've sold since I've + been away, and whether we're stuck on those canvas hats and those middy + blouses and one thing or 'nother, same as I was afraid we'd be. I've only + been away three days altogether, but it seems about a year.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you sell out?” she asked. “Or would no one buy? I presume + that's it.” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, that ain't it. I don't wonder you think so, but it ain't. Cohen—the + fellow that owns the Emporium—was in only the day afore we left, + hintin' around about my retirin' and so on. He didn't make any real bid + for the business, but he as much as said he'd consider buyin' me out if + I'd sell. Your mother, she'd give me fits if she knew it. She wants me to + sell; but—but somehow I can't make up my mind to. I've been so used + to goin' out to that store every mornin' and—and havin' it on my + mind that somehow I hate to give it up. Seems like cuttin' my anchor rope, + as you might say.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. I shall feel much the same, I know, when I graduate and my + college work is over. I shall be lost for a time without it; or I should + be if it were not for John and—and my other plans. But, whether you + keep the store or not, you mustn't worry any more, Daddy dear. Nathaniel + is a clever, able fellow; every one says so. You were fortunate to get + him. Why don't you engage him permanently? With his experience, he might + make a real success of the business. Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + He could not possibly make less of a success than the captain had made, + that was fairly certain, although she did not say so. Nathaniel Bangs was + a Trumet young man who had been getting on well with a little business of + his own in Brockton, but who, owing to ill health, had been obliged to + return to the Cape the year before. Then, health much improved, he was + very glad of the opportunity to take charge of the Metropolitan Store + during its owners' short absence. Serena had thought of him, and Serena + had hired him. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan's real reason for not selling out to the astute Mr. Cohen he + had kept to himself. His wife's hints concerning Scarford and her + discontent in Trumet were his reasons. These were what troubled him most. + He liked Trumet; he liked its quiet, easy-going atmosphere; he liked the + Trumet people, and they liked him. He had never been in Scarford, but he + was certain he should not like the life there, the kind of life lived by + the B. Phelps Blacks, at any rate. The Metropolitan Store was, he felt, an + anchor holding him fast to the Cape Cod village. If he cut the anchor + rope, goodness knows where he might drift. + </p> + <p> + On the very day of their return from the Boston trip Serena had begun to + discuss the visit to Scarford, the visit of inspection to Aunt Lavinia's + “estate.” They must go, she said; of course they must go. It was their + duty to do that, at least. How could they know what to do with the + property until they saw it? To all Daniel's feeble objections and excuses + she was deaf. Of course they could leave the house. Azuba would take care + of that, just as she always did when they were away. As for the store, + Nathaniel would be glad to remain as manager indefinitely if they wanted + him. Surely he had done splendidly with it while they were in Boston. + </p> + <p> + He had. During the four days' absence of its proprietor the Metropolitan + Store had actually sold more goods for cash than it had sold during any + previous week that summer. Bangs was optimistic concerning its prospects. + He was loaded with schemes and ideas. + </p> + <p> + “All you need is a little push and up-to-date methods, Cap'n,” he said. + “You must advertise a little, and let people know what you've got to sell. + That's how I got rid of all that stale candy you had in the boxes behind + the showcase. I knew the Methodist folks had a Sunday school picnic on the + slate for Tuesday. Kids like candy, but candy costs money. I got out all + that stale stuff, put it up in bags at five cents apiece, and sent the + bags and Sam here to the picnic. About every kid had ten cents or so to + spend, and it didn't make any difference to him or her whether the candy + was fresh or not, so there was enough of it. If a chocolate cream is + harder than the rock of Gibraltar it lasts longer when you're eating it, + and that's a big advantage to the average young one. Sam came back, sold + out, and we've got four dollars and eighty cents right out of the junk + pile, as you might call it. The kids are happy and so are we. There's a + half-dozen dried-up oilskin coats in the attic that I've got my eye on. + The Manonquit House crowd are going off on a final codfishing cruise + to-morrow and I'll be on the dock with those coats at a dollar apiece when + they sail.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but those coats are old as Methuselah,” faltered the captain. + “They'll leak, won't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if it's fair weather, they won't. And, if it's rough, they're better + than nothing. You can't expect a mackintosh for a dollar.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel's method would have been to refuse selling the coats because they + “wouldn't be much good in a no'theaster.” When the codfishers returned, + enthusiastic because, although it had “drizzled” for fifteen minutes, they + had not gotten wet, he scratched his head and regarded his new assistant + with awe. Mr. Bangs' services were retained, “for a spell, anyhow,” and + the captain's principal excuse for not visiting Scarford was knocked in + the head. To Scarford they went, and at the Palatine Hotel in Scarford + they now were. + </p> + <p> + The 'table d'hote' meal eaten, the next feature of Mrs. Dott's program was + the visit to the Aunt Lavinia homestead. There was a caretaker in charge, + so the Boston lawyers told them, and Serena had written him announcing the + coming of the new owners. In spite of her husband's protestations, another + carriage was hired for the journey. Daniel was strongly in favor of + walking or going by trolley. + </p> + <p> + “Walkin'll be cheaper, Serena,” he declared, “and pretty nigh as fast, to + say nothin' of bein' more cheerful. A hack always makes me think of + funerals and graveyards, and that skeleton of a horse looked like + somethin' that had been buried and dug up. Let's walk, will you?” + </p> + <p> + But Serena would not walk. + </p> + <p> + “We must get used to carriages,” she said. “We may ride in them a great + deal from now on. And, besides, we needn't take a horse carriage. We + shouldn't have taken one before. Get one of those new kind, the automobile + ones. What is it they call them? Oh, yes—taxis.” + </p> + <p> + The taxi gave no opportunity for complaint as far as slowness was + concerned. After the first quarter of a mile dodge up the crowded street + Captain Dan shouted through the window. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” he hailed, addressing the driver. “Hi, you! You've made a mistake, + ain't you? You thought we wanted to fly. We don't. Just hit the ground + once in a while, so we'll know it's there.” + </p> + <p> + After this the cab moved at a more reasonable speed and its occupants had + an opportunity to observe the streets through which they were passing. The + business district was being left behind and they were entering the + residential section. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott seized her husband's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she cried. “Look, Daniel, quick! Do you see that? That building + there!” + </p> + <p> + “I see it. Some kind of a hall or somethin', ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I'm quite sure, from what Mrs. Black said, that it is the hall + where the Scarford Guild meets. Yes, it's just as she said it was. I'm + SURE that's it. Oh, I'm glad I've seen it! Yes, and Mrs. Black said they + lived not very far from the hall. Daniel! Daniel! ask the man if he knows + where the Blacks live and if he can show us their house.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan obediently made the inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” grunted the driver. “Which Black? Black and Cobb, the Wee Waist + Corset feller? Sure! I know where he lives. I'll show you.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later the cab slackened its speed. + </p> + <p> + “There you are!” said the driver, pointing. “That's Black's house. Built + two years ago, 'twas.” + </p> + <p> + Serena and Daniel looked. The house was new and commodious, a trifle + ornate in decoration, perhaps, and a bit mixed in architecture, owing to + Mrs. Black's insisting upon the embodiment of various features which she + had seen in magazines; but on the whole a rather fine house. To the Dotts, + of course, it was a mansion. + </p> + <p> + “My!” said Serena, “to think of our knowing, really knowing, people who + live in a house like that! Oh, dear!” with a sigh, “I almost wish I hadn't + seen it until after we'd seen our own. We must try not to be disappointed, + mustn't we?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan was surprised. “Disappointed?” he said. “Why, what do you + mean? As I recollect Aunt Laviny's place, 'twas just as good as that, if + not better. You said so yourself. You used to call it a regular palace.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but don't you think that was because we hadn't seen many fine + houses then? I'm afraid that was it. You know Mrs. Black said it was + old-fashioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Barney—What's his name? Phelps, I mean—he said he + wished his was as good. Don't you remember he did?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably he didn't mean it. I'm not going to expect too much, anyway. I'm + going to try and think of it as just a nice old place, and then I shan't + feel bad when I see it. I'm not going to get my expectations up or be a + bit excited.” + </p> + <p> + In proof of the sincerity of this determination, she sat bolt upright on + the seat and looked straight before her. Her husband, however, was staring + out of the window with all his might. + </p> + <p> + “Say!” he exclaimed, “this is a mighty nice street, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? Is it really?” For a person not excited, Mrs. Dott's breathing was + short and her fingers, tightly clasped in her lap, were trembling. + </p> + <p> + “You bet it is! Hey! Why, we're slowin' up! We're stoppin'.” + </p> + <p> + The cab drew up at the curb and came to a standstill. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are,” said the driver. “This is Number 180.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel made no reply. Leaning from the window, he was staring with all his + might. Serena's impatience got the better of her. + </p> + <p> + “Well? WELL?” she burst forth. “What does it look like? Do say something!” + </p> + <p> + The captain drew back into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “My—soul!” he exclaimed presently. “Look, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + Serena looked, and her look was a long one. Then, her face flushed and her + eyes shining, she turned to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh, Daniel!” she gasped. “It's as good as the Blacks', isn't it? I—I + do believe it's better! Get out, quick!” + </p> + <p> + The caretaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mutton-chop whiskers, + met them at the top of the stone steps leading to the front door. He bowed + low. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, ma'am,” he said. “Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Dott, ain't + it, sir? And Mrs. Dott, ma'am. My name is 'Apgood, sir. I was expecting + you. Will you be so good as to walk in?” + </p> + <p> + He threw open the door and, bowing once more, ushered them into the hall, + a large, old-fashioned hall with lofty ceiling and a mahogany railed + staircase. + </p> + <p> + “I presume, sir,” he said, addressing the captain, “that you and the madam + would wish to 'ave me show you about a bit. I was Mrs. Dott's—the + late Mrs. Dott's—butler when she resided 'ere, sir, and she was good + enough to make me 'er caretaker when she went away, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, rather overawed by Mr. Hapgood's magnificent manner, observed + that he wanted to know, adding that he had heard about the caretaking from + the lawyers “up to Boston.” After an appraising glance at the speaker, Mr. + Hapgood addressed his next remark to Serena. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I show you about the establishment, madam?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Serena's composure was a triumph. An inexperienced observer might have + supposed she had been accustomed to butlers and establishments all her + life. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said loftily, “you can show us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hapgood was a person of wide experience; however, he merely bowed and + led the way. Serena followed him, and Captain Dan followed Serena. + </p> + <p> + A large drawing-room, a library, a very large dining-room, five large + bedrooms—“owners' and guest rooms,” Mr. Hapgood grandly termed them, + to distinguish from the servants' quarters at the rear—billiard + room, bathroom, and back to the hall again. + </p> + <p> + “You would wish to see the kitchens, I suppose, ma'am,” said Mr. Hapgood. + “Doubtless Mr. Dott wouldn't care for those, sir. Most gentlemen don't. + Perhaps, sir, you'd sit 'ere while the lady and I go through the service + portion of the 'ouse, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, who was rather curious to see the “service portion,” partly + because he had never heard of one before, hesitated. His wife, however, + settled the question. She was conscious of a certain condescension in the + Hapgood tone. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said lightly, “Cap'n Dott will not go to the—er—service + portion. Such things never interest him. Sit here, Daniel, and wait. Now—” + cutting off just in time the “Mister” that was on the tip of her tongue + and remembering how butlers in novels were invariably addressed—“Now—er—Hapgood, + you can take me to the—ahem—kitchens.” + </p> + <p> + It was somewhat disappointing to find that the plural was merely a bit of + verbal embroidery on the caretaking butler's part, and that there was but + one kitchen, situated in the basement. However, it was of good size and + well furnished with closets, the contents of which stirred Serena's + housekeeping curiosity. The inspection of the kitchen and laundry took + some time. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, upstairs in the dim front hall, Captain Dan sat upon a most + uncomfortable carved teak-wood chair and looked about him. Through the + doorway leading to the drawing-room—“front parlor,” he would have + called it—he could see the ebony grand piano, the ormolu clock, and + the bronze statuettes on the marble mantel, the buhl cabinet filled with + bric-a-brac, the heavy mahogany-framed and silk-covered sofa. There were + oil paintings on the walls, paintings which foreign dealers, recognizing + Aunt Lavinia's art craving as a gift of Providence—to them—had + sold her at high prices. They were, for the most part, landscapes, + inclining strongly to snow-covered mountains, babbling brooks, and cows; + or marines in which one-third of vivid sunset illumined two-thirds of + placid sea. Of portraits there were two, Uncle Jim Dott in black + broadcloth and dignity and Aunt Lavinia Dott in dignity and black satin. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan felt strangely out of place alone amid this oppressive + grandeur. Again, as on the memorable occasion of his first visit to the + house, he was conscious of his hands and feet. Aunt Lavinia's likeness, + staring stonily and paintily from the wall, seemed to regard him with + disapproval, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. If the portrait + could have spoken he might have expected it to say: “Here is the person + upon whom all these, my worldly possessions, have been bestowed, and he + does not appreciate them. There he sits, upon the teakwood chair which I + myself bought in Cairo, and, so far from being grateful for the gifts + which my generosity has poured into his lap, he is wondering what in the + world to do with them, and wishing himself back in Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott and the caretaker reentered the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr.—er—Thank you, Hapgood,” said the lady. “That + will be all for to-day, I think. We will go now. Come, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + Hapgood bowed. “You would wish me to stay 'ere as I've done, ma'am?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You may stay, for the present. Cap'n Dott and I will pay your + regular wages as long as we need you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly, ma'am. And might I take the liberty of saying that if + you decide to stay 'ere permanently, ma'am, and need a butler or a + manservant about the place, I should be glad to 'ave you consider me for + the position. I'm sure it would 'ave pleased the late Mrs. Dott to 'ave + you do so, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the captain, with surprising promptness for him, “you see, + Mr. Hapgood, as far as that goes we ain't intendin' to—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daniel. We don't know what we intend. You know that our plans are + not settled as yet. We will consider the matter, Hapgood. Good day.” + </p> + <p> + “Good day, ma'am,” said Hapgood. “Good day, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the big front door, bowed them out, and stood respectfully + waiting as they descended the steps. The taxi driver, whom the captain had + neglected to discharge or pay, was still there at the curb with his + vehicle. Serena addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “The Palatine Hotel,” she said, with great distinctness. “Come, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the cab. Captain Dan closed the door. The driver, looking up + at Mr. Hapgood, grinned broadly. The latter gentleman glanced at the cab + window to make sure that his visitors were not watching him, then he + winked. + </p> + <p> + As the cab whizzed through the streets Serena gloated over the splendors + of their new possessions. The house was finer than she expected, the + furniture was so rich and high-toned, the pictures—did Daniel notice + the pictures? + </p> + <p> + “And the location!” she cried ecstatically. “Right on the very best street + in town, and yet, so the Hapgood man said, convenient to the theaters and + the clubs and the halls. We saw the Ladies of Honor hall on the way up, + Daniel, you remember.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he admitted, “it's fine and convenient and all. We”—with + a sidelong glance at his wife's face—“we ought to get a good rent + for it if we decide not to sell; hey, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + Serena did not answer. When they reached the hotel she left her husband to + settle with the driver and took the elevator to their room. A few minutes + later the captain joined her. He looked as if suffering from shock. + </p> + <p> + “My heavens and earth, Serena!” he exclaimed, “what do you suppose that + tax hack feller had the cheek to—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! shh!” interrupted the lady, who was reclining upon the couch. + “Don't bother me now, Daniel. I don't want to be bothered with common + every-day things now; I want to think.” + </p> + <p> + “Common! Everyday! My soul and body! if what that pirate charged me was + everyday, I'd be in the poorhouse in a fortni't. Why—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't! Please don't! Can't you see I am trying to realize that it's + true and not a dream. That it has really happened—to ME. Please + don't talk. Do go away, can't you? Just go out and take a walk, or + something; just for a little while. I want to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan slowly descended the stairs. The elevator, of course, would + have been quicker, but he was in no hurry. If he must walk, and it seemed + that he must, he might as well begin at once. He descended the stairs to + the ground floor of the hotel and wandered aimlessly about through the + lobby into the billiard room, and finally to a plate glass door upon which + was lettered the word “Rathskeller.” + </p> + <p> + What a Rathskeller might be he did not know, but, as there was another set + of letters on the door and those spelled “Push,” he pushed. + </p> + <p> + The Rathskeller was a large room, with a bar at one end and many little + tables scattered about. At these tables men were eating, drinking and + smoking. A violin, harp and piano, played by a trio of Italians, were + doing their worst with a popular melody. + </p> + <p> + The captain looked about him, selected one of three chairs at an + unoccupied table, and sat down. A waiter drifted alongside. + </p> + <p> + “What'll you have, sir?” inquired the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Oh, I don't know. Give me a cup of coffee.” + </p> + <p> + “Coffee? Yes, sir. Anything to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I guess not. I've had my dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Smoke?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you might bring me a ten-cent cigar.” + </p> + <p> + The coffee and cigar were brought. Daniel lit the latter, took a sip of + the former and listened to the music. This was not taking a walk exactly, + but, so far as leaving his wife alone was concerned, it answered the + purpose. + </p> + <p> + The room, already well tenanted, gradually filled. Groups of men entered, + stopped to glance at the tape of a sporting news ticker near the bar, + exchanged a word or two with the bartenders, and then selected tables. + Several times the two vacant chairs at the captain's table were on the + point of being taken, but each time the prospective occupants went + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + At length, however, two young men, laughing and talking rather loudly, + sauntered through the room. One of them paused. + </p> + <p> + “Here are a couple,” he said, indicating the chairs. + </p> + <p> + His companion, an undersized, dapper individual, whose raiment—suit, + socks, shirt, shoes, hat and tie—might comprehensively be described + as a symphony in brown, paused also, turned and looked at the chairs, then + at the table, and finally at the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he drawled, regarding the latter fixedly, “so I see. Well, perhaps + we can't do better. This place is getting too infernally common, though. + Don't think I shall come here again. If it wasn't that they put up the + best cocktail in town I should have quit before. All right, this will have + to do, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + He seated himself in one of the chairs. His friend followed suit. The + watchful waiter was on hand immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said, bowing obsequiously. + </p> + <p> + Neither of the young men acknowledged the bow or the greeting, although it + was evident that the waiter was an old acquaintance. The symphony in brown + did not even turn his head. + </p> + <p> + “Two dry Martinis,” he said. “And mind that they ARE dry. Have Charlie + make them himself. If that other fellow does it I'll send them back.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. All right, sir. Will you have a bit of lunch with them, sir? + Caviare sandwich or—” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I bring cigars, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, no! The last I had here nearly poisoned me. Get the cocktails and + be lively about it.” + </p> + <p> + The waiter departed. The young gentleman drew a gold cigarette case from + his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are,” he drawled, proffering the case. “Cigars!” with a + contemptuous laugh. “They buy their cigars by the yard, at the rope walk. + Fact, Monty; take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Monty” laughed. “That's pretty rough, Tacks,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it's so. You can actually smell the hemp. Eh? By gad, you can + smell it now, can't you?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan was relighting the stump of his “ten-center” which had gone + out. He had scarcely noticed the newcomers; his thoughts were far away + from Scarford and the Palatine Hotel. Now, however, he suddenly became + aware that his tablemates were regarding him and the cigar with apparent + amusement. He smiled good naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “Been runnin' her too low,” he observed. “Have to get up steam if I want + to be in at the finish.” + </p> + <p> + This nautical remark was received with blank stares. “Monty” turned his + shoulder toward the speaker. “Tacks” did not even turn; he continued to + stare. The arrival of the cocktails was the next happening of importance. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Tacks,” observed Monty, leaning back in his chair and sipping his + Martini, “how are you getting on? Made up your mind what to do?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Going to fight, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “No use. The confounded lawyers say I wouldn't have a show.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Low-down trick of the old woman's, wasn't it, giving you the shake + that way? Everybody thought you were her pet weakness. We used to envy + your soft snap. Did you get the go-by altogether?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty near. Got a little something, but it was precious little.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you pull through on it?” + </p> + <p> + “'Twill be a devilish hard pull.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad, old man. But cheer up! You'll come out on top. Have another one + of these things?” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” + </p> + <p> + More Martinis were ordered. “Monty” and his friend lit fresh cigarettes. + The former asked another question. + </p> + <p> + “Who are the lucky winners?” he inquired. “Some country cousins or other, + I know that; but who are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. Yes, I know; but what difference does it make?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there a girl somewhere in the crowd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—” He broke off. Captain Dan was regarding him intently. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Uncle?” drawled + “Tacks,” with bland sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + Daniel was taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he stammered, “I—I don't know's there is.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I speak a little louder? Possibly that might help. Delighted to + oblige, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + This was plain enough, certainly. The captain colored. His confusion + increased. + </p> + <p> + “I—I hope you don't think I was listenin' to you and your friend's + talk,” he protested hastily. “I wasn't. Why, if—if you two would + like this table to yourself you can have it just as well as not. I can go + somewhere else. You see, I was thinkin'—when you spoke to me—I + was thinkin' there was somethin' familiar about your face. Seemed as if + I'd seen you somewhere before, that's all; and—” + </p> + <p> + The young gentleman in brown interrupted him. “You're mistaken,” he said, + “I was never there.” Then, turning to his friend, he added, with an + elaborate “Josh Whitcomb” accent: “Monty, 'taters must be lookin' up. All + aour folks have come to town to spend their money.” + </p> + <p> + Monty, upon whom, like his companion, the second cocktail—second in + this particular sense—there had been others—seemed to be + having some effect, laughed uproariously. Even the joker himself deigned + to smile. Captain Dan did not smile. He had risen, preparatory to leaving + the table; now he slowly sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I WAS mistaken,” he said gravely. “I guess you're right about my + not havin' seen you before. If I had I wouldn't have forgot where.” + </p> + <p> + Monty evidently thought it his turn to be funny. + </p> + <p> + “You have a good memory, haven't you, Deacon?” he observed. + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “That don't necessarily follow, young man,” he said. “There's some things + you CAN'T forget.” + </p> + <p> + There was a choking sound at the next table; a stout man there seemed to + be having trouble in swallowing. Those with him looked strangely happy, + considering. + </p> + <p> + “Tacks” frowned, pushed back his chair and stood up. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Monty,” he growled. “This place is going to the dogs. They let + ANYTHING in here now.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel turned to the stout man and his party. + </p> + <p> + “That's strange, ain't it?” he said in a tone of grave surprise. “I was + just thinkin' that myself.” + </p> + <p> + Then, his cigar smoked to the bitter end, he, too, rose, and, declining + the invitations of the stout man and his friends to have something + “because he had earned it,” he walked out of the Rathskeller and took the + elevator to the third floor. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door of the room gently and entered on tiptoe, for he + thought it likely that Serena was taking a nap. She was not, however; on + the contrary, she was very wide awake. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I've been waiting and waiting for + you.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “I've been down below in a place they call the Rat Cellar, or some such + name,” he said. “The rats was there, two of 'em, anyhow. And I'd met one + of 'em before. I know I have. I wish I could think who he was. A sort of—” + </p> + <p> + But Serena was not listening. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” she interrupted, “it is all settled. I have made up my mind.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was tremulous with excitement. Captain Dan looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Made up your mind?” he repeated. “I want to know! What about?” + </p> + <p> + “About our plans and our future, Daniel; my opportunity has come, the + opportunity I was wishing for. It has been sent to me by Providence, I do + believe—and it would be wicked not to take advantage of it. Daniel, + you and I must move to Scarford.” + </p> + <p> + The captain gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, Serena,” he faltered. “What are you talkin' about? DON'T + talk so! Move to Scarford! Give up Trumet and—” + </p> + <p> + “Trumet! Don't mention Trumet to me. Daniel Dott, you'll never get me back + to Trumet again—to live there, I mean—never, never, NEVER!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Captain Dan said—Well, it does not matter much what he said. He said + a great deal, of course, during that evening and the next morning, and + would have kept on saying it all the way to Trumet if his wife had not + declined to listen. + </p> + <p> + “It is no use, Daniel,” she declared calmly but firmly. “I have thought it + all out and I KNOW it is the right thing for us to do. You will think so, + too, one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Durned if I will! I tell you, Serena—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! you're telling everybody in the car, and THAT isn't necessary, at + any rate. Now we won't argue any more until we get home. Then you can say + your say; but”—with discouraging candor—“it won't change my + decision a single mite. My mind is made up. A higher power than you or me + has settled everything for us. We are going to Scarford to live, and we + will go just as soon as we can get ready.” + </p> + <p> + And go they did. The captain fought a stubborn battle, surprisingly + stubborn and protracted for him, but he surrendered at last. Serena drove + him from one line of entrenchments after the other, and, at length, when + she had him in the last ditch, where, argument and expostulation + unavailing, he could only say, “No! no, I won't, I tell you!” over and + over again, she used her most effective weapon, tears, and brought him to + terms. + </p> + <p> + “You don't care,” she sobbed. “You don't care for me at all. All you care + about is just yourself. You're willing to stay here in this awful place, + you're willing to plod along just as you always have; and it doesn't make + any difference about my wishes or my hopes, or anything. If you were like + most husbands you'd be proud and glad to see me getting on in the world; + you'd be glad to give me the chance to be somebody; you'd—” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! Serena, don't talk so. I'd do anything in this world to + please you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! I should think you'd be ashamed to say such things. I should + think you'd be AFRAID to say them, afraid something would happen to you—you'd + be struck down or something. Oh, well! I must be resigned, I suppose. I + must give in, just as I always do. I must be satisfied to be miserable and—and—Oh, + what shall I do? What SHALL I do?” + </p> + <p> + Sobs and more sobs, frantic clutchings at the sofa pillows and + declarations that she had better die; it would be better for her and ever + so much better for everyone else if she were dead. No one would care. + </p> + <p> + Poor Daniel, distressed and remorseful, vaguely conscious that he was + right, but conscience stricken nevertheless, hoisted the white flag. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush, Serena!” he pleaded. “Land sakes, don't say such things—please + don't. I'll do anything you want, of course I will. I'll go to Scarford, + if you say so. I was just—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't ask you to go there forever. I never have asked that. I only ask + you to go there and live a while and just see how we like it. That was all + I asked, and you knew it. But you won't! you won't!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes I will, too. I'll go—go next week, if you say so. I—I + just—” + </p> + <p> + He got no further. Mrs. Dott, wet-eyed but radiant, lifted her head from + the sofa pillow and threw her arms about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Will you?” she cried ecstatically. “Will you, Daniel? I knew you would. + You're a dear, good man and I love you better than all the world. We will + be so happy. You see if we aren't.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was no less doubtful of the happiness than he had ever been, + but he tried to smile and to find comfort in the thought that she was + happy if he was not. + </p> + <p> + He had written Gertrude telling of her mother's new notion and asking for + advice and counsel. The reply, which came by return mail, did not cheer + him as much as he had hoped. + </p> + <p> + “It was inevitable, I suppose,” Gertrude wrote. “I expected it. I was + almost certain that Mother would want to live in Scarford. Mrs. Black has + been telling her all summer about society and club life and what she calls + 'woman's opportunity,' and Mother has come to believe that Scarford is + Paradise. You will have to go, I think, Daddy dear. Perhaps it is just as + well. Mother won't be satisfied until she has tried it, and perhaps, after + she has tried it, she may be glad to come back to Trumet. My advice is to + let her find out for herself, but, of course, if you feel sure it is + wrong, then you must put your foot down, say no, and stick to it. No one + can do that for you; you must do it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Which was perfectly true, as true as the other fact—namely, that + Captain Dan could not “stick to it” in a controversy with his wife, having + lost the sticking faculty years before. + </p> + <p> + But, oddly enough, there was one point upon which he did stick and refused + to budge: That point was Azuba's going to Scarford with them. Mrs. Ginn's + attitude when she was told of the family exodus was a great surprise. + Serena, who broke the news to her, expected grief and lamentations; + instead Azuba was delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now!” she exclaimed. “Ain't that fine! Ain't that splendid! I + always wanted to go somewhere's besides Trumet, and now I'm goin'. I + always told Labe, my husband, that if there was one thing I was jealous of + him about 'twas travelin'. 'You go from Dan to Beersheby,' I says to him, + 'any time you want to.' 'Yes,' says he—this was the last time he was + to home, three years ago—'Yes,' he says, 'and when I don't want to, + too.' 'And I,' I says, 'I have to say stuck here in Trumet like a post in + a rail fence.' 'You look more like the rail, Zuby,' he says—he's + always pokin' fun 'cause I ain't fleshy. 'Don't make no difference what I + LOOK like,' I says, 'here I be and I ain't never been further than the + Brockton cattle show since I was ten year old.' But now I'm goin' to + travel at last. My! I'm so tickled I don't know what to do. I'll start in + makin' my last fall's hat over this very night. Say, it's a good thing + you've got me to help in the goin' and the settlin', ain't it, Sereny—Mrs. + Dott, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + In the face of this superb confidence Serena, who had intended leaving + Azuba behind, lacked the courage to mention the fact. And when she sought + her husband in the store and asked him to do it, he flatly refused. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he said. “Tell Zuba Ginn we're goin' to cast her adrift! I should + say not! Of course we can't do any such thing, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can we do with her, Daniel? We might leave her here to take care + of the place, I suppose, but that would only be for a time, until we find + somebody to buy it. Of course we can't run two places, and we'll have to + sell this one some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, to whom the idea of selling the home of which he had been so proud + was unthinkable, ignored the question. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't leave her here,” he declared. “She wouldn't stay. Zuba's + queer—all her tribe are and always was—but she's nobody's + fool. She'd know right off you were tryin' to get rid of her. No, it may + be all right enough to leave Nate Bangs in charge of the store, because + he'd like nothin' better, but you can't leave Zuba in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what can we do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Take her with us. She can do housekeepin' in Scarford same as she can + here, can't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Take her with us! Why, Daniel Dott! the very idea! Think of Azuba in a + place like that Scarford mansion! Think of her and that dignified, polite + Hapgood man together! Think of it!” + </p> + <p> + The captain seemed to find the thought amusing. + </p> + <p> + “Say, that would be some fun, wouldn't it?” he chuckled. “I'd risk Zuba, + though. He wouldn't do the Grand Panjandrum over her more'n once. I'd risk + her to hold up her end.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think the B. Phelps Blacks would say if they saw Azuba + trotting through the grand front hall with her kitchen apron on?” + </p> + <p> + The mention of the name had an odd effect upon the captain. He + straightened in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what they say,” he declared. “I don't care what the Blacks + would say, nor the Yellows nor the Blues either. If they don't like it + they can stay in their own front halls and lock the door. Look here, + Serena: Zuba Ginn has been with us ever since Gertie was born; she took + care of her when she had the scarlet fever, set up nights and run the risk + of catchin' it herself, and all that. The doctor told us that if it hadn't + been for Zuba and her care and self-sacrifice and common sense Gertie + would have died. She may be queer and hard to keep in her place, as you + call it, and a regular walkin' talkin' machine, and all that. I don't say + she ain't. What I do say is she's been good enough for us all these years + and she's good enough for me now. She ain't got any folks; her husband is + as queer as she is, and only shows up once in two or three years, when he + happens to think of it. She ain't got any home but ours, and nobody else + to turn to, and I won't cast her adrift just because I've got more money + than I did have. I'd be ASHAMED to do it. No, sir! if Zuba Ginn wants to + go to Scarford, along with us, she goes, or I don't go myself.” + </p> + <p> + He struck the desk a violent blow with his clenched fist. Serena regarded + him with astonishment. It had been a long time since she had seen him like + this, not since the old seafaring days. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, Daniel,” she faltered, “I didn't mean to make you cross. I—I + only thought.... Of course, she can go with us if you feel that way.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the way I feel,” said her husband shortly. Then, as if suddenly + awakening and with a relapse into his usual manner, he added, “Was I + cross? I'm real sorry, Serena. Say, don't you want some candy? Nathaniel's + just openin' a new case from Boston. Hi, Sam! Sam! bring me a pound box of + those Eureka chocolates, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Serena did not again suggest Azuba's remaining in Trumet. Neither she nor + Captain Dan referred to the subject again. Mrs. Dott was, to tell the + truth, just a bit frightened; she did not understand her husband's sudden + outbreak of determination. And yet the explanation was simple enough. So + long as he was the only sufferer, so long as only his own preferences and + wishes were pushed aside for those of his wife or daughter, he was meekly + passive or, at the most, but moderately rebellious; here, however, was an + injustice—or what he considered an injustice—done to someone + else, and he “put his foot down” for once, at least. + </p> + <p> + So, upon the fateful day when, preceded by a wagonload of trunks and bags + and boxes, the Dotts once more drove through Scarford's streets to the + mansion which was to be their home—permanently, according to Serena; + temporarily, so her husband hoped—Azuba accompanied them. And Azuba + was wildly excited and tirelessly voluble. Even Captain Dan, the + long-suffering, grew weary of her exclamations and chatter at last. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Zuba,” he remonstrated, “is this an all-day service you're givin' + us? If it is, I wish you'd take up a collection or somethin', for a + change. Mrs. Dott and I are gettin' sort of tired of the sermon.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, what do you mean? I was only just sayin' I never see so + many folks all at once since that time I was at the Brockton cattle show. + I'll bet there's a million right on this street.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the bet. Now you start in and count 'em, and let's see who + wins. Count 'em to yourself, that's all I ask.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba, with an indignant toss of the “made-over” hat, subsided for the + time. But the sight of the Aunt Lavinia mansion, with Mr. Hapgood bowing a + welcome from the steps, was too much for her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she burst forth. “Oh! you don't mean to tell me THAT'S it! Why, it's + perfectly grand! And—and there's the minister comin' to call + already! Ain't it LOVELY!” + </p> + <p> + That night, as they sat down for the first meal in the new abode, a meal + cooked by Azuba and served by the light-footed, soft-spoken, deft-handed + Hapgood, Serena voiced the exultation she felt. + </p> + <p> + “There, Daniel,” she observed, beaming across the table at her husband, + “now you begin to appreciate what it means, don't you. NOW you begin to + see the difference.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, glancing up at the obsequious Hapgood standing at his elbow, + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir?” said Mr. Hapgood anxiously. “What is it you wish, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin'. Why, yes, I tell you: You go out and—and buy me a + cigar somewhere. Here's the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What kind do you—” + </p> + <p> + “Any kind; only get it quick.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as the door closed behind the dignified Hapgood, he added: + </p> + <p> + “I've got three cigars in my pocket now, but that doesn't matter. I had to + send him after somethin'! Say, Serena, is it real necessary to have that + undertaker hangin' over us ALL the time? Every time he looks at me I feel + as if he was takin' my measure. Has EVERY meal got to be a funeral?” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that the captain noticed the difference. He noticed it + more the following day, and more still on each succeeding one. + </p> + <p> + The next evening the Blacks called—called in state. A note from Mrs. + Black, arriving by the morning's post, announced their coming. Serena + noted the Black stationery, its quality and the gilded monogram, and + resolved to order a supply of her own immediately. Also she bade her + husband don his newest and best. She did the same, and when Captain Dan, + painfully conscious of a pair of tight shoes, entered the drawing-room he + found her already there. + </p> + <p> + “My!” he exclaimed, regarding her with admiration, “you do look fine, + Serena. Is that the one the Boston dressmaker made?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm glad you like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't help likin' it. I can't hardly realize it's my wife that's got + it on. Walk around and let me take an observation. Whew! I always said you + looked ten years younger than you are. THAT rig don't spell forty-five + next January, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott sniffed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't remind me of my age, Daniel,” she protested. “It isn't necessary to + tell everyone how old I am.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Nobody'd guess it, anyhow. But how funny you walk. What makes + you take such little short steps?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it. This dress—gown, I mean—is so tight I can + hardly step at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Have to shake out a reef, won't you? How in the world did you get + downstairs—hop?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Don't be foolish. The gown is no tighter than anyone else's. It's + the style, Daniel, and you and I must get used to it. Are those your new + shoes?” + </p> + <p> + “They certainly are. Do they look as new as they feel? I walk about the + way you do, Serena. Bein' in style ain't all joy, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's better than being out of it. And, Daniel, please remember not to say + 'ain't.' I've asked you so many times. We have our opportunity now and so + must improve ourselves. You're not keeping store in the country any + longer. You are a man of means, living among cultivated society people, + and you must try to behave like the ladies and gentlemen you will be + called upon to associate with.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” doubtfully. “I don't know as I could behave like a lady if I + tried. As for the gentleman, if you mean Barney Black—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean B. Phelps Black. Don't you dare call him Barney to-night. If you + do I shall be SO mortified. Hush! Here they are. Very well, Hapgood. You + may show them in.” + </p> + <p> + Even Serena's new gown, fine as it was and proud as she had been of it, + lost something of its glory and sank into a modest second place when + Annette appeared. Mrs. Black had dressed for the occasion. Also, she had + insisted upon her husband's dressing. + </p> + <p> + “What in blazes must I climb into a dress suit for?” demanded that + gentleman grumpily. “Going to call on Dan Dott and his wife. You don't + expect Dan to be wearing a dress suit, do you? He never wore one in his + life.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't make any difference what he wears. I want you to go in evening + dress.” + </p> + <p> + “But, confound it, Annette, we've been calling on those people all + summer.” + </p> + <p> + “THAT was in the country; this is not. Don't you SEE, Phelps? Can't you + understand? Those Dotts have come here to live. I did all I could to + prevent it, but—” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT?” Mr. Black interrupted with an amazed protest. “Did all you could + to prevent it! Why, you used to preach Scarford to Serena Dott from + morning till night. You were always telling her how much better it was + than Trumet. I don't believe she would ever have thought of coming here if + it hadn't been for you.” + </p> + <p> + Annette stamped her foot impatiently. “Don't you suppose I know it?” she + demanded. “That was when I never imagined there was any chance of their + really coming. But now they have come and we've got to be with them to + some extent. We've GOT to; we can't get out of it. That is why I want them + to see how people of our class dress. I can't TELL her that her clothes + are a sight, as country as a green pumpkin, but I can show her mine, and + she's clever enough to understand. And you can show her husband. Not that + that will do much good, I'm afraid. HE is the real dreadful part of the + thing. Goodness knows what he may say or do at any time!” + </p> + <p> + Phelps grinned. Nevertheless, he donned the dress suit. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black had another reason, one which she did not mention, for making + this, their first, call upon the Dotts in their new home a ceremonial + occasion. It was true that they would be obliged to associate with these + acquaintances from the country more or less; the commonest politeness + required that, considering all that had gone before. But she meant there + should be no misunderstanding of the relations between the families. In + Trumet she had made Mrs. Dott her protegee because it was her nature to + patronize, and Serena had not resented the patronage. Now circumstances + were quite different; now the Dotts possessed quite as much worldly wealth + as the Blacks, but Annette did not intend to let Serena presume upon that. + No, indeed! She intended, not only by the grandeur of her raiment and that + of her husband, but by her tone and manner, to make perfectly plain the + fact that the acquaintanceship was still a great condescension on her part + and did not imply equality in the least. + </p> + <p> + But this lofty attitude was destined to be shaken before the evening was + over. The first shock came at the very beginning, and Mr. Hapgood was + responsible for it. Annette had referred, during the Trumet + acquaintanceship, to her “staff of servants,” and had spoken casually of + her cook and second girl and laundress and “man,” as if the quartette were + permanent fixtures in the Black establishment. As a matter of fact, the + only fixtures were the cook and second girl. The laundress came in on + Mondays and Tuesdays to do the washing and ironing, and the “man” acted as + janitor's helper at the factory three days of the week. The chauffeur was + but a summer flourish; B. Phelps drove his own car eight months in the + year. + </p> + <p> + So when the door of the Dott mansion was opened by a butler—and such + a dignified, polite, imposing butler—Mrs. Black's soul was shaken by + a twinge of envy. The second shock was Serena's appearance and the calm + graciousness of her demeanor. The Boston gown was not as grand, as + prodigal of lace and embroidery, as was the visitor's, but it was in the + latest fashion and Serena wore it as if she had been used to such + creations all her life. Neither was she overawed or flurried when her + callers entered. Serena had read a good deal, had observed as much as her + limited opportunities would allow, and was naturally a clever woman in + many ways. + </p> + <p> + “Why, how do you do, Mrs. Black?” she said. “It's so good of you to come. + And to bring Mr. Black, too. You must take off your things. Yes, you must. + Hapgood, take the lady's wraps. Daniel!” + </p> + <p> + The captain, who, not being used to butlers and lacking much of his wife's + presence of mind, had started forward to assist with the wraps, stopped + short. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Serena?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you ask Mr. Black to sit down?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Why, course I can. I judged he was goin' to sit down anyway. Wasn't + figgerin' to stand up all the evenin', was you, Bar—er—Phelps?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Mr. Black. To prove it he selected the most comfortable + chair in the room. + </p> + <p> + “I had such a time to get Phelps to come,” declared Annette, sinking, with + a rustle, into the next best chair. “He wanted to see you both, of course, + and to welcome you to Scarford, but he is SO busy and has so many + engagements. If it isn't a directors' meeting it is a house committee at + the club, or—or something. You should be thankful that your husband + is not a man of affairs and constantly in demand. It was a club meeting + to-night, wasn't it, Phelps, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas a stag dinner,” observed Mr. Black. “Say, Dan, I'll have to take + you to one of 'em some time. It's a good bunch of fellows and we have some + of the cleverest vaudeville stunts afterward that you ever saw. Last week + there were a couple of coons that—” + </p> + <p> + “Phelps!” Annette interrupted tartly, “you needn't go into details. I + don't imagine Captain and Mrs. Dott will be greatly interested. What a + charming old room this is, isn't it? SO quaint! Everything looks as if it + had been here a hundred years.” + </p> + <p> + Before Serena could frame a reply to this back-handed compliment the + unconscious B. Phelps removed the greater part of its sting by observing: + </p> + <p> + “That butler of yours looks as if he had been here a thousand. I felt as + if George the First was opening the door for me. He's a star, all right. + Did he come with the place?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott explained that Hapgood was one of Aunt Lavinia's old servants. + “She thought the world of him. Daniel and I feel perfectly safe in leaving + everything to him. Auntie found him somewhere abroad—working for a + lord or a count or something, I believe—and brought him over. He is + pretty expensive, his wages, I mean, but he is worth it all. Don't you + think so?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, Mrs. Black found it much more difficult to patronize than she + expected, and Serena was correspondingly happy. But the crowning triumph + came later. The doorbell rang, and Hapgood entered the drawing-room + bearing a tray upon which were several cards. He bent and whispered + respectfully. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott was evidently surprised and startled. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Hapgood whispered again. + </p> + <p> + Serena rose. “Yes, of course,” she said nervously. “Yes, certainly. I + declare, I—” + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” asked her husband, his curiosity aroused. “Nothin' wrong, is + there? What's that he's bringin' you on that thing?” + </p> + <p> + He referred to the cards and the tray. His wife, who had caught a glimpse + of Mrs. Black's face, fought down her nervousness and announced with + dignified composure. + </p> + <p> + “Some more callers, that's all, Daniel,” she said. “Oh, you mustn't go, + Mrs. Black. You know them, I'm sure. I've heard you speak of 'em—of + them often. It's”—referring to the cards—“the Honorable Oscar + Fenholtz and Mrs. Fenholtz. Ask them right in, Hapgood. Daniel, get up!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel hurriedly obeyed orders. Mr. Black also rose. + </p> + <p> + “The Fenholtzes!” he observed in a tone of surprise. “Say, Dan, I didn't + know you knew them. Annette didn't say anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + Annette hadn't known of it; her expression showed that. The Honorable and + Mrs. Fenholtz were Scarford's wealthiest citizens. Mr. Fenholtz was + proprietor of a large brewery and was an ex-mayor. His wife was prominent + socially; as prominent as Mrs. Black hoped to be some day. + </p> + <p> + Hapgood reappeared, ushering in the new arrivals. The Honorable Oscar was + plump and florid and good-natured. He wore a business suit and his shoes + were not patent leathers. Mrs. Fenholtz was likewise plump. Her gown, in + comparison with Annette's, or even Serena's, was extremely plain and + old-fashioned. + </p> + <p> + She hastened over to where Serena was standing and extended her hand. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mrs. Dott?” she said pleasantly. “Welcome to Scarford. You + and I have never met, of course, but I used to know Mrs. Lavinia Dott very + well indeed. And this is Mr. Dott, I suppose. How do you do? And here is + my husband. Oscar, these are our new neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fenholtz and the captain shook hands. Captain Dan felt his + embarrassment disappearing under the influence of that hearty shake. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you scarcely expected callers—or calls from strangers—so + soon,” went on Mrs. Fenholtz. “But, you see, I hope we shan't be strangers + after this. I couldn't bear to think of you all alone here in this great + house in a strange place, and so I told Oscar that he and I must run in. + We live near here, only on the next corner.” + </p> + <p> + “I said you would be having your after-dinner smoke, Mr. Dott,” explained + the Honorable, with a smile and a Teutonic accent. “I said you would wish + we was ouid instead of in; but Olga would not have it so. And, when the + women say yes, we don't say no. Eh; what is the use?” He chuckled. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan grinned. “That's right,” he said. “No use for the fo'mast hand + to contradict the skipper.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mrs. Fenholtz?” she said with unction. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” exclaimed Serena. “I—I'm forgetting everything. But you + know Mr. and Mrs. Black, don't you, Mrs. Fenholtz?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fenholtz turned. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mrs. Black?” she said. Her tone lacked the enthusiasm of + Annette's. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Black,” said her husband. “What are you doing here? I thought you + would be at the club, listening to the—what is it?—the + cabaret. Py George, my wife says I shall not go any more! She says it is + no place for a settled man so old as I am. Ho! ho! Yet I tell her the stag + dinner is good for the beer business.” + </p> + <p> + Before B. Phelps could answer, Mrs. Black spoke. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted to go, Mr. Fenholtz,” she declared. “But he felt, as I did, + that our first duty was here. Captain and Mrs. Dott are old friends of + ours. We meet them every year at the Cape; we have a summer home there, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Fenholtz seemed interested. “That is so,” he said. “I forgot. Dott, are + you one of those Cape Cod skippers they tell me about? I am glad of it. I + have got a boat myself down in Narragansett Bay. One of those gruisin' + launches, they call them. But this one is like the women, it will gruise + only where and when it wants to, and not where I want to at all. There is + something the matter with the engine always. I have had egsperts—ah, + those egsperts!—they are egsperts only in getting the money. When + they are there it will go beautifully; but when they have left it will not + go at all. I wish you could see it.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan was interested, too. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I'd like to, first rate. I've got a boat of my own back + home; that is, I used to have her. She was a twenty-five foot cat and she + had a five-horsepower auxiliary in her. I had consider'ble experience with + that engine. Course, I ain't what you'd call an expert.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that. Now I will explain about this drouble of mine.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to explain. In five minutes he and the captain were head over + heels in spark plugs and batteries and valves and cylinders. Mr. Black + endeavored to help out with quotations from his experience as a motorist, + but his suggestions, not being of a nautical nature, were ignored for the + most part. After a time he lost interest and settled back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the three ladies were engrossed in other matters. Mrs. Fenholtz + asked to be shown the house; she had not seen it for a long time, she + said, and was much interested. Annette suddenly remembered that, she also + was “mad” to see it. So Serena led a tour of inspection, in which Mr. + Hapgood officiated as assistant pilot and superintendent of lighting. + </p> + <p> + After the tour was at an end, and just before the party descended to the + drawing-room, Mrs. Fenholtz turned to Serena and said: + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dott, are you interested in club matters; in women's clubs, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + Serena's answer was a prompt one. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am,” she said. “I have always been interested in them. In fact, + I am president of the Trumet Chapter; that is, I was; of course, I + resigned when I came here.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fenholtz looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Trumet Chapter?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, the Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor. The order Mrs. + Black belongs to.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” in a slightly different tone. “Oh, yes, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm terribly interested in THAT,” declared Serena enthusiastically. “If + you knew the hours and hours I have put in working for the Guild. It is a + splendid movement; don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, I have no doubt it is. I don't belong to it myself. I was + thinking of our local club, our Scarford women's club, when I spoke. I + thought perhaps you might care to attend a meeting of that with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should love—” began Serena, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black, who was standing behind Mrs. Fenholtz, was shaking her head. + The last-named lady noticed her hostess' hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “But of course,” she went on, “if you are interested in the Ladies of + Honor you would no doubt prefer visiting a meeting of theirs. In that case + Mrs. Black could help you more than I. She is vice-president of the + Scarford Branch, I think. You are vice-president, aren't you, Mrs. Black?” + </p> + <p> + Annette colored slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, yes,” she admitted; “I am.” + </p> + <p> + Serena was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Vice-president?” she repeated. “Vice-president—I—I—must + have made a dreadful mistake. I introduced you as president at that Trumet + meeting. I certainly thought you were president.” + </p> + <p> + Now, as a matter of fact, if Mrs. Black had not specifically said that she + was president of the Scarford Chapter, she had led her acquaintances in + Trumet to infer that she was; at all events, she had not corrected + Serena's misapprehension on the night of the meeting. She hastened to do + so now. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she said. “I noticed that you made a mistake when you introduced + me, but, of course, I could hardly correct you publicly, and, when it was + all over, I forgot. I am only vice-president, just as Mrs. Fenholtz says.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fenholtz smiled. “Well, I am not even an officeholder in our club,” + she said, “although I was at one time. I have no doubt you will prefer to + be introduced by a vice-president rather than a mere member; and I am sure + Mrs. Black is planning for you to attend one of the Guild meetings, so I + mustn't interfere.” + </p> + <p> + Annette was visibly flurried. The Scarford Chapter was the one subject + which she had carefully avoided that evening. But between it and the + Woman's Club there was a bitter rivalry, and, although she had not been at + all anxious to act as sponsor for her friend from the country, now that + Mrs. Fenholtz had offered to do so and had placed the responsibility + squarely on her shoulders, she could not dodge. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, of course,” she said. “That was understood. We have had so + many things to talk about this evening that I had really forgotten it, my + dear Mrs. Dott. I had indeed! When,” she hesitated, “when could you make + it convenient to attend one of our meetings? Of course I know how busy you + are just now in your new home, and I shall not be unreasonable. I + shouldn't, of course, expect you to attend the NEXT meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the unconscious Serena, “I'm not so busy as all that. I could + go to the next meeting just as well as not. I should love to.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the drawing-room, to find Captain Dan and the Honorable Oscar + still deep in the engine discussion and Mr. Black sound asleep in his + chair. Roused by his indignant wife, he drowsily inquired if it was time + to get up, and then, becoming aware of the realities of the situation, + hastily explained that he had been thinking about business affairs and had + forgotten where he was. + </p> + <p> + “Going, Annette, are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Annette tartly observed that she was going, and added that she judged it + high time to do so. Mrs. Fenholtz said that she and her husband must be + going, also. + </p> + <p> + “But we shall hope to see a great deal of you and Mr.—I should say + Captain Dott,” she said. “You must dine with us very soon. I will set an + evening and you mustn't say no.” + </p> + <p> + “That is right,” said Mr. Fenholtz heartily. “Captain, some of these days + you and I will take a gouple of days and go down and look at that boat. If + she does not go then, we will put an 'egspert' in her and sink them both. + What?” + </p> + <p> + Altogether, it was a wonderful evening. The only fly in the ointment was + Azuba, who appeared just as the visitors were at the door, to announce + that “that foolhead of a grocer's boy” hadn't brought the things she + ordered and what they was going to do for breakfast she didn't know. + </p> + <p> + “I could give you b'iled eggs,” she added, “but Captain Dan'l made such a + fuss about them we had yesterday that I didn't dast to do it without + askin' you. I wanted to have some picked-up fish, but they didn't keep + none but the hashed-up kind that comes in pasteboard boxes, and I'd just + as soon eat hay as that.” + </p> + <p> + On the way home Mrs. Black divided her discourse into two parts, one a + scorching of her husband for falling asleep and making her ridiculous + before the Fenholtzes, and the other a sort of irritated soliloquy + concerning “those Dotts” and the way in which they had been loaded upon + her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I did my best to keep the Guild out of the conversation,” she said, “but + that Fenholtz woman had to drag it in, and now, of course, I've got to + take that Dott person to the next meeting and introduce her to everybody, + and I suppose I shall have to see that she is made a member. Oh, dear! I + almost wish I had never seen Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + B. Phelps grunted. “Humph!” he said. “If the Fenholtzes take them up I + don't see what you've got to kick about. You've been trying to get in the + Fenholtz set yourself for the last three years. Maybe you can do it now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The Scarford Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor was not as large + a body as Mrs. Black in the exuberance of her Trumet conversation had led + Serena to think. In reality, its membership was less than a hundred. It + was formed in the beginning by a number of seceders from the local Women's + Club, who, disappointed in their office-seeking ambitions and deeming the + club old-fashioned and old-fogyish in its ideas, had elected to form an + organization of their own. They had affiliated with the national order of + the Ladies of Honor, chiefly because of the opportunity which such a body + offered for office holding and notoriety. The members were not drawn from + the oldest families of Scarford nor from those whose social position was + established. They were chiefly the wives and daughters of men who had made + money rather suddenly; would-be geniuses whose genius had not been + recognized as yet; women to whom public speaking and publicity were as the + breath of their nostrils; extravagants and social climbers of all sorts. + </p> + <p> + The purposes of the organization, outside those specified in the + constitution of the parent body, were rather vague. Ex-Mayor Fenholtz + expressed a rather general opinion when he said: + </p> + <p> + “The Ladies of Honor? Sure! it is a place where the women go who think + their husbands don't appreciate them. If I was one of those husbands I + should appreciate their having that place. They might stay at home if they + didn't. That would be a galamity.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies of the Scarford Chapter made it a point to be always abreast of + the times. Theirs was not a suffrage organization because, as many of them + said, the belief in suffrage was so common nowadays. Their motto was + “Advancement.” Just what sort of advancement seemed to make little + difference. + </p> + <p> + The next meeting—that is, the meeting to which Serena had been + invited—was one of the few at which men were permitted to be + present. The Blacks called at the Dott mansion with the car, Mr. Black not + acting as driver this time, and the journey to the hall was made in that + vehicle. It was not a lively journey, so Captain Dan thought. He and B. + Phelps occupied the folding seats facing the two ladies and Mr. Black + maintained a gloomy silence all the way. As for Annette and Serena, they + talked and talked upon subjects miles above the head of the captain. Mrs. + Black did most of the talking; Serena was content to listen and pretend to + understand. + </p> + <p> + “This is to be an open meeting, Mrs. Dott,” said Annette graciously. “You + see, we have open meetings, just as you do in Trumet, although I doubt if + you find much resemblance between the two. You'd scarcely expect that, + would you? Ha! ha! It is a good thing,” she added, addressing the + occupants of the carriage in general, “for these husbands of ours to be + shown occasionally what their wives are capable of. Here is our Chapter + building. Phelps, give Mrs. Dott your arm.” + </p> + <p> + The Chapter building proved to be not quite up to Serena's expectation. It + was a building, of course, but the Chapter occupied only two or three + rooms on the third floor, the other floors being occupied by offices of + various sorts. The largest room, that which Mrs. Black dignified by the + title of “Assembly Hall,” was partially filled when they entered. Some + sixty women of various ages, with a sprinkling of men among them, occupied + the chairs on the floor. Upon the speakers' platform half a dozen ladies + in radiant attire were chatting volubly with another, an imposing creature + in crimson silk, who surveyed the audience through a gold lorgnette, and + whose general appearance reminded Daniel of one of the stuffed armchairs + in the parlor of their new home. + </p> + <p> + “That is Mrs. Cornish, the speaker of the evening,” whispered Annette. + “She is one of our most brilliant members.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dan'l, to whom the information had been imparted, and upon + whom the crimson silk had made an impression; “yes, she—she does + look sort of—sort of brilliant.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought the Chapter was larger than this,” said the puzzled Mrs. + Dott. “I thought Scarford had one of the largest Chapters.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, not the largest, merely one of the best. Our motto always has + been quality not quantity. And now will you excuse me? They are waiting + for me on the platform. I will see you when the open meeting is over. + Phelps, find good seats for Mr. and Mrs. Dott.” + </p> + <p> + She bustled away to the platform. The gloomy B. Phelps found seats for the + guests and himself and sank heavily down beside them. Daniel, who had been + gazing about him with curiosity, whispered a question. + </p> + <p> + “What do they do at these things, Barney—Phelps, I mean?” he asked. + “Are they like lodge meetings at home? This is my first trip here, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted his companion. “You're in luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk, don't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Talk! Good Lord! Say, Dan, if I get to sleep and you notice Annette + looking this way, nudge me, that's a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + He settled himself in his chair and closed his eyes. Daniel turned to his + wife. + </p> + <p> + “Serena,” he murmured. “Say, Serena, don't you think it is a queer-lookin' + crowd? Seems to me I never saw such clothes or so many different kinds of + hair. Look at that woman's skirt. It's tore all up one side.” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! Don't speak so loud. That's the latest style.” + </p> + <p> + “What! THAT? Well, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! It's the latest style, I tell you. Haven't you seen the fashion + magazines? All the new dresses are made that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—I'm not as young as that woman is.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't wear a thing like that if you were as young as Gertie; and + she wouldn't either, not if I saw it first. I never saw such folks as + these at Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you didn't. Trumet isn't Scarford. We are in society now, + Daniel. We mustn't show our ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I'd rather show my ignorance than—Hello, the doin's are + goin' to commence.” + </p> + <p> + The Chapter president, a Mrs. Lake, advanced to the desk, smote it + fiercely with a gavel and demanded order. The hall, which had been buzzing + like a colony of June bugs, gradually grew still. Then Mrs. Lake opened + the meeting. She delivered a short speech. Mrs. Black, in lieu of the + secretary, who was absent, read the minutes. Then there were motions and + amendments and excited calls for recognition from “Madam President.” It + was livelier than Daniel had expected. + </p> + <p> + But soon the woman in crimson silk was introduced. Mrs. Cornish bowed in + recognition of the gloved applause, and proceeded to talk... and talk... + and talk.... + </p> + <p> + At first Captain Dan endeavored to pay strict attention to the address. + Its title was “The Modern Tendency,” and the tendency in this case seemed + to be to say as much as possible about nothing in particular. + </p> + <p> + Daniel found his attention wandering and his eyes closing. They opened at + intervals as the applause burst forth, but they closed between bursts. The + tremendous enthusiasm at the end, however, awoke him for good, and he + remained awake until the close of the “open meeting,” a marked contrast to + Mr. Black, who slumbered to the finish. + </p> + <p> + When it was over Annette descended from the platform and came hurrying to + them. + </p> + <p> + “How did you enjoy it, Captain Dott?” she purred. + </p> + <p> + Daniel rather dubiously admitted that he guessed 'twas first rate, far's + he could make it out. His wife was enthusiastic; she affirmed that it was + splendid. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure we couldn't help enjoying it, Mrs. Black,” she said. “Everyone + of us. Didn't you enjoy it, Mr. Black?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” replied Phelps promptly. “Great stuff!” + </p> + <p> + His wife swooped upon him like a swallow on a fly. + </p> + <p> + “You?” she snorted contemptuously. “You didn't hear a word of it. I only + hope Mrs. Cornish wasn't watching you, as I was. And now,” she added, + turning to Serena, “comes the other part, the important part. Captain + Dott, there is to be a short business meeting in a few minutes, and men + are, of course, excluded. Phelps, will you have James drive Captain Dott + home? You had better go with him, and then come back again and wait for + us. Captain Dott, I am going to borrow your wife for a short time.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, not knowing exactly what to say, said nothing. Phelps seized his + arm and led him down to the carriage. The driver received his instructions + and the homeward ride began. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Barney,” observed Daniel, after waiting for his escort to + volunteer a word or two, “are all their meetings like that?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Black snorted. “No,” he declared; “some are a d——d sight + worse.” + </p> + <p> + It was after eleven when Serena returned. Her face was flushed and shining + with excitement. She did not wait to remove her hat, but rushed into the + parlor where her husband sat in lonely magnificence. The solicitous + Hapgood, who had happened in every few minutes to see if his employer + “wished anything,” had been ordered to “go aloft and turn in.” The tone in + which the order was given made an impression and Hapgood had obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Daniel!” she cried. “What do you think? I've been made a member of + the Chapter!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan should perhaps have been enthusiastic. If he was, he + suppressed his feelings wonderfully. + </p> + <p> + “Have you, Serena?” he observed. “I want to know!” + </p> + <p> + He listened while his wife dilated upon the wonderful happenings at the + meeting and the glorious consequences which she felt sure were to follow. + Just before putting out the light he asked one more question. + </p> + <p> + “That—that Mrs. Lake?” he said. “She's a grass widow, ain't she—isn't + she, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. Only I thought you were kind of prejudiced against—against—” + </p> + <p> + “I've had a good many prejudices, I suppose, like other people. But Mrs. + Lake's husband was a brute; Mrs. Black told me so. He must have been, for + she is perfectly lovely. I've met them all, and they are ALL lovely. + They're going to call and—and everything. Oh, Daniel, this means so + much to us!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan turned out the gas. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Serena,” he said slowly. “I shouldn't wonder if it did.” + </p> + <p> + The calls began the very next afternoon. Mrs. Black, having made up her + mind that the taking of the Dotts under her wing was a necessity, made a + virtue of that necessity and explained to her fellow members of Scarford + Chapter that Serena and Daniel were really very nice people. “A little + countrified, of course. You must expect that. But they are very kind + hearted and immensely wealthy—oh, immensely.” She was kind enough to + add that Serena was quite an exceptional person and an advanced thinker, + considering her opportunities. “The club people were going to take them + up, and so I felt that we should get in first,” she explained. “If they + should prove to be impossible we can drop them at any time, of course.” + </p> + <p> + In making this explanation she did not mention the Fenholtzes, and yet if + it had not been for the call of the Honorable Oscar and his wife it is + extremely doubtful if Serena would have become a member of Scarford + Chapter so soon. Also it is doubtful if the little dinner given by the + Blacks to Mr. and Mrs. Dott would have taken place within the week. At + that dinner Captain Dan wore his first dress suit. He bought it ready made + at one of the Scarford shops and it fitted him remarkably well, + considering. What he could not do, however, was to feel at ease in it. + </p> + <p> + “Good land, Serena!” he said, when the dressing was completed and they + were about to start for the dinner, “don't pick at me so everlastin'ly. + Don't you suppose I know I look as stiff and awkward as if I'd froze? You + won't let me put my hands in my pockets, and all I can do is hang 'em + around loose and think about 'em, and this blessed collar is so high I + can't scarcely get my chin over it. I'm doin' my best, so don't keep + remindin' me what I look like all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what you say, Daniel,” declared his wife. “The clothes are + just what you ought to wear, and if you would only forget them for a + little while you would look all right.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't forget. I know the clothes are all right. It's me that's all + wrong. My red face stickin' over the top of this collar looks like a + fireman's shirt on a white fence. I tell you I ain't used to this kind of + thing. I wasn't born to it and it don't come natural to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither was Mr. Black 'born to it,' but he has got used to it and so can + you if you will try.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll try. But I'm beginnin' awful late in life. I know you'll be + ashamed of me, Serena. You ought to have a different husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want a different one. I wouldn't change you for anybody. But I do + think you ought to try and help me as much as you can. My chance has just + come; I am only just beginning and I mean to go on and improve myself and + our position in life all I can. All I ask you to do is not to hold me back + by complaining.” + </p> + <p> + The “little dinner” was not as little as it might have been. Annette had + taken pains to make it as elaborate and as costly an affair as she could. + This was not solely on the Dotts' account. She had invited Mr. and Mrs. + Fenholtz and the impression was to be made upon them, if possible. But, + unfortunately, the Fenholtzes did not attend. Mrs. Fenholtz wrote that she + had a prior engagement and sent regrets, just as she had previously done + on the occasions of Mrs. Black's other “little” functions. + </p> + <p> + However, the leading lights of Scarford Chapter attended and the display + of gowns and coiffures was more varied and elaborate than at the open + meeting. Serena, seated at the right hand of B. Phelps, was in her glory. + She felt that at last she was in touch with the real thing. Daniel, + sandwiched between Annete and Mrs. Lake, was not as happy. The necessity + of forgetting his clothes and remembering his grammar was a heavy burden. + His conversation was limited to “Yes” and “No” and “I shouldn't wonder,” + and after a time the ladies ceased in their efforts to make him talk and + carried on an animated dialogue across his shirt front. + </p> + <p> + After dinner there was music and bridge. Daniel was fond of music, but + most of the songs, sung by a thin young lady with a great deal of hair and + a decollete gown, were in a language which he did not understand, and the + piano solos seemed to him to be made up of noise and gymnastics with very + little melody. He watched Serena, however, who, in turn, was watching Mrs. + Lake and the rest; when they applauded, she applauded and the captain + followed suit. + </p> + <p> + Bridge was an unknown quantity to both of them, and they sat and looked on + while Mrs. Black made it “without” and found fault with her partner when + they lost. The thin young lady, who had obliged with the vocal selections, + asked the captain if he played “nullos.” Daniel, who was not sure whether + “nullos” was a musical instrument or a game, replied that he wasn't sure, + but he didn't think he did; after which he retired into the corner to + avoid further questioning. + </p> + <p> + They reached home about two o'clock, and the captain fell sound asleep in + the taxi and had to be shaken into consciousness when the machine reached + the Dott door. + </p> + <p> + “My soul, Serena,” he said, when they were upstairs in the bedroom, “don't + those folks ever go to bed? There was stuff enough to eat at that dinner + to last the average family through three meals. Time I had finished the + ice cream I was ready to curl up like a cat in front of the fire; but the + rest of them seemed to be just startin' in to be lively. Are we goin' to + keep this up very long? If we are, I'll have to sleep in the daytime, like + a fo'mast hand on night lookout.” + </p> + <p> + “But wasn't it splendid?” explained his wife. “Weren't they cultivated, + brilliant people? You and I never went to anything like THAT dinner + before, Daniel Dott.” + </p> + <p> + The captain admitted that they never did. “Could you make anything out of + that game they were playin'?” he asked. “What was it they called it?” + </p> + <p> + “Bridge. No, I couldn't, but I'm going to. I'm going to learn it just as + soon as I can. Mrs. Black says everybody plays it now.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband chuckled. “Those that don't play it had better not try,” he + observed. “Judgin' from what I saw to-night, if they do try they get into + trouble. That Lake woman was givin' that poor little bald-headed fellow + she was playin' with fits most of the time. Whenever they won she patted + herself on the back, and when they didn't she said it was his fault. He + ought to have 'echoed' or hollered back—or somethin'. One time she + put down a card and he put another kind of a one on it, and she glared at + him and said, 'Havin' no clubs?' and he had one that he'd forgot. He spent + the next ten minutes beggin' her pardon, but 'twas a good thing SHE didn't + have a club. She'd have used it on him if she had. He was all shriveled up + like a frostbitten cranberry when they got through.” + </p> + <p> + After they were in bed he said, “Serena, what was that black stuff they + had on the toast at the beginnin' of that supper? Looked like tar, but it + tasted kind of salty and good.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say supper, Daniel. It was a dinner. All city people have dinner at + night. That was caviar on the toast. I've read about it. It comes from + Russia.” + </p> + <p> + Silence for a moment. Then Captain Dan said reflectively, “Caviar? Caviar, + eh? I've heard of that somewhere before; where was it? Yes, yes, I know. + 'Twas a caviar sandwich the waiter asked that young fellow I met in the + Rat Cellar to have. I never found out who that young fellow was, and yet I + know I've met him somewhere before. I wish I could remember where it was. + My memory is failin' me, I guess; must be gettin' old. Can't you remember, + Serena?” + </p> + <p> + But his wife bade him stop talking and go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + The next day there were more calls, and Serena was asked to attend a + committee meeting as a guest. She attended it and returned more full of + Chapter enthusiasm than ever. She announced that she might be asked to + prepare a paper to be read before the Chapter, and that she intended to + study and prepare for it. Study and prepare she did, and, between dodging + callers, or helping to entertain them, and keeping out of his wife's way + while she was busy with the encyclopedias which she had taken from the + library, the captain began to feel somewhat deserted. Hapgood's company + was too stately to be congenial, and Daniel sought refuge in the kitchen, + where Azuba, as usual, was always ready to talk. + </p> + <p> + Azuba was brimming over with the novelty of city life. She had been to the + theater once already since her arrival, and to the moving picture show + three times. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to ME,” she said. “If them pictures ain't the most wonderful + things that ever was, then <i>I</i> don't know. <i>I</i> never expected to + see such sights—soldiers paradin', and cowboys a-ridin', and houses + a-burnin', and Indians scalpin' 'em! I was so worked up I hollered right + out.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you would. An Indian scalpin' a house is enough to make + anybody holler.” + </p> + <p> + “They didn't scalp the house; what sort of foolishness would that be—the + idea! They scalped the folks IN the house. That is, they would have + scalped 'em, only along come the cowboys wavin' pistols and hurrahin'—” + </p> + <p> + “Could you hear 'em hurrah?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I could see 'em. And the way they went for them Indians was a + caution. And—Oh, say, Captain Dott, there was one set of pictures + there made me think of you. 'Twas all about some people that wanted to go + into society. She had a paralyzed father and they had a child, a real + pretty girl, and, would you believe it, they commenced to neglect their + child and go off playin' cards and dancin' and carousin' around, and the + child was took down sick and the poor paralyzed grandfather—” + </p> + <p> + “Grandfather? Thought you said it was a father.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas the WOMAN'S father—the child's grandfather. Well, anyhow, the + poor thing had to take care of it, and the nurse went to sleep and the + father come home and found her dyin'—” + </p> + <p> + “Who, the nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, the child. The nurse wa'n't sick; but the child was terrible + sick.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter with the child; paralysis, too?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what was the matter with it. 'Tain't likely 'twas paralysis. + You get me so mixed up I shan't know what I AM sayin' pretty soon. Well, + anyhow, what happened was that the child's mother and father neglected it + on account their fashionable goin's-on, and the child up and died. 'Twas + the most affectin' thing. There was the child a-dyin', and the mother and + father cryin', and the old grandfather goin' all to pieces—” + </p> + <p> + “All to pieces! That's worse than paralysis. Hold on a minute, Azuba! Was + all this in the picture?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you paid to see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Course I paid to see it. They wouldn't let me in for nothin', 'tain't + likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, seems to me you've made a mistake. If cryin' and misery is what you + want, I don't doubt you can find a lot of funerals to go to for nothin'. + But what was there about all this mess of horrors that made you think of + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know, unless the way you and Mrs. Dott are goin' in for + society in Scarford. Course your child is grown up, so that's different, + though, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and there isn't any paralysis in the family, so far as I know. + That's a mercy. Don't you get paralysis, Azuba. If you do, it will take + you longer to get breakfast than it does now.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right. You ought to be thankful you've got me to get + breakfast. If I wa'n't here you'd have to get it yourself, I cal'late. + Your wife's too busy these days, and that Hapgood man wouldn't do it. I + know that.” + </p> + <p> + Relations between the butler and Azuba were already somewhat strained. He + considered her a rude and interfering person and she considered that he + would bear watching. + </p> + <p> + “He's always recommendin' folks for us to trade with,” she told Captain + Dan. “What business is it to him who we trade with?—unless he gets a + little somethin' for himself out of it. He won't do it more than once—not + if I catch him at it. Don't talk to me about that Hapgood! I wouldn't + trust one of them foreigners, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + The invitation to dine with the Fenholtzes came about a week after the + dinner at the Blacks'. Daniel, who opened the letter containing the + invitation, was very much pleased. He liked the Fenholtzes at first sight + and felt sure he should like them better on further acquaintance. But when + Serena came back from the lodge meeting—the first regular meeting + which she had attended since becoming a member—she received the news + rather coldly. + </p> + <p> + “When is it they want us?” she said. “Next Tuesday night? Well, we could + go, I suppose, but I don't believe we shall. Mrs. Lake said something + about coming around that evening to help me read my paper and criticise + it.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was surprised and troubled. “She could come some other time, + couldn't she? I think 'twas real kind of the Fenholtzes to ask us. Seems + to me we ought to go. You and I haven't even been to pay back that call + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. I've meant to, but I've been so busy. Besides, I don't know + whether it is worth while or not. The Fenholtzes have got a great deal of + money, but all the Chapter people say they are sort of back numbers.” + </p> + <p> + However, she decided to accept the invitation, and they went in state. But + the state was largely on their part. The dinner was a very simple affair + compared to the elaborate spread of the Blacks, and the two or three + people whom they met were quite different from Mrs. Lake and her friends. + Captain Dan enjoyed himself hugely. He sat next to Mrs. Fenholtz at the + table, and her quiet conversation on every-day subjects he could + understand. Before the dinner was over he was thoroughly at ease, and when + later on, in company with the Honorable Oscar and the male guests, he sat + smoking in the library, he found himself spinning yarns and joking as + freely as if he had been in the back room of the Metropolitan Store in + Trumet. The shouts of laughter from the library could be heard in the + parlor, and Serena grew nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband must be very entertaining,” said Mrs. Fenholtz. “I haven't + heard Mr. Fenholtz laugh so heartily in a long time.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott was fearful that Daniel might be making himself ridiculous. She + didn't mention her fears. Her own remarks were delivered with a great deal + of dignity, and she quoted Mrs. Black and the encyclopedia often. On the + way home she took her husband to task. + </p> + <p> + “What in the world were you talking about with those men?” she demanded. + “I never heard such a noise as they made. I do hope you didn't forget + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The captain rubbed his chin. “I don't know but what I did forget myself, + Serena,” he replied. “I know I had a good time and never thought about my + clothes after the first ten minutes. Could you hear 'em laughin'? I was + tellin' em' about Azuba's goin' to the movin' pictures then.” + </p> + <p> + His wife was shocked. “And Azuba is our cook,” she said, “and they know + it. I don't know what sort of servants they think we have. They must think + you're pretty familiar with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Good land, Serena! I've been familiar with Zuba all my life. If I was to + put on airs with her she'd take me down in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott sighed. “I'm afraid you did forget yourself,” she declared. “I + think if you could hear what the Fenholtzes are saying about us now you'd + be ashamed. I'm sure I should.” + </p> + <p> + And at that very moment Mr. Fenholtz was saying: “That man Dott is all + right. I have not laughed so for years. And he has common sense, too. I + like him.” + </p> + <p> + His wife nodded. “So do I,” she said; “and I think I should like Mrs. + Dott, too, if she had not been spoiled by Annette Black and the rest of + those foolish women she associates with. I don't mean to say that Mrs. + Dott is completely spoiled yet, but she will be soon, I'm afraid, unless I + can make her realize that she is beginning all wrong here in Scarford. If + she could only have gone to the Woman's Club first I think she might + understand, but now I'm afraid it's too late.” + </p> + <p> + At the next meeting of the Chapter Serena read her paper. She mounted the + platform with fear and trembling. She left it exalted and triumphant. The + paper had been applauded and she had been congratulated by her fellow + members. Annette was enthusiastic and Mrs. Lake and the other leaders + equally so. Stories of the “vast” wealth inherited by the Dotts had been + circulated freely, and these, quite as much as the wonderful paper, were + responsible for Serena's bound into popularity. + </p> + <p> + But the popularity was there, and the unconscious Serena believed it to be + real. That meeting was the beginning of her obsession. Thereafter she + talked chapter and society and opportunity and advancement, and ate them + and drank them, too—at least the meals—those at home—seemed + to the captain to be made up of very little else. Their evenings alone + together became few and fewer. When they were not entertaining callers + they were calling. Captain Dan actually began to feel at home in his + evening clothes; a good deal more than he did in his night clothes, so he + told his wife. Breakfast, which, in the beginning of their Scarford + residence, had been served at seven-thirty, was now an hour later, and + even then Daniel frequently ate alone. + </p> + <p> + Then came the reception idea. Annette—she and Mrs. Dott were calling + each other by their Christian names now—had dropped the hint + concerning it. She had said that a good way in which to repay social + obligations was by doing it all at once, by giving a dinner, or reception, + or a tea, to which everyone should be invited. Serena decided that the + reception was perhaps the better, all things considered. And so + preparations for the reception began. There was to be a collation, and + when this item of information was imparted to Azuba the kitchen became a + maelstrom of activity in which Captain Daniel could no longer find rest + and refuge. + </p> + <p> + “But, Zuba,” he remonstrated, “what do you think's comin' here; a drove of + hyenas? You've cooked enough already to victual a ship halfway across the + ocean. These folks eat sometimes at home. You don't think they're comin' + here to make up for six months' starvation, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me!” was all the satisfaction he got. “I've heard about + what they had to eat over there at Barney Black's, and I don't mean for + folks to say that they went hungry when they come here. Don't say another + word. I don't know now whether it was a cup full of sugar or a pinch of + salt I put in, or the other way 'round. Cookin'! Don't talk to ME.” + </p> + <p> + The captain found it practically impossible to talk to anybody. Hapgood + was busy; Serena was busier, and Azuba was busiest of all. Wherever he + went he seemed to be in the way, and when he fled for walks up and down + the streets the crowds of strange faces made him feel lonelier than ever. + On the evening before that upon which the reception was to be held he + returned from one of these walks to find Serena in tears. + </p> + <p> + “Why, good gracious sakes!” he exclaimed. “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter!” sobbed his wife. “Oh, dear me! Everything is the matter! I'm so + tired I don't know what to do, and Annette and Mrs. Lake were coming here + to-morrow to help me, and now they can't come. They'll be at the + reception, of course, but they can't come before; and there's so much to + get ready and I don't know whether I'm doing it right or not. What SHALL I + do!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel shook his head. “Seems to me I'd do the best I could and let it go + at that,” he advised. “If they ain't satisfied I'd let 'em stay the other + way. I wish I could help you, but I don't know how.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you don't. You don't have any sympathy for the whole thing, and + I know it. I feel it all the time. You haven't any sympathy for ME.” + </p> + <p> + The captain sighed. He had a vague feeling that he could use a little + sympathy himself, but with characteristic unselfishness he put that idea + from his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I guess what you need is a manager,” he said. “Somebody that's used to + these sort of things that could help you out. I wish I knew where there + was one.” + </p> + <p> + Hapgood appeared and announced that dinner was served. Serena hurriedly + dried her eyes and they descended to the dining-room. Just as they were + about to take their seats at the table the doorbell rang. Hapgood left the + room and returned a few moments later bearing a card on a tray. Serena + took the card, looked at it, and then at her husband. Her face expressed + astonishment and dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Daniel!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Why, Daniel! WHO do you + suppose is here?” + </p> + <p> + Her husband announced that he didn't know. He took the card from her hand + and looked at it. It was a very simple but very correct card, and upon it + in old English script was the name “Mr. Percy Hungerford.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel's face reflected the astonishment upon his wife's. + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” he muttered. “Percy Hungerford! Why, that's—that's the + cousin; the one Aunt Laviny cut out of her will; the one that would have + had all this place and all the money if we hadn't got it. I thought he was + in New York somewhere. Black said he was, and now he's here. What in the + world does he want?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott rose. “I don't know,” she gasped. “I can't imagine. But I + suppose we must see him. We've got to. Did you ask him to wait, Hapgood?” + </p> + <p> + Hapgood bowed respectfully. “Mr. Hungerford is in the drawing-room, + ma'am,” he said. + </p> + <p> + To the drawing-room moved Serena, followed by her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Mr. Hungerford,” said the lady, with a partially successful + attempt at calmness. “How do you do? My husband and I—” + </p> + <p> + She paused. The expression on Mr. Hungerford's face was an odd one. She + turned to Daniel, and his expression was odder still. He was standing in + the doorway gazing at the visitor, his eyes opening wider and wider. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percy Hungerford was the young man whom his friend had addressed as + “Tacks,” the young man with whom Captain Dan had exchanged repartee in the + Rathskeller of the Palatine Hotel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Of the two men, Mr. Hungerford was the first to recover presence of mind. + Presence of mind was one of the qualities upon which he prided himself, + and it was a very awkward situation to which he could not rise. For just + an instant the color rushed to his cheeks as he recognized the captain and + saw that the latter recognized him. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Why, how do you do, Captain Dott?” he said. “By Jove, this is + extraordinary, isn't it! Strange that relatives shouldn't know each other + when they meet. How do you do?” + </p> + <p> + He stepped forward with extended hand. Captain Dan, who had expected + almost anything but this bland cordiality, scarcely knew what to say or + do. He took the proffered hand mechanically and dropped it again. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he stammered. “Well!—I declare I—I didn't expect to—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Mrs. Dott, who had been watching this scene in bewilderment, + spoke before he could finish his sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is it?” she asked. “Have you—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford smiled. “Your husband and I have met before,” he explained. + “Just a casual meeting and we weren't aware of each other's identity. I'm + afraid I was not as cordial as I might have been on that occasion, + Captain. I was a bit tired and rather out of sorts. I hope you'll forgive + me, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel hesitated; then he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I guess I can forgive my half if you can yours,” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + Before the puzzled Serena could ask another question the visitor turned to + her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure you must be very much surprised to see me here,” he said. “I'm + somewhat surprised to be here myself. I've spent a greater part of the + past month in New York and have only just returned—that is, to stay. + I fully intended to call before, and should if I had been in town. How are + you getting on? How do you like the dear old place? Ah!” with a sigh, as + he seated himself and looked about him, “how familiar it all seems!” + </p> + <p> + The Dotts looked at each other. Serena sank into a chair. Captain Dan + remained standing. + </p> + <p> + “Does it?” said the former rather feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it does. One almost expects to see Auntie coming in at the door. + Dear old Auntie! I can scarcely realize that she has gone.” + </p> + <p> + Again Serena looked at Daniel and he at her. This was so strange, so + different from the attitude which a disappointed legatee might be expected + to assume that neither of the pair knew exactly how to reply. But Mr. + Hungerford did not appear to notice the look or the hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “This house seems like home to me,” he said. “I've spent so many happy + hours here. When old Hapgood opened the door for me I almost ordered him + to take my bags to my room. Really I did. That would have been droll, + wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed languidly. Serena admitted that it would have been droll. + Captain Dan remained silent as before. + </p> + <p> + “Are—are you stopping at the hotel?” queried Mrs. Dott. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. In fact, I'm not really stopping anywhere. I've just arrived. I + must be hurrying back to dinner, I suppose, but I couldn't resist coming + here first. It seemed the natural thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + Voices were heard in the hall. One of the voices was Azuba's; she was + informing Mr. Hapgood that if that soup didn't go back on the stove pretty + soon it might just as well be on ice. The words were distinctly audible, + and Serena colored. Mr. Hungerford rose. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I must be keeping you from your own dinner,” he said. “Don't let + me do that for the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—” faltered Serena. She looked appealingly at Daniel, + and the latter's instinctive hospitality asserted itself. He had disliked + the young man “Tacks” when he met him in the Rathskeller. Now that “Tacks” + had become Mr. Percy Hungerford, Aunt Lavinia's cousin and his own distant + relative, the dislike was only partially abated. But to turn him away from + the door hungry seemed wrong somehow. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't you better—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Have dinner with us?” finished his wife. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford protested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I couldn't think of it,” he declared. “No doubt you have guests—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, we haven't. We're all alone and it would be no trouble at all. We + should like to have you stay. Shouldn't we, Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin, no trouble at all,” said Daniel heartily. “Like to have you first + rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you insist. It is a frightful imposition—I shouldn't think + of it, of course, but—well, thank you so much.” + </p> + <p> + So Hapgood received orders to lay another plate, and Mr. Hungerford, still + murmuring protests, suffered himself to be conducted to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + All through the meal the captain regarded him with puzzled curiosity. That + he had come to the house merely for a friendly call he could scarcely + believe. He had heard little or nothing of the conversation between + Hungerford and his friend at the table in the Rathskeller, and yet the + attitude of the former on that occasion had not indicated a temperament + likely to forgive “dear Aunt Lavinia” so freely or to display such angelic + cordiality toward those who had come into possession of her property. But + the cordiality remained unchanged, and the visitor, so far from bearing a + grudge toward his more fortunate relatives, continued to treat them as + though they were near and dear friends, and do everything in his power to + relieve their constraint and to make himself agreeable. The dinner ended + and they adjourned to the drawing-room, with Captain Dan's mental question + “What in the world is this young chap really up to?” still unanswered. + </p> + <p> + Serena had asked herself that same question when the caller first came, + but now she was beginning to be ashamed of her suspicions and to think + them unfounded. Mr. Hungerford was agreeable; there was no doubt of that. + Also he was good-looking, in an effeminate sort of way, and his + conversation was fluent and cultured. He led Serena into speaking of the + Chapter and her work there, and he displayed a knowledge of and an + interest in that Chapter and its members which was very gratifying. + </p> + <p> + The coming reception was mentioned, and the visitor's interest in that was + more gratifying still. It was evident that receptions and society + functions generally were matters of every day, or every night, occurrence + to him. He asked Mrs. Dott who was to assist her in receiving, and when + she answered the question his approval of the selections was unqualified. + He suggested one or two little ideas which he said might add to making the + affair a success. Serena welcomed the suggestions as a starving man might + welcome a meal. + </p> + <p> + “That'll be lovely,” she said, “and we can do it just as well as not. And + I had thought of having some bridge or something afterwards; but Annette—Mrs. + Black, I mean—didn't seem to think bridge would be just the thing + after a reception. And there's music; I know we really ought to have + music, and I had meant to have somebody play the piano. But the woman I + wanted can't come, and now I don't know what to do. What would you think + about that, Mr. Hungerford?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford suggested hiring one or two professional musicians. “A + violinist, or harpist, or both, perhaps,” he said. “Music is always, as + you say, a great addition to such affairs, Mrs. Dott. I happen to know of + a young fellow who plays exceptionally well, and his sister is really a + very accomplished performer on the harp. Of course they should be engaged + in merely a professional capacity. They are not persons who would mingle + with our set, but they're not at all objectionable, really.” + </p> + <p> + The diplomatic phrasing of this remark had its effect. It indicated that + Mrs. Dott's “set” was an exclusive one and, incidentally, that the + accomplished and polished Mr. Hungerford considered his host and hostess + as social equals. + </p> + <p> + “There!” exclaimed Serena. “I think that will be just fine. And you are + the first one, Mr. Hungerford, to think of it. Do you suppose you could + get these—these—er—persons you speak of to come and play + for us?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. I have befriended the young man in various ways, and he is, + if you will excuse my saying so, under some obligations to me. I should be + glad to make the attempt if you wish it, Mrs. Dott.” + </p> + <p> + “Cost somethin', won't it?” observed Captain Dan casually. Mr. Hungerford + regarded him with well-bred surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course,” he said, “there will be some expense. I think fifty + dollars will cover the bill. The usual rate for musicians of their class + is somewhat higher.” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that the captain was surprised. “Fifty DOLLARS!” he + repeated. “Why—” + </p> + <p> + His wife interrupted. “That will be all right, Mr. Hungerford,” she said. + “That will be quite satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, there are many whom you can obtain for less, and, if you feel + that that figure is too high, I shall be glad to try elsewhere. I have had + little experience outside of the best, but—” + </p> + <p> + Serena interrupted again. “We don't want anybody but the best,” she + declared, emphatically. “Be still, Daniel. This isn't Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel drew a long breath. “There ain't much doubt of that,” he observed. + “But, all right, Serena, if you and Mr. Hungerford think it's all right, I + guess it is. I'm more used to hirin' sailors than I am folks to play the + harp.” + </p> + <p> + “Music,” went on Mr. Hungerford, “is almost a necessity, in these days, + when everyone dances. Is this a formal reception, or had you intended + clearing a floor for dancing, Mrs. Dott?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott had not intended any such thing; she had not thought of it. But + she concealed the fact from her visitor with remarkable presence of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course!” she said. + </p> + <p> + The conversation continued, a conversation limited to Mr. Hungerford and + his hostess, while Captain Dan remained a silent and amazed listener. The + young gentleman was invited to attend the reception, Serena making many + apologies for the informality of the invitation, and the guest expressing + himself as delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said, “I wouldn't intrude for the world, but I don't feel + like an intruder in this house, where I have spent so many happy hours. + Feeling as I do, I'm going to make another suggestion which, under + different circumstances, might be considered an impertinence. I am at + leisure to-morrow—in fact, all this week—and if there is + anything that I can do to help you and Cousin Daniel, in this matter of + the reception or any other, I shall be at your service. I do hope you will + permit me to help and that you will not consider me presuming in offering + to do so.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite evident that the offer was very welcome. Mrs. Dott accepted + it with enthusiasm and called upon her husband to confirm the acceptance. + He did so, but with less warmth, and it was agreed that the obliging Mr. + Hungerford should drop in the next morning after calling upon his protege, + the violinist. A half hour later he said “Good-night,” and departed. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Serena. “If that isn't Providence, then I don't know. And it + only goes to show how one person can misjudge another without knowing + anything about him. I've always had a prejudice against that Mr. + Hungerford simply because of what you told me of meeting him years ago, + and now I don't think I ever met a kinder, nicer young man. Did you, + Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + The captain hesitated. “I—I,” he stammered, “well, Serena, I will + give in that he seemed nice and obligin' enough to-night, but you see + there's just one thing that—” + </p> + <p> + Serena turned on him. “Yes, I know,” she said. “There's always 'one thing' + about everybody that <i>I</i> like. He's smart and bright and well dressed + and polite. He's a gentleman! and a different kind from any that we've + ever met. That makes YOU suspicious, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you know it isn't that; but—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + There was more hesitation on the captain's part. He had intended to tell + of the meeting at the Rathskeller; then he remembered the young man's + explanation and apology and thought better of it. He and “Cousin Percy” + might have another interview on the morrow. Meanwhile, he would keep + still, particularly as his wife seemed to have forgotten their caller's + reference to the meeting. He finished his sentence in another way. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't see what he came here for,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “He came here to see us. And, I think, considering how he was treated in + Aunt Lavinia's will, it was awfully nice of him to come at all. And, as + for helping me out on that reception, he's been a perfect godsend already. + I should THINK you would appreciate it.” + </p> + <p> + Before the next day was over, and long before the first of the evening's + guests arrived, the services of the new-found friend of the family were + appreciated even by the reluctant Daniel. Mr. Hungerford came early and + proceeded immediately to make himself useful. He had seen the violinist, + and the latter and his sister had promised to be on hand. He took Hapgood + in charge and superintended the arranging of the drawing-room and the + library for the reception and the dancing. When the messenger from the + florist came with the flowers which Serena, acting upon the suggestion of + Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, had ordered, he saw that they were placed in + exactly the right positions for effect. Being urged to stay for lunch, he + stayed. And his conversation during the meal was so fluent, so + aristocratic in flavor, and yet so friendly, that Serena became more and + more taken with him. With the captain he was not quite as much at his + ease. But he did his best to be agreeable, and Daniel, still vaguely + suspicious, found nothing tangible upon which to base distrust. There was + so much to be done in the afternoon that, acting upon a hint so delicate + that it could scarcely be called a hint, Mrs. Dott urged him to send to + the hotel for his bag and stay at their home overnight. He accepted and + was even busier than he had been during the forenoon session. He was never + so busy as to perform manual labor with his own hands—he never + stooped to that extent—but he managed to convey the impression of + being always ready and always helpful. + </p> + <p> + To say that Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake were, upon their arrival, surprised + to find him there would be expressing their feelings far too mildly. They + knew Mr. Hungerford, but, heretofore, that gentleman had moved in circles + other than their own. It is true that he belonged to the same club as did + Mr. Black, but Mr. Hungerford's friends had been younger, the + ultra-fashionable set, the set which Annette had characterized as “rather + fast” but which, because of its money and society connections, she + secretly envied. To find him here, an associate and friend of the people + she had called “countrified,” was most astonishing. She wondered, but she + could not help being impressed, and her attitude toward her dear friend + Serena was never so gushingly cordial. As for Mr. Hungerford, he greeted + the Chapter representatives with condescending urbanity. When the + reception began, somehow or other, Cousin Percy was in the receiving line. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, uncomfortably starched and broad-clothed, received likewise, + but his remarks to those who pressed his hand and murmured compliments + were rather commonplace and very much alike; this consisted principally of + “How d'ye do's” and “Glad to see you's”; and it was only when the + Honorable and Mrs. Fenholtz came that he appeared to remember anything + else. It was evident that Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz were as surprised as the + rest to see Mr. Hungerford there. The Honorable, seizing an opportunity + when the captain was for a moment alone, whispered in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Where did he come from?” he asked, with a jerk of the head in Cousin + Percy's direction. + </p> + <p> + “Him?” replied Daniel. “Oh, he came last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so? Is he a friend of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he ain't—isn't exactly a friend, I guess. He's a sort of + relation, a nephew of Aunt Laviny's.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, I see—I see.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in the tone which caused Captain Dan to ask a question + in return. + </p> + <p> + “Know him, do you?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know him, but—it is all right, Olga; I'm coming.” + </p> + <p> + He passed on to make room for another assortment of new arrivals, lady + members of the Chapter, and Daniel's curiosity remained unsatisfied. + </p> + <p> + After the reception proper, came a social and, to Daniel, very + uncomfortable hour, and then Mr. Hungerford, who seemed to have taken upon + himself the position of master of ceremonies, suggested dancing. + </p> + <p> + Of all the captain's society experiences so far, this was the most + amazing. He had danced in his younger days, it is true, but his were + dances of quite another variety. Quadrilles and Virginia reels he was + acquainted with, but tangos and Bostons and all the infinite varieties of + the one-step were to him revelations, and revelations of a kind which + caused him to gasp. He saw middle-aged matrons dipping and hopping and + twisting about the room in company with middle-aged, stout, red-faced men + who looked as if on the verge of apoplexy. He saw Mr. Hungerford laboring + dutifully to pilot a woman of forty through the sinuosities of the + “hesitation waltz,” and when the lady, who was inclined toward plumpness, + had collapsed into an armchair, he sought out her late partner and vented + his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “For the land sakes!” he demanded; “what did you do that for?” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” inquired Mr. Hungerford, himself as fresh and unwilted as an + Easter lily. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that—to her. Look at her, she's pretty nigh gone! She ain't + caught more than two breaths in the last minute and a half. I've been + watchin' her.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy condescended to smile. “It's her own fault,” he observed. + “She said she was dying to learn the 'hesitation' and asked me to teach it + to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she ought to be satisfied. If she was dyin' before, she's pretty + near dead now. Why didn't you stop sooner? She all but capsized a dozen + times in the last two or three turns you and she took around the room.” + </p> + <p> + Percy's smile became broader. “That is all part of the dance,” he + explained. “Watch this couple here.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel watched as directed. The couple were a young man and a girl about + Gertrude's age. They were doing the “hesitation” with the hesitancy + emphasized. + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” muttered the captain. “Where's that girl's mother? Somebody + ought to tell her.” + </p> + <p> + Hungerford smiled once more. “That was her mother I was dancing with,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” exclaimed Daniel. It was the only comment he made. He watched + the rest of the dancing in silence. + </p> + <p> + The collation followed the dancing, and Azuba and Mr. Hapgood served it, + assisted by four waiters who, at Mr. Hungerford's suggestion, had been + hired for the occasion. The butler's serving was done with grace and + elegance, not to mention dignity. Azuba served as if the main object to be + attained was to provide each guest with as much food as possible in the + shortest possible time. She was arrayed in a new black gown, worn under + protest, for her own idea had been to wear her Sunday dress, a vivid + purple, with trimmings which, for color and variety, looked “like a + patchwork tidy,” as Captain Dan expressed it. Also, under still greater + protest, she wore a white apron and cap. + </p> + <p> + “I feel like my grandmother doin' dishes,” Azuba declared when Mrs. Dott + brought the cap and apron to her and insisted on a dress rehearsal. “The + old woman lived to be ninety-five and wore a cap for all the world like + this one for thirty year. She had some excuse for wearin' it—it hid + the place where her hair was thin on top. But I ain't bald and I ain't + ninety-five neither. And why in the world you want me to put an apron on + in the parlor, <i>I</i> don't see. You've been preachin' at me to leave + one off till I was just rememberin' to do it, and now you want me to put + it on again.” + </p> + <p> + “Not this kind of an apron, Azuba. Mrs. Black's maids wear aprons like + that, and so do Mrs. Fenholtz's. It's the proper thing and I expect you to + do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! All right. Land knows I don't want to be improper. But I'd just + like to ask you this: Does that Fenholtz hired help have to wear black + clothes like this dress?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, always.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then I suppose I'll have to do the same, but I hope they don't feel + as much like bein' in mournin' as I do. I thought this reception thing was + supposed to be a good time, but when I looked at myself in the glass just + now, all I could think of was the Trumet post-office draped up for + President McKinley's funeral. I suppose it's style, so it'll have to be. + But if Labe, my husband, should see me now, he'd have a shock, I guess. + Cal'late he'd think he was dead and I'd got word of it afore he did.” + </p> + <p> + But the food was good and the guests seemed to enjoy it. Some of them + seemed to enjoy Azuba, and Mr. Fenholtz was observed by the indignant + Serena to laugh heartily every time the transformed maid-of-all-work + addressed him. + </p> + <p> + As they were leaving he said to Captain Dan: “Captain, that maid of yours + is a wonder. If you ever want to get rid of her, let me know. I thought + Mrs. Fenholtz and I had tried every variety of servant, but she is + something fresh.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel grinned. “She's fresh enough, if that's all you want,” he admitted. + “That's the main trouble with her, accordin' to my wife. I like her + myself. She reminds me of home.” + </p> + <p> + The Honorable shook his hand. “Home is a good thing to remember,” he said + earnestly, “and a bedder thing not to be ashamed of. You are not ashamed + of your home and you do not forget it. That is why I like you. Good + night!” + </p> + <p> + Somehow this remark pleased the captain greatly, but when he repeated it + to Serena, she did not seem pleased. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what we shall do with that Azuba,” she said. “She mortifies + me to death, and yet you won't let me get rid of her.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband did not answer. In the matter of Azuba he was as determined as + ever. Amid the new life into which he had been thrown, head over heels, + the housekeeper was the one familiar substantial upon which he could rely. + He was used to her, her conversation, and her ways. As he had said, she + reminded him of home, his real home, the home from which he was drifting + further and further every day. + </p> + <p> + Next morning Serena was suffering from headache and had breakfast in her + room. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not descend to the morning meal. Daniel + wrote a long letter to Gertrude, describing the reception, after his own + fashion, but taking care to seem as cheerful as ever. He did not feel + cheerful, but there was nothing to be gained by troubling his daughter, as + he reasoned. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford remained through that day and the next day and the next. At + the end of that time he sent for his trunks and settled down to make the + Dott house his home, for “a short season,” he said. This, of course, was + done only after much protest on his part and strenuous urging on the part + of Serena. Cousin Percy had taken her fancy at the very beginning of their + acquaintance, and his conduct since then had strengthened that liking + tremendously. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he can stay,” she said in conversation with her husband. “Why, + Daniel, I don't know what I should do without him. His coming was a + special Providence, just as I told you. Just see how he helped at that + reception. It would never have been the success it was if it hadn't been + for him. And see how he's helped me since. He knows just what is right and + proper for people in our station to do; he's been in society all his life. + He's educated and he has helped me with my paper for the next meeting of + the Chapter so much already. There's no reason why he can't be here; we've + got plenty of room. And it will only be while he's on his vacation, + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel rubbed his chin. “I know,” he admitted; “so he says. But how long a + vacation is it goin' to be?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you suppose I know that? I haven't asked him, it isn't likely.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't suppose you had; but it seems kind of funny he hasn't told + you himself. What's it a vacation from? What's he do for a livin'? + Anything but run receptions?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it—sneer! He does a great many things. He is interested in + literary work, so he says. He writes for a living, I suppose that means.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Has he got any answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Answer? Answer to what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to his writing. Has the livin' sent him word 'twas on the way, or + anything like that? I don't want to be mean, Serena. You know well enough + I ain't stingy. But I can't quite make that young fellow out. Why did he + come here, anyway? that's what sticks in my mind. What sort of a chap is + he? You know what that lawyer man said about him. Nigh as I could make out + from that, he thought he was a kind of high-toned loafer, sportin' round + on his aunt's money. Why does that kind of a fellow come to live along + with us? WE ain't sports.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you EVER remember not to say 'ain't'? He came here because he isn't + that kind of a fellow at all. He explained about that. It seems that he + and that young upstart of a Farwell, the lawyer, had had some words and + Farwell had a grudge against him. He thinks it was largely owing to those + lawyers' influence that Aunt Lavinia treated him as she did in her will. + But he doesn't hold any grudge. I never heard anybody speak more forgiving + or kind than he did about the whole affair. I declare, it was positively + affecting! He told me about his life and about how he was all alone in the + world; how he had never had to earn much—never having been brought + up to it—but that now he was trying to do his best. I felt so sorry + for him, and that was one of the reasons why I thought we, the only + relations he has, ought to be kind and show him hospitality at least. I + never thought you were inhospitable, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't, Serena. That is, I mean I are—am not. But—but—Well, + I'll tell you. I haven't told you before, although I meant to, but he and + I met once since we've been in Scarford. I told you about the meeting, but + I didn't know then who I met. Now I—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. He told me about that, too. He was the one you met at the hotel + that afternoon. He said he was ashamed of his behavior that day, that he + was tired, out of sorts, and discouraged. He thought you had been + listening to what he and his friend had been saying, and it made him + cross. He said that he apologized when he first came to the house, and I + remember that he did, and he asked me whether I thought any further + apology was necessary. I said no, of course it wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't suppose it is. But—well, there was somethin' else. It + seemed to me that afternoon at the Rathskeller that he and that chum of + his had been drinkin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Drinking? Do you mean that they were intoxicated?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly that; but they had a couple of cocktails while I was + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all? Oh, dear me! Daniel, you are SO old-fashioned. Your ideas + don't change a single mite. In Trumet a cocktail is a dreadful thing; but + here it isn't. Why, everybody drinks a cocktail before dinner. The Blacks + always have them. There were cocktails at that dinner at their house.” + </p> + <p> + “I know there was, but I didn't see you drinkin' yours, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + His wife hesitated. “No,” she admitted rather reluctantly, “I didn't. I've + been temperance all my life and somehow I couldn't bring myself to do it. + I hope Annette didn't think it was bad manners, but I just couldn't + somehow. Perhaps I ought to have tried—” + </p> + <p> + “Tried! My soul and body, Serena! Don't talk that way. If I see you + startin' in to drink cocktails I shall begin to think the world's comin' + to an end. SOMETHIN' will come to an end right then and there, I'll tell + you that! The first cocktail you drink will be the signal for me to clear + decks for action. There's some things I WON'T stand, and that's one of + 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “There, there! Don't get excited! I shan't begin at my time of life. But I + shan't be narrow, either. I don't want you to be. If all you've got + against Cousin Percy is that he drinks a cocktail once in a while I think + you'd better get over it as soon as you can. He does help me, Daniel, in + my Chapter work and all the rest of it, and I'd like to have him stay here + at present. Now won't you be nice and obliging, same as you usually are, + and let him stay, for my sake? You will, won't you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan said that he would, and yet he said it with considerable + inward reluctance. There was no real reason why he should have distrusted + Percy Hungerford. At least he could think of none in particular. His + distrust was based upon generalities and a knowledge of human nature + acquired during his years of knocking about among men. His wife's words + made an impression. If what she said was true, his conscience told him + that he should be kind and generous in his attitude toward the literary + person. But—well, the “but” was still there. + </p> + <p> + It was his intention to seek out Fenholtz and ask a few questions + concerning Cousin Percy, but the opportunity did not offer itself, and + shortly after the reception the Fenholtzes left for the South, where they + were to spend the winter. So that source of information was cut off. + </p> + <p> + During the next fortnight the captain's sense of desertion and of being + almost a stranger in his own house grew stronger than ever. There were + more callers and more calls to return; there were more bridge parties and + teas. His wife astonished him by announcing that she was going to take + lessons in bridge and that Mr. Hungerford had found a teacher to perfect + her in that branch of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, “it will cost quite a little, but Cousin Percy says + there's no use having a teacher at all unless you have a good one, and + three dollars a lesson isn't too much, because you learn so quickly from + an expert. I was sure you would be willing for me to take the lessons, + Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel shook his head. “I'm willin' for you to do most anything that + pleases you, Serena,” he said, “but three dollars a lesson for learnin' + how to play cards seems to me a pretty good price. If it was me I should + feel as if 'twas doubtful whether I'd get as much out of it as I put in. + That's what Ezra Small, back home, said when he put his sprained foot in a + plaster cast. Ezra said he never expected to get more than half his foot + back, because the way that plaster stuck he cal'lated it would hang on to + the rest. I should feel the same way about the three dollars for a bridge + lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you wouldn't after you had taken a few. You'll like it then.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>, like it! Good Heavens, you don't mean—” + </p> + <p> + “I meant that you're going to take lessons, too, of course. You must learn + to play bridge—everybody plays it. And you used to like cards.” + </p> + <p> + “I used to like high-low-jack, and I could manage to take a hand at euchre + without raisin' too big a disturbance; but I never could learn that bridge + and play it with those women friends of yours—never in this world. + More'n that, I don't intend to try.” + </p> + <p> + And he positively refused to try in spite of his wife's pleading. However, + he consented to the employment of the bridge teacher for her and, + thereafter, two hours of each alternate afternoon, Sundays excepted, were + spent by Mrs. Dott and two other female students in company with a thin + and didactic spinster who quoted Elwell and Foster and discoursed + learnedly concerning the values of no-trump hands. The lessons were given + at the Dott home and Mr. Hungerford was an interested spectator. Daniel, + who was not interested, and felt himself in the way, moped in his own room + or went upon more of the lonely walks about town. + </p> + <p> + Chapter meetings and Chapter activities occupied more of Serena's time. + There were “open” meetings occasionally and these Captain Dan seldom + attended. Mr. Hungerford acted as his wife's escort and seemed to enjoy + it, in his languid fashion. Chapter politics began now to have their + innings. There was to be a national convention of the Ladies of Honor, a + convention to be held in the neighboring city of Atterbury, and Scarford + Chapter was to send delegates. Mrs. B. Phelps Black, who aspired to + national honors, was desirous of being one of these delegates, but so were + many others, and Mrs. Black's candidacy was by no means unopposed. She + called upon Serena for help, and into the fight in aid of her friend + Serena flung herself, heart and soul. + </p> + <p> + There were meetings, and more meetings, and letter writing, and canvassing + of voters. Here again, Daniel was of no use. Cousin Percy's experience—he + seemed to have had all sorts of experience—helped amazingly. Mr. + Hungerford's willingness to help in all things where no particular labor + was concerned was most astonishing. By this time he was as much a member + of the Dott household as Serena herself—more than the captain, who + began to feel that he was not a member at all. Even bridge was + side-tracked for the more absorbing political game, and evening after + evening Captain Dan spent alone. Occasionally Mr. Hungerford kept him + company, but his was company not too congenial. It is true that the young + man was agreeable enough, but he and the captain found nothing in common + to talk about, and Cousin Percy usually gave up the attempt at + conversation rather early and fell asleep upon the sofa or went out on + little excursions of his own to which Daniel was not invited. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford smoked a good deal, and it was Daniel's cigars that he + smoked. His vacation seemed no nearer the end than it had when he first + came. The shrewd Azuba informed the captain that she guessed it was “one + of them vacations that didn't have any end, but was all beginnin'.” Her + employer reproved her for speaking in this way of a friend of the family—he + felt it was his duty to do that—but the rebuke was a mild one. + </p> + <p> + One night, or rather one morning, for it was nearly two o'clock, he was + awakened by a series of violent shakes, and opened his eyes to find his + wife bending over him. She had been out, attending a special meeting of + the Chapter, and had hastened upstairs without stopping to take off her + wraps. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel, Daniel, wake up!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + The captain groaned. “Hey! what is it?” he asked sleepily. Then, with a + little more interest, “Is the house afire?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, but do wake up and listen. I've had the greatest honor done me. + You will hardly believe it. The delegates to the Atterbury Convention were + elected to-night. Annette Black is one—I just KNEW she'd win—and + Mrs. Lake is another, and who do you suppose is the third?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan sat up in bed. “Not you?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I. And, more than that, I was the one selected to read a paper + there. Annette expected to do that, but, when it came to the vote, my last + paper, the one I read Thursday night, the one Cousin Percy helped me so in + preparing, was selected over all the rest. The vote was nearly two to one. + I am to read it on the second day of the Convention. Isn't it wonderful! + Annette was so jealous she hardly said good-night to me. But I don't care. + There, Daniel Dott! aren't you proud of your wife?” + </p> + <p> + There was a little hesitation in her husband's manner, and yet he tried + his best to be enthusiastic. “Oh, yes,” he said, “but then I was proud of + you before, Serena. But—but what does this mean? Have you and I got + to traipse way over to Atterbury?” + </p> + <p> + “Not you. You're not going. None of the men are. This is a women's + convention. Men are not invited.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But I've got to go there with you. You ain't goin' off travelin' + by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going with the other Chapter delegates; we will travel together.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know! How long are you goin' to be gone?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure. Three or four days probably.” + </p> + <p> + “And I've got to stay here alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you won't be alone. Cousin Percy will be here, and there's Azuba.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and that everlastin' Hapgood, I suppose. Say, Serena, have you GOT + to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Got to? Why, I WANT to! It's an honor. Don't you want me to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, I suppose I do; but—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But, what? Oh, you DON'T want me to go! I can see—and I thought + you'd be so glad!” + </p> + <p> + She was almost in tears. Daniel's sensitive conscience smote him once + more. “Land sakes!” he protested. “Of course I want you to go, Serena! I + wouldn't have you do anything else for the world. I—I was just kind + of lonesome, that's all. I get that way sometimes, lately. Seems as if you + and I don't see as much of each other as we used to. Do you think it's all + worth while?” + </p> + <p> + “Worth while! Why, Daniel Dott!” + </p> + <p> + “There, there! don't take on. I guess it is. I suppose you know best about + such things. But I get kind of blue settin' around here thinkin', without + you to talk to; and Gertie isn't here. You see, I miss you both.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose you do. Well, after this convention is over I shall have a + little more time, I hope. And Gertie will be home pretty soon. It's almost + time for her Christmas vacation.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know it is. I was thinkin' that to-day. My! we'll be glad to see + her, won't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we will. But, do you know, Daniel, I've been so busy that I + almost forgot about Christmas and Gertie's vacation and everything. It was + Cousin Percy that reminded me of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Reminded you of what?—of Christmas?” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not—of Gertie's vacation. He said that she was coming + and that he should be glad to make her acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “HE said so? How did he know? <i>I</i> never told him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't remember that I did, either. But I suppose I must have. Anyhow, + he knew. He is very much interested in Gertie and how she was getting on + at college and all that. I saw him looking at her photograph that very day + of the reception. He knew that it was she, without being told.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! He seems to know a lot. But, there! I recollect now—Gertie + said she met him at college. Well, Serena, I won't complain any more. You + can go to Atterbury if you want to. I'll get along all right.” + </p> + <p> + And to Atterbury Mrs. Dott went. It was the first time since the old + sea-going days that Captain Dan and his wife had been separated longer + than twenty-four hours. He saw her off on the train and then moped + drearily back to Aunt Lavinia's mansion, which he was now beginning to + hate, and, seating himself in the library, tried to find interest in a + novel. He did not find it, however, and went to bed early. Cousin Percy, + who was out that evening, did not retire early. Next morning he seemed to + have little appetite for breakfast, and was less agreeable than usual. + </p> + <p> + The three days passed somehow. The wanderer was to return on Thursday + morning, but she did not. Instead came a telegram, reading as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Meeting and paper great success. Send immediately one of my latest + photographs. Serena.” + </p> + <p> + The puzzled Daniel sent the photograph preceded by a telegram of his own + which read: + </p> + <p> + “When are you coming home? Why don't you write? Have been worried about + you. Answer.” + </p> + <p> + The answer was delayed still another day. When it came, it was in the + shape of a very short note stating that Saturday was the date of return. + Serena wrote that she was having a lovely time. She would tell him all + about it when she got back. “And,” she added, “I am sending you by this + mail copies of the Atterbury paper. Please show it to any of the Chapter + members whom you may meet.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan unfolded the paper and gazed at the page marked with blue + pencil. Here, under black headlines, which screamed the success of the + convention of the Ladies of Honor, was a horrible blotted outrage + resembling a stout negress peering through a screen door and labeled, + “Mrs. Serena Sarah Dott, of Scarford, whose brilliant paper scored the + success of the meeting.” It was only by a process of deduction that Daniel + realized the thing to be a reproduction of the photograph he had sent. He + glanced hurriedly over the account of the meeting, catching here and there + phrases like “Mrs. Dott's forte is evidently platform speaking”—“clear + thought, well expressed”—“tumultuous applause.” He felt that he + ought to read the account from beginning to end, but also that he could + not. Azuba, however, when it was shown to her, had no such feeling. She + bore it to the kitchen, read it all, and returned to crow vaingloriously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there now, Captain Daniel!” she exclaimed. “Ain't it wonderful! + Ain't it grand! Ain't you a lucky man to have a wife as notorious as she's + gettin' to be! I swan to man, if it ain't—” + </p> + <p> + The captain interrupted her. “Azuba,” he said, rather testily for him, “if + you use that word again I don't know as I won't make you eat a dictionary. + My wife may be famous and she may be a platform speaker, but I'm blessed + if I'll have her notorious, not if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “But she is notorious, ain't she? Look at her right there in the + newspaper, with all that piece about her in print! I wish Labe could read + such a piece in the paper about me. Why, what ails you, Daniel Dott? Just + look at that photograph!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan rose. “Yes,” he said drily, “I've been lookin' at it. That's + part of what ails me.” + </p> + <p> + On Saturday he was at the station to meet his wife. Serena was inwardly + jubilant, although, because of the presence of Mrs. Lake and Annette, she + tried to appear dignified and calm. But when she and her husband were + alone on their way to the house her jubilation burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was a wonderful success!” she declared. “I declare, I wish you + might have been there. The way they applauded! And the entertainment they + gave me! And the reporters after interviews! And the things the women of + the other Chapters said! Oh, Daniel, it was splendid!” + </p> + <p> + Lunch was a mere formality on her part. She talked incessantly, while + Cousin Percy and her husband listened. Mr. Hungerford's congratulations + were hearty. His praise was as close to fulsome flattery as it could be + and not overstep the mark. + </p> + <p> + Daniel offered congratulations, too. He was glad that his wife had + succeeded, but the pleasure was solely because of her happiness. He was + not as happy on his own account. Several remarks which Serena had made + seemed to prophesy that the excursion to Atterbury was but the beginning. + </p> + <p> + All that afternoon Mrs. Dott spent in her room. She was going to be very + busy, she said, and she must not be interrupted. It was only just before + dinner that the captain found a moment for an uninterrupted interview. He + entered the room to find her seated at the writing table, her fingers + ink-stained, and the table covered with closely written sheets of + manuscripts. She looked up when he appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, “I'm so tired! I've written steadily all the afternoon. My + report had to be ready, and there was so much to say.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel regarded her gravely. “You look tired, Serena. You're doin' + altogether too much of this sort of thing. You ought to stop, or you'll be + sick. Now, you just rest a while. My, it does seem good to have you back + again! We can have an evening together now. I'll tell you what we'll do: + You tell Hungerford you're tired and then come right up here, and I'll + come, too. Then we can sit and talk. I've got so much to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + But Serena shook her head. “No, Daniel,” she said. “I can't talk + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't; I'll do the talkin'. Land's sakes! it'll be enough just to + look at you. I don't feel as if I'd seen you for a hundred years.” + </p> + <p> + Another shake of the head. “I'm sorry, Daniel, but I can't be with you at + all to-night. I must present my report to the Chapter and I shall probably + not be home till very late.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel sprang from his chair. “Serena Dott!” he cried. “Do you mean to + tell me that you're goin' out to that Chapter thing again TO-NIGHT! after + bein' away from me all this time! Why, you've just got home!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it, Daniel. I must present my report. It's my duty to do it. + The Chapter expects me and I must be there.” + </p> + <p> + “Expects you! <i>I</i> expected you, didn't I? And, by the everlastin', I + think I had a right to expect you! I'm your husband, ain't I? Seems to me + I am entitled to a little of your society.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it, Daniel. The Chapter—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan's feelings got the better of his prudence. “Damn the Chapter!” + he shouted. “I wish you and I had never heard of it, nor anybody that + belongs to it.” + </p> + <p> + The instant after the words left his lips he would have given a good deal + to recall them, but it was too late. His wife slowly rose. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel Dott!” she gasped. “Daniel Dott! You—YOU—why—my + husband talking to me like that! My own HUSBAND! the man of all men that I + expected would be proud of me! The man who should be proud and glad that I + have found my lifework—speaking to me like that! Oh! oh! what shall + I do! How CAN I bear it!” + </p> + <p> + She fell back into the chair, her head sank upon her arms over the + manuscript of the precious report, and she burst into a storm of sobs. + </p> + <p> + Daniel was as much overcome as she. He hurried to her side and in an agony + of remorse bent over her. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Serena,” he pleaded. “Don't do so. I didn't mean it. It + kind of—” + </p> + <p> + He would have put his arms about her but she pushed them away. + </p> + <p> + “And swearing at me,” she sobbed. “And using language that—” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean to swear, Serena. I never swore at you before in my life. I + didn't mean to this time. It just seemed to come out all of itself. Please + forgive me, won't you? Please?” + </p> + <p> + But Serena was not ready to forgive. The sleepless nights and days of wild + excitement had thrown her nerves into a state where it needed but the + slightest jar to break them completely. She sobbed, and choked, and + gasped, her fingers clutching at her hair. Daniel, hanging over her, tried + in vain to put in a word. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Serena,” he kept saying. “Please.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the sobs ceased. Serena's hands struck the desk and she rose so + abruptly that her husband had scarce time to get out of her way. + </p> + <p> + “Serena,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + But Serena cut him short. “Go away,” she commanded. “Go away and leave me. + I don't want to speak to you again.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Serena—” + </p> + <p> + “Go away. Don't come near me again to-night. Go, go, GO!” + </p> + <p> + And Daniel went, slowly, reluctantly. He was scarcely past the sill, his + hands still upon the knob of the door, when that door was closed from + within with a slam. He made one more effort to speak, but he heard the key + turn and his wife's voice commanding him to go away. He descended the + stairs to the library and threw himself into a chair. Mr. Hungerford, + smoking one of his host's cigars and reading the evening paper, looked at + him curiously and asked what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + Daniel turned on him. “Nothin',” he roared. “Nothin', do you hear?” Then + he rushed from the library to the hall, seized his hat and coat from the + rack and hurried out of the house. He walked and walked, but if, upon his + return, anyone had asked him where he had walked he could not have told + them. This was the first serious quarrel that he and his wife had had + during their married life. + </p> + <p> + It was half-past seven when he returned and found Azuba fidgeting in the + dining-room. It was Mr. Hapgood's free evening and he had left early. + </p> + <p> + “For mercy sakes!” Azuba demanded. “Where have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “Out!” was the gloomy rejoinder. “Where's the rest of the folks?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone to Chapter meetin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Both of 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It was an open meeting and Mr. Hungerford went along, too. Where are + you goin' now? Don't you want anything to eat? It's been waitin' for you + for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it wait; I don't want it.” + </p> + <p> + He walked from the room. Azuba gazed after him open-mouthed. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she soliloquized in a voice loud enough for the captain to hear. + “Well, if anybody'll tell me what's the use of gettin' all het up cookin' + vittles in this house, then I'd like to have 'em do it. Here I've worked + and worked and fussed and fussed to get dinner and nobody's ate a mouthful + but one, and he's the one that gets it for nothin'. I never saw such + doin's. Don't talk to ME!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan didn't talk to anybody. He sat alone in the library, miserable + and downhearted. After a while Azuba came and announced that she guessed + she'd get a mouthful of fresh air, if she wasn't needed. Receiving no + answer, she apparently considered the request granted and the captain + heard the back door shut. Still the captain sat in the library, a huddled, + pathetic heap in the armchair, gazing at vacancy. Occasionally he sighed. + </p> + <p> + The doorbell rang. Aroused from his doleful reverie by the sound, Daniel + jumped from his chair and, going to the hall, shouted for Azuba. Then he + remembered that Azuba was not on the premises and answered the ring + himself. He had forgotten to push the button of the porch light and, + peering out into the dark, he could see only that the person standing upon + the top step was a woman. A carriage had drawn up at the curb and the + driver was unloading a trunk from the rack. + </p> + <p> + “Good evenin'!” said Daniel. + </p> + <p> + The answer was a surprise. There was a laugh, and then a pair of arms were + thrown about Captain Dan's neck and a girlish voice said: “Good evening! + Is THAT all you've got to say to me? Why, Daddy, you dear old goose, don't + you know me?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel's answer was a shout that might have been heard at the next corner. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he roared. “GERTIE! Good land of love! Where'd you come from?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + “But aren't you glad to see me, Daddy?” asked Gertrude. They were in the + library. The trunk had been carried upstairs and the young lady had + assured her father over and over again that she really didn't want any + dinner, as she had eaten on the dining car during the journey from Boston. + </p> + <p> + The captain, who had scarcely taken his eyes off her since her arrival at + the house, drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you!” he repeated. “I never was more glad to see anybody in + MY life. How'd you happen to come so soon? We weren't expectin' you for a + week.” + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't expected to come, but I changed my mind. Now tell me all about + yourself. How are you, and how's Mother? And how are you getting on? + Mother has gone to the Chapter meeting, you say. Did she go alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't go alone. That—Cousin Percy went with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Percy? Oh, you mean Mr. Hungerford. Do you call him Cousin Percy? + How funny!” + </p> + <p> + She seemed much amused. Her father smiled, but it was a rather sheepish + smile. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis kind of funny, I suppose,” he admitted. “I don't know as he really + is a cousin. Fact is, I guess he ain't any real relation.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he isn't. He was Aunt Lavinia's second cousin, or something + like that, but she was only your aunt by marriage. I don't see why you + should speak of him as 'Cousin Percy.' Did he ask you to?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o; I don't know as he did. But, you see, he always calls your mother + Cousin Serena and me Cousin Daniel, and—and—well, I guess + we've kind of got into the habit. Your mother began it and, now that he's + been here so long, I've caught the disease, I shouldn't wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Long! Why, he hasn't been here more than a month, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? No; no; now that you mention it I don't suppose he has. But it seems + a lot longer than that to me.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed. Gertrude regarded him keenly. Unconscious of the regard he sat + there, lost in thought, apparently forgetful of her presence. She reminded + him by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Why does it seem longer?” + </p> + <p> + He started and looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Why?” he repeated. “Oh, I don't know. So many things have happened, + I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of things?” + </p> + <p> + “All kinds. But there—tell me about yourself. How's college? And + how's John? Land sakes! I ain't said a word about John, and he's about as + important as anything on earth just now, or he ought to be. Guess you + think I'm a selfish old pig, not to ask about him before this. How is he?” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't be selfish if you tried, Daddy. You never knew how to be. + John is well and very busy. He sent his love to you and Mother, and he + hopes to run down here before very long and spend a few days with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Does, hey? That's good. I suppose YOU don't hope he'll come. Ha! ha! no, + of course not. He's doin' all the hopin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps not all. But there, Daddy, don't waste time talking of John + or me. I want to hear about you and about Mother, and how you like living + in Scarford.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I wrote you all about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know you did, but I want to hear more, lots more. And I want to + see the house. Just think, I haven't seen it at all. Now, Daddy, you must + show me all the rooms right away. We can talk as we go. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way and Daniel followed. The house was shown from top to + bottom. Gertrude asked many questions, the majority of which seemed to + have little to do with the new establishment and more with the life which + her parents had spent in it. Captain Dan answered these questions in the + intervals between rooms, and his answers were less guarded than they might + have been under different circumstances. At length the young lady ceased + to question, and the tour of inspection was finished in silence on her + part. + </p> + <p> + When they returned to the library, the captain, who had been waiting for + some expression of approval from his daughter, suddenly blurted out: + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't you say somethin', Gertie? Don't you like it?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, seated in the easy chair, her elbow resting on the chair arm and + her chin supported by her hand, answered promptly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “I don't like it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Don't LIKE it? Don't like this house? Well, for mercy sakes!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not the house; I like that well enough. I liked our old one quite as + well—but never mind that now. The house is all right. It is the rest + of it that is all wrong. I don't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “The rest of it? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude did not answer. Instead she raised her head and looked at him. It + was a long look and a steady one, and the captain found it hard to bear. + He fidgeted for a moment and then blurted out: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it? Why are you starin' at me like that?” + </p> + <p> + The stare continued. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” demanded Daniel. “What does ail you, Gertie? Or is it me?” + </p> + <p> + His daughter nodded. “Yes,” she said, “it is you. Why don't you tell me + all about it, Daddy? I have a right to know. Why don't you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you? Tell you what?” + </p> + <p> + “You know. Why don't you tell me? You have told me so much already that + you may as well make a clean breast of it. Why, you silly old Dad, what do + you suppose brought me here a week ahead of my vacation? Why do you think + I came?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do I think—? Why—why, you came because you wanted to see + your mother and me, I suppose. That's reason enough—or I flattered + myself that 'twas. I thought you was as anxious to see us as we was to see + you.” + </p> + <p> + “So I was; but that wasn't reason sufficient to make me leave my work at + college before the term was over, leave it for good, very likely. I came + because I was sure you needed me. And your letters made me sure.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel gasped. His letters had been triumphs of diplomatic evasion, so he + considered. He had been so careful to write nothing of his troubles, to + leave out everything which should hint at his disturbed state of mind. He + had taken pains to express, in each epistle, his contentment and + happiness, had emphasized them. And now— + </p> + <p> + “My letters!” he exclaimed. “My letters made you think—made you sure—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; your letters and mother's. Hers were full of all sorts of things, + the very things that you never mentioned. She didn't say she was having a + good time here, but it was plain enough that she was. You said it in every + letter—that you were having the good time, I mean—but it was + perfectly plain that you weren't. And her last letter was so short—she + was so busy with the Atterbury preparations that she could not write more, + she said—and yours was so very, very long, and SO full of + lonesomeness—” + </p> + <p> + Her father interrupted. Lonesomeness was the very thing he had tried to + keep out of that letter. + </p> + <p> + “Gertrude Atwell Dott!” he shouted. “How you talk! I never wrote a word—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did. It was all there, between the lines. I could read it, for + you and I have been acquainted a good many years. As soon as I received + that letter I made up my mind to come at once. Since I have been here I + have asked a good many questions, and you have answered them. But I didn't + need the answers. Just to look at you was enough. You are miserable, Daddy + dear, and, because you are you, you won't admit it. But you've got to; + you've got to tell me the whole story. I want to know all about + everything.” + </p> + <p> + The wind was taken completely out of Daniel's sails. He could only sit + there, guilt written plainly upon his face, and stammer frantic + protestations. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he declared. “It ain't so. You're all wrong, Gertie. You're way + off the course. The idea of you sayin' your mother was neglectin' me.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say it. You have said it a dozen times, but I haven't.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> said it? I never. Your mother is a fine woman, Gertie; as good a + woman as ever was.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. And she would not neglect you wilfully for the world. But + she has not had experience. She takes people and things at their face + value. She doesn't understand—Why are you smiling? Is it so funny?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan rubbed the smile from his lips. In spite of his perturbation + he had been amused for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he observed, “I don't know as 'tis, but—but—well, I + couldn't help wonderin' how old you'd got to be in the last couple of + months, Gertie. You talk as if you was the grandmother and your ma and I + were young ones just out of school. About how much experience have YOU + had, young lady? now that we're speakin' of it.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's earnestness was too real to be shaken by this pertinent + inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a good deal,” she declared. “One can get a lot of experience + in college. There are as many kinds of character there, on a small scale, + as anywhere I know. I have seen girls—but there! this is all + irrelevant, away from the subject. You ARE neglected, Daddy; you are + lonely and miserable. Now, I want you to tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + But her father had, in a measure, recovered his composure, and he declined + to tell. He had been longing for a confidant, and here was the one he had + longed for most; but his sense of loyalty to Serena kept him silent. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothin' to tell,” he vowed stoutly. “I'm all right. You're + dreamin', Gertie.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I shall lose patience with you pretty soon, and I don't want + to. Judging by what I have seen and learned so far, I am likely to need a + great deal of patience in this house, and I can't waste any. Mother has + gone head over heels into this precious Ladies of Honor work of hers, + hasn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “We-ll, she's terrible interested in it, of course; but she's so smart + anyhow, and here in Scarford she's got the chance she's been lookin' for.” + </p> + <p> + “And she is very much in society here, isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That's natural, too, with her smartness and all.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of society is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? What kind? Why, it's the genuine gilt-edged kind, I should say. <i>I</i> + never saw such clothes, nor such dinners, nor dances. It—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Yes, I can believe all that. You wouldn't be likely to see them—in + Trumet. And I can believe in the gilt; the genuine part is what I am most + doubtful of. Mrs. Black is as influential with Mother as ever, isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She and Serena bein' such close friends, it—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Tell me, Daddy, are the rest of Mother's friends like the + Blacks?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty much. They're all the same tribe—that is, I mean they're all + brilliant, fashionable folks.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. What sort of friends have YOU made?” + </p> + <p> + This was straight from the shoulder and the captain was somewhat + staggered. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he admitted, after a slight pause, “I—I ain't made so + dreadful many friends, Gertie. Most of the men here are—are kind of + different from me, seems so. They belong to clubs and such, and they're + out a lot nights. I don't care for goin' out much; I've always been a + great home body—you know that, Gertie. I don't doubt, if I joined + the club and went to 'stag' dinners and so on, I'd have more friends. It + ain't their fault, you know, it's me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it always is you, isn't it, Daddy? No one else is to blame, of + course. Well, I'm very glad I came when I did. How many evenings have you + spent alone, as you were spending this one?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a great many. I just—” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you go to the Chapter to-night? It must have been an open + meeting, otherwise Mr. Hungerford couldn't have gone. Why didn't you go + with Mother?” + </p> + <p> + Here was the one question Daniel had dreaded most. To answer it truthfully + meant telling of the quarrel between Serena and himself. He could not tell + that, not even to his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “I—I didn't feel like goin', somehow,” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “That's strange. I knew that you were not particularly interested in the + Chapter—at least you never were in Trumet—but I never knew you + to stay at home when Mother asked you to go with her. Did she ask you?” + </p> + <p> + “Now—now, Gertie, 'tain't likely I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; you needn't answer. Tell me more about this new relative of + ours, 'Cousin Percy.' Do you like him, now that you really know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, yes, I like him all right enough, I guess. Course he and I + are different, in some ways; but, then, he's younger by a good many + years.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude nodded slowly. “I see,” she said. “You've made up your mind not + to tell me anything, haven't you, Daddy? You wouldn't hurt anyone's + feelings for the world, and you are afraid I may blame Mother. Well, I am + not going to blame anyone yet. And I am not going to quiz you any longer. + But I came home to find out things, and I am going to find out. If you + won't help me, I must help myself.” + </p> + <p> + Her father leaned forward and patted her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Now—now, Gertie,” he pleaded nervously, “don't be foolish. + Everything's all right, I tell you. Don't go stirrin' up any trouble. I am + so tickled to have you here I don't know what to do. Let's be contented + with that. Let's just be happy together. Don't—Hello! here comes the + Chapter folks now, I guess. Maybe your mother won't be glad to see you! + Oh, Serena, who do you think is here? I'll bet you'll be some surprised!” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt of the surprise; neither was there any doubt as to + Serena's joy at seeing her daughter. An outburst of greetings and + questions and explanations followed. Gertrude explained that she had had + an opportunity to leave college a week earlier than the end of the term + and had availed herself of it. + </p> + <p> + “I just had to see you and father,” she declared. “I couldn't wait any + longer. I've been telling father so; haven't I, Daddy?” + </p> + <p> + She accompanied this question with a glance which Captain Dan recognized + as a warning. He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Serena suddenly remembered that the family was not alone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed. “What have I been thinking of? Your coming home like + this, Gertie, has made me forget everything else. Cousin Percy—Why, + where is Cousin Percy?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford, who, from motives of delicacy or other reasons, had + stepped back into the hall, where he could see and hear without being too + conspicuous, now made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Gertrude,” said Mrs. Dott, “this is our cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford. + You've heard him spoken of. Oh, yes—why, you and he have met. I + remember now, so you have.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Dott one evening a year or two ago,” + he observed politely. “No doubt she has forgotten me, however, by this + time.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she said. “I remember you very well, indeed. How do you do, Mr. + Hungerford?” + </p> + <p> + The young gentleman announced that he was quite well. He made a move as if + to shake hands, but as there was no corresponding move on Miss Dott's + part, he put his hand in his pocket instead. + </p> + <p> + “That evening—the evening of the college dance—is one of my + pleasantest recollections,” he observed. “I made some delightful + acquaintances there. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten the names + of the young ladies, but forgetfulness is one of my failings.” + </p> + <p> + “He meets so many people,” cut in Serena, by way of apology. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he hasn't forgotten us all,” she declared. “He could not be so + ungallant as that.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't forget you, anyway,” declared Daniel. “He knew your photograph + just as soon as he laid eyes on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Daddy. You've saved my self-respect. But I was not + referring to myself. There are others whom I am sure Mr. Hungerford has + not forgotten. Isn't that true, Mr. Hungerford?” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy appeared somewhat disconcerted. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he stammered, “I don't understand. I can't recollect—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you! Oh, that is dreadful! Do you correspond with so many young + ladies that you can't remember their identity? Oh! oh! and Margaret was SO + proud of those letters! Really, Mr. Hungerford!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. Her eyes were brimming over with fun. Cousin Percy's + cheeks had lost something of their aristocratic pallor. Margaret Babcock, + the daughter of a well known glass manufacturer, had been one of the list + of feminine acquaintances whom he had honored with long distance + familiarity. She was an impressionable young person and her papa was very + wealthy. The correspondence had broken off when her mother discovered one + of the letters. Mrs. Babcock had definite views concerning her daughter's + future, and Mr. Hungerford was not included in the perspective. The latter + had forgotten, for the moment, that he met Miss Babcock at the college + dance; therefore he was confused. + </p> + <p> + But the confusion was short-lived. He recovered quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I BEG your pardon, Miss Dott,” he said with a laugh. “I had forgotten + Miss Babcock. Poor Margaret! She was of an age when letters, especially + masculine letters, are delightfully wicked. Forbidden fruit, you know. She + asked me to write, and I was foolish enough to do so. I presume my humble + epistles furnished harmless amusement for the class. Very glad to have + contributed, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You did contribute. We all enjoyed them so much—especially + Margaret. She is a year older than I, Mr. Hungerford.” + </p> + <p> + Serena, who, like the captain, did not understand a great deal of all + this, decided to change the subject. She did not address her husband—she + had not spoken to him since the scene in the room upstairs—but the + exaltation and triumph which the evening just passed had brought to her + soul now burst forth. She began to describe the Chapter's meeting and to + tell of her great success at Atterbury, and the enthusiastic reception by + the Scarford members of her report. Mr. Hungerford seized the opportunity + to deprive the family of his society. He was rather tired, he explained, + had a bit of writing to do before retiring, and, if they would excuse him, + would go to his room. Being excused, with reluctance on Mrs. Dott's part + and silence on the part of Gertrude and her father, he said good-night and + withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mother,” said Gertrude, “tell me more about yourself, and about + the Chapter, and the friends you have made, and everything. Father has + told me a little, and your letters and his have told me more, but I want + to know it all. I am very much interested.” + </p> + <p> + Serena did not need to be asked twice. She told a great deal, warming to + her subject as she proceeded. She told of their arrival in Scarford, of + the kindness shown by the Blacks and Mrs. Lake and the rest. “Wonderful + women, Gertie! brilliant, intellectual, advanced thinkers, every one of + them. Not much like Abigail Mayo and the rest at Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + She told of their adventures in society, of the Blacks' dinner, of the + reception, of her bridge lessons. Gertrude listened, saying nothing, but + watching both her parents intently as the narrative proceeded. + </p> + <p> + Daniel, fidgeting in his chair, waited, nervously expectant, for the + protest which he felt sure his daughter might make at any moment. But no + protest came. Only once did the young lady interrupt, and then it was to + ask a question. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Daddy enjoys all this as much as you do, Mother?” she said. + “Doesn't he?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott's expression changed. The radiant joy, which had illumined her + face as she described her progress at bridge, faded, and she seemed on the + verge of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Gertie,” she begged. “Don't ask me about your father, please. + Enjoy it? No, he doesn't enjoy it at all. He has no sympathy for my aims + and ambitions. He takes no pride in my advancement. To-night—only + this very night, he said to me—Oh, I can't tell you what he said! + Don't ask me, please.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan almost slipped from his chair in the agony of justification. + </p> + <p> + “I never meant it, Gertie,” he declared. “It just happened, I don't know + how. I'll leave it to you; I'll leave it to anybody, if—” + </p> + <p> + For the first time his wife noticed his presence. + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to anybody!” she repeated wildly. “You'll leave it to anybody! I + wish you would! I wish you could hear what people think of it. Why, Cousin + Percy said—” + </p> + <p> + For the second time since lunch the captain forgot to be prudent. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Percy said!” he shouted. “He said! Do you mean to say you told him—THAT? + What business was it of his, I'd like to know? What did he say? If he says + it to me, I'll—I'll—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude motioned him to stop. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” she commanded. “Daddy, be quiet. Mother, you're tired out. + You must go to bed. I'll go up with you, and we can talk while you are + getting ready. Daddy will wait here. Come, Mother, come.” + </p> + <p> + She led the sobbing Serena from the room. Captain Dan, his feelings + divided between deep contrition at his own behavior and anger at Mr. + Hungerford's interference in the affairs of himself and wife, obeyed + orders and remained where he was. + </p> + <p> + It was a long wait. He smoked a cigar half through, lighting it three + times in the process. When it went out for the fourth time he dashed the + stump into the fireplace and took to pacing up and down the room. This + reminded him of other days, days when he had paced the deck of his + three-master, counting the hours which separated him from his wife and his + home. He thought of the welcome he had always received when he reached + that home. Oh, why—WHY had he ever retired from the sea? That was + where he belonged; he was of some use in the world there. With a groan he + stopped pacing and went out into the hall to listen for sounds from above. + He heard the low murmurs of voices, the voices of his wife and daughter, + but he could not distinguish words. Back he went to the library and lit + another cigar. These cigars cost three times what his old Trumet brand had + cost, but he got not a hundredth of the enjoyment from them. + </p> + <p> + Twelve o'clock struck before Gertrude re-entered the library. She entered + quietly and, walking over to her father's chair, laid a hand on his + shoulder. He looked up at her in mute appeal. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Daddy,” she said. “You can go up now.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but she—is she—” + </p> + <p> + “She has forgiven you, I think. You must be very kind to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Kind to her? Kind! Why, Gertie, I never meant to be anything else. I + wouldn't have—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you wouldn't. Oh, Daddy, if you weren't the very worst diplomat + in all this world this wouldn't have happened. Why didn't you tell me all + about it? Why didn't you write me the truth long, long ago? If I had only + come sooner! If I had only known! Oh, WHY did you let things reach this + state? Why didn't you stop it?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop it? Stop what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, everything. Don't you remember that I told you to send for me if you + needed me? To send at any time and I would come? And don't you remember + that I wrote you if you felt this moving to Scarford was wrong to say no + and stick to it? Why didn't you do that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I—I—Serena, she was so set on comin' and all that, that—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. You needn't tell me. And yet, in a way, it seems strange. I + remember some things Laban Ginn, Azuba's husband, told me about you and + your ways aboard ship; he said your crews obeyed every order you gave as + if it was what he called 'Gospel.' You, and no one else, was master there. + However, that is not pertinent just now. Run along to bed, there's a + dear.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel obediently rose. + </p> + <p> + “But what are you goin' to do, Gertie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what I am going to do. First of all I am going to see and + find out for myself. Then I shall decide. One thing seems certain: I shall + not go back to college.” + </p> + <p> + “Not go back! Not go back to college? Why, it's your last term! What'll + your mother say? What'll John say?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's lips closed tightly and she gave a determined toss of her head. + </p> + <p> + “John will say what I say, I think,” she declared. “As for Mother—well, + what she says won't make any difference, not at present. Good-night, + Daddy. Now don't worry, and,” she repressed a smile, “be very careful and, + if you must express your opinion of the Chapter, do it in the back yard or + somewhere out of hearing. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + She kissed him and he went slowly and fearfully upstairs. Serena's + attitude of reproachful and self-sacrificing forgiveness he met with meek + repentance and promises not to offend again. He got into bed, worn out and + troubled, but with a ray of hope in his bosom, nevertheless. Gertie had + come home; Gertie was going to do something or other, he did not know and + could not guess what. At any rate she was with him, and he could see her + every day. Perhaps—perhaps—still wondering perhapses he fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + Next morning at breakfast the young lady seemed to be in good spirits and, + except for Serena's absence—Serena had breakfast in her room, a + proceeding which was apparently developing into a habit—the meal was + to Daniel quite like one of the happy breakfasts of Trumet days. Mr. + Hungerford marred the captain's pleasure somewhat by joining the pair + before they left the table, and to him Gertrude was surprisingly cordial + and communicative. Cousin Percy, who had been, at first, rather on his + guard, soon thawed and became almost loquacious. Gertrude and he found a + kindred taste for pictures and art in general, and before the captain's + second cup of coffee was disposed of Mr. Hungerford had invited Miss Dott + to accompany him to a water-color exhibition at a neighboring studio. + Gertrude said she thought she might accept the invitation, if the + exhibition was to remain for a few days. + </p> + <p> + “Is the artist a friend of yours?” she asked casually. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” was the languid answer. “He's a queer old gink—old chap, I + mean—whose work is quite the go about here recently. Some very + decent people have taken him up, I believe. He's worth meeting, so I'm + told, as a curiosity. I've seen only two or three of his paintings, but + they're really not bad. Some of the fellows at the club were talking about + him the other night. I think you'd enjoy the exhibition, Miss Dott.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I should. I should like to see the pictures and the—er—gink + as well. Thank you very much, Cousin Percy.” + </p> + <p> + When they were alone, Captain Dan turned to his daughter in puzzled + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What did you call him 'Cousin Percy' for?” he demanded. “Thought you + thought your mother and I callin' him that was funny; you said you did.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude laughed. “Did I?” she replied. “Well, perhaps I think so still.” + </p> + <p> + Whatever she may have thought, it did not prevent her continuing to be + very cordial to the newly discovered relative. He and she were together a + good deal during the day. She seemed to really enjoy his society. The + remainder of the time she spent with her mother. Captain Dan scarcely saw + her except at luncheon and dinner. Once he found her in the kitchen + talking with Azuba, and on another occasion she and Mr. Hapgood were in + conversation, but for her father she could spare only odd moments. The + captain did not know what to make of it. When, taking advantage of a + fleeting opportunity, he asked her she only laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I am very busy, Daddy,” she said. “You mustn't bother.” + </p> + <p> + “Bother! Well, I like that! How long since my company was a bother to you, + Gertie? It never used to be.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't now, and you know it. But, as I say, I am very busy. Business + first, pleasure afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I'm glad I'm a pleasure, even if it's the kind that comes after + everything else. What have you and your ma been talkin' about upstairs for + the last hour?” + </p> + <p> + “A great many things—society and the Chapter and—oh, all + sorts.” + </p> + <p> + “Want to know! What were you and Azuba talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “About household matters and the people IN the house.” + </p> + <p> + “People in the house! What people?” + </p> + <p> + “You and mother and Mr. Hun—that is, Cousin Percy—and + Hapgood.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all there is, except yourself. What was you and Hapgood havin' a + confab on; more household matters?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in a way. Daddy, have Mr. Hungerford and Hapgood known each other + long?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so. He was Aunt Laviny's butler for a good many years, and Percy + was a regular visitor there. What made you ask that?” + </p> + <p> + “Feminine curiosity, probably. Has our cousin many friends here in + Scarford?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he seems to know 'most everybody; everybody that's in what he and + your mother call society, that is.” + </p> + <p> + “But has he any intimate friends? Have you met any of them?” + </p> + <p> + “I met one once. He seemed to be pretty intimate. Anyhow, they called each + other by their first names. Ho! ho! that whole thing was kind of funny. I + never wrote you about that, did I?” + </p> + <p> + He told of the meeting in the Rathskeller. Gertrude evinced much interest. + </p> + <p> + “What was this friend's name?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “'Monty,' that's all I heard. Queer name, ain't it—isn't it, I mean. + But it ain't any queerer than 'Tacks'; that's what he called Hungerford.” + </p> + <p> + “Has this 'Monty' called here? Has he been here at the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, no, he hasn't. I caught a glimpse of him at the club, that time + when I went there with Barney—Godfreys! it's a good thing Serena + didn't hear me say that—with Phelps Black, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, sometime when you have an opportunity, ask Mr. Black about this + Monty, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin, if you want me to. But what do you care about Percy Hungerford's + friends?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't—about his friends.” + </p> + <p> + With which enigmatical remark she moved away to join Cousin Percy, who had + just entered the room. + </p> + <p> + During the next three days, Daniel's feeling that his daughter was + neglecting him grew stronger than ever. Her “business,” whatever it might + be, occupied practically all her time, and the captain and she were + scarcely ever alone. He was disappointed. He had regarded her coming as + the life preserver which was to help him through the troubled waters to + dry land, and so far he was as helplessly adrift as before. Serena had + forgiven his profane expression concerning her beloved Chapter, that was + true, but Serena also was “busy” during the days and evenings, and at + bedtime she was too tired to talk. Gertrude was with her mother a great + deal, and with Cousin Percy almost as much. They visited the water-color + exhibition together, and would have gone on other excursions if the cousin + had had his way. Daniel did not like Mr. Hungerford. He had grown to + tolerate him because Serena liked him so much, and declared him such a + help in her literary and political labors, but the captain had found + secret comfort in the belief that his daughter did not like him any better + than he did. Now it looked as if she was beginning to like him, after all. + And there was no doubt whatever that Cousin Percy liked her. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's apparent interest in her mother's social and Chapter affairs + was another disquieting feature of the situation, as Daniel viewed it. + Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called one afternoon and to them the young lady + was cordiality itself. They talked “Chapter,” of course, and to her + father's horror Gertrude talked it, too. Being invited to attend the next + meeting she announced that she should be delighted to go. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't mean it, did you, Gertie?” pleaded the captain, when Serena + had escorted the guests to the door. “You didn't mean you was figgerin' to + go to that devilish—to that Chapter?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Yes, of course I meant it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but YOU!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Daddy, don't interfere. I know what I'm about.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel was doubtful. If she had known she surely would not think of going. + And yet, on the evening of the meeting, go she did. The meeting was a + protracted one, and, on their return, Serena, finding the lower rooms + apparently deserted, went upstairs. Gertrude was about to follow, but a + figure stepped from the shadows of the library and detained her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Daddy!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing up at this hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-sh!” in an agitated whisper. “Don't let your mother hear you. I—I've + been waitin' for you, Gertie. I just had to talk to you. Come in here.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way into the library. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say anything,” he whispered; “that is, don't say very much. + Serena'll be wantin' to know where I am in a minute. Gertie, what are you + up to? WHY did you go to that Chapter?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daddy, hush! It is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “All right! Yes, I know it's all right so far. That's what your mother + used to say, back in Trumet, when she first started in. You begin by + sayin' it's all right and pretty soon it IS all right. It ain't all right + for me—it's all wrong. Why did you go to that meetin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I went because I wanted to see for myself. And I saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you saw. And you heard, too, I'll bet you. Well, did you like it?” + </p> + <p> + “LIKE it! Daddy, tell me: There is another Woman's Club in Scarford, isn't + there? This can't be the only one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain't. I believe there's another. A different one—a sensible + one, so I've heard tell. Mrs. Fenholtz—you've heard me speak of her, + Gertie; she's a fine woman—she belonged to the other one. She wanted + Serena to join, but Annette Black had her innin's first, and after that + 'twas all off.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “You see; but what are you goin' to do? Are you goin' to any more of them + blessed meetin's?” + </p> + <p> + “I may. I probably shall. Daddy, dear, you must trust me. It is all right, + I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily this would have been enough. But to-night it was not. Captain + Dan had spent some troubled hours since dinner and his nerves were on the + ragged edge. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he repeated impatiently. “Don't say that again. Is it all + right for you to be gettin' into the same mess your mother is in? Is it + all right for you to be talkin' about society and Chapters and—and I + don't know what all? I did trust you, Gertie. I said so. I told Serena so + this very afternoon. She was talkin' about Cousin Percy, she's always + praisin' him up, and she said you liked him just as much as she did. He + was a cultivated, superior young man, she said, and you recognized it. I + laughed at her. I says, 'That's all right,' I says, 'but I wouldn't take + too much stock in that. Gertie knows what she's up to. She's got some plan + in her head, she told me so. She may pretend—'” + </p> + <p> + His daughter interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Father!” she exclaimed indignantly. “Why, Daddy! did you tell Mother + THAT?” + </p> + <p> + “Course I did! Why not? It's so, ain't it? What is the plan, Gertie? What + are you up to? You are pretendin', aren't you? Don't tell me you ain't! + Don't tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't tell you anything. You don't deserve to be told. I'm out of + patience with you, altogether. You deserve to be miserable. You'll spoil—But + there! good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Gertie! Gertie! hold on. Don't—” + </p> + <p> + Serena's voice sounded at the head of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie!” she called. “Who is it you're talking with? Is your father + there? Why doesn't he come to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “He's coming, Mother, right away. So am I. Good-night, Daddy.” + </p> + <p> + The next forenoon, as Azuba was blacking the stove, Gertrude entered the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Azuba,” she said. “Are you alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I'm alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Hapgood?” + </p> + <p> + “Land knows! Upstairs, lookin' out for that Hungerford man's clothes, I + guess likely. He waits on that young critter as if he was the Prince of + Wales. Well, you went Chapterin' and advancin' last night, I understand. + What did you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Think? I thought—Oh, Azuba!” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. It's 'oh, Azuba,' I guess. That's what I've been sayin' to myself + for quite a spell. I'd have said it to your pa, too, if it would have done + any good.” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't. We mustn't say a word to him, or anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. And yet, when I think of the way things are goin' at loose ends I + have the shakes. Do you know what it's costin' to run this place the way + it's run? I know. And I know, too, that nobody else seems to know or care. + Your pa trusts everything to his wife, and she trusts everything to that + Hapgood. She can't be bothered, she says, and Hapgood's such a capable + buyer. Capable! he'll be rich as well as capable if it keeps on, and the + rest of us'll be capable of the poorhouse. And there's Serena's health. + She's gettin' more nervous all the time, and just wearin' herself out with + her papers and conventions and politics and bridge and society. My land! + Don't talk to me! And it ain't no use to talk to her. There's got to be + somethin' more'n talk.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude nodded. + </p> + <p> + “So I think,” she affirmed. “Azuba, I have a scheme. It may be the best + idea in the world and it may be the worst, but I am going to risk it. And + you must help me. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin sure I will!” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't tell a soul, not a living soul?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one, livin' or dead. You needn't look at me like that. I swan to + mercy, I won't tell anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then listen.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba listened, listened in silence. When her young mistress ceased + speaking she shook her head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she observed, “it looks some like hoppin' out of the fryin' pan + into the fire, but, even if it turns out that way, perhaps it's just as + well to be roasted as fried. Humph! no, 'twon't do to tell anybody. I + shan't, and you mustn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't intend to.” + </p> + <p> + “Um! Not even John Doane?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” doubtfully, “I may tell John later on. But I shall wait to tell + him, I shan't write. He'll have to trust me, too.” + </p> + <p> + “So he will. Fur's that goes, it's a good thing for men folks to learn to + trust us women. If Labe, my husband, hadn't trusted me all these years, + he'd have done some worryin', I cal'late. All right, Gertie, I'm with you + till the last plank sinks. But,” with a chuckle, “I'm kind of sorry for + your pa. The medicine may cure us all in the end, but it'll be a hard dose + for him to take, won't it?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Captain Dan's foundations were slipping from beneath him. His daughter's + return had seemed to him like the first ray of sunshine breaking through + the clouds and presaging the end of the storm. Now, it began to look as if + the real storm was but beginning. Gertrude was apparently contracting the + society and Chapter disease. Gertrude, upon whose good sense and diplomacy + he had banked so heavily, was rapidly losing that sense. So far from + influencing her mother to give up the “crazy notions” which were, Daniel + firmly believed, wrecking their home and happiness, she was actually + encouraging and abetting these notions. + </p> + <p> + The young lady was certainly spending a great deal of time with her mother + and her mother's friends. When Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called for + consultations concerning Chapter affairs, Gertrude took part in these + consultations. Daniel, peeping into the library, saw the four heads + together over the table, and heard his daughter's voice suggesting this + and that. Invitations to various social functions came, and it was + Gertrude who urged acceptance of these invitations. Captain Dan's pleas + for quiet evenings together at home went for nought. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't go, Daddy,” said Gertrude. “Mother and I know you don't care + for such things. She and I can go without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Go without me? The idea! Look pretty, wouldn't it, to have you two + chasin' around nights all by yourself, without a man to look after you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cousin Percy will go with us. He is always obliging that way. Cousin + Percy will go, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was equally sure. Cousin Percy was altogether too willing to + go anywhere, at any time, provided Miss Dott went also. This very obvious + fact did not add to Daniel's peace of mind. Rather than have his family + escorted by its newest member, he resolved to sacrifice his own + inclinations and go himself. + </p> + <p> + Miss Canby—the blonde young woman who played the piano at the Black + home on the night of the dinner—issued invitations for an “At Home” + in her apartments. All the Dott household—Mr. Hungerford included—were + invited. Mrs. Black, who came to call, was enthusiastic. Her jealousy of + Serena, which had manifested itself on the night of the latter's + appointment as an Atterbury delegate, had apparently disappeared. She was + again the dear friend and counselor, with all the old cordiality and a + good deal of the old condescension. + </p> + <p> + This condescension, however, was confined to Serena and Captain Dan. + Toward Cousin Percy she was extremely polite, but never patronizing, + perhaps because that gentleman was so languidly at ease in her presence. + He listened to her conversation with apparent interest, but his answers, + gravely delivered, were at times a trifle sarcastic. She seemed to be a + bit afraid of Cousin Percy, afraid and somewhat suspicious. + </p> + <p> + To Gertrude she was gushingly friendly, overwhelmingly so, and the + friendship was, to all outward seeming, returned. Daniel, who had gathered + from his daughter's previous remarks that she disliked the great Annette, + was surprised and dismayed. + </p> + <p> + “For goodness sakes, Gertie,” he demanded, “what did you kiss her for? + Anybody'd think she was somebody near and dear that you hadn't laid eyes + on for ten years. And she was here only yesterday. Do you love her so much + you have to hug her every time you see her?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude laughed. “Do you think I do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to think. It's a mighty sudden love, that's all I've + got to say. Do you want her here ALL the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when she is here I know where she is.” + </p> + <p> + “So does anybody within hearin'. I never saw such a change in a person as + there is in you. And all inside of a week. You used to go out of the room + when that Black woman came into it. Now you kiss her when she comes.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Daddy; I kiss her when she goes.” + </p> + <p> + With which puzzling statement the interview ended. + </p> + <p> + B. Phelps accompanied his wife when the latter called to discuss the Canby + invitation. His coming was unusual, the Dotts had seen comparatively + little of him since their arrival in Scarford. Daniel was glad he came. + Black and he were not altogether congenial; the captain would not have + chosen him as an intimate; but at least there would be someone present + with whom he could exchange a word. As B. Phelps did not care for Chapters + and “At Homes” any more than he did, there was that bond between them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford was, for a wonder, not in when the callers came. He went + out very little nowadays, except when Miss Dott and her mother went; then + he was always ready to go. + </p> + <p> + Annette declared that the Canby “At Home” was certain to be a most unusual + affair. “So—er—well, so different,” she explained. “Miss Canby + is a very unusual woman, a unique woman, and her affairs are always as + unique as she is. So truly Bohemian. I adore Bohemians, don't you, + Gertrude?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude said she did. “I don't know that I've met a great many,” she + added, “but I'm sure they must be very enjoyable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they are! And Miss Canby is one. The very first time I attended a + gathering at her home I said to myself: 'THIS is true Bohemianism.'” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan was astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” he exclaimed, “Miss Canby's folks came from Down-East somewheres—Bangor, + Maine, I think 'twas. She told me so, herself.” + </p> + <p> + The remark was received in various ways, by various individuals. Serena + frowned; Gertrude bit her lip; B. Phelps Black burst into a roar of + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean my statement literally, Captain Dott,” explained Annette + in gracious toleration. “But when people are independent and free from the + usual conventionalities, as Miss Canby is, we speak of them as Bohemians. + It is an—er—a term among artists and musicians, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel understood little or nothing of this. He understood perfectly well, + however, that he had blundered somehow, a glance at his wife's face told + him that. Gertrude smiled at him kindly and observed: “Father is like + myself, his acquaintance in Bohemia has been limited.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan muttered that he guessed likely that was so, adding that he + had an Armenian steward once who was a pretty good fellow. Then he + subsided. Serena took up the conversation, changing the subject to the + ever fruitful one of her beloved Chapter. In a moment the two ladies were + deep in a discussion concerning the election of National officers for the + Legion, an election which was to take place in Boston a few months later. + Gertrude joined in the discussion, a proceeding which her father noticed + with apprehension. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Black accepted an invitation to smoke, and he and Captain Dan went + into the library. After the cigars were lighted, B. Phelps, lowering his + voice so as not to be heard in the adjoining room, said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Dan, is that daughter of yours going off her head like the rest of the + females?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel was indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Off her head!” he repeated. “Gertie! She's as smart and sensible a girl + as ever lived. I say so, even if she is my daughter. What are you talkin' + about?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Black waved his hand. “Keep your hair on, Dan,” he counselled + pleasantly. “I like Gertrude, always have. I always thought she was as + sensible as she is pretty, and that's saying something. But what has got + into her since she got here in Scarford? You used to tell me she didn't + care anything for society and all the rest of it; now she seems to be as + daffy as her—well, as my wife, if you like that better.” + </p> + <p> + “Daffy! See here, Barney Black, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Don't begin to yell or we'll have that hen convention in the parlor + down on us. I'm not finding any fault with your daughter. I'm only talking + for her good and yours. What does she care about this confounded Chapter + foolishness?” + </p> + <p> + “She don't care nothin' about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't she? She seems to be mighty interested in that talk they're + having in there now. And she was as joyful as the rest of 'em over this + Canby woman's 'At Home.'” + </p> + <p> + The captain was quite aware of the apparent joy; and Gertrude's growing + interest in her mother's Chapter and its members was too obvious to be + denied. Nevertheless, he tried to deny it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's nothin',” he declared. “She and Serena have always been + plannin' together over things, and this Chapter's like the rest, that's + all. As for the 'At Home,' why—why—well, Gertie's young, and + young folks generally like a good time.” + </p> + <p> + “A good time! Great Scott! Have you ever been to that Canby apartment and + seen the crowd that—No, of course you haven't. Dan, if my wife heard + me she'd take my head off, but you're an old friend of mine and I like + your daughter. Listen to me: Don't let Gertrude go to that 'At Home' if + you can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let her! How am I goin' to help it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Keep her in the house. Lock the door and hide the key. I + would. If she was my daughter I'd—I'd chloroform her. Hanged if I + wouldn't!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan's indignation was rapidly changing to alarm. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Barney,” he demanded, “what are you tryin' to say, anyhow? + What's wrong with this Miss Canby? Out with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing's wrong with her, so far as I know. And yet there isn't anything + right. She's good enough, I guess, and she can play the piano like a + streak, but she's a fool. She and the gang she is with are + bleached-haired, frowzy-headed idiots, who hope they are Bohemians—whatever + that is. They like to do what they call unusual things; they like to shock + people—think it's smart. Don't let your wife or Gertrude—Gertie, + especially—get in with that crowd. They don't belong there. And + there's something else.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. Daniel, trembling with anxiety, urged him to continue. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he begged. “What is the somethin' else?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. It isn't my business anyhow. I ought to keep still.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep still! After sayin' as much as you have? You go ahead or I'll shake + it out of you one word at a time. Heave ahead now! I'm waitin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, don't get mad. Remember I'm saying it merely as a friend. Is + Gertie engaged to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin she is. To a fine fellow, too. What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this: If she is engaged why is she trotting about with this precious + cousin of yours—this Percy Hungerford?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan started violently. He had asked himself that very question + many times during the week which had just passed. To have someone else ask + it, however, was too much. He bristled up like an angry cat. + </p> + <p> + “By Godfreys!” he sputtered, “what do you mean? Do you mean to hint—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not hinting anything. Be quiet, or I'll stop right here. What do you + know about Hungerford, anyway? Why is he here at your house?” + </p> + <p> + “Here! Why—why, he's here 'cause we asked him to stay. He's on his + vacation and he's just makin' us a visit. As to knowin' anything about + him, what do you mean by that? Do YOU know anything about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much. Neither does anyone else; that's the queer part of it. While + old lady Dott—your Aunt Lavinia—occupied this house, he was + here a good deal. He didn't do anything then, except to be a general + high-flyer around town with a few chums like Monty Holway, who is another + gay young bird with money. After Mrs. Dott went abroad to live, he left + Scarford and went to Providence a while; after that to Boston and New + York, and various places. He had the reputation of being something of a + sport, and in with a fast set. Now, all at once, he comes back here and + settles down on—with you and your wife. What did he do that for?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know. He didn't intend to settle. Says he didn't, anyway. + As for bein' a sport—well, he's told us about that, told Serena the + whole yarn. He owned up that he never took life very seriously while Aunt + Laviny lived; had plenty of money and didn't have to. But now it's + different. He's realized that he must work, same as other folks, and he's + doin' it. He works for some magazine or other, doin' what he calls + literary work.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! What magazine is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I never asked.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, all right. I tell you, honestly, Dan, there's a feeling that he is + working you and the family for easy marks. You give him a good home and + plenty to eat and smoke and it's a pretty soft thing for him. As to work—Humph!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel hesitated now. He had had faint but uneasy suspicions along this + very line, although these, like other suspicions and misgivings, he had + kept to himself. And Serena was such a firm believer in Cousin Percy; at + the least hint against that young gentleman she flew to arms. The captain + remembered this and his strong sense of loyalty to his wife caused him to + remonstrate. He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said, “you're wrong there, Barney, sure you are. Why, Percy + has done a lot of writin' and such since he's been here. He goes to his + room 'most every afternoon to write, and he's helped Serena with her + Chapter papers and speeches more than you could imagine. As for Gertie's + trottin' around with him, that's just foolishness. She's gone to picture + shows and such when he asked her to, but that's only because she likes + such things and wanted company her own age. It's all foolishness, I tell + you. If anybody says 'tain't, you tell 'em I say they're lyin'. By + Godfreys! if they say it to me I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! Keep your hair on, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis on, what there is left of it. But, Barney, what sort of talk have + you been givin' me? If Hungerford ain't all right, how is it that he knows + so many folks in this town? How is it that he's invited everywhere, to all + sorts of places, into everybody's houses? Invitations! Why, he gets more'n + we do, and,” with a sigh, “land knows that's enough, nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + B. Phelps grunted contemptuously. “It is easy enough to get invitations,” + he observed. “When you've been in this town as long as I have you'll know + that any young fellow, who is as good looking and entertaining as he is, + will be invited to all sorts of things. The girls like him, so do their + mothers—some of them. But there! I may be all wrong. Anyhow, I + mustn't stay with you any longer or Annette'll be suspicious that you and + I are knocking her dashed Chapter. I've told you this for your own good. + Gertrude's a bully girl; I always liked her—wished a good many times + I had a daughter like her. I should hate to see her get in wrong like—well, + like some people you and I know. You keep her at home as much as you can. + Good Lord, man!” with sudden vehemence, “do you want your house to get to + be an empty d——d hole, only fit to sleep in, like—like—Yes, + Annette, I'm coming.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation remained in Captain Dan's head for days. It disturbed + him greatly. Several times he made up his mind to speak to Serena + concerning it, but each time he changed his mind. He even thought of + writing a note to John Doane, urging the latter to run down to Scarford + for a few days, but he was fearful that to do this might be a mistake. + John would tell Gertrude, and she might not like it. Besides, Gertrude had + said that she expected John to come before very long. So Daniel did + nothing further than to remonstrate mildly concerning the acceptance of + Miss Canby's invitation. As he gave no reason for his objection, other + than the general one that he was tired and did not care about it, his + remonstrances were unheeded. He need not go unless he wished, said Serena, + she and Gertrude and Cousin Percy could go and he could stay at home and + rest. Gertrude said the same. When the evening came, the whole family + went, the captain included. + </p> + <p> + Annette had characterized the gifted Miss Canby as unusual, and the social + affairs given by her as unique. After the first half hour in the + “Bohemian” apartments, Daniel would have agreed with her, although his + opinion might have been more emphatically expressed. Miss Canby WAS + unusual, her apartments were unusual, and the “Bohemians” there gathered + most unusual of all. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, strolling about in the company of a young gentleman—not a + Bohemian, but, like herself, merely a commonplace guest—found her + father seated in a corner, sheltered by a Japanese screen and an imitation + palm, and peering out at the assembled company with a bewildered + expression on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Daddy,” she asked, “are you having a good time?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, who had not noticed her approach, started and looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” he asked. “A good time! My soul and body! Yes, I'm havin' a good + time. I haven't had a better one since I went to the sideshow at the + circus. Who's that long-legged critter with the lay-down collar and the + ribbon necktie? That one over there, talking to the woman with the hair + that don't match. What ails him?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked and laughed. “That is Mr. Abercrombie, the poet,” she + said. “Nothing ails him; he is a genius, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! That must be bad enough, then. What—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. His daughter's escort had caught his attention. The young + man's face was familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” he faltered, “isn't this—” + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Holway, Daddy. I wanted you to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Her tone was quite serious, but there was an odd expression in her eye. + Mr. Holway, blond, immaculate and blase, bowed. Then he, too, started. + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” he exclaimed. “Why, by Jove!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan nodded. “Yes,” he observed, quietly. “Well, I'm much obliged + to you, Gertie, but Mr. Holway and I have met before.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's surprise, real or assumed, was great. + </p> + <p> + “Have you?” she cried. “Why, how odd! When?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Holway, himself, answered. He seemed confused and his explanation was + hurriedly given. + </p> + <p> + “Your father and I met one afternoon at—at the Palatine,” he + stammered. “I—I should have known. Tacks told me, but—but I + had forgotten. I'm ashamed of my part in that, Mr. Dott. I really am. I + owe you an apology. I hope you—I hope—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan nodded. “All right,” he said briefly. “Don't say any more + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but I hope you and Miss Dott won't—won't think—” + </p> + <p> + “We won't. I won't, anyway. I stopped thinking about it long ago. Well, + Gertie, what have you been doin'? 'Most time to go home, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Time to go home? Why, Daddy, we've just got here. We haven't been here an + hour yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't we? I want to know! Seemed a good deal longer than that to me. + All right, don't you worry about me. I can stand it, I guess. Where's your + mother and—and Cousin Percy?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother is in the next room with Mrs. Lake and some more of the Chapter + members. Cousin Percy is—Oh, here he comes now.” + </p> + <p> + Hungerford appeared, strolling in their direction. He seemed surprised + when he saw his relatives in company with Mr. Holway. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Monty!” he said. “You here? How are you?” + </p> + <p> + The two young men shook hands. Gertrude smiled upon them both. + </p> + <p> + “Father and Mr. Holway were renewing acquaintanceship,” she observed, + cheerfully. “It seems that they have met before.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy's acknowledgment of this statement was a brief “Oh, indeed!” + He and his friend exchanged glances. + </p> + <p> + “The—er—performance is about to begin, I believe,” announced + Mr. Hungerford. “Our hostess has—er—reluctantly consented to + be led to the piano. Shall you and I adjourn to the next room, Cousin?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you,” she said, “but Mr. Holway has been telling me the most + interesting stories about Scarford and the people in it, and I want to + hear the rest. He is dreadfully sarcastic; I should not listen, I know, + but I want to. Come, Mr. Holway.” + </p> + <p> + She moved away, the flattered “Monty” in her wake. Mr. Hungerford gazed + after them. He appeared not altogether pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Very sociable, chatty chap, that friend of yours, I should judge,” + observed Captain Dan drily. + </p> + <p> + “Um-hm!” grunted Cousin Percy. “Been chatting to you, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, not much this time. But you remember I've had the pleasure before.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford doubtless remembered; he looked as if he did. Then he, too, + strolled away. The captain, left alone, indulged in a quiet chuckle. + </p> + <p> + Miss Canby's rendition on the piano, of what she was pleased to call “A + sweet little thing of Tschaikovsky's—one of my favorites,” was + enthusiastically applauded, and she obliged with another, and still + another. Then Mr. Abercrombie was prevailed upon to read one of his own + outpourings of genius, a poem called “The Tigress,” in which someone, + presumably the author, described the torments involved in his adoration of + a feminine person with “jetty brows and lambent eyes,” whose kiss was like + “a viper's sting” and who had, so to speak, raised the very dickens with + his feelings. He read it with passionate fervor, and Captain Dan, + listening, decided that the Tigress must be a most unpleasant person. + </p> + <p> + However, judging by the acclaim of the rest of the audience, she was a + huge success, and the poet was coaxed into reading again, this time + something which he had labeled “Soul Beams,” and in which “love” rhymed + with “dove” and “heart” with “dart” and “bliss” with “kiss” in truly + orthodox fashion. Mr. Abercrombie's poetic gems were not appreciated by + the mercenary and groveling minions who edited magazines, but here, amid + his fellow Bohemians, they were more than appreciated, a fact which their + creator announced gratified him more than he could express. And yet, he + seemed to have little difficulty and less hesitation in expressing most + things. + </p> + <p> + Daniel was not enthusiastic over the poems. He could not understand a + great deal of them, but he understood quite enough. When B. Phelps Black + winked at him from his seat at the other side of the room, he did not + return the wink, although he knew perfectly well what it meant. + </p> + <p> + The poems were bad enough, according to his figuring, but when Miss + Beatrice Dusante tripped into the circle to slip and twist and slide and + gyrate in “one of her delightful Grecian dances,” he found himself looking + about for a convenient exit. Discovering none he remained where he was and + blushed for the company. + </p> + <p> + The Bohemians, however, did not blush; neither, to his amazement, did + Serena, who looked on and applauded with the rest. He found some comfort + in the absence of his daughter, who was not among the seated guests, but, + at last, even this comfort was dispelled. He caught a glimpse of Gertrude, + still accompanied by the attentive Mr. Holway, standing in the back row. + He tried to catch her eye and, by frowns and shakes of the head, to + indicate his disapproval of the dance and her presence as a witness. He + did not succeed in attracting her attention, but when, a moment later, she + and her escort moved off, he was somewhat relieved. Gertrude looked as if + she did not care for Miss Dusante's dancing any more than he did. Mr. + Hungerford, also, did not appear interested. He was looking at Miss Dott + and “Monty,” and there was a frown on his face. + </p> + <p> + Upon their return, after they were together in the library at home, + Daniel's shocked indignation burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he declared, “that's enough. That's the limit, that is! What kind + of a gang IS that, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + His wife regarded him with astonishment. Gertrude, after one glance at his + face, turned and walked to the other side of the room, where she busied + herself with a book on the table. Cousin Percy smiled broadly. + </p> + <p> + “Gang!” repeated Serena. “Gang! Why, what are you talking about, Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm talkin' about that gang at that Canby woman's place to-night. I never + saw such a brazen gang anywhere. Haven't they got ANY respectability? + How'd they come to let that dancin' thing in there? Couldn't they see her + before she got in? Couldn't they stop her? Why—” + </p> + <p> + Serena interrupted. “Stop her!” she repeated. “How could they stop her? + She was an invited guest.” + </p> + <p> + “Who invited her? That's what I want to know. Who invited her?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Canby, I suppose. She is a friend of hers.” + </p> + <p> + “A friend! A FRIEND!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Now, Daniel, don't be silly. I know what you mean, and I must say I + sympathize with you just a little. Annette explained to me afterwards + though, so I suppose it is all right. Annette says that this Miss + Dusante's dancing is all the rage now. She has made a study of the ancient + Grecian dances and she does them everywhere. She is paid high prices for + it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it. I should think she'd want to be. Did you see the way + she was dressed? I never—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daniel! That was the old Greek costume. Miss Canby told me all + about it; the old Greeks used to dress like that.” + </p> + <p> + “They did! Then it didn't take 'em long. Brazen thing! Why!” with a sudden + turn upon his daughter, “Gertie—Gertie Dott, stop fussin' with that + book and listen to me. You were there; I saw you lookin' on. YOU didn't + like that Greek dancin', did you?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude hesitated. Her cheeks were red and, for a moment, she seemed to + find it difficult to speak. Then, after a quick look at her mother, she + answered, calmly: + </p> + <p> + “Like it! Why not, Daddy? It is all the rage, just as Mother says, and it + is certainly graceful. I rather think I should like to learn it myself. I + understand Miss Dusante gives lessons.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel's mouth opened and remained open. Cousin Percy stared at the + speaker. Even Serena, defender of the dances of the ancient Greeks, looked + shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Gertie!” she cried. “Gertie! You! the idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not! I should think you would know why not. I never heard you speak + like that before.” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw any dances like those before. I have heard about them, of + course, but I never saw them. We never did—you or father or any of + us—a great many things that we are doing now. We are learning all + the time; that's what you told me, Mother. I never went to a Bohemian 'At + Home' before.” + </p> + <p> + Serena's eyes snapped. “Well, you'll never go to another one,” she + declared, “if it's going to have this effect on you.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady smiled. “Why, of course I shall,” she cried. “I want to + learn, just as you do, Mother. And I mean to. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + She left the room and they heard her ascending the stairs. Daniel and + Serena looked at each other. Cousin Percy looked at them both. + </p> + <p> + Captain and Mrs. Dott had a long talk before retiring. The captain derived + some satisfaction from the talk; it seemed to him that their daughter's + declaration of independence had startled Serena somewhat. She even went so + far as to admit that, in spite of Mrs. Black's explanations and gracious + commendations, she, herself, had not been impressed by Miss Canby's + guests. She and Gertrude would have an interview in the morning, she + declared. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan waited hopefully for the result of that interview. The hope + was crushed when Serena reported to him. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, Daniel,” said Mrs. Dott. “I guess Gertie didn't really + mean what she said about taking lessons of the Dusante woman. She thought + the dances graceful, and they were, of course. But Gertie is older now—yes, + she is older, and she expects to have her own way more than she has had + it. She said a lot of things to me, things that she hasn't said before. It + seems that when she first came home she was inclined to think I had + exaggerated when I wrote her about the lovely people here in Scarford, and + the Chapter, and the brilliant women in it. Now, she sees I was right. She + has helped me a good deal already with my Chapter work, and she means to + do more. She is going to join the Chapter herself. She—why, what's + the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel had made a choking noise in his throat; he appeared to be + strangling. + </p> + <p> + “Noth—nothin',” he gasped. “Nothin' much. I'm all right. But—but + you said—why, how can Gertie join the Chapter? She ain't goin' to + stay here. She's goin' back to college soon as her vacation's over.” + </p> + <p> + Serena shook her head. There was just a shade of doubt, almost of trouble, + in her voice as she answered. + </p> + <p> + “No-o,” she said, “no, Daniel, she isn't. She isn't going back any more. + She thinks it isn't necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessary! Why, how you talk, Serena! Not necessary to finish out her + last term! What do you mean? One of the things that troubled me most, back + there in Trumet before we was rich, was that I might not afford for her to + finish out at that college, and now, when I can, she ain't goin'. I say + she is. I say she's got to.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe that will make any difference, Daniel. She seems to have + made up her mind. I'm kind of sorry, I must say, but she is obstinate. She + says it is so much more interesting here that she is going to stay. You + can talk to her, if you want to, but I don't think it will do any good.” + </p> + <p> + Serena was right; although Captain Dan did talk to his daughter his + arguments and persuasions were quite useless. + </p> + <p> + “No, Daddy,” said Gertrude, “I am going to stay right here. I told you + that if I were needed I should come home. I have come home and I am + needed. I shall not go back. It is only the last half term, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but then's when the girls have all their best times, all the dances + and—and entertainments and society times. You said so. Do you want + to miss all those?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled. “Oh,” she observed, “I expect to have a great many + 'society times,' as you call them, right here in Scarford. There seems to + be no lack of them, and Mother is decidedly in the swim. It's no use, + Daddy; my mind is made up. Don't you worry, it is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well, I—I must say—See here, are you really going + to join that Chapter thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You are! After all you said—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, no matter what I may have said.” + </p> + <p> + “By—by time! I don't know what to do with you. I—I set a lot + of store by you, Gertie. I kind of banked on you. And now—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's expression changed. She patted his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on banking on me, Daddy dear,” she whispered, “perhaps I'm not + altogether hopeless, even yet.” + </p> + <p> + But her father, for once, refused to believe her. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like it,” he declared. “And other folks don't like it, either. + Why, Barney Black got after me only the other day about you. He wanted to + know why you—you, an engaged girl—was cruisin' around so much + with this Cousin Percy of ours. He thought 'twas queer. I said—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude rose to her feet. Her arm was snatched from the captain's + shoulder so quickly that he jumped. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy!” she cried, her cheeks blazing, “do you mean to say that you have + been discussing me with—with Mr. Black?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't start it, he did. He said—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what he said. Oh, the impertinence of it! And you listened! + listened and believed—” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say I believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “You did believe it, though. I can see you did. I shan't try to comfort + you any more. You deserve all that is coming to you. And,” with a + deliberate nod, “it is coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Comin'! It's HERE! Gertie, there's another thing: What about John? What + do you think John would say if he knew you weren't goin' back to college?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked at him. Her lips twitched. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, mischievously, “as to that—well, Daddy, you see, he + DOESN'T know it.” + </p> + <p> + That afternoon Daniel wrote a letter. He said nothing to anyone, not even + Serena, about the letter, but wrote it in the solitude of the library and + posted it with his own hands. Just before sealing the envelope he added + this postscript: “Whether you come or not, don't tell a soul that I wrote + you this. And, if you do come, just let them think it was all on your own + hook. THIS IS IMPORTANT.” + </p> + <p> + On Saturday evening there was to be a meeting of the Chapter, and on + Tuesday Serena returned from committee with the joyful news that Gertrude + was to be admitted to membership at that meeting. The young lady expressed + herself as delighted. Cousin Percy extended congratulations. Captain Dan + said nothing. Later, he visited Azuba in the kitchen, and there he + received another shock. + </p> + <p> + Azuba was not, as usual, busy with her cooking or scrubbing. She was + seated in a chair by the window, reading a paper. She looked up as he + entered, but immediately resumed her reading. The captain waited for her + to speak. As a general thing he did not have to wait. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Zuba,” he hailed. + </p> + <p> + Azuba turned a page of the paper. She did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he hailed again. “What's the matter, Zuba? Gone into a trance, + have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” Azuba did look up then, but at once looked down again. “Hey?” she + repeated. “No, I ain't in no trance. I'm readin', that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think that was enough, if it fixes you so you can't speak to + anybody. Must be mighty interestin' readin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Interestin'? I guess 'tis interestin'! It's more'n that, it's + upliftin', too. I'm just beginnin' to realize what I am.” + </p> + <p> + “That so? Well, what are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a woman, that's what I am.” + </p> + <p> + She made the declaration with the air of one imparting news of a startling + discovery. Daniel laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Is that so!” he exclaimed. “Well, well! I want to know! I always + suspected it, Zuba, but I'm glad you told me, just the same. Does it say + so in that paper?” + </p> + <p> + Azuba rose from her chair. She did not laugh; she was intensely serious. + </p> + <p> + “It says a lot of things,” she announced, “a lot of things I never thought + of afore. I don't mean that exactly. I've thought of 'em, but I never knew + how to make anything out of my thoughts. I just kept thinkin' and let it + go at that. Now, I'm beginnin' to realize. I'm a woman, I am, a free + woman. That paper is for free women. Have you read it, Cap'n Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan took the paper which she extended to him at arm's length. He + recognized it immediately. It was “The Woman's Voice,” official organ of + the National Guild of Ladies of Honor. Serena was a subscriber. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the paper and tossed it on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said shortly, “I've read some of it.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba seized the discarded journal as if it were a precious treasure, a + thing to be treated tenderly and with reverence. + </p> + <p> + “Some of it!” she repeated. “Humph! I'd read all of it, if I was you. + 'Twould do the men good if they was made to read every number ten times + over. It's a wonderful paper. It's opened MY eyes, I can tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + It had, apparently, opened her mouth as well, although to do that required + no great urging at any time. She went on to preach the glories of the + “Voice,” and concluded by reading an editorial which, like Mrs. Lake's + addresses at Chapter meetings, contained a great many words and, to the + captain's mind, little understanding. + </p> + <p> + He listened, fidgeting impatiently, to perhaps two-thirds of the + editorial, and then he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! Heave to!” he ordered. “For the land sakes, Zuba, what's set you + goin' like this? Are YOU goin' to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “To what? Am I goin' to what?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you goin' to 'advance' or whatever you call it? What ails all you + women, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “What ails us? Hain't I been readin' you what ails us?” + </p> + <p> + “You've been readin' a whole lot, but I've heard it all before. You want + to be 'free'! Confound it, you ARE free, ain't you? You want to take your + place in the world! Why, you've had the front place ever since Eve got + Adam to eat the apple. She was skipper of that craft, wasn't she! And us + men—most of us, anyhow—have been fo'mast hands ever since. + What is it you want? Want to vote? Go ahead and vote. I'M willin'.” + </p> + <p> + But Azuba laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Vote!” she repeated. “I don't care whether I vote or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “We want—” Azuba hesitated, “we want—what this paper says we + want. And,” with determination, “we're goin' to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, have it, then! Meantime, let's have dinner. It's pretty nigh + half-past five, and the table ain't set. And,” with a sniff, “there's + somethin' burnin' somewheres, I smell it.” + </p> + <p> + This statement had an effect. Azuba dropped the precious paper and sprang + to open the oven door. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she declared, “it's all right. 'Twas that cranberry pie, and 'twas + only beginnin' to scorch. It's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear it. Now, say, Zuba, you take my advice; you're a practical, + sensible woman, I always said so. Don't you get to be silly, at your age.” + </p> + <p> + It was an impolitic remark. Azuba bristled. + </p> + <p> + “At my age!” she repeated. “Humph! I ain't so much older than some folks + in this kitchen, nor in the rest of the house, either. What do you mean by + silly?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—I mean—well, I mean don't you get to joinin' lodges + and readin' papers and racin' out every night in the week to somethin' or + other. It ain't worth while. It's silly—just silly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it! Well, other women do it. Your wife's been doin' it ever since + we got here. And now Gertie's startin' in. You always made your brags that + she was about as sensible, smart a girl as ever drawed breath. <i>I</i> + ain't got money; nobody's left ME a cart load of dollars and a swell front + house. But I've got rights and feelin's. I'm a woman, a free woman, and if + it ain't silly for Mrs. Dott and Gertie to want to advance and—and + so on, I cal'late 'tain't silly for me either. Perhaps you'd like to have + me tell Serena that you said she was silly. Shall I?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel did not answer, but his look was answer sufficient. Azuba smiled + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Practical,” she sneered. “No, Cap'n Daniel, I ain't been practical so + far, but I'm goin' to be. I'm a-goin' to be. You watch me.” + </p> + <p> + Her employer's guns were spiked. He marched out of the kitchen, slamming + the door viciously. The library was tenanted by Cousin Percy, who was + taking a nap on the lounge. Upstairs, Gertrude was helping her mother with + a “report” of some kind. Hapgood, the butler, was in the hall, and he + bowed respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he said. “Did you wish anything, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” snarled Captain Dan, and went out for a walk. This was the last + straw. If Azuba was going crazy the situation was hopeless indeed. And he + had received no reply to his letter. + </p> + <p> + Hapgood, left alone in the hall, grinned, strolled into the library and, + regardless of Mr. Hungerford's presence, filled his pockets with cigars + from his employer's box. Downstairs, in the kitchen, Azuba was busy + getting dinner. At intervals she burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + That evening Mr. “Monty” Holway called. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Holway's call was, ostensibly, a call upon the Dott family in general, + but it was to Gertrude that he addressed most of his conversation. The + young lady was very affable and gracious. She expressed herself as glad to + see him, and she appeared to be. “Monty” was a voluble person, and he + talked a great deal, although a critic might possibly have considered his + remarks more remarkable for quantity than quality. In the presence of + Captain Dan he appeared a trifle ill at ease, a fact which the captain + attributed to circumstances attending their first meeting. Serena seemed + somewhat surprised at the call. She regarded her daughter and Mr. Holway + with an odd expression, and, so it seemed to her husband, was apparently + dissatisfied or disturbed. At all events she said little and, when + addressed, answered absent-mindedly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford was the most surprised of all. He had been out, and when, + returning, he found his friend in the drawing-room, his greeting was not + too cordial. Mr. Holway also seemed embarrassed, and a bit on his guard. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Tacks!” he said, rising and extending his hand. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy did not see the hand, or, if he saw it, did not offer his + own. + </p> + <p> + “Hello,” he said, gruffly. Then, after a quick glance at the quartette in + the drawing-room, he pulled forward a chair and, without waiting for an + invitation, seated himself. + </p> + <p> + “How goes it?” inquired Monty. + </p> + <p> + “All right enough. Oh—er—Gertrude, I've found out about that + recital affair. It is next Wednesday afternoon. I have arranged for us to + go. Rather difficult business to manage, at such a late date, but I + managed to pull it off.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smilingly declared that she was much obliged. “I don't know, of + course,” she added, “what Mother's plans for that day may be, but if she + is not busy I'm sure we shall be pleased to go. Thank you for thinking of + us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford hesitated. “Well,” he said, “to tell you the truth, I had + supposed that Mrs. Dott might be rather busy. It is your committee meeting + afternoon, isn't it, Mrs. Dott? and so I arranged for only two. Awfully + stupid of me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that will be all right. You and Mother can go, then. I don't mind at + all. Really, I don't. And Mother is so fond of music. It is all right, + Mother,” turning to Serena, who had been about to speak, “you can go just + as well as not. You must. Never mind the committee meeting; I'll act as + your substitute there.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy was not overcome with joy; at least, he managed to restrain + his ecstasy. Mr. Holway volunteered a word. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the Wainwright Recital you are talking about?” he inquired, + eagerly. “That's all right. I can get cards for that. It's a cinch. I'll + see that you go, Miss Dott. By George! I'll—I'll go myself. Yes, I + will, really. We'll all go.” + </p> + <p> + This prompt suggestion should have cleared the air. Somehow it did not. + Mr. Hungerford merely grunted. Gertrude shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “I think, perhaps, I had better not go, after all. But it + is ever so nice of you to offer, Mr. Holway. You and Cousin Percy can take + Father and Mother. That will be splendid.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't bother about me,” put in Daniel, hastily. Recitals were almost as + distasteful as Chapter meetings or “At Homes” to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “It won't be any bother, I'm sure,” declared Gertrude. “Will it, Cousin + Percy? Will it, Mr. Holway?” + </p> + <p> + Both the young gentlemen murmured their pleasure at the prospect of acting + as escorts to the elder members of the Dott family. Serena said she would + “see about it,” she couldn't say for certain whether or not she would be + able to attend the recital. Captain Dan said nothing. + </p> + <p> + The conversation dragged somewhat after this. “Monty” and Mr. Hungerford + addressed the greater portion of their remarks to Gertrude, only + occasionally favoring Serena and Daniel with a word or question. To each + other they were very uncommunicative. At last, however, after Mr. Holway + had given a very full account of a “dinner dance” which he had recently + attended, “a very exclusive affair, only the best people, you know,” + Percy, who had been listening impatiently, turned toward him and drawled: + </p> + <p> + “I remember that dance. Beastly tiresome, I judged it would be, so I sent + regrets. I heard you enjoyed yourself, old chap. Said I imagined so, + considering your company. By the way, that must be getting quite serious, + that affair of yours. When may we expect the announcement?” + </p> + <p> + Holway colored. His usual facility of speech seemed to have deserted him. + </p> + <p> + “Announcement!” he stammered. “Announcement! What—what—” + </p> + <p> + His friend laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right, old man,” he observed. “Don't get excited. She's a + charming girl. No one blames you.” + </p> + <p> + “Monty” continued to sputter. Gertrude was all excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how interesting!” she said. “Do tell us about her, Mr. Holway. Do I + know her?” + </p> + <p> + “Know her!” Mr. Holway's indignation was intense. “I—I don't know + her myself. He's just guying, Miss Dott. He—he thinks because he—he + is so confoundedly fascinating, and has so many—so many— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that reminds me, Tacks,” turning upon the smiling Hungerford, “I saw + a friend of yours yesterday. She looked quite desolate, quite + broken-hearted, my word she did. You were a little cruel there, weren't + you, my boy? Just a bit cruel. Everyone expected—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish the sentence, but his expression indicated that much was + expected. It was Cousin Percy's turn to color. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be an idiot, Monty,” he snapped. “That is, more of an idiot than + you can help. Don't mind him, Gertrude; he has an amazing idea of + repartee, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Serena volunteered a remark concerning the weather just then. She observed + that it might be raining, it had looked that way before dinner. Mr. Holway + possibly considered that a hint was involved; at any rate, he rose and + announced that he must be going. Gertrude begged him not to hurry, they + had all enjoyed his call so much, she said. Cousin Percy suddenly declared + that he would accompany his friend on his way, a walk would do him good. + Monty expressed no enthusiasm at the prospect of company, but the pair + left the house together. + </p> + <p> + After they had gone, Daniel turned to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he observed, “what sort of talk do you call that? I thought those + two were chums; and yet I didn't know but they was goin' to fight one + spell. It's a good thing you hove in that about the rain when you did, + Serena.” + </p> + <p> + Serena was grave. “Gertie,” she inquired, “did you ask that young man to + call here?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was the picture of surprised innocence. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to call?” she repeated. “Mr. Holway, do you mean? I don't know. I + think not. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “WHY?” Captain Dan almost shouted it. His wife motioned him to be quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daniel,” she said. “You know why, Gertie, as well as I do. You are + engaged to be married.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smiled. “Of course I am,” she answered. “What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “What OF IT?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daniel, hush! Engaged girls, Gertie, are not supposed to have young + men calling upon them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” with a shrug. “I don't know that he was calling on me. He did not + ask for me when he came. And you and Daddy were here all the time. + Besides, merely because I am engaged isn't any reason why I should retire + from the world altogether, is it? Mrs. Lake says—” + </p> + <p> + Daniel struck the table with his fist. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Lake!” he shouted. “Mrs. Lake don't live with her husband. She's a + grass widow, that's what she is.” + </p> + <p> + “She is one of Mother's dearest friends, and any friend of Mother's should + be good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain choked. “You—you talk to her, Serena,” he stammered; “I + can't.” + </p> + <p> + Serena looked more troubled than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” she faltered, “if Mrs. Lake has been advising you—to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't advised me at all. Now, Mother, what IS the use of all this? + If I have learned anything from you and your Chapter friends it is to be + broad-minded and independent. If Mrs. Lake is not a living example of + independence, who is?” + </p> + <p> + Serena could not seem to find an answer at the moment. Her husband tried + again. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie Dott,” he declared, “I—I don't know what to make of you, all + at once. And John Doane wouldn't either. If John knew—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude interrupted. “That's enough, Daddy,” she said, firmly. “I am + quite willing John shall know; when I am ready I shall tell him. He is a + dear, good fellow, in his way, but—” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. Her parents asked a question in concert. + </p> + <p> + “But what?” they demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, nothing of importance. But I am learning here in Scarford. + My opportunity has come, just as yours did, Mother. I am a free woman and + I shall not be a slave—a SLAVE to any man.” + </p> + <p> + With which remark, a quotation from a paper read at the most recent + Chapter meeting, she walked from the room. Her astonished parents looked + at each other. Daniel was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “My soul and body!” he gasped. “What—what—Serena, did you hear + what she said? That about John? That he was a good fellow—in his + way? In his WAY! My soul and body!” + </p> + <p> + Serena shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't believe she meant it, Daniel,” she said. “I'm sure she + didn't. She's just a little carried away, that's all. All this society—this + altered social position of ours—has turned her head the least bit. + She didn't mean it. I'll have another talk with her pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say you'd better. Serena, do you know what I've done? Done on my + own hook, I mean. I've written—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. The disclosure which, on the impulse of the moment, he had been + about to make was, for him, a serious one. He had written the letter “on + his own hook,” without telling his wife of his action. What would she say + if he told her now, so long afterward? + </p> + <p> + “You've done? What have you done?” asked Serena sharply. + </p> + <p> + The captain still hesitated. Before his mind was made up the front door + opened and Cousin Percy made his appearance. He entered the hall quickly, + and to Mr. Hapgood—who hastened from somewhere or other to take his + coat and hat—he said nothing, except to snarl a comment on the + butler's slowness. He did not speak to the Dotts either, but tramped + savagely up the stairs. His face, as seen by the electric light, was + flushed and frowning. + </p> + <p> + Serena turned to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “How cross he looked,” she said, wonderingly. “I never saw him so before. + What do you suppose has happened?” + </p> + <p> + Speculation concerning Cousin Percy's evident perturbation caused her to + forget the disclosure Captain Dan had been about to make. By the time she + remembered to ask about it the captain had decided not to tell. He + fabricated some excuse or other, and the excuse was accepted, to his great + relief. + </p> + <p> + None of the Dott household attended the Wainwright recital. Mr. Holway + called on Wednesday, just after luncheon, to say that he had obtained the + necessary cards, but his kindness went for nought. He stayed, so it seemed + to Daniel, a good deal longer than was necessary, and Mr. Hungerford, who + remained in the room every moment of the time, evidently thought so, too. + So did Serena. Gertrude, however, was very cordial, and again begged the + visitor not to hurry. + </p> + <p> + Saturday evening was that of the Chapter meeting, the meeting at which + Gertrude was to be made a member. That forenoon Azuba electrified her + mistress by expressing an ardent desire to become a member also. Her wish + was not received with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you want to do that for, Azuba?” asked Serena in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't I want to? You're a member, ain't you? Gertie's goin' to be + a member to-night, ain't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But—but—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you were interested in such things. You never were when we + lived in Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba dismissed the past with a scornful sniff and a wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Trumet!” she repeated. “Trumet ain't nothin'. Nobody's anything in + Trumet. We're in Scarford now, and Scarford's a progressive, up-to-date + place. We've all changed since we've been here, and I'm changin' much as + anybody. I've been hearin' your papers, when you read 'em to Gertie and + the cap'n, and I've been readin' 'The Voice,' too. Yes ma'am, I've read it + and I've found out what a back number I've been. But, I ain't goin' to be + so no more. I'm goin' to be as up-to-date as the next one, even if I do + have to wash dishes for a livin'. Serena—Mrs. Dott, I mean—I'd + like first rate to join that Chapter of yours. You put my name in to-night + and maybe it can be voted on next meetin'.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, Azuba, are you sure you know what it means? Do you think + your husband would want you to—” + </p> + <p> + “My husband! What's he got to do with it? If we free women have got to be + slaves to our husbands it's a pretty state of things, I must say. You + don't ask your husband every time you go to meetin' whether he likes it or + not. No, ma'am, you don't! You're above that, I cal'late. And I shan't ask + Labe neither—even if he was where I could ask him, which he ain't. + Husbands! Don't talk to me about husbands! THEY don't count.” + </p> + <p> + Serena said that she would see what could be done and hurried away to + discuss the new development with the family. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she can't join,” she declared. “It is ridiculous. The idea! I + supposed she had more sense.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel chuckled. “So did I,” he observed, “until she got shoutin' + independence to me the other day. But it looked then as if she'd got it + bad. All right, Serena, if Zuba Jane Ginn is goin' to make speeches at + your Chapter meetin's, I'll go any time. You won't have to ask me but + once.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed aloud. His wife was vexed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you think it's a great joke,” she said. “Anything that makes + trouble for me is a joke to you. She can't join. What do you suppose + Annette and Mrs. Lake and the rest would say if I proposed my servant girl + as a member? Do stop being silly, if you can. What are you grinning at + now?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, repressing his grin with difficulty, explained that he was + thinking of what they would say. Serena, giving him up in disgust, turned + to her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” she begged, “why don't you say something? Azuba can't join that + Chapter and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, she can't,” she replied. “And yet, I'm afraid, Mother, that + you will find that fact rather hard to explain to her. Azuba doesn't + consider herself a servant, in the ordinary sense, at all. She feels, I + think, that she is a friend of the family. And she has a right, of course, + to improve and advance in every way. I am very much pleased to know she is + so ambitious.” + </p> + <p> + “Ambitious! Azuba Ginn! What does she know about progress or advancement? + Who put such ridiculous ideas in her head?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I did. She and I have had some long talks on the subject. She + asked questions and it was duty—and my privilege—to answer + them. I am very hopeful of Azuba. She is my first convert. I shall help + her all I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Help her! Help her to what? To be too high and mighty for her place? Help + her to be dissatisfied with her station in life?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; why not? None of us should be satisfied, short of the very highest. + Why, Mother, if you had been satisfied we might all be stagnating in + Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + Serena abandoned the argument. She refused to mention Azuba's desire for + advancement again. Several times during the day Captain Dan saw her + regarding her daughter with the same odd, doubtful look that she had worn + when Mr. Holway made his first call. + </p> + <p> + After dinner that evening Gertrude and Serena hastened upstairs to dress + for the Chapter meeting. Mr. Hungerford, after expressing his regret that + the gathering was not to be an “open” one and he, therefore, would not be + permitted to see Miss Dott become one of the elect, went out. When he + first became a member of the household it was his custom, on occasions of + this kind, to remain in the library as “company” for Captain Dan. Now, + however, he seldom did this. The captain did not mind; he preferred his + own society to that of Cousin Percy. + </p> + <p> + Just as the ladies descended the stairs the doorbell rang. Hapgood + answered the ring, and the voice which replied to his polite query + concerning the caller's name was a familiar one. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” exclaimed Serena, “it is—isn't that—” + </p> + <p> + “It's John!” cried Gertrude. “Why, JOHN!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane pushed past the butler and entered the hall. His glance took in + the group at the foot of the stairs, but it lingered upon only one member + of it. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie!” he said, and stepped forward. Captain and Mrs. Dott looked the + other way; Hapgood gave his attention to the closing of the door. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the young man was ready to shake hands with the less + important inhabitants of the mansion. He did so heartily. + </p> + <p> + “My!” he exclaimed, “but I'm glad to see you all. It seems a hundred years + since I did see you. How are you?” + </p> + <p> + Serena answered. Captain Dan, his first surprise over, seemed nervous. + </p> + <p> + “We're real well,” declared Serena. “And it seems awfully good to have you + here. Gertrude and I—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “But, John,” she said, “how did you happen to come so unexpectedly? I + didn't know—you didn't write me a word about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know it, myself. That is, I wasn't sure of it. You know our + junior partner, Mr. Griffin, has been very ill—I wrote you that. He + is very ill even yet, but he is a little better, and so I grabbed the + opportunity. I should have come before, just as soon as—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Daniel, in the background, was grimacing and shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as what, John?” asked Gertrude. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as—as soon as I could. You're glad I came, aren't you; even + if it was rather sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am. You know it.” + </p> + <p> + Her tone was hearty enough, and yet Mr. Doane seemed to find something + lacking in it. Serena, too, looked quickly at her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she's glad,” she declared. “So are we all. But what are we + thinking of? Take off your things. Where's your trunk? Have the man bring + it right in.” + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any trunk. There's a bag outside there, that's all. My visit + is likely to be a very short one. If I should have a wire that Mr. Griffin + was worse it might be shorter still. I should have to go at once. But we + won't worry about that. Dinner? No, thank you, I have dined.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan ushered the newcomer into the drawing-room. John exclaimed at + the grandeur of the apartment. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” he whistled. “You're fine, aren't you? Gertie wrote me how grand + you were and I have been anxious to see the new house. Gertie—why, + Gertie! what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was standing in the doorway. She looked perplexed and troubled. + John noticed, for the first time, that she was wearing her coat and hat. + </p> + <p> + “Were you going out?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude hesitated. Serena answered for her. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie and I were going out,” she said. “It is Chapter night and she was + going to be made a member. But you won't go now, of course, Gertie. I'll + go—John will excuse me, I know—and you can join at the next + meeting. It will be all right, I think. It will have to be, of course.” + </p> + <p> + But Gertrude still hesitated. Her father was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Gertie!” he cried. “What are you standin' there for? 'Tain't likely + you'll go to that meetin' now that John's come all the way from Boston to + see you. Tell him you ain't goin'.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady was plainly much disturbed. She looked at Mr. Doane and it + was evident that she wanted to say something very much indeed. What she + did say, however, was a surprise to everyone. + </p> + <p> + “I—I ought to go, John,” she faltered. “It is a very important + meeting. I can't tell you—now—how important it is.” + </p> + <p> + John's disappointment showed in his look, but his answer was prompt. + </p> + <p> + “Then go, by all means,” he said. “I'll go with you, if I won't be in the + way.” + </p> + <p> + But this self-sacrificing proposal was dubiously received by both the + ladies. Serena shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you couldn't do that, John,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't an open meeting, and men are not admitted. But Gertie doesn't + need to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't. I'll explain to Mrs. Lake and the rest. Of course you + won't go and leave John here alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy will be with him and I shall hurry home as soon as I can. I must + go, John; I really must. I will explain why later. If I had only known + that you were coming! If you had only written me! WHY did you come without + writing?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, fearful of the answer, and indignant at his daughter's + conduct, burst into protest. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be glad he's come, anyhow,” he declared. “I cal'late he + thought—I don't care, Serena, I've said 'cal'late' all my life, and + I can't help forgettin' once in a while—I suppose John thought he'd + surprise you, Gertie. And now you're goin' to clear out and leave him, + just on account of that—that Chapter of yours. You never used to be + crazy about Chapters. You used to poke fun at 'em. You did and you know + it. But since you've got here to Scarford—I can't help it, Serena; + I'm mad clean through. Can't YOU tell that girl to stay to home where she + belongs?” + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” began Serena, again; but her daughter would not listen. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Mother!” she cried, “you are wasting time. We shall be late, as it + is. John knows that my going is necessary, or I should not do it. He + trusts me to that extent, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Mr. Doane heartily. “Run along and don't say any more + about it. Come back as soon as you can, that's all. Shan't I come after + you? I can wait outside until the thing is over.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't intend to wait until it is over. Mother and I can take a cab. + Come, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + Serena reluctantly led the way to the hall. Hapgood opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Mother,” said Gertrude. She left Serena on the step and + hurried back to the drawing-room. Captain Dan and John were standing there + in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy,” said the young lady, “I think I left my pocketbook upstairs in my + room. Will you get it for me?” + </p> + <p> + The captain ran to the stairs. Gertrude stepped quickly over to her lover. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she whispered, “you will forgive me, won't you, dear? I MUST go. + It will spoil everything if I don't. You see—why, Daddy! you haven't + found that pocketbook so soon!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel had reappeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I sent Hapgood for it,” he announced. “It's a good thing to make him work + once in a while. What's the use of my runnin' errands when I pay him wages + to run 'em for me? He'll be down in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude did not seem pleased. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Well, never mind. + Why! here is the pocketbook in my bag, after all. Good-by, John. I will + hurry back. You and Daddy will have a lot to talk about, I know. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed behind her. Captain Dan stepped to the foot of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Found it yet?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Hapgood answered from above. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Then keep on lookin' till you do. It's a good excuse to keep him out of + the way,” he explained, turning to Mr. Doane. “He makes me nervous, + hangin' around and lookin' at me. I never was brought up to a butler and I + can't get used to this one. Come on into the sittin'-room—library, I + mean. The furniture ain't so everlastin' straight up and down there and + there's somethin' to smoke—or there ought to be, if Cousin Percy + ain't smoked it first. Come on, John.” + </p> + <p> + In the library, with lighted cigars and in comfortable easy chairs, the + two men looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John,” began the captain, “you—you come, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course. I should have come as soon as I got your letter, but I + couldn't get away. I was going to tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” drily, “I know you was. If I hadn't cut across your bows, you + would. Whew! if you had I guess likely there'd have been somethin' doin'. + If Gertie or Serena knew I wrote you that letter I'd stand to lose what + hair I've got left. Didn't I write you not to mention that letter to a + livin' soul?” + </p> + <p> + “You did. But I couldn't understand why. What is all this secrecy, anyhow? + And what is troubling you about Gertie?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, I don't know as there's anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I judged there was a little of everything. What is the matter? Out + with it. + </p> + <p> + “Well—we-ell—you see—you see—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see anything, Captain Dott.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw how she was set on goin' to that Chapter meetin', didn't you? You + saw that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? What OF it? Did she ever use to want to go to such things? + Down in Trumet did she ever want to go? I bet she didn't! But now she + does. And she's goin' to join the thing—join it, herself! As if one + loon—I mean as if one Chapter member in the family wasn't enough. I + thought when Gertie come home she'd probably keep her ma from goin' off + the course altogether. I thought, with her level head, she'd swing us back + into the channel again. But she didn't—she didn't. John, Gertie's + got the Chapter disease worse than her ma ever had it, I do believe. + You've got to talk to her, John, that's what you've got to do—talk + to her.” + </p> + <p> + John laughed. He did not take the situation very seriously. If Gertrude + wished to become interested in the Chapter, he was willing she should. She + probably had a good reason for it. Her insisting upon attending a meeting + on the very evening of his arrival was odd—it did not seem like her—but + she doubtless had a good reason for that, too. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you talk to her yourself, Captain?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Me! Me talk to her! I have, and what good has it done? She won't listen + to me any more. I don't mean she ain't kind to me and lovin' and all that—she + wouldn't be Gertie if she wasn't that—but when it comes to Chapter + business she's all on her ma's side.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not talk to her mother, then?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel straightened in his chair. “To Serena!” he repeated. “Talk against + Chapter to Serena! John, you don't know what you're sayin'. One time—just + one—I did talk that way. I biled over and I damned that Chapter and + the gang in it, cussed 'em in good plain United States. But I'll never do + it again. Once was enough.” + </p> + <p> + He was so very serious that his companion fore-bore to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why! John, you ain't married or you wouldn't ask that. I'm a peaceable + body and I like peace in the house. More'n that, I hate to go 'round + feelin' like a sneak thief. That one damn made me miserable for two days. + I never swore to Serena afore and I never will again. She was all cut up + over it and in a way she was right. No, swearin' aboard ship is one thing—I've + had mates that couldn't navigate without it—but ashore in your own + house, to the women folks you care for, it don't go. I can't talk to + Serena about that Chapter—not even if I'm left alone ALL the time, + same as I'm left to-night.” + </p> + <p> + John nodded. He thought that, at last, he had reached the milk in the + cocoanut. Captain Dan, with his love for home and his hatred of lodges and + societies, had refused to be interested in his wife's pet hobby, and felt + himself neglected and forsaken. He had brooded upon it, and this outburst + and the letter he had written were the consequences. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” he said. “I shouldn't worry. The Chapter here is a large one + and Mrs. Dott is interested in it. The interest will wear off when it gets + to be an old story.” + </p> + <p> + “Wear off! With Gertie goin' it harder than her mother ever thought of?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gertie doesn't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “She DON'T! She don't! Perhaps you don't think she means it when she goes + to every 'tea' and 'recital' and 'at home' and crazy dido from here to + Beersheba and back. Is THAT goin' to wear off? Chasin' around with Cousin + Percy and that Holway and land knows who?” + </p> + <p> + “What? Captain Dott, you're making mountains out of mole hills. Gertie + isn't that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said. That's what I used to think. It's this Scarford + that's doin' it. It's this Scarford and the society crowd we've got in + with. Annette Black—Barney Phelps's wife—is in society, and + so's the Lake woman and that Canby piano pounder and that Dusante—my + Godfreys! you ought to have seen her, John! She was the brazen thing. + Dancin' around! And all hands sittin' lookin' at her as if she was a + Sunday School. Everybody! Serena and Gertie and that Holway man and all. + And Gertie up and says she might like to dance that way. She! And Cousin + Percy laughin' because she said it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! Wait a minute, Captain. I never saw you so excited. What about + this Cousin Percy of yours? He's living here with you, I know that; but + what sort of a chap is he? And Holway—who is Holway?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel went on to explain who Holway was. Also he spoke of Mr. Hungerford + and his ways and his intimacy with the family, particularly Gertrude. For + weeks the captain had been wanting to talk to someone about these things + and, now that he had that opportunity, he made the most of it. He spoke of + his own loneliness, and of Serena's infatuation for society, of Gertrude's + coming and the great change in her, of the gay life in Scarford, and of + his daughter's apparent love for it. He gave his opinion of Hungerford and + of Holway, the latter's friend. When John asked questions which implied a + belief that the situation was not really as bad as the narrator thought + it, Captain Dan, growing warmer and more anxious to justify himself, + proceeded to make his statements stronger. He quoted instances to prove + their truth. Serena was crazy on the subjects of Chapter and Chapter + politics and fashion and money and society, and Gertrude was getting to be + even worse. It wasn't any use to talk to her. He had tried. He had told + her she was engaged and ought to be more careful. He wasn't the only one + who thought so. Barney Black had said the same thing. He quoted from Mr. + Black's conversation. + </p> + <p> + John Doane listened, at first with the smile of the disbeliever, then with + more and more uneasiness. He trusted Gertrude, he believed in her, she was + not a flirt, but if these stories were true—if they were true—he + could not understand. He asked more questions and the answers were as + non-understandable. Altogether, Captain Dan, with the best intentions in + the world, and with the happiness of his daughter and John uppermost in + his mind, succeeded in laying a mine which might wreck that happiness + altogether. + </p> + <p> + At last something—perhaps the expression on his visitor's face—caused + him to feel that he might have said too much. He hastened to rectify the + mistake. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you mustn't think Gertie ain't all right, far's you're + concerned, John,” he said. “She is—I—I'm dead sure she is. + But, you see—you see—You do see, don't you, John?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane did not answer. He seemed to be thinking hard. + </p> + <p> + “You see, John, don't you?” repeated Captain Dan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose I do.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know Gertie's all right—at heart, I mean? You mustn't be + jealous, nor anything of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + John laughed. “Don't talk nonsense,” he said curtly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't. But—er—what are you thinkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Humph! I can't understand—” + </p> + <p> + “Neither could I. That's why I wrote you. You see why I wrote you, don't + you, John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes, I see why you wrote me; but—but I can't see why she + didn't. She hasn't written me a word of all this.” + </p> + <p> + And then the captain, in his anxiety to explain, made another indiscreet + remark. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he observed, “I suppose likely she was afraid you might think + that, now she had money—more money than she ever had before, I mean—and + was in a different, a higher-toned crowd than she had ever been, that—that—well, + that she was likin' that crowd better than the old one. She might have + thought that, you know, mightn't she?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane did not answer. Daniel had made a pretty thorough mess of it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” went on the captain, “as far as Cousin Percy is concerned—” + </p> + <p> + John stirred uneasily. “Cousin Percy be hanged!” he snapped. “That's + enough of this foolishness. Let's change the subject. How is Nate Bangs + getting on with the store at home?” + </p> + <p> + The Metropolitan Store at Trumet was the one thoroughly satisfactory spot + on the checkered map of Daniel Dott's existence at the present time. + Nathaniel Bangs was making a success of that store. He reported each week + and the reports showed increasing business and a profit, small as yet, but + a profit nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + So the captain was only too glad to speak of the store and did so. John + appeared to listen, but his answers and comments were absent-minded. He + accepted a fresh cigar, at his host's invitation, but he permitted it to + go out. + </p> + <p> + At half-past ten the doorbell rang. Daniel sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are!” he declared. “Gertie come home early, just as she said + she would. That's 'cause she wanted to see you, John. Hi!” shouting at Mr. + Hapgood, who had long since given up the search for the missing pocketbook + and had been dozing upstairs, “Hi! you needn't mind. Go aloft again! Go + below! Go somewhere! We don't need you. I'll let 'em in, myself.” + </p> + <p> + The butler, looking surprised, obeyed orders and went—somewhere. The + captain flung open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he hailed. “Here you are! And pretty early for Chapter night, too. + We're waitin' for you, John and I. Shall I pay the cab man?” + </p> + <p> + Serena, the first to enter, answered. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “he is already paid.” + </p> + <p> + “That so? Did you pay him, Serena? Thought that was my job usually. I—” + Then, in a tone go entirely different that John Doane, in the + drawing-room, noticed the change, he added, “Oh! oh! I, see.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” went on Serena. “Come right in, Cousin Percy.” + </p> + <p> + She entered the drawing-room, followed by Gertrude and—Mr. Percy + Hungerford. Captain Dan, remaining to close the door, came last. + </p> + <p> + “John,” said Serena proudly, “we want you to meet our cousin, Mr. + Hungerford. Percy, this is John.” + </p> + <p> + John and Hungerford exchanged looks. The latter gentleman extended a + gloved hand. “Charmed,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + John expressed pleasure at the meeting. The pair shook hands. + </p> + <p> + “So—so Cousin Percy came home with you, did he?” inquired Daniel. + “That was kind of unexpected, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford himself answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he declared, “not altogether, on my part I hoped for the pleasure. + It seemed rather rough for Miss Dott and her mother to come alone, and so + I hung about until the affair was over.” + </p> + <p> + “He had a carriage all ready for us,” declared Serena. “It was so + thoughtful of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Great pleasure, really.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude made the next remark. + </p> + <p> + “We did not need a carriage,” she said. “Or, if we did, we could easily + have gotten one. Cousin Percy need not have troubled.” + </p> + <p> + “John offered to come for you,” said Daniel. “So did I. We'd have both + come, but you wouldn't have us. Wouldn't accept our invitation, would + they, John? Gave us to understand they didn't like our company.” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Percy did not wait for an invitation,” explained Serena. “He just + came. He is so thoughtful.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked annoyed. She had been regarding Mr. Doane. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said sharply, “don't be silly. We did not ask for an escort + and we didn't need one. The whole thing was quite unnecessary and + unexpected. Come, Mother, do take off your things. Oh, I'm so glad to get + home.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies retired to remove their wraps. John made a move to go to their + assistance, but Mr. Hungerford, attentive as usual, got ahead of him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Daddy dear,” said Gertrude, as they re-entered, “what have you and + John been doing while we were away? I suppose you've had a long talk?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel colored. He looked at Mr. Doane, who, in spite of himself, colored + also, and was tremendously annoyed because he did so. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the captain hastily. “Yes, we talked. We talked, didn't we, + John?” + </p> + <p> + “We did,” affirmed John. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure you did. And what about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh, about everything. How did the Chapter doin's go off? You're + a member now, I suppose, Gertie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the brief reply, “I am a member.” + </p> + <p> + “Um-hm! Well, I hope you're satisfied—I mean I hope you'll like it. + Didn't make a speech, did you? Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude did not answer. Serena, to her husband's surprise, appeared + vexed. + </p> + <p> + “But she did though, by Jove!” exclaimed Cousin Percy. “She did, and I'm + told it created a great sensation. Miss Canby told me about it as I was + waiting for you to come out, Gertrude. She said you gave them a brand-new + idea. Congratulations, Gertrude. Wish I might have heard it. Something + about the privileges of the Chapter being extended to the hoi polloi, + wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + The new member of Scarford Chapter looked more annoyed than ever. + </p> + <p> + “I spoke of the Chapter's advantages being extended,” she said, “that's + all.” + </p> + <p> + “And enough, too,” cried her mother, impatiently. “Quite enough, I should + think. If I had known you were going to do that, I should have stayed at + home. It was that foolish Azuba who put the notion in your head. You'll be + proposing her name next, I suppose. The idea!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel burst into a roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of that, John?” he cried. “Zuby Jane makin' speeches! + There's advancement for you, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + John smiled, but rather faintly. He had scarcely taken his eyes from + Cousin Percy's aristocratic presence. The latter gentleman turned to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well—er—Mr.—Mr. Doane,” he observed carelessly, “how do + you like Scarford, as far as you've seen it?” + </p> + <p> + John replied that he had seen very little of it. + </p> + <p> + “You will find it a bit different from—er—what is it? Oh, yes, + Trumet. You'll find it a bit different from Trumet, I imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt. I can see that already.” + </p> + <p> + “But John doesn't come from Trumet,” explained Serena; “that is, not now. + He is in business in Boston.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy seemed surprised. He favored the visitor with another look. + “Indeed!” he drawled. He did not add “He doesn't look it,” in words, but + his manner expressed just that. + </p> + <p> + Daniel caught his wife's eye. “Well, Serena,” he observed, with a meaning + wink, “I guess likely you're tired, ain't you? Time to go aloft and turn + in, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + Serena nodded. “Yes,” she answered. “Gertrude, you and John will excuse + us, won't you? John, Captain Dott and I will see you in the morning. + Good-night! Good-night, Cousin Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” said Mr. Hungerford. + </p> + <p> + “You'll excuse us, John, I'm sure,” went on Serena. “Of course you and + Gertie will want to talk, and,” with a slight pause and a glance at Percy, + “we will only be in the way. Come, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan paused in the doorway. “Ain't you tired, too, Cousin Percy?” + he inquired. + </p> + <p> + It was a fairly broad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” he replied; “not at all. Good-night, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife + upstairs. + </p> + <p> + The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to Hungerford + and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less opportunity to say + it. Each remark made by the young lady was answered by Percy, and that + gentleman talked almost incessantly. His remarks also were of a + semi-confidential nature, dealing with happenings at various social + affairs which Gertrude and he had attended, and hints at previous + conversations and understandings between them. John began to feel himself + an outsider. After a time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed into + silence. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her entertaining + cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost sharply: + </p> + <p> + “John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + John said very little, even in reply to this accusation. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I?” he observed. “Well, what shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + “You might say something, considering that you and I haven't seen each + other for so long.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford rose. “I hope I haven't interfered,” he announced. “Didn't + mean to intrude, I assure you. Beg pardon—er—Doane.” + </p> + <p> + John did not answer. Gertrude also rose. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Cousin Percy,” she said, with a gracious smile. “Thank you so + much for the carriage and your escort.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite welcome. Pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Gertrude. Oh, by the way, I + believe you and I are to go over that paper of your mother's tomorrow. She + asked my advice and said you would assist, I think. I shall look forward + to that assistance. Good-night, Doane. Glad to have met you, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + He strolled out. Upon reaching his room he discovered that his cigar case + was empty. Hapgood not being on hand and, feeling the need of a bedtime + smoke, he tiptoed down the stairs and through the back hall into the + library. The room was dark, but sufficient light shone between the closed + curtains of the drawing-room to enable him to locate Captain Dan's box. + Silently and very slowly he refilled the case. + </p> + <p> + John Doane and Gertrude, alone at last, looked at each other. The former + was very solemn. Gertrude, quite aware of the solemnity, but not aware of + its principal cause—her father's impolitic disclosure of his + apprehensions concerning herself—was nervous and a bit impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John,” she asked, after a moment's wait, “aren't you going to say + anything to me even now?” + </p> + <p> + John tried his best to smile. It was a poor attempt. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” he said slowly, “I came all the way from Boston to see you and + talk to you, Gertie. There is no reason why I shouldn't say—whatever + there is to say, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked at him. The tone in which this speech was delivered, and + the speech itself—the first part of it, especially—amazed and + hurt her. Incidentally, her temper having been sorely tried already that + evening by Mr. Hungerford, it made her angry. + </p> + <p> + “All the way from Boston,” she repeated. “Well, I never knew you to + complain in that way before. I'm sorry to have caused you so much + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't a trouble, Gertie. You know I would go around the world for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why speak of coming all the way from Boston? Whose fault was it, + pray? Did I ask you to come?” + </p> + <p> + And now, John, who had been fighting his own temper for some time, grew + angry. + </p> + <p> + “You did not,” he declared. “But I judge it was time I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Indeed! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well, for various reasons. Of course, had I known my coming + would interfere with your—your precious Chapter affairs and—” + </p> + <p> + “John, I had to go to that meeting. If you had written you were coming I + shouldn't have gone. I should have made other arrangements. But you didn't + write.” + </p> + <p> + “I wrote every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you did not write you were coming here.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think it was necessary. You wrote every day, too, but you didn't + write—you didn't write—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “A good many things that—that I have learned since I came here.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! What things? How did you learn them?” + </p> + <p> + “I—” John hesitated. To bring Captain Dan's name into the + conversation would be, he felt, disloyal. And it would surely mean trouble + for the captain. “I—I learned them with my own eyes,” he declared. + “I could see. Gertie, I can't understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I don't understand you. I told you, at the only moment we have had + together, I told you then that I would explain about the Chapter. I said + that I must go or everything would be spoiled. You very nearly spoiled it + by coming as you did.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane's expression changed. It had softened when she reminded him of + the whispered word in the drawing-room. The last sentence, however, + brought his frown back again. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he exclaimed. “Well—humph! that's easily remedied. I came in + a hurry and I can go the same way.” + </p> + <p> + “John! John, what do you mean? How can you speak so to me! Would you go + away now that—that—” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't miss me so much, I should imagine. Cousin Percy will be + here, and you and he seem to be very confidential and friendly, to say the + least.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude gasped. She was beginning to understand, or imagined that she + was. She laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + “John! Why, John!” she cried. “You're not jealous! YOU!” + </p> + <p> + John looked rather foolish. “No-o,” he admitted doubtfully, “I'm not + jealous. Of course I'm not, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what? Don't you trust me, John? Don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do. You know I do, but—See here, Gertie, you said you + were going to explain—to explain something or other. Do it, then. I + think I am entitled to an explanation.” + </p> + <p> + But Gertrude's merriment had vanished. Her eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not explain,” she said. “You don't trust me. I can see you + don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I do, Gertie, really; but—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't. You think—you think—oh, I don't know WHAT you + think! No, I shall not explain, not now, at all events. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + She hastened from the room. John ran after her. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” he cried, “you're not going? You're not going to leave me in + this way, without a word? I do trust you. I only said—” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't what you said; it was the way you said it. I am going. I am + shocked—yes, and hurt, John. I shall not speak to you again + to-night. To-morrow perhaps, if you beg my pardon and I am really sure you + do trust me, I may tell you—what I was going to tell. But not now. I—I + didn't think you would treat me so.” + </p> + <p> + She put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried up the stairs. John, + standing irresolute on the lower step, hesitated, fighting down his own + pride and sense of injury. That moment of hesitation was freighted with + consequence. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” he cried, hastening after her, “Gertie, wait! I do beg your + pardon. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—” + </p> + <p> + But it was too late. Gertie's chamber door closed. John went slowly up to + his own room, the room to which the butler had carried his bag. A few + minutes after he had gone the curtains between the library and + drawing-room parted and Mr. Hungerford appeared. He was very cautious as + he, too, ascended the stairs. But his expression was a pleasant one; there + was no doubt that Cousin Percy was pleased about something. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Captain Dan stirred uneasily. In his dream he had navigated the Bluebird, + his old schooner, to a point somewhere between Hatteras and Race Point + light. It was night all at once, although it had been day only a few + minutes before, and Azuba, who, it seemed, was cook aboard the Bluebird, + was washing breakfast dishes in the skipper's stateroom. She was making a + good deal of noise about it, jingling pans and thumping the foot of the + berth with a stick of stove wood. The captain was about to remonstrate + with her when Serena suddenly appeared—her presence on the schooner + was a complete surprise—to ask him if he had not heard the bell, and + why didn't he come into the house, because dinner was ready. Then Azuba + stopped pounding the foot of the berth and began to thump him instead. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you hear the bell?” repeated Serena. “Wake up! Daniel! Daniel!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel stirred and opened his eyes. The Bluebird had vanished, so had + Azuba, but the thumps and jingles were real enough. + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” he mumbled, drowsily. “Stop poundin' me, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Pounding you! I've been pounding and shaking you for goodness knows how + long. I began to think you were dead. Wake up! Don't you hear the bell?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, still but two-thirds awake, rolled over, raised himself on his + elbow and grunted, “Bell! What bell?” + </p> + <p> + “The door bell. Someone's at the door. Don't you hear them?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan slid out of bed. His bare feet struck the cold floor beneath + the open window and he was wide awake at last. The room was pitch dark, so + morning had not come, and yet someone WAS at the door, the front door. The + bell was ringing steadily and the ringer was varying the performance by + banging the door with his feet. The captain fumbled for the button, found + and pressed it, and the electric light blazed. + </p> + <p> + “For mercy sakes!” he grumbled, glancing at his watch hanging beside the + head of the bed, “it's quarter past one. Who in time is turnin' us out + this time of night?” + </p> + <p> + Serena, nervous and frightened—she, too, had been aroused from a + sound sleep—answered sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she snapped. “It's something important though, or they + wouldn't do it. Hurry up and find out, can't you? I never saw such a man!” + </p> + <p> + Her husband hastened to the closet, found his slippers and bathrobe—the + latter was a recent addition to his wardrobe, bought because his wife had + learned that B. Phelps Black possessed no less than three bathrobes—and + shuffled out into the hall. The bell had awakened other members of the + household. A light shone under the door of John Doane's room, and from + Gertrude's apartment his daughter's voice demanded to know what was the + matter. + </p> + <p> + Daniel announced that he didn't know, but cal'lated to find out, and + shuffled down the stairs. The lights in the hall and drawing-room were + still burning, Gertrude and John having forgotten to extinguish them. + Captain Dan unlocked the front door and flung it open. A uniformed + messenger boy was standing on the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Telegram for John Doane,” announced the boy. “Any answer?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel seized the proffered envelope. “How in time do I know whether + there's any answer or not?” he demanded pettishly. “I ain't read it yet, + have I? Think I've got second sight? Why in the nation didn't you ring up + on the telephone, instead of comin' here and routin' out the + neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + The boy grinned. “Against the rules,” he said. “Can't send telegrams by + 'phone unless we have special orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I give you orders then. Next time you telephone. Hold on a minute + now. John! oh, John!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane, partially dressed, his coat collar turned up to hide the + absence of linen, was already at the head of the stairs, and descending. + </p> + <p> + “Coming, Captain Dott,” he said. “For me, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A telegram for you. What—good land, Gertie! you up, too?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, in kimono and cap, was leaning over the rail. “What is it?” she + asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + John announced, “A wire for me,” he said. “I'm afraid—” He tore open + the envelope. “Yes, I thought so. Mr. Griffin is worse and they want me at + once. Every minute counts, they say. I must go—now. When is the next + train for Boston, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel was very much flustered. “I don't know,” he stammered. “There's a + time-table around on deck somewheres, but—you ain't goin' now, John? + To-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I must.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude hastened to find the time-table. John turned to the messenger. + </p> + <p> + “Know anything about Boston trains?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yup. Two-twenty express through from New York. That's the next.” + </p> + <p> + John stepped to the drawing-room and looked at the clock. “I can get it, I + think,” he announced. “I must. If I can get a cab—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll 'phone for one. But—but, John, you hadn't ought to—” + </p> + <p> + “Any answer?” demanded the messenger boy, intent on business. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Say that I am leaving on the two-twenty. On the two-twenty. Got + that, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Mike! Prepay or collect?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll—I'll pay it, John.” Captain Dan reached under his bathrobe. + “Hey!” he exclaimed. “I declare I forgot I didn't have on—All right, + John, I'll pay it. You go get ready.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doane was on his way to his room. Daniel hurried after him, a + difficult progress, for the slippers and bathrobe made hurrying decidedly + clumsy. He located his trousers and the loose change in their pockets, + explaining the situation to Serena as he did so. He and his wife descended + the stairs together. The captain paid the messenger and hastened to + telephone for the cab. + </p> + <p> + When the vehicle arrived, John was ready. His farewells to Daniel and + Serena were hurried ones. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awfully sorry I can't stop longer,” he declared. “I really shouldn't + have come at all, under the circumstances. I—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Gertrude was standing by the door. She was very grave and her + eyes looked as if she had not slept. John went over to her; he, too, was + grave. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” he faltered, “Gertie—” + </p> + <p> + Serena interrupted. “Daniel!” she said, “Daniel!” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at her. She frowned and motioned with her head. The + light of understanding dawned in her husband's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Oh, yes!” he cried hastily. “Come into the front room, Serena, just + a minute. I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the drawing-room together. Gertrude and John were alone. For + a moment neither spoke. Then the young man, bending forward, whispered: + “Gertie,” he asked anxiously, “aren't you—haven't you anything to + say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought, perhaps, you had something to say to me, John.” + </p> + <p> + “I have. Gertie, I—” + </p> + <p> + There was a sound from above. Cousin Percy Hungerford, fully dressed and + debonnair as always, was descending the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “What's the row?” he drawled. “I heard the racket and decided the house + must be on fire. What's up?” + </p> + <p> + Whatever else was “up” it was quite plain John was sorry that Mr. + Hungerford was up because of it. His tone was decidedly chilly as he + answered. + </p> + <p> + “A wire for me,” he said shortly. “I'm called to Boston at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! How extraordinary! It wasn't a fire then, merely a false alarm. + Sorry to have you go, Doane, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke as if he were the host whose gracious pleasure it had been to + entertain the guest during the latter's stay. John resented the tone. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he said crisply. “Gertie, I—I hope—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. It was not easy to speak in the presence of a third person, + particularly this person. Cousin Percy did not hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” he observed, “your—er—friend is leaving us at the + wrong time, isn't he? There's so much going on this coming week. Really, + Doane, you're fortunate, in a sense. Miss Dott and I are finding the + social whirl a bit tiresome; you will escape that, at least.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan appeared at the entrance to the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Hungerford! Percy!” he hailed impatiently. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford did not seem to hear him. He was regarding Miss Dott with + anxious concern. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Gertrude,” he said, “I shouldn't stand by that open door, if I + were you. You have a slight cold and for—all our sakes—you + must be careful. Step inside, I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + His begging was so tender, so solicitous, so intimate. John Doane's fists + clenched. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” It was the cabman calling from the street. “Hi! we've only got + twelve minutes to catch that train.” + </p> + <p> + John turned, involuntarily, toward the door. Gertrude, startled by the + cabman's voice and aware of the need of haste, stepped to one side. Cousin + Percy chose to put his own interpretation upon her movement. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Gertrude,” he said feelingly. “That's better; you will be out + of the draft there. Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + John Doane, who was still hesitating, hesitated no longer. He seized his + bag. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, all,” he said, in a choked voice. “Good-by, Captain Dott.” + </p> + <p> + He strode through the doorway. Gertrude, for a moment, remained where she + was. Then she followed him. + </p> + <p> + “John!” she cried, “John!” + </p> + <p> + John, half way down the steps, halted, turned, and looked up at her. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Gertie,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But, John, are you—aren't you—” + </p> + <p> + She stretched out her hands. Mr. Hungerford, pushing by the captain and + Serena, stepped in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “Here, you!” he shouted, addressing the cabman; “what are you thinking + about? Why don't you take the gentleman's bag?” + </p> + <p> + The driver sprang to get the bag, incidentally he seized his prospective + passenger by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” he shouted. “Come on! We'll miss the train. Ten to one we've + missed it, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, DO hurry, John!” cried Serena, anxiously. “You WILL miss it. You MUST + go!” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Doane went. The cab rattled away up the street, the old horse + galloping, the driver shouting, and the whip cracking. Daniel drew a long + breath. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he said slowly, “he's gone. Yes, sir, he's gone, ain't he.” + </p> + <p> + Serena turned on him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's gone,” she observed sarcastically, “but he isn't going very + fast. Why in the world didn't you order an electric cab instead of that + Noah's Ark? Half the neighbors have been waked up and they'll see it. How + many times must I tell you? You NEVER learn!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Serena—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me! Don't! My nerves are all of a twitter. I—I—oh, + do let me go to bed! Gertie—why, Gertie, where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was on her way to the stairs. She did not appear to hear her + mother's question. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie!” cried Serena again. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The young lady hurried up the stairs and they heard + her chamber door close. Cousin Percy shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad our friend was called away so suddenly,” he observed. “Very much + of a surprise, wasn't it? Too bad.” + </p> + <p> + No one replied, not even Serena, who was not wont to ignore the comments + of her aristocratic relative. Her next remark was in the nature of an + order and was addressed to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Come! Come! Come!” she said fretfully. “Do come to bed!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, pausing only to extinguish the lights, obeyed. Mr. Hungerford, + with another shrug and a covert smile, preceded him up the stairs. As the + captain was about to enter his bedroom, a voice, which sounded as if the + speaker was half asleep, called from the third floor. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything I can do, sir?” asked Hapgood. “I 'ave just been + aroused, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel turned. Here was a heaven-sent vent for his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Do!” he repeated. “Anything you can do? Yes, there is. Shut your door and + turn in.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “And shut your head along with it!” + </p> + <p> + There were some inmates of the Dott mansion who, probably, slept + peacefully the remainder of that night, or morning. Cousin Percy doubtless + did, also Mr. Hapgood. Azuba, sleeping at the rear of the house, had not + been awakened at all. But neither Captain Dan or Serena slept. Mrs. Dott's + nerves kept her awake, and the combination prevented Daniel from napping. + Nerves were a new acquisition of Serena's; at least she had never been + conscious of them until recently. Now, however, they were becoming more + and more in evidence. She was fretful and impatient of trifles, and the + least contradiction or upset of her plans was likely to bring on fits of + hysterical weeping. It was so in this case. Daniel, trotting for smelling + salts and extra pillows and the hot water bottle, was not too calm + himself. His plans, the plans founded upon John Doane's remaining in + Scarford for a time, had been decidedly upset. He pleaded with his wife. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't see what ails you, Serena,” he declared. “John's gone, that's + true enough, but you didn't know he was comin'. He was here, a little + while, and that's some gain, ain't it? I don't see—” + </p> + <p> + “See! You wouldn't see if your eyes were spyglasses. Oh, dear! why does + everything have to go wrong with me? I thought when John came that Gertie—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That Gertie what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, nothing! Oh, my poor head! It aches so and the back of it + feels so queer. Where are the pillows? Can't you get me another pillow?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure I can! You've got three already, but I can fetch another. It's all + this society business that's breakin' you down, Serena. That everlastin' + Chapter—” + </p> + <p> + He was sorry as soon as he said it, but said it had been. He spent the + next hour in explaining that he did not mean it. + </p> + <p> + Serena was not on hand at breakfast time. Neither was Gertrude. That young + lady came into the library at ten o'clock, looking pale and worn and with + dark circles under her eyes. She had a thick envelope in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy,” she said, “will you post this for me?” + </p> + <p> + Her father looked up from the pile of papers on the writing table before + him. He, too, appeared somewhat worried. + </p> + <p> + “Sartin,” he announced promptly. “I've got a stack of stuff for the + postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena usually attends + to the house bills, but she's kind of under the weather this morning. Say, + Gertie,” gravely, “it costs a sight to run this place, did you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it does.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet it does! Why, I never realized—But there, I suppose likely + these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. Good land! if they + ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask Serena about 'em by and by, when + she's better. Give me your letter, Gertie, I'll mail it.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't forget?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em to the + postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? You're pretty prompt + in your writin', ain't you? But that's natural; I remember when I used to + write your mother twice a day. It's a wonder she stood it and kept her + health, ain't it. Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. Gertrude left + the room. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of envelopes + on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford entered, seeking the + cigar box. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” he observed, cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy smiled. + A querulous voice called from the second floor. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel!” called Serena. “Daniel, where are you? Why don't you come up? I + am all alone.” + </p> + <p> + The captain sprang to his feet, “Comin'! Serena!” he shouted. “Comin'!” + </p> + <p> + He hurried out. Mr. Hungerford, left alone, helped himself to a cigar and + strolled about the room. The pile of letters on the table caught his + attention. Idly he turned the envelopes over, examining the addresses. All + at once his interest became less casual; one of the written names had + caught his attention. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later the postman rang the doorbell. Captain Dan ran + downstairs, entered the library, seized the letters from the table and + hastened to hand them to the carrier. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy!” called Gertrude from above, “did you post my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” was the prompt answer. “Just gave it to the mail man. It's on the + road now.” + </p> + <p> + Serena's “nerves” were in much better condition the following day, and her + spirits likewise. Gertrude, however, was still grave and absent-minded and + non-communicative. Toward Mr. Hungerford in particular she was cool and + distant, answering his chatty remarks and solicitous inquiries concerning + her health with monosyllables, and, on several occasions, leaving the room + when he entered it. This state of affairs was even more marked on the + second day after Mr. Doane's abrupt departure, and still more so on the + third. She seemed nervously expectant when the postman brought the mail, + and depressed when each consignment contained no letter for her. On the + fourth day this depression was so marked that her father asked the cause. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you, Gertie?” he inquired. “You look as if you just come from a + funeral. What's wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, who was standing by the window, looking out, answered without + turning her head. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad of that. I thought you was troubled in your mind about + somethin'. Ain't frettin' about John, are you?” + </p> + <p> + His daughter looked at him now, and the look was a searching one. + </p> + <p> + “About—Why should I fret about him, pray?” she asked slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I thought maybe his goin' away so sudden was a sort of + disappointment to you. 'Twas to the rest of us. Hey? Did you say + somethin'?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I thought you did. Well, you mustn't be disappointed, Gertie. You + see, business is business. John did what he thought was right and—” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, do be still. I do not intend to trouble myself about—him. + Don't talk to me, please. I don't feel like talking.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel talked no more, at that time, but he wondered, and determined to + ask Serena her opinion when the opportunity came. + </p> + <p> + It did not come immediately. A new development in Chapter politics was + occupying Mrs. Dott's mind, a development so wonderful and so glorious in + its promise that that lady could think or speak of little else. Mrs. + Lake's term as president of Scarford Chapter was nearing its end. Annette + Black, the vice-president, would have been, in the regular course of + events, Mrs. Lake's successor to the high office. But Mrs. Lake and + Annette, bosom friends for years, had had a falling out. At first merely a + disagreement, it had been aggravated and developed into a bitter quarrel. + The two ladies did not speak to each other. Annette announced her + candidacy in meeting, and the very next day Mrs. Lake came to Serena with + an amazing proposition. + </p> + <p> + The proposition was this: Mrs. Lake, it seemed, wished to become secretary + of the National Legion. In order to do this—or to become even a + prominent candidate—it was necessary for her to have the support of + the officers of her own Chapter. If Mrs. Black was elected president she + most decidedly would not have this support. + </p> + <p> + “That woman is a cat,” she declared, “a spiteful underhanded cat. After + all I have done for her! Why, she never would have been vice-president if + it had not been for me! And just because she heard that I said something—something + about her that was perfectly true, even if I did not say it—she + broke out in committee and said things to me that—that I never shall + forget, never! She shan't be president. I have as many friends as she has + and I'll see to that. Now, my dear Mrs. Dott, I am counting on you—and + your daughter, of course—as among those friends. We must select some + woman for the presidency who will command the respect and get the votes of + all disinterested members. Miss Canby wants the office, but she is too + closely identified with me to be perfectly safe. But our party—I and + my friends, I mean—have been considering the matter and we have + decided that a dark horse—that is what the politicians call it—a + dark horse is bound to win. We must get the right kind of dark horse. And + we think we have it—him—her, I mean. YOU shall be our + candidate. YOU shall be president of Scarford Chapter.” + </p> + <p> + Serena gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Me?” she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured + correctness of speech. “Me? President?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are known to + be rich—I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. We can + elect you and we will. Isn't it splendid? I'm SO proud to be the one to + bring you the news!” + </p> + <p> + There was one strong qualification possessed by Mrs. Dott which the bearer + of good news omitted to mention. Serena was supposed to be Annette Black's + most devoted friend. Announcement of her candidacy would have the effect + of splitting the Black party in twain. Mrs. Lake and her followers were + very much aware of this, although their spokeswoman said nothing about it. + </p> + <p> + “You'll accept, of course,” gushed Mrs. Lake. “Of course you will. I shall + be so proud to vote and work for you.” + </p> + <p> + Serena hesitated. The honor of being president of her beloved Chapter was + a dazzling prospect. And yet—and yet— + </p> + <p> + “You will, won't you?” begged the caller. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Serena. “No, Mrs. Lake, I can't. I could not run against + Annette Black. She is my best and dearest friend. If it were not for her I + should not have come to Scarford at all. It would be treachery of the + meanest kind. No, Mrs. Lake, I am not that kind of a friend. No.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't speak of it again. I am ashamed even to hear you. Let's talk + of something else.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Lake did not want to talk of anything else. She urged and argued + and pleaded in vain. Then she began to lose her temper. The parting was + not cordial. + </p> + <p> + And then came Mrs. Black, herself. She, somehow or other, had learned of + the offer to be made Serena. When she found that the latter had refused + that offer because of loyalty to her, she fairly bubbled over. + </p> + <p> + “You dear!” she cried, embracing her hostess. “You dear, splendid thing! + It was what I expected; I knew you'd do it; but I'm SO happy and SO + grateful. I never shall forget it—never. And whenever I can prove my + loyalty and devotion to you, be sure I shall do it.” + </p> + <p> + Serena was touched and gratified, but there was just a shade of + disappointment in her tone as she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I know you will,” she said. “Of course, I had rather be president of + Scarford Chapter than anything else in the world, but—” + </p> + <p> + And then Annette had an idea. She clasped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be,” she cried. “You shall be. Not this term, but the next—the + very next. This term I shall be president, and you—YOU shall be + vice-president. With you as our candidate we can beat that Canby creature + to death. Oh, lovely! It is an inspiration.” + </p> + <p> + And on that basis it was settled. The opposing tickets were Black and Dott + against Canby and a lady by the name of Saunderson, another of Mrs. Lake's + “dear friends.” The Chapter was racked from end to end. Politics became + the daily food of its members. + </p> + <p> + For Serena it was almost the only food. She was too busy to eat, except at + odd times and hurriedly, and she slept less than ever. Her nervousness + increased and she lost weight. Daniel was worried concerning her health + and would have mentioned his worriment to Gertrude had not that young + lady's mental state and behavior worried him almost as much. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, for the first week after John Doane's departure, was depressed + and silent and solemn. Once, her father found her in her room, crying and + when he anxiously asked the reason she bade him go away and leave her, so + sharply and in a tone so unlike her, that he went without further + protestation. He did, however, go to Serena for advice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” said Serena impatiently. “She misses John, I suppose. + She thought he was going to stay and he didn't, and she was disappointed. + Don't bother me! Don't! I've checked this voting list over three times + already and it has come out different each time. I'm so tired and headachy + and nervous I think I shall die. Sometimes I don't care if I do. Go away.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Serena, there's—there's somethin' queer about Gertie and John. + I don't believe she's heard from him since he left. I don't believe she + has.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why doesn't she write and find out what is the matter? Perhaps he's + sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so, but perhaps she don't want to write. Perhaps she's waitin' for + him to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “He can't write if he's sick, can he? Why don't she telegraph him?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be just the same, the way she may look at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then wire him yourself, why don't you? Oh, please go away—PLEASE. + I'll speak to her, Daniel, when I get time; I was going to. But just now I—oh, + my POOR head!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel made up his mind to telegraph Doane that very afternoon, but he did + not. A happening in the household prevented him. Mr. Hapgood was summarily + discharged. + </p> + <p> + Azuba was responsible for the affair. Serena was out—“committeeing” + as usual—Gertrude was with her. Mr. Hungerford, also, was absent. + Captain Dan, in the library, dolefully musing in an arm chair, heard a + violent altercation in the kitchen. As it did not cease, but became more + violent, he hastened to the scene. + </p> + <p> + Azuba was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her back against the + table, facing the butler. Mr. Hapgood's face was red, his fists were + clenched, and he was shaking one of them under the housekeeper's nose. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me!” he ordered. “'And it over now, or I'll bash you good and + 'ard.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba merely smiled. “You'll bash nobody,” she declared. “You're a thief, + that's what you are—a low-down thief. I've always cal'lated you was + one, ever since I laid eyes on you; now I know it. Don't you dare shake + your fist at me. If my husband was here he'd—” + </p> + <p> + Hapgood interrupted, savagely consigning the Ginns, both male and female, + to a much hotter place than the kitchen. Captain Dan strode into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he said sharply. “What's all this? You,” addressing Hapgood, + “what, do you mean by shakin' your fist at a woman?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hapgood's bluster collapsed, like a punctured toy balloon. He cringed + instead. + </p> + <p> + “W'y, sir,” he pleaded, “it wasn't anything. I lost my temper a bit, sir, + that's all. She”—with a malignant snarl at Azuba—“she's got a + letter of mine. She stole it and won't give it up. I was angry, sir, same + as any man would 'ave been, and I forgot myself. Make 'er 'and over my + letter, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The captain turned to the defiant Mrs. Ginn. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got a letter of his, Zuba?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Azuba laughed. “I have,” she declared, “and I'm glad of it. I've been + waiting to get somethin' like it for a long spell. Stealin'! HE accuse + anybody of stealin'! Here, Daniel Dott, you read that letter. Read it and + see who's been doin' the stealin' around here.” + </p> + <p> + She extended the letter at arm's length. The butler made a snatch at it, + but Captain Dan was too quick. He unfolded the crumpled sheet of paper. It + bore the printed name and address of one of Scarford's newer and more + recently established grocers and provision dealers, and read as follows: + </p> + <p> + EDWARD H. HAPGOOD, + </p> + <p> + SIR:—Our order clerk informs us that you expect a higher percentage + of commission on goods ordered by your household. We do not feel that we + should pay this. While we, being a new house, were willing, in order to + obtain your business, to allow a fair rate of commission to you for + putting it in our way, and while, during the past three months, we have + paid such commission, we do not feel— + </p> + <p> + Daniel tossed the note on the floor. He marched to the door leading to the + back yard and threw it open. Then he turned to the butler. + </p> + <p> + “See that door?” he inquired, pointing toward it. “Use it.” + </p> + <p> + Hapgood did not seem to comprehend. + </p> + <p> + “Wh-what, sir?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Use that door. Get out! Out of this house, and don't you dare show your + nose inside it again. Here!” stepping to the rack behind the open door. + “These are your—duds—aren't they? Take 'em and get out. + Quick!” + </p> + <p> + He threw an overcoat and hat at the astonished man-servant, who caught + them mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Get!” repeated the captain. + </p> + <p> + Hapgood apparently understood at last. His usual expression of polite + humility vanished and he glowered malevolently. + </p> + <p> + “So I'm fired, am I?” he demanded. “Fired, without no notice or nothin'. + 'Ow about my two weeks' wages? 'Ow about square treatment? 'Ow about my + things upstairs? I've got rights, I 'ave, and you'll find it out. Blame + your eyes, I—” + </p> + <p> + He darted through the doorway just in time. Captain Dan was on the + threshold. + </p> + <p> + “You can send for your things upstairs,” said the captain. “They'll be + ready—either up there or on the sidewalk. Now, my—hum—thief,” + with deliberate and dangerous calmness, “I'm comin' out into that yard. If + I was you I'd be somewhere else when I get there. That's my advice.” + </p> + <p> + The advice was taken. Mr. Hapgood was in the street by the time his + employer reached the gate. Bolting that gate, Daniel walked back to the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Zuba,” he said quietly. “You've only confirmed what I + suspected before, but thank you, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba was regarding him with a surprise in which respect was strongly + mingled. + </p> + <p> + “You're welcome,” she said drily. “It's good riddance to bad rubbish, + that's what I call it. But,” her surprise getting the better of her + judgment, “I must say I ain't seen you behave—I mean—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, the judgment returning. But Captain Dan read her thoughts and + answered them. + </p> + <p> + “He's a man,” he said shortly, “or an apology for one. I know how to deal + with a MAN—his kind, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba nodded. “I should say you did,” she observed. “Well, if you'd like + to hear the whole yarn, how I come to suspect him and all, I can tell you. + You see—” + </p> + <p> + But Daniel would not listen. “I don't want to hear it,” he said. “Tell + Serena, if you want to, when she comes home. I've got too much else on my + mind to bother with swabs like him. If he should try to come back again + you can call me, otherwise not. I ain't interested.” + </p> + <p> + And yet, if he could have seen and heard his ex-butler just at that + moment, he might have been interested. Hapgood, on the next corner, out of + sight from the Dott home, had met and waylaid Mr. Percy Hungerford. To the + latter gentleman he was telling the story of his discharge. Cousin Percy + seemed disturbed and angry. + </p> + <p> + “It's your own fault,” he declared. “You ought to have been more careful.” + </p> + <p> + “Careful! 'Ow should I know the fools was going to write a letter? I told + 'em not to. And 'ow did I know the old woman—blast 'er—was + watchin' me all the time? And now I've lost my job, and a good soft job, + too. You've got to get it back for me, Mr. 'Ungerford; you've got to 'elp + me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll help you all I can, of course, but I doubt if it will do any good. I + can't stand talking with you here. Drop me a line at the club, telling me + where you are, and I'll let you know what turns up. Oh, say, have any more + letters come for—you know who?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that was the only one, sir. But a telegram came this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford started. “A telegram?” he repeated. “For her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. And from 'im, it was, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she get it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hapgood winked. “It was 'phoned up from the telegraph office, sir,” he + said, “and I answered the 'phone. 'Ere's the copy I made, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He extracted a slip of paper from his pocket. Cousin Percy snatched the + slip and read the penciled words. Hapgood smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Looks good, don't it, sir,” he observed. “'Frisco's a long way off.” + </p> + <p> + Hungerford did not answer. He tore the paper into small pieces and tossed + them away. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, after a moment, “good by and good luck. Let me know where + you are and meanwhile I'll see what can be done for you. Good by.” + </p> + <p> + He was moving off, but his companion stepped after him. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, sir,” he said. “Could you 'elp me out a bit, in the money + way? I'm flat broke; the old 'ayseed chucked me without a penny; 'e did, + so 'elp me.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy looked distinctly annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm pretty nearly broke myself,” he declared, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Is that so, sir, I'm sorry, but I think you'll 'ave to 'elp me a bit. I + think—I think you'd better, Mr. 'Ungerford, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Hungerford looked at him. The look was returned. Then the young gentleman + extracted a somewhat attenuated roll of bills from his pocket, peeled off + two and handed them to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “There you are,” he replied. “That's all and more than I can spare, just + now. Good by.” + </p> + <p> + “Good by, sir—for now. And thank you kindly.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, for all his prompt handling of the thieving butler and his + professed ability to deal with men—Mr. Hapgood's kind of man—awaited + the return of his wife and daughter with considerable uneasiness. Hapgood, + in his capacity as trained, capable, aristocratic servant, had been a + favorite of Serena's. The captain dreaded telling his wife what, in the + heat of his anger, he had done. But his dread was needless. Serena's mind + was too much occupied with politics and political ambition to dwell upon + less important matters. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is all right,” she said. “If he was a thief he should be + discharged, of course. No doubt you did right, Daniel, but we shall miss + him dreadfully. I don't know where we can get another butler like him.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel gasped. “Good land of love!” he cried; “we don't WANT another like + him, do we! I should hope we didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean another thief. Oh, dear me! Why do you pick me up in that + way? One would think you took a delight in worrying me all you could. Get + me a cup of tea. I want it right away. My nerves are all unstrung. Gertie—” + </p> + <p> + But Gertie had gone to her room; she spent the greater part of her time + there now. Her mother sighed. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone,” she declared. “Just when I need her most, of course. I can't + see what has got into her for the last few days. She was so interested in + the Chapter. Even more than I, I began to think. And yet, at the committee + meeting this afternoon—the most important meeting we've had; when we + were counting the votes which we can be sure of and those that are + doubtful, she scarcely said a word. Just sat there and moped. I don't know + what is the matter with her.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel nodded. “I think I do,” he said. “It's John. Somethin's the matter + between her and John. If he had only stayed here! If he would only come + back!” + </p> + <p> + “Then for mercy sakes get him back! Telegraph him. You said you were going + to.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan rose. “I will,” he declared. “I'll do it right now, this + minute. Not till I see you to your tea, Serena,” he added, hastily. “I'll + tell Zuba about that first, of course.” + </p> + <p> + He sent the telegram within the hour. It was an inquiry concerning Mr. + Doane's whereabouts, his employer's health, how he was getting on, and + when he—John—was to return to Scarford. The answer arrived, + via telephone, about eight that evening. It was a surprising answer. + </p> + <p> + “Doane gone to San Francisco on business of the firm,” it said. “Left at + midnight yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + It was signed by the senior partner. Serena had gone out, of course; she + was scarcely ever in now, but Gertrude, having finished dinner, was in her + room as usual. Her father hurried up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” he cried, entering without knocking, “Gertie, what do you + suppose I've just found out? It's the most astonishing news. John is—he + has—Why, you'd never guess!” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude, who was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, showed her + first sign of interest. At the mention of the name she turned quickly. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she cried, in a startled voice. “What? Is it—is it bad news? + He isn't—isn't—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! No, no! He's all right. Don't look like that, you scare me. + John's all right; that is, I suppose he is. But he—Here! read it + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude took the paper upon which he had written the message. She read + the latter through; read it and reread it. Then she turned to her father. + </p> + <p> + “But I can't understand,” she faltered. “I can't—I can't understand. + He didn't send this himself. He has gone to San Francisco; but—but + this is signed by someone else. What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel was frightened. It was time to explain, and yet, considering his + daughter's look and manner, he was afraid to explain. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he stammered, “well, you see, Gertie, that's an answer, that + is. John didn't send it, he'd gone. But, I presume likely they thought my + telegram ought to be answered, so—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude interrupted. “Your telegram?” she repeated. “YOUR telegram? What + telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the telegram I sent to John. I knew you hadn't heard from him, and I + thought probably—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait—wait a minute. Did YOU send a telegram to—to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; sure I did. I—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I said—why, I said that you—we, I mean—was wonderin' + about him and—and missin' him and when was he comin' back here. + That's about what I said. I wrote it in a hurry and I don't remember + exactly. That's about it, anyhow. Why, what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude had risen. + </p> + <p> + “You said that!” she cried. “You—without a word to me—said—you + begged him to come back! Begged him! on your knees! to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I never got on my knees. What would I do a fool thing like that + for, when I was sendin' a telegram? I just asked—” + </p> + <p> + “You just asked! You said that I—<i>I</i>—And this was your + answer! THIS!” + </p> + <p> + She dashed the message to the floor, covered her face with her hands and + threw herself upon the bed. Daniel, aghast and alarmed, would have raised + her but she pushed him away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried. “The shame of it! Don't touch me! Please don't touch me!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Gertie—what on earth?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Just go away, Daddy. Go and leave + me. I mustn't talk to you now. If I do, I shall say—Please go. I + want to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel went. That he had made another blunder was plain enough, but just + now he was too hurt and indignant to care a great deal. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said shortly; “I'm goin'. You needn't worry about that. + That's about all the orders I get nowadays—to go away. I ought to be + used to it, by this time. I'm a fool, that's what I am, an old worn-out, + useless fool.” + </p> + <p> + He slammed the door and descended the stairs. He had been in his + accustomed refuge, the library, for perhaps twenty minutes, when the bell + rang. He waited for Hapgood to answer the ring and then, suddenly + remembering that the butler had departed, answered it himself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Monty Holway smiled greeting from the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Captain Dott,” he said. “Is Miss Dott in?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel hesitated. “Yes,” he said, “she's in, but—” + </p> + <p> + “May I see her? Will you be good enough to give her my card?” + </p> + <p> + The captain took the card. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” he said, “I'll give it to her, but—but—Well, you see, + she ain't feelin' very well this evenin' and I don't know as she'll want + to see anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude herself called from the head of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it, Daddy?” she asked. “Someone for me?” + </p> + <p> + “It's—er—Mr. Holway.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it!” The tone was one of delighted surprise. “Ask him to come in, + Daddy. I'll be right down.” + </p> + <p> + She came almost immediately. She greeted the caller with outstretched + hand. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Holway,” she said. “I was lonely. It was nice + of you to come.” + </p> + <p> + She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent than + ever, but the eyes themselves were shining brightly. She was gay and, for + her, extremely vivacious. Mr. Holway looked gratified and happy. Captain + Dan looked astonished and bewildered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + The bewilderment and astonishment remained with the captain for some time, + just as his daughter's apparent light heartedness remained with her. + Holway's call was longer than usual, lasting until Serena, escorted by Mr. + Hungerford, returned from Mrs. Black's, where they had been discussing the + all-important election. Hungerford and his friend greeted each other with + a marked lack of warmth; in fact, they scarcely spoke. Serena was too + tired to talk, but Gertrude talked enough for all. She chatted and laughed + with almost feverish gaiety until the caller, after many false starts and + with evident reluctance, finally tore himself away. Then her manner + changed, she was silent and thoughtful and, soon afterward, said goodnight + and went up to her room. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan forebore to trouble his wife with the news of the telegram + announcing John Doane's departure for the West, and the reception of that + news by Gertrude. After hearing Serena's complaints of her “nerves” and + weariness, he decided that there was trouble sufficient for that night. + But the next morning he spoke of it. Serena was surprised, of course, and + worried likewise. + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Daniel,” she said, “I am afraid you're right. She and John + must have had some disagreement. I suppose it is only a lover's quarrel—young + engaged people are always having foolish quarrels—and they always + get over them and make up again. But, oh, dear! why did they quarrel just + now? Haven't I got enough on my mind without fretting about them? Well, + I'll talk to Gertie this very forenoon.” + </p> + <p> + She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting anxiously + to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I can't make Gertie out,” she declared pettishly. “She acts so queer. + Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all right, and why + should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so different, somehow. She was + willing enough to discuss my chances for the vice-presidency. She asked + twenty questions about that and declares she is going to help me. And + yesterday, when I wanted her to help, she didn't take any interest. I + never saw such a change. And she is so—so fidgety and—and + nervous and high-spirited and silly. She laughed at nothing and kept + jumping up and walking about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME + jumpy just to look at her.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan to feel + “jumpy” more than once. Her determination to help her mother in the + campaign she put into immediate practice. She called Cousin Percy into + council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter members, and the pair spent + hours checking that list together. Then Gertrude announced that she was + going to make some calls. She made them and returned, exultant. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have made two converts this afternoon,” she said. “I am almost + sure they will vote for you, Mother. You and I must go to Mrs. Black's + to-night and talk it over with her. We MUST; it is very important.” + </p> + <p> + Serena, who had hoped for an early bedtime, expressed weariness, and + protested, but her protests were overruled. They went to the Blacks' and + Captain Dan and Mr. Hungerford went, also. Annette was delighted to see + them. Mr. Black succeeded in repressing his joy. + </p> + <p> + “For the Lord's sake, Dan!” he exclaimed, when, he and the captain were + alone, “isn't there EVER going to be any let-up to this tom-foolery? Are + these women of ours going stark crazy?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel gloomily replied that he didn't know. + </p> + <p> + “You're worse off than I am,” continued B. Phelps. “There's two lunatics + in your family and only one in mine. Your daughter's just as bad as her + mother, every bit—worse, if anything. But, it seems to agree with + HER. I never saw her so lively or so pretty either. Humph! your pet cousin + there is badly gone, or I'm no judge. Well, you remember what I told you + about him.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel nodded. He was too depressed for words. + </p> + <p> + “All right, it's your funeral, not mine. But, say! there's one ray of + hope. The whole crowd may be licked to death in this election. If they + are, my wife says she'll resign from the Chapter and never speak to one of + the bunch again. It sounds too good to be true, but it may be. It's enough + to make a fellow hop in and do some political work himself—for the + other side. What?” + </p> + <p> + The political work continued, mornings and afternoons, evenings and far + into the nights. Serena was in it, Gertrude was in it, and Cousin Percy + and Mr. Holway were in it because she was. Monty's calls were of frequent + occurrence. Mr. Hungerford and his erstwhile chum did not speak to each + other at all now. But at receptions and teas and dances and musicals and + committee meetings one or the other was on hand at Miss Dott's elbow. And + Gertrude was very gracious to them both; not more to one than the other, + but exceptionally kind and agreeable to each. + </p> + <p> + The social affairs were of almost as frequent occurrence as the political + meetings. Gertrude accepted all invitations and urged her mother to + accept. + </p> + <p> + “You must, Mother,” she declared. “Now is the time when you can't afford + to offend or neglect anyone. You may need their votes and influence.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Gertie,” pleaded poor, tired Serena, “I can't go everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “You must. If this vice-presidency is worth all the world to you, as you + say it is, you must sacrifice everything else to get it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I can't! I'm almost worn out. I—I—oh, sometimes I feel + almost willing to give it all up and go back to—to—almost + anywhere, even Trumet, if I could rest there.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean that, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “No; no, of course I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Because if you do, why—well, that is different. If you WANT to go + back to dead and alive old Trumet—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't. I—I wouldn't for anything. I shouldn't think you, of all + people, would hint at such a thing. You! When I have climbed so high + already; when our social position has become what it is. You! talking of + going back to Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not. You mentioned it; I didn't. I'm having a beautiful time. I just + love our social position. The Blacks and the Kellys and—er—that + Miss Dusante! Oh, I adore them. I wouldn't leave such cultured people for + anything. And you enjoy it so, Mother. You look so happy.” + </p> + <p> + Was there a trace of sarcasm in this outburst? Serena was, for the moment, + suspicious. She tried her hardest to look very happy indeed. + </p> + <p> + “I am happy, of course,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “I know it. And we want to keep on being happy, don't we. So we must not + decline anyone's invitation. We must go, go, go, all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “But some of the invitations are from people I scarcely know at all. And + some I don't like.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes no difference. They may be of value to you in your campaign, + or socially, or somehow. Don't you see, Mother? In politics or society one + wishes to advance, to climb higher all the time. And to do that one must + use one's acquaintances as rounds in the ladder. Use them; get something + from them; pretend to love them, no matter whether you really hate them or + not. They may hate you, but they want to use you. That's part of the game, + Mother.” + </p> + <p> + This was worldly advice to be given by a young lady scarcely out of + college. And it sounded so unlike Gertrude. But, then, Gertrude had + changed, was changing more and more daily. + </p> + <p> + “We don't entertain enough,” went on the adviser. “We should be giving + some affair or other at least once a week. Invite everybody you know—everyone + but the Lake crowd, of course. I'll make out a list of eligibles to-day + and we'll give an 'At Home' next week.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Gertie—the expense. It costs so dreadfully. We're not rich; + that is, not very rich.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. Everyone thinks we are. If they didn't, most of them would cut + us dead to-morrow. We must pretend to be very rich. I'll make out the + list. Mr. Holway will help me. He is coming to call this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Serena looked more troubled than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” she said earnestly, “I think I ought—yes, I am going to + warn you against that Mr. Holway. I don't like your having him call or + being seen in his company.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't! I am surprised. I'm sure he is very polite and agreeable. He + belongs to the best club and he dresses well, and as to society—why, + he is in the very heart of it; our kind of society, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. But—well, Cousin Percy doesn't speak well of him. + He says he is a very fast young man.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude bit her lip. “Did Percy say that!” she exclaimed. “How odd! Why, + Monty—I mean Mr. Holway—said almost the same thing about him. + And I KNOW you like Cousin Percy, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott scarcely knew how to answer. As a matter of fact she did not + like their aristocratic relative quite as well as she had at first. There + were certain things about him, little mannerisms and condescensions, which + jarred upon her. He was so very, very much at home in the family now; in + fact, he seemed to take his permanent membership in that family for + granted. He had ceased to refer to himself as being on a vacation, and, as + for his “literary work,” he appeared to have forgotten that altogether. + </p> + <p> + But these were not the real reasons for Serena's growing dislike and + uneasiness. She hinted at the real reason in her next remark. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think,” she said, “I don't think, Gertie, that you and he should + be so much together. You are engaged to be married, you know, and John—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude interrupted. She ignored the mention of Mr. Doane's name. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cousin Percy is all right,” she said lightly. “He's good company. Of + course he may be something of a sport, but that is to be expected. The + trouble with you and me, Mother, is that we are too old-fashioned; we are + not sporty enough.” + </p> + <p> + “GERTIE!” Serena's horror was beyond words. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude laughed. “But that can be mended,” she went on. “Mother, you + should learn to drink cocktails and tango. I think I shall. Everybody's + doing it, doing it, doing it!” + </p> + <p> + Humming this spirited ditty, which the street pianos had rendered popular, + and smiling over her shoulder at her mother, she “one-stepped” from the + room. Serena put both hands to her head. Her “nerves” were more + troublesome than ever the remainder of that day. + </p> + <p> + There were enough troubles to rack even a healthy set of nerves. The + domestic situation was decidedly complicated. No successor to the departed + Hapgood had, as yet, been selected. Mr. Hungerford was partially + responsible for this. At first, when told of the butler's misbehavior and + its consequences, he had expressed sorrow, but had advised forgiveness and + the reinstallation of the discharged one. The crime was, after all, not so + very serious. Most butlers exacted commissions from tradespeople, so he + had been told. Of course it was all wrong, a pernicious system and all + that, but they did do it. And many employers winked at the system. Hapgood + was an exceptional fellow, really quite exceptional. Aunt Lavinia had + treated him as one of the family, almost. Captain Dan, to whom these + statements were made, was stubbornly indignant. He wouldn't wink at a + thief, and he wouldn't fire him and then hire him over again, either. If + “that everlastin' sneak showed his white-washed face on the premises + again, he'd have that face damaged.” All the captain hoped for was a + chance to inflict the damage. + </p> + <p> + So Cousin Percy, finding Daniel obdurate, tried his influence upon Serena, + whom he regarded, and justly, as the real head of the house. But Serena, + too, refused to consider Mr. Hapgood's re-employment. She had talked with + Azuba, and Azuba had declared that she should leave in “just about + two-thirds of a jiffy” if the butler came back. “When he comes into my + kitchen,” she said, “I get out. I should hate to quit the folks I'd worked + for the biggest part of my life, but there's some things I won't stand. + He's one of 'em. Don't talk to me about HIM!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hapgood was not re-engaged nor forgiven, and Hungerford kindly + volunteered to find a competent successor. He would make some inquiries + among his friends, the right sort of people, he said, and his manner + indicated that the said people were accustomed to employing butlers in + droves. + </p> + <p> + Azuba, therefore, was left with all the domestic cares upon her hands. + These hands were quite competent, had they been disengaged, but just now + they were full. Azuba was “advancing,” just as she had proclaimed to + Captain Dan that she intended to do. She read “The Voice” and kindred + literature a great deal, and quoted from her readings at every + opportunity. Denied admittance to the Chapter, in spite of Gertrude's + efforts in her behalf—Gertrude had warmly advocated the formation of + a Servants' Branch—she had made search on her own hook and suddenly + announced that she had found what she was looking for. This, so she + affirmed, was an organization called “The Free Laborers' Band,” and it met + in a hall somewhere or other, though no one but its members seemed to know + just where that hall was. Serena made inquiries, but neither servants nor + mistresses had ever heard of the “Band.” Gertrude, when she heard of it, + at first seemed to be much amused, and laughed heartily. Then she became + very grave and declared it a splendid thing and that she was delighted + because Azuba had found her opportunity. She was entitled to that + opportunity, as was every free woman, and certainly neither Gertrude or + her mother, being “free women” themselves, must offer objection or permit + mere household drudgery to interfere. + </p> + <p> + So Azuba “advanced” and preached and went out at night and occasionally + during the day. Gertrude and Serena went out all the time, when they were + not entertaining themselves. Life became a never-ending round of politics + and society functions, followed by, on Mrs. Dott's part, sleepless nights + and “nerves” and fretful worriment concerning Gertrude. Gertrude did not + appear to worry. She grew gayer and more gay, more careless in her manner + and more slangy in her speech. Mr. Holway continued to call and Cousin + Percy to dance solicitous attendance. John Doane's name was never + mentioned in his fiancee's presence. She would not speak, or permit others + to speak, of him. + </p> + <p> + And then Mr. Holway ceased to call. His final call was a lengthy one, and + he and Gertrude were alone during the latter part of it. The following day + Daniel met him on the street and was barely recognized. The captain was + not greatly troubled at the slight—he did not care greatly for the + lively Monty—but he was surprised. When he mentioned the meeting to + his daughter the young lady smiled, but offered no explanation. Her father + did not press the point. As Holway came no more and it became apparent + that he was not coming, the captain was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's strange behavior alarmed and troubled him, but his wife's ill + health and her worn, weary expression alarmed him more. He was actually + frightened concerning her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Serena,” he begged, “what makes you do it? It isn't worth it. You're + killin' yourself. Let's give it up and go somewhere and rest. The Queen of + Sheba's job ain't worth it, let alone just bein' vice-president of + Scarford Chapter.” + </p> + <p> + But Serena shook her head. “I can't give it up, Daniel,” she declared + hysterically. “I—I think I would if I could. I really do. Sometimes + I feel as if I would give up everything just to be at peace and happy and + contented again.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet!” with enthusiasm. “So would I. And we were contented at Trumet, + wasn't we? That is, I was; and you was enough sight better contented than + you are now.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. But I can't give it up, Daniel. Don't you see? I can't! I + mustn't think of myself at all. See how loyally Annette and the rest have + stood by me. Their splendid loyalty is the one thing that makes it worth + while. I must keep up and fight on for their sakes. I must be as true to + them as they are to me. Would they desert me for anything? No! And I + shan't desert them. I am going to be elected. I know it. After that, after + the election is over, I may—I might, perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “You might go somewhere with me and have a good, comfortable time. All + right, we will. And Gertie can go, too.” + </p> + <p> + The mention of her daughter's name seemed to be more disturbing than all + the rest. Serena burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't go, Daniel!” she cried. “You know she wouldn't. She—she + is going crazy, I do believe. She is wild about society and bridge—she + told me only yesterday she wasn't sure that playing for money was wrong. + All my friends and her friends did it and why shouldn't we? And she dances + all these dreadful new dances and uses slang and—and—oh, she + is—I don't know WHAT she will be if this keeps on. Why does she do + it? WHO is responsible?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel did not answer. He had a feeling that he could, without moving from + his chair, lay a hand upon the person chiefly responsible, but he kept + that feeling to himself. + </p> + <p> + “She'd go, if we wanted her to,” he affirmed stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “No, she wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “By time! she would. You and I would make her. I couldn't do it alone, I + know that, but if you'll say the word and stand by me she'll go, if I have + to—to give her ether and take her while she's asleep. Say the word, + that's all I want you to do.” + </p> + <p> + Serena did not say the word, not then. She continued to moan and wring her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “She's all wrong, Daniel!” she cried. “She does wrong things. She is with—with + Cousin Percy too much. He and she are getting to be altogether too + friendly. She has dropped John for good, I'm afraid. Oh, suppose she + should—” + </p> + <p> + The captain's anger burst forth at this expression of his own secret + dread. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose she should marry that Hungerford, you mean!” he cried. “She + won't! She won't! She's too sensible, anyway; but, if she should, I—I'd + rather see her dead. Yes, sir, dead!” + </p> + <p> + “So had I. But Cousin Percy—” + </p> + <p> + “D—n Cousin Percy!” + </p> + <p> + For once his profanity met with no rebuke. Serena did not appear to notice + it. + </p> + <p> + “He is not the right sort of man for her,” she declared. “He is polite and + aristocratic and he has helped us in society; but he is dissipated and + fast, I'm sure of it. He has been out a great deal lately and comes home + late, and I have heard him come up the stairs as if—as if—Oh, + WHY did you insist on his staying here, living here with us?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did <i>I</i>—Humph! Well, that's all right. That's all right, + Serena. You back me up in that, too, and he'll go out a sight quicker than + he came in. I'll see that he does. He'll fly. I can handle MEN even yet—though + I don't seem to be good for much else.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Dott wouldn't hear of it. They couldn't PUT him out, she + declared; think of the scandal! No, no, no! The interview ended by the + captain's dismissal and Serena's getting ready for that evening's + committee meeting. + </p> + <p> + It developed that Azuba's “Band” met on that same evening. Gertrude and + her mother had gone—they were to dine with the committee at + Annette's—and when Daniel, at seven o'clock, shouted for his dinner, + no dinner was ready. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stop to fuss with dinner,” said Azuba firmly. “I've got to get + ready for my Band meetin'. All the afternoon I've been fussin' with my + speech—I'm goin' to speak to-night—and now it's time for me to + change my clothes. I'm sorry, Cap'n Dott; I never neglected you afore; but + this time I've got to. There's plenty to eat in the ice-chest and you must + wait on yourself. No use to talk! I ain't got time to listen.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan was furious. This was a trifle too much. + </p> + <p> + “You get that dinner!” he roared. “Get it, or you'll never get another + meal in this house!” + </p> + <p> + “Won't I? Why not? Mrs. Dott said I might go to this meetin'. She'll + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “By time, Zuba Ginn, I'll discharge you! I will! I don't care if you have + been with us since Methusalem's time. You old foolhead! At your age—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm no older than your wife, Dan'l Dott. And you can't discharge me, + neither. I wouldn't go. I'm no Hapgood. I've got rights and I'll stand up + for 'em. You ain't the boss, I guess. If Serena discharges me, all right; + but she won't. There! don't talk to ME. I've got other fish to fry.” + </p> + <p> + She marched up the back stairs. Daniel sprang after her, but she closed + the door in his face. For a moment he hesitated. Then he turned back and, + re-entering the kitchen, began to pace up and down, his hands in his + pockets. + </p> + <p> + He strode from the sink to the back door, wheeled and strode back again. + There was an odd expression on his face. He frowned, muttered to himself, + whistled, smiled, and once broke into a short laugh. But, as he continued + the pacing, gradually the frown and smile disappeared and his expression + became one of grim determination. His lips closed, his eyes puckered, and + his stride lengthened. His heels struck the oilcloth with sharp, quick + thumps. If one of his former shipmates, a foremast hand on the schooner + Bluebird, could have seen him then, that foremast hand would have + interpreted his behavior as a forerunner of trouble. He would have known + that the “old man” was making up his mind to a definite course of action + and that, having made it up, he would keep to that course so long as he + could see or breathe. + </p> + <p> + And that interpretation would have been correct. Captain Dan was + desperate. He had made up his mind to fight, to “put his foot down” at + last. Serena's ill health, Gertrude's conduct, the aggravating insolence + of Cousin Percy, all these had helped to spur him to this pitch. And now + came Azuba's open rebellion and her declaration that his command amounted + to nothing, that he was not the “boss.” It was true, that was the + humiliating fact which stung. He was not the boss; he was not even cabin + boy, and he knew it. But, to be openly told so, and by his cook, was a + little too much. The worm will turn—at least we are told that it + will—and Daniel Dott was turning. + </p> + <p> + He jerked his hands from his pockets and opened his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Azuba!” he roared. “You, Zuba, come here!” + </p> + <p> + Azuba did not answer. She was in her room at the top of the house and, of + course, did not hear the shout. Before the captain could repeat it someone + knocked at the back door. + </p> + <p> + The knock was no hesitating, irresolute tap. It was an emphatic, solid + thump. Daniel heard it, but, in his present state of mind, was in no mood + to heed. + </p> + <p> + “Zuba!” he repeated. “Zuba Ginn, are you comin' here or shall I come after + you? ZUBA!” + </p> + <p> + The back door was merely latched, not locked. Now it was thrown open, a + heavy step sounded in the entry and a voice, a man's voice, said, in a + shout almost as loud as the captain's, “Yes, Zuba; that's what I was + cal'latin' to say, myself. Who—why, hello, Cap'n Dan! How are you?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel turned. A man had entered the kitchen, a big man, wearing a cloth + cap, and carrying in one hand a lumpy oilcloth valise. He tossed the + valise to the floor, grinned, and extended a hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Cap'n Dan,” he observed, “you look as natural as life. <i>I</i> + must have changed, I cal'late. Don't you know me?” + </p> + <p> + The captain's eyes were opening wider and wider. “Labe!” he exclaimed; + “Laban Ginn! Where in the world did you come from?” + </p> + <p> + The person who had so unceremoniously entered the kitchen was Azuba's + husband, mate of the tramp steamer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + “For the land sakes! Laban Ginn!” repeated Daniel. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn grinned cheerfully. He was six feet tall, or thereabouts, and + more than half as wide. His hair and beard were grayish red and his face + reddish brown. He was dressed in the regulation “shore togs” of a deep sea + sailor, blue double-breasted jacket, blue trousers and waistcoat, white + “biled” shirt, low collar—celluloid, by the look—and a “made” + bow tie which hung from the button by a worn loop of elastic. His hands + were as red as his face and of a size proportionate to the rest of him. He + seized the captain's hand in one of his, crushed it to a pulp, and + returned the remains to the chief mourner. + </p> + <p> + “Well, say,” he cried, his grin widening, “that feels natural, don't it? + Last time you and me shook hands was over three years ago. How are you? + Blessed if it ain't good to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan was slowly regaining his equilibrium. + </p> + <p> + “Same to you, Labe,” he returned heartily. “But—but, by Godfreys, + you're the last person I expected to see just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, I shouldn't wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, sit down. Humph! Does Azuba know you're comin'?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sit down and I'll call her. She's here with us, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin she is. Where else would she be? I knew she was here; heard you + hailin' her just as I made port at the back door. Set down?” He threw + himself into a chair, which groaned under the pressure. “Sure, I'll set + down! Feels kind of good to drop anchor when you've been cruisin's long as + I have. No, Zuby don't know I'm comin'. Last time I wrote her was from + Mauritius. I've been to clink and gone since. She WILL be surprised, won't + she? Ho! ho! Did I leave the hatch open? Here, let me shut it.” + </p> + <p> + But Daniel himself shut the “hatch,” that is to say, the back door. He was + on his way to the stairs, but Mr. Ginn detained him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a shake, Cap'n,” he said. “I ain't hardly seen you yet. Let's + have a look at you.” Crossing his legs—his feet were like miniature + trunks—he added, “How are you, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel replied that he was fair to middling. + </p> + <p> + “Sit still and make yourself comfortable, Labe,” he went on. “I'll tell + Zuba you're here.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your hurry? Give me a chance to catch my breath. I lugged that + dunnage bag,” indicating the valise, “from the depot up here, and I feel + as if I'd strained every plank in my hull. Ought to go into dry dock and + refit, I had. I landed in Philadelphy a week ago,” he continued. “Quit the + old steamer for good, I have. Me and the skipper had some words and I told + him where he could go. Ho! ho! I don't know whether he went or not; + anyhow, I started for Trumet. Got there and found you'd come into money + and had moved to Scarford and was livin' with the big-bugs. Some house + you've got here, ain't it! Soon's I see it I headed for the back door. 'A + first cabin companion like that's no place for me,' I says. Ho! ho! + Besides, I cal'lated to find Zuby Jane out in the fo'castle here. Didn't + expect to locate you, though, in this end of the ship. How's it seem to be + rich? Ain't got fat on it, have you.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, amused in spite of his recent ill temper, shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he answered. “So you've been ashore a week and your wife + doesn't know it? Why didn't you write to her from Philadelphia?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. Zuby and me's got an understandin' about that, and + other things. There's nothin' like havin' a clear understandin' to make + married folks get along together. We write letters, of course, but we + don't write very often. I'm li'ble to be 'most anywheres on the face of + the earth, and it makes me fidgety to think there's letters chasin' me + round and I ain't gettin' 'em. I say to Zuby, 'Long's you don't hear from + me you'll know I'm all right, and long's I don't hear from you I'll know + the same. We'll write when we feel like it. I'll come home as often as I + can, and when I come I'll fetch you my share of the wages.' That's our + understandin' and it's a good one. We ain't had a fight since we was + spliced; or, if we have, I always stop it right off—stop her part, I + mean. Where IS the old gal, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “She's up in her room, I presume likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is she? Well, she'll be down in a jiffy. If she ain't I'll go up and + give her a surprise.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll call her, if you give me a chance.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you needn't. No 'special hurry. She's waited for three years; + cal'late ten minutes more won't hurt neither of us. Had your supper yet?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel smiled grimly. “Not yet,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then she'll be down to get it, of course. I shan't stop her; I'm empty as + a rum bottle four days out of port. You folks eat late, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so. What's Zuby doin' up in her room this time of night?” + </p> + <p> + “She said she was goin' to change her clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, yes; I see. Well, 'twon't take her long. If I went up I'd only + hold her back, and I want my supper. Let's have a smoke, Dan, while we're + waitin'.” + </p> + <p> + He patted one pocket after the other and finally located a chunky, + battered pipe, which he proceeded to fill with shavings from a black plug. + Daniel watched him. A new idea was dawning in his mind, an idea which + seemed to afford him some pleasurable anticipation. Mr. Ginn looked up + from his tobacco shaving. + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me about all this money of yours,” he commanded. “I didn't hear + nothin' else at Trumet; that and your wife's gettin' to be commodore of + some woman's lodge or other was all they talked about. Hey? Why, where's + your pipe? Ain't you goin' to smoke? I've got plenty terbacker.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel looked dubious. “I guess not, Labe,” he said. “Zuba—well, the + fact is, Zuba doesn't like people to smoke in her kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + Laban's face expressed astonishment. “She don't!” he cried. “She don't? + How long since?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, almost ever since she came here. It is one of her new ways.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis, hey? Well, I like the old ones better, myself. Never you mind her + ways; trot out your pipe and light up. I—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by his companion, who made a flying jump toward the + stove. The teakettle was boiling over. + </p> + <p> + “Let it bile,” commented Mr. Ginn. “'Tain't your funeral, is it? You ain't + supposed to boss the galley. That's the cook's business, not the + skipper's.” + </p> + <p> + But Daniel carefully removed the kettle to a place of safety. + </p> + <p> + “It's my business to-night,” he said. “I'm gettin' my own supper.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn straightened in his chair. “You be?” he exclaimed. “You BE? What + for? Ain't there no women folks in the house? Ain't Zuby—why, you + said—” + </p> + <p> + “I know I said, but what I say don't seem to amount to much. You see, + Labe, your wife has got some of what MY wife calls advanced ideas. She + belongs to some kind of a lodge herself, and this is their meetin' night. + Just before you came Zuba made proclamations that I could cook my own + supper. She said she couldn't stop to do it; she'd be late to the meetin' + if she did.” + </p> + <p> + Laban's mouth opened. The pipe fell from it, scattering sparks like a + Roman candle, and bounced upon the spotless floor of the kitchen. Daniel + would have picked it up, but his visitor intervened. He put one mammoth + foot upon the sparks and, leaning forward, demanded instant attention. + </p> + <p> + “For thunder sakes, Dan Dott!” he cried. “Never mind that pipe; let it + alone. For thunder sakes, tell me what you're talkin' about? Zuby—Zuby + Jane Ginn racin' to lodges and tellin' you—YOU—to cook your + own meals! Go on! You're loony.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I am, Labe, but it's so.” + </p> + <p> + “It's so? And you let it be so? I don't believe it. What do you mean? How + long has it been so?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan proceeded to tell of his housekeeper's conversion to progress + and advancement. He did not suppress any of the details; in fact, he + magnified them just a bit. + </p> + <p> + “She's a free woman, so she says, Labe,” he said, in conclusion. “And a + free woman has a right to be free.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so! That's what she says, hey? And you let her say it? Why, you—you—” + He hesitated, hovering between candid expression and the respect due an + ex-skipper of a three-master. “Wh-what do you have such goin's on in your + house for?” he demanded. “What makes you let the gang afore the mast run + over you this way? Why don't you—who's that upstairs; your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my wife is out. I shouldn't wonder if that was Zuba. She's on her way + to the door, probably.” + </p> + <p> + “She is, hey? Call her down here. Sing out to her to come down. Hi!” as + the captain stepped to the stairs, “don't say nothin' about me.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, suppressing a grin, shouted up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Zuba!” he called. “Zuba, come down here a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba answered, but in no complacent tone. “Don't bother me, Cap'n Dott,” + she protested. “I'm late as 'tis.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, Zuba, that's all. One minute, please.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn snorted at the “please.” They heard the housekeeper descending. + At the bottom step she sniffed loudly. + </p> + <p> + “I do believe it's tobacco smoke!” she exclaimed. “Cap'n Dott, have you + been smokin' in my kitchen?” + </p> + <p> + She entered the room, waving an indignant arm. She was dressed in her + Sunday best, bonnet and all. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she began, and then, suddenly aware that her employer was not + alone, turned to stare at his companion. “Why!” she exclaimed; “who—oh, + my soul! LABAN!” + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Zuby!” roared her husband, rising to greet her. “How be you, old + gal?” + </p> + <p> + Before she could speak or move he seized her in his arms, squeezed her to + him, and pressed a kiss like the report of a fire-cracker upon her cheek. + “How be you, Zuby?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Labe!” gasped Azuba. “Labe!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Labe, all right. No doubt about that.... Well, why don't you say + somethin'? Ain't you glad to see me?” + </p> + <p> + Azuba looked as if she did not know whether she was glad or not; in fact, + as if she knew or realized any little of anything. + </p> + <p> + “Labe!” she said again. “Laban Ginn! When—WHERE did you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, from all 'round. Trumet was my last port and I made that by way of + Malagy and Philadelphy. But I'm here, anyhow, and that's somethin'. My! + it's good to see you. You look as natural as life. Set down and let's look + at you.” + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper sat down; she appeared glad of the opportunity. Her + husband faced her, grinning broadly. + </p> + <p> + “Just as handsome as ever; hey, old lady,” he observed. “And look at the + duds! Say, you're rigged up fine, from truck to keelson, ain't you, Zuby! + Never seen you rigged finer. A body would think she knew I was comin', + wouldn't they, Cap'n Dan?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel did not answer, although he seemed much interested in the + situation. + </p> + <p> + Azuba drew a hand across her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I DIDN'T know it,” she declared emphatically. “Indeed, I didn't! Why + didn't you write me, Laban Ginn?” + </p> + <p> + “Write! Write nothin'! I wanted to surprise you. But there, there! Don't + set around in that rig any longer. Makes me feel as if you'd come to call + on the parson. Take off your coat and bonnet and let's be sociable. And + while we're talkin' you turn to and get supper. I'm pretty nigh starved to + death. So's the cap'n; he said so.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ginn looked at Captain Dan. There was a twinkle in his eye. Azuba + noticed that twinkle. + </p> + <p> + “Laban,” she stammered, “I—I—I CAN'T stay here and get supper + to-night. I can't.” + </p> + <p> + Laban was tremendously surprised—at least he pretended to be. + </p> + <p> + “Can't!” he repeated. “Can't stay here, when I've just got home?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't. If I had known you was comin' 'twould have been different. + But I didn't know it.” + </p> + <p> + “What difference does that make? Zuby, don't make me laugh; I'm too hungry + for jokin'. Take off your bonnet, now; take it off.” + </p> + <p> + “I mustn't, really, Labe. It's lodge night and they expect me. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Take off your bonnet!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't! ... Well, I will, for just a minute.” The last sentence was + added in a great hurry, for her husband showed signs of preparing to + remove the headgear with his own hands. She placed the bonnet on the table + and fidgeted in her chair, glancing first at her employer and then at the + clock. Captain Dan was smiling broadly. + </p> + <p> + “That's fine!” exclaimed Mr. Ginn. “Now you look like home folks. Now + she'll get us some supper, won't she, Cap'n?” + </p> + <p> + Again Daniel did not answer, but his smile, as Azuba interpreted it, was + provokingly triumphant. Her lips closed tightly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't get any supper to-night, Laban,” she declared firmly. “I just + can't. I'm awful sorry, bein' as you've just got home, but you'll have to + forgive me. I'll explain when you and me are alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain? Explain what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—” with another look, almost vindictive, at the + grinning captain, “what my reason is. But I can't tell you now—I + can't.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right. I don't care about explainin's. You can explain any old + time; just now, me and the cap'n want our supper.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't get your supper. I told Cap'n Dott I couldn't before I went + upstairs. I'm goin' out.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you ain't. Quit your foolin', old lady. I'm gettin' emptier every + minute. So are you, ain't you, Cap'n?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel hesitated, looked at his housekeeper's face, and burst into a roar + of laughter. That laugh decided the question. Azuba rose. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me,” she snapped. “I'm sorry, but it serves you right, + Laban, for comin' home without sendin' me word; and just at the wrong + time, too. Give me that bonnet.” + </p> + <p> + She reached for the bonnet, but her husband reached it first. “'Tain't + much of a bonnet, anyhow, Zuby,” he said. “Now I look at it closer I don't + think it's becomin' to your style of complexion. Some day I'll buy you + another.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me that bonnet, Laban Ginn!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to see that bonnet around, Zuby. Let's get it out of sight + quick.” + </p> + <p> + His wife sprang at the bonnet, but he barred her off with an arm like a + fence-rail, removed a lid from the stove, put the unbecoming article in on + the red-hot coals, and replaced the lid. “There!” he said, “that helps the + scenery, don't it? Now let's have supper.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan laughed again. For an instant Azuba stared, white-faced, at + the cremation of the bonnet. Then she darted to the door. “I'll go now,” + she cried, “if I have to go bareheaded! I'll show you! Let go of me!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn had thrown an arm about her waist. She pulled his hair and gave + him some vigorous slaps on the cheek, but he smiled on. “You want to get + supper, Zuby,” he coaxed. “I know you do. You just think it over now. It's + too noisy out here to do much thinkin'. Where's a nice quiet place? Oh! + this'll be first rate.” + </p> + <p> + He bore her, kicking like a jumping-jack, across the kitchen to the closet + where the pans and cooking utensils were kept. “Think it over in there, + Zuby,” he said calmly, shutting the door and planting himself in a chair + against it. “That's a fine place to think. Now, Cap'n, you and me can have + our smoke, while she's thinkin' what to give us to eat; hey?” + </p> + <p> + Judging by the thumps and kicks and screams inside the closet the + housekeeper's thoughts were otherwise engaged. + </p> + <p> + “You let me out, Labe Ginn!” she screamed. “Cap'n Dott, you make him let + me out!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel, weary from laughing, could only gasp. + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Zuba!” he answered, choking. “I can't! It ain't my affair. I + couldn't interfere between husband and wife. You're a free woman, Zuba, + you know. You ought to be advanced enough by this time to fight your own + battles.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, Zuba,” counseled Mr. Ginn. “Fight 'em out in there. You can + be just as free in there as you want to. Have some of my terbacker, + Cap'n?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan declined. The prisoner continued to thump and kick and + threaten. Her jailer refilled and lighted his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Thought over that bill of fare, Zuby?” he shouted, after a time. + </p> + <p> + More thumps and threats; tears as well. Daniel began to feel pity instead + of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't you better, Labe,” he began. Mr. Ginn waved him to silence. + </p> + <p> + “How about supper, Zuby?” he called. “Oh, all right, all right. I don't + know as I'm as hungry as I was, anyway. Appetite's kind of passin' off, I + cal'late. You stay in there and think till mornin', and we'll have it for + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Silence—actual silence—for a moment. Then Azuba asked, in a + half-smothered but much humbler voice, “Oh, Labe! WON'T you let me out?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing—if you've thought up that supper for me and Cap'n + Dan'l.” + </p> + <p> + “But I did so want—oh, if I could only tell you! It was SO necessary + for me to go to that meetin'. You've spiled everything, and just as 'twas + goin' so nice. What Gertie'll say I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel developed a new interest. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie?” he repeated. “Hush, Labe! wait a minute. What's Gertie got to do + with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin'. Oh, Labe, PLEASE.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I tell you, Zuby: it's close to nine now, and that's too late for + you to be cruisin' out to meetin's. Sorry you have to miss the speeches + and things, but—Say, I tell you what I'll do. If it's a sermon you + want I'll preach you one, myself. Make it up while you're settin' the + table. Ready to come out and be good? That's right. Now, I bet you she's + thought up somethin' that'll make our mouths water, Cap'n.” + </p> + <p> + The crestfallen housekeeper emerged, blinking, from her thinking place. + She removed her coat and, without even a glance at her employer, proceeded + to adjust the dampers of the stove. Captain Dan rose from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can't stop to have supper with you, Labe,” he said. “I've + got an—an errand to do outside, myself. I'll eat at a restaurant or + somewhere. You'll stay here to-night, of course. I'll see you in the + mornin'. Good-night! Good-night, Zuby!” + </p> + <p> + Azuba did not reply. Laban shouted protests. What was the sense of going + just when supper was being made ready at last? Daniel, however, did not + stay to listen. He climbed the back stairs to the hall, put on his + overcoat and hat and went out. He had been too tender-hearted to remain in + the kitchen and gloat, or appear to gloat, over a “free woman's” + humiliation. Nevertheless, he astonished the waiter at the restaurant + where he ate dinner by bursting into laughter at intervals, and with no + obvious cause. The waiter suspected that the old gentleman from the + country had been drinking, and the size of the tip he received helped to + confirm his suspicion. + </p> + <p> + His dinner eaten, Captain Dan walked slowly home. Unlocking the front door + with his latchkey he tiptoed through the hall and listened at the head of + the back stairs. There was a steady murmur of voices in the kitchen. He + heard a bass grumble from Mr. Ginn and Azuba's shrill reply. Then the pair + burst into a laugh. Evidently some sort of understanding on a peaceful + basis had been reached. Still chuckling, the captain went up to his + bedroom, removed his outer garments and his shoes, put on his bathrobe and + slippers, and settled himself, with the evening paper, to await his wife's + return. He resolved to be awake when she did return; he had news for her. + Filled with this resolution, he read for three-quarters of an hour + steadily, then at intervals between naps, and at last dropped into a sound + sleep, the paper in his lap. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude and Serena came home at a surprisingly early hour. Not that the + committee meeting was over; it was not. In fact, the elaborate dinner + spread before her supporters by the grateful Mrs. Black had scarcely + reached its last course when Gertrude suddenly rose from the table and + hastened to her mother's side. She had been watching the latter with + increasing anxiety all the evening. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mother?” she asked. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Serena, sitting with her elbow on the table, her hand to her forehead, and + her untasted ice before her, looked up in a bewildered way. + </p> + <p> + “What—why, what do you mean, Gertie?” she stammered. “What—I + don't think I understood you.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Mother?” repeated Gertrude. “Don't you feel well?” + </p> + <p> + Still Mrs. Dott did not seem to understand. She tried to smile, but the + vague uncertainty of the smile caused even Annette, who had been deep in + discussion of a plan for securing the vote of a still doubtful member, to + cease speaking and regard her guest with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mother?” urged Gertrude. “You look so strange. Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + Serena gazed at her for a moment, rose, stood looking about in the same + hesitating, uncertain manner, and then, throwing her arms about her + daughter's neck, burst into hysterical sobs. + </p> + <p> + The alarmed guests clustered about them, asking questions, exclaiming, and + offering suggestions. + </p> + <p> + “What IS it?” demanded Annette. “My DEAR! What IS it?” + </p> + <p> + Serena, still clinging to Gertrude, continued to sob. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know,” she moaned. “I—I feel so strange. I'm—I'm + tired, I guess. I'm—I'm worn out. I—oh, Gertie, take me home. + Take me home—please.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Mother, dear. We will go home at once. Come.” + </p> + <p> + She led her into the next room. Annette, hastening with a glass of wine + and the smelling salts, caught the young lady's arm. + </p> + <p> + “She isn't going to be ill, seriously sick, is she?” she demanded. “You + don't think she is. It would be dreadful if she was.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she answered. “I certainly hope not. Will you call a + carriage, Mrs. Black?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I'll call one right away. Oh, I hope she isn't going to be + sick. It would be dreadful—just now. The election is only two weeks + off, and without her I—we should be almost certain to lose. I know + we should. Oh, Serena, DEAR! you WON'T be sick, will you? for my sake!” + </p> + <p> + It did not seem to occur to the agitated Annette that her friend might not + care to be ill, for her own sake. But it was evident that Gertrude was + thinking just that. The young lady's tone was sharp and decidedly cold. + </p> + <p> + “She is tired out,” she said. “She has worn herself out working for her—for + her friends, Mrs. Black. Will you call the carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. They are calling it now. I'm so sorry the chauffeur—or—or + Phelps—is out. If he—if they were not you could use our car. + But, oh, Serena—” + </p> + <p> + Serena looked up. She was calmer now, she had heard, and loyally she + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Annette,” she said. “I am not going to be sick. I won't. You + can depend on me. Oh, Gertie, I'm SO tired! My poor head!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage came and she and Gertrude were driven home. Annette did not + offer to accompany them. It was such an important meeting and there were + so many things to talk about, she explained. She would call the very next + day. Serena thanked her; Gertrude said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Serena seemed better on the way home. When they reached the house she + announced bravely that she was all right again; all she needed was a + night's rest, that was all. Gertrude insisted on accompanying her to her + room. They found Daniel asleep in the chair, and to him his daughter + explained the situation. The captain was too greatly disturbed to think of + his “news,” the news of Mr. Ginn's arrival and Azuba's subjection. + </p> + <p> + “You get right into bed, Serena,” he ordered. “Gertie, you call the + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + But his wife would not hear of the doctor. “Nonsense!” she declared. “I + don't need any doctor. I want to go to bed. I'm tired—tired. I won't + see the doctor or anybody else. Go, Gertie, please go. Your father will be + with me. Please go! I am all right now.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude went, but she whispered to the captain that she would wait in the + library and, if they needed her, he was to be sure and call. + </p> + <p> + In the library she took a book—one of Aunt Lavinia's legacies—from + the shelf and tried to read, but that was impossible. She could not read, + she could only think, and thinking was most unpleasant. Her conscience was + troubling her. Had she been wrong? Had she gone too far? She had meant + well, her plan had seemed the only solution of the family problem, but + perhaps she had made a mistake. She loved her mother devotedly. Oh, if + anything serious should happen—if, because of her, her mother should + be ill—if—if she should. She could not think of it. She would + never forgive herself, never. It had been all wrong from the beginning, + and she had been wicked and foolish. It had cost her so much already; her + own life's happiness. And yet—and yet, she had meant to do right. + But now, after that misunderstanding and consequent sacrifice, if her + mother should— + </p> + <p> + She broke down and was very, very miserable. + </p> + <p> + Someone was at the front door, fumbling with a latchkey. Gertrude + hurriedly sprang from her chair, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and + was on her way to the hall when the door opened. The hall was dark; she + had turned off the light when she came downstairs; and for a moment she + could not see who it was that had entered. She, however, was in the full + glow from the electrolier in the library and Mr. Hungerford saw her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Gertrude,” he said cheerfully. “Is that you? Don't go. Don't go.” + </p> + <p> + He was at the doorway before she could reach it. He had been dining out + with some masculine friends—“old college chums,” he had explained + when announcing the situation—and was in evening dress. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go,” he repeated. “What's the hurry? Wait a minute and I'll join + you.” + </p> + <p> + He removed his overcoat and silk hat and tossed them carelessly upon the + hall table. The hat fell to the floor, but he did not heed it. Then he + entered the library. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he exclaimed. “Alone? Burning the midnight oil and all that sort + of thing. Where is old—er—where's your father?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude replied that her father had retired. She was about to do so, she + added. It was untrue, but she was not in the mood for a conversation with + anyone, least of all with Cousin Percy. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy, however, appeared decidedly conversational. His face was a + trifle flushed and he smiled more than seemed necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he observed, “this is an unexpected pleasure. Didn't expect to + find anyone up at this hour.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude curtly remarked that it was not late. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean up, I meant in. Did I say 'up'? Most extraordinary. I + thought you and Mrs. Dott were playing the political game this evening. + Expected to find you out and old—the respected captain, I mean—in + the arms of—what's his name?—Morpheus. That's all right, + though; that's all right. So much the better. We can talk—you and + I.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel like talking. You must excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Don't feel like talking? Cruel! Why not? It isn't late; you said so + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know but—really, you must excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + She was moving toward the door, but again he stepped in her way. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Gertie,” he said. Then he broke into a laugh. “Called you Gertie, + didn't I?” he said. “Beg pardon. Quite unintentional. It slipped out + before I thought. But you don't mind, do you? It's a pretty name. Just a + little bit less formal than Gertrude, eh? Don't you think so—Gertie?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude hesitated. She was humiliated and angry, but she did not wish a + scene. Her parents might hear and her mother must on no account be + disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't mind?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Now, Percy, you must excuse me. Goodnight!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait! Wait! Gertie, I have something to say to you. Been wanting to say + it for a long time, but haven't had the opportunity. You have kept out of + my way. Ha! ha! you know you have. Perhaps you guessed I wanted to say it. + Was that it? Ha! ha! was it now? Confess; was it?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude did not answer. She moved toward the door. Mr. Hungerford + laughingly blocked the passage. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he cried. “No, no! Mustn't run away. I am going to say it, and + you must hear me. Come, don't be cross.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hungerford, will you stand aside? I can not talk with you to-night, + or listen. I am going to my room.” + </p> + <p> + The tone in which this was uttered should have been a warning, but Cousin + Percy was in no condition to recognize warnings, or to heed them if he + had. His smile grew more tender and his tone more intimate. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he smiled; “not just yet. I can't permit it. Gertie, I—” + </p> + <p> + “If you don't stand aside I shall call my father.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Call the old gentleman? No, you don't mean it. Of course you don't. + You wouldn't be so unreasonable. Come, come! we're friends at least. We + understand each other, don't we?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand YOU, thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do,” with a triumphant leer. “And you know what I am going + to say. Ah ha! I was sure you did. And you've confessed. Gertie, my + dearest girl, I—What! Going? Not until you pay toll. I'm keeper of + the gate and you must pay before you pass, you know. If you won't listen + you must pay. Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hands. Gertrude shrank back. She was not afraid of him, + but she did fear a scene. She had threatened to call her father, but she + could not do that. If she did her mother would be frightened. She moved + away, to the other side of the library table. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Percy interpreted her retreat as a sign of surrender. He followed + her, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he insisted. “I knew you didn't mean it. Come, my dear! Just one. + I—” + </p> + <p> + He tripped over the captain's favorite footstool and fell to his knees. + With a sudden movement Gertrude jerked the cord of the electrolier on the + table. The lights went out. She dodged around the table, through the + doorway, into the hall, and up the stairs. Mr. Hungerford, pawing in the + darkness at the offending footstool, swore. Then he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he exclaimed. “Very good, but not good enough. You can't escape + that way. I shall find you. Where are you hiding? Eh! Ah, there you are!” + </p> + <p> + He had scrambled to his feet and hurried to the doorway. There were the + sounds of footsteps and the rustle of skirts at the other end of the hall. + </p> + <p> + “There you are!” he cried. “I've caught you. Now you must pay—twice.” + </p> + <p> + He put his arm about a feminine waist and imprinted a kiss upon a feminine + cheek. Then his own cheek received a slap which made his head ring, and + the hall echoed with a shrill scream. + </p> + <p> + “Labe!” shrieked Azuba. “Oh, Labe! Help! Come quick!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn came up the back stairs three steps at a time. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What's the matter, Zuby?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “A man! A man! He—he—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he? What's he doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “He—there he is. Hear him? There!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford, paralyzed with astonishment and dizzy from the slap, had + moved, injudiciously. Laban heard him. + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” he bellowed. “Ah! I've got him. Stand still, dum you! I've got him, + Zuby. Who is he? What did he do?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know who he is,” panted the frightened housekeeper. “He—he + kissed me.” + </p> + <p> + “KISSED you! YOU? Why—” + </p> + <p> + “It's a mistake!” cried Cousin Percy, frantically struggling in the grasp + of his captor. “I—Stop! Stop! Help! Help!” + </p> + <p> + The hall became a pandemonium of thumps, struggles, cries for help, and + pleas for mercy. Azuba added her shrieks to the tumult. From above Captain + Dan shouted and Serena screamed. Then the chandelier blazed. Gertrude had + pressed the button at the top of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Let him be!” ordered the young lady, rushing to the rescue. “Don't! + don't! Azuba, stop him!” + </p> + <p> + “Labe! stop! stop!” pleaded the housekeeper. “You—My soul! it's Mr. + Hungerford.” + </p> + <p> + It was what there was left of Mr. Hungerford. Mr. Ginn extended the + disheveled, whimpering remnant at arm's length and regarded it. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he grunted. “You know him, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Know him! Of course I do. But—but I must say—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan came tearing down the stairs, his bathrobe fluttering and a + slipper missing. In one hand he held a pair of scissors, the only + offensive weapon which he had found available at the moment. + </p> + <p> + “What in blazes?” he demanded. “Burglars, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude answered. “No, Daddy,” she said gravely. “It's no one but Cousin + Percy. And—and Mr. Ginn. Why, Mr. Ginn, is—is it you?” + </p> + <p> + Laban nodded. “It's me, all right,” he observed grimly. “Who the devil is + this? That's what I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel turned to the captive. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, Percy!” he gasped. “What—what's happened to you? Let + go of him, Labe Ginn! Percy Hungerford, what—what's all this?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hungerford, suddenly freed from the grasp upon his torn shirt collar, + staggered against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's a mistake,” he panted. “I—I—this—this + blackguard assaulted me. I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Assaulted you! I should say he had. Labe Ginn, what did you assault him + for?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn glared at his victim. + </p> + <p> + “Blackguard, am I?” he growled. “Humph! Well, if he starts to callin' me + names, I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Belay! Answer me! What have you been doin' to him? Look at him! What do + you mean by assaultin' him that way?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I mean? When a man comes home from sea and finds another man + kissin' his wife, what would he be likely to mean?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel could not answer. He looked about him in absolute bewilderment. + Gertrude choked and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Kissin'!” repeated Captain Dan. “Kissin' your wife? Kissin' ZUBA! I—I—am + I crazy, or are you, or—or is he?” + </p> + <p> + Apparently he judged the last surmise to be the most likely. Cousin Percy, + frantic with rage and humiliation, tried to protest. + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” he cried. “It's a lie!” + </p> + <p> + The captain turned to his housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “Zuba,” he demanded, “what sort of lunatic business is this? Do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Azuba straightened. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know much,” she announced sharply. “All I know is that I come + upstairs in the dark and he grabbed me and—and said somethin' about + my payin' him—and then he—he—done the other thing. + That's all I know, and it's enough. Don't talk to ME! I never was so + surprised and mortified in MY life.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but what's it mean? Can't anybody tell me, for the Lord sakes?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude stepped forward. “I think I understand,” she said. “Our cousin + made a mistake, that's all. I will explain at another time, Daddy. If—if + you will all go away, he and I will have an interview. I think I can + settle it better than anyone else. Go, please. I'm sure Mother needs you.” + </p> + <p> + The mention of his wife caused her father to forget everything else, even + his overwhelming curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” he cried. “She heard this; and—and I left her all alone.” + </p> + <p> + He bolted up the stairs. Gertrude's next remark was addressed to the + housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “Azuba,” she said, “would you and your husband mind leaving us? Perhaps + you'd better not go to bed. I—I may need Mr. Ginn later on; perhaps + I may. But if you and he were to go down to the kitchen and wait just a + few moments I should be so much obliged. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + Azuba hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Leave you?” she repeated. “With—with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have something to say to him. Something important.” + </p> + <p> + She and Azuba exchanged looks. The latter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she said decisively; “course we'll go. Come, Labe.” + </p> + <p> + But Laban seemed loath to move. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got through with him yet,” he observed. “I'd only begun.” + </p> + <p> + “You come with me. Have you forgot all I told you so soon? Come!” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? No; no, I ain't forgot. Is this part of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Part of it's part of it; the rest ain't. You come, 'fore you do any more + spilin'. Come, now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn went. At the head of the back stairs he paused. + </p> + <p> + “You'll sing out if you need me?” he asked. “You will, won't you? You'll + only have to sing once.” + </p> + <p> + He tramped heavily down. Gertrude walked over to the victim of the + “mistake” and its consequences. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said coldly, “that you had better go.” + </p> + <p> + “Go?” Mr. Hungerford looked at her. “Go?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I give you this opportunity. There will not be another. Go to your + room, change your clothes, pack your trunk, and go—now, to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? That I am to go—and not come back?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Gertrude—Gertie—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me that. Don't DARE to speak to me in that tone. Go—now.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Ger—Miss Dott, I—I—don't you see it was all a + mistake? I—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! I am trying very hard to keep my temper. We have had scenes enough + to-night. My mother is ill and she must not be disturbed again. If you do + not go to your room and pack and leave at once, I shall call Mr. Ginn and + have you put out, just as you are. I am giving you that opportunity. You + had better avail yourself of it. I mean what I say.” + </p> + <p> + She looked as if she did. Cousin Percy evidently thought so. His + humbleness disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “So?” he snarled angrily. “So that's it, eh? What do you think I am?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's eyes flashed. She bit her lip. When she spoke it was with + deliberate distinctness. Every word was as sharp and cold as an icicle. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to know what I think you are?” she asked. “What I thought at + the very beginning you were, and what I have been taking pains to make + sure of ever since I came to this house? Very well, I'll tell you.” + </p> + <p> + She told him, slowly, calmly, and with biting exactness. His face was + flushed when she began; when she finished it was white. + </p> + <p> + “That is what you are,” she said. “I do not merely think so. I have + studied you carefully; I have stooped to associate with you in order to + study you; I have studied you through your friends; I KNOW what you are.” + </p> + <p> + His anger and mortification were choking him. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—” he snarled. “So that is it, is it? You have been + using me as a good thing. As a—as a—” + </p> + <p> + “As you have used my father and mother and their simple-minded goodness + and generosity. Yes, I have.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been making a fool of me! And Holway—confound him—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Holway was useful. He helped. And he, too, understands, now.” + </p> + <p> + “By—by gad—I—I won't go. I'll—” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude walked to the rear of the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ginn!” she called, “will you come, please?” + </p> + <p> + Laban came. He looked happy and expectant. + </p> + <p> + “Here I be,” he observed eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ginn,” said Gertrude, “this—gentleman—is going to his + room for a few minutes. He is preparing to leave us. If he doesn't come + down and leave this house in a reasonable time will you kindly assist him? + He will, no doubt, send for his trunks to-morrow. But he must go to-night. + He must. Do you understand, Mr. Ginn?” + </p> + <p> + Laban grinned. “I cal'late I do,” he said. “Zuba's been tellin' me some. + He'll go.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + She ascended the stairs. The first mate looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen minutes is enough to pack any trunk,” he observed. “I'll give you + that much. Now, them, tumble up. Lively!” + </p> + <p> + At the door of her parents' room Gertrude rapped softly. Captain Dan + opened it and showed a pallid, agitated face. + </p> + <p> + “She's mighty sick, Gertie,” he declared. “I wish you'd telephone for the + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + The doctor came, stayed for some time and, after administering a sleeping + draught and ordering absolute quiet for his patient, departed, saying that + he would come again in the morning. He did so and, before leaving, took + Captain Dan and Gertrude into his confidence. + </p> + <p> + “It is a complete collapse,” he said gravely. “Mrs. Dott is worn out, + physically and mentally. She must be kept quiet, she must not worry about + anything, she must remain in bed, and she must see no one. If she does + this, if she rests—really rests—we may fight off nervous + prostration. If she does not—anything may happen. With your + permission I shall send a nurse.” + </p> + <p> + The permission was given, of course, and the nurse came. She was a quiet, + pleasant, capable person, and Daniel and Gertrude liked her. She took + charge of the sick room. Azuba—the common sense, adequate, domestic + Azuba of old, not the rampant “free woman” of recent days—was in + charge of the kitchen. Her husband remained, at Daniel's earnest request, + but he spent his time below stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Sartin sure I won't be in the way, Cap'n, be you?” he asked earnestly. “I + can go somewheres else just as well as not, to some boardin' house or + somewheres. Zuby Jane won't mind; we can see each other every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a mite of it, Labe,” replied Daniel earnestly. “There's plenty of + room and you can stay here along with your wife just as well as not. I'd + like to have you. Maybe—” with a suggestive wink, “maybe you can + kind of—well, kind of keep things runnin' smooth—in the + galley. You know what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Laban grinned. “Cal'late you won't have no more trouble that way, Cap'n,” + he observed. “I guess that's over. Zuby and I understand each other + better'n we did. I THOUGHT she was mighty—” + </p> + <p> + “Mighty what?” Mr. Ginn had broken off his sentence in the middle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin'. It's all right, Cap'n Dott. Don't you worry about Zuby and + me. We'll boss this end of the craft; you 'tend to the rest of it. Say, + that Hungerford swab ain't come back, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No, he hasn't. He's gone for good, it looks like. Sent for his trunk + and gone. That's queer, too. No, he hasn't come back.” + </p> + <p> + Laban seemed disappointed. “Well, all right,” he said. “If he should come, + just send for me. I'd just as soon talk to him as not—rather, if + anything.” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head in a puzzled way. + </p> + <p> + “That business of—of him and Zuba was the strangest thing,” he + declared. “I can't make head nor tail of it, and Gertie won't talk about + it at all. He said 'twas a mistake, and of course it must have been. + Either that or he'd gone crazy. No sane man would—” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” It was Mr. Ginn's turn to question, and Daniel's to look + foolish. “What's that no sane man would do?” demanded Laban sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, go away and leave us without sayin' good-by,” explained + the captain, with surprising presence of mind. “Er—well, so long, + Laban. Make yourself at home. I've got to see how Serena is.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried up the back stairs. Mr. Ginn, who seemed a trifle suspicious, + called after him, but the call was unheeded. + </p> + <p> + At the door of his wife's room—his room no longer—Captain Dan + rapped softly. The nurse opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “How is she?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “She is asleep now,” whispered the nurse in reply. “You must not come in.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't goin' to. But—but—has she been askin' for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I told her you were out. If she wakes and asks for you I will call. + You may see her then for a minute or two. She is easier when you are with + her—or near by.” + </p> + <p> + This was true. The one person Serena wished to see most of all was her + husband. She asked for Gertrude, of course, but it was Daniel for whom she + asked continually. If he were near her she seemed almost happy and + contented. It was when he sat beside the bed that she ceased tossing upon + the pillow and lay quiet, looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good man, Daniel,” she whispered, on one of these occasions. “A + dear, good, unselfish man.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I ain't any such thing,” protested the captain hastily. + </p> + <p> + “But you are. And—and WHAT should I do without you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-sh! I'm not much help. Land knows I wish I was more.” + </p> + <p> + “You ARE the help; all the help I have. Gertie—Daniel, you will keep + an eye on Gertie, won't you. You won't let her do anything foolish.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Gertie? She won't do foolish things. She ain't that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but she has changed so. It worries me. Percy—” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't you worry about Percy. He isn't here now.” + </p> + <p> + “Not here? Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He's gone away—for a spell, anyhow. Maybe that + vacation he used to talk about is over. I guess that's it.” + </p> + <p> + Serena was too weak to ask further questions, even concerning so + surprising a matter as Cousin Percy's sudden departure. But she did make + one further plea. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” she begged, “if Annette calls about the Chapter you tell her—” + </p> + <p> + “I've told her. She understands. She says it's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she? I'm so glad. Oh, Daniel, you'll have to take charge of + everything now. I can't, and Gertrude—you must do it, yourself, + Daniel. You MUST. Of Azuba and Gertie and everything. I rely on you. You + WILL, won't you, Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure I will. I'm skipper now, Serena. You ought to see how the hands jump + when I give an order.” + </p> + <p> + It was true, too; the hands did “jump” at the captain's orders. He was + skipper, for the time being. His wife's illness, Mr. Hungerford's absence, + Gertrude's meekness—she was a silent and conscience-stricken young + lady—all combined to strengthen Daniel's resolution, and he was, for + the first time in years, the actual head of the household. He took active + charge of the bills and financial affairs, he commanded Azuba to do this + and that, he saw the callers who came and he sent them to the rightabout + in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + His statement concerning Mrs. Black was not the literal truth. Annette had + called, that was true; she had called the very next morning after her + chief aide was stricken. But she had not declared that everything was “all + right”; far from it. + </p> + <p> + “But can't I see her, Captain Dott?” she begged. “I MUST see her for just + a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, ma'am, but you can't do it. Doctor's orders. She mustn't be + disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + “But I've got to see her. I must talk with her.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but I'm afraid you can't. You can talk to me, if that will do any + good.” + </p> + <p> + “It won't. Of course it won't. Where is Gertrude? Let me talk to her.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel climbed the stairs to his daughter's room. He found her sitting at + her desk; she had been writing “regrets” in answer to various invitations. + She turned a careworn face in his direction. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Daddy?” she asked. “Mother is not worse, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; she's better, if anything. But that—er—Annette Black + has come and, long as she can't see Serena, she wants to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “About her precious politics, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Your supposin' is as nigh right as anything mortal can be, Gertie. That's + what she wants.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear the word + politics. I—” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough, that's enough. I'll 'tend to HER. You stay right here.” + </p> + <p> + He descended to the drawing-room, where Annette was fidgeting on the edge + of a chair, and announced calmly that Gertrude was not at home. + </p> + <p> + The caller's agitation got the better of her temper. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” she snapped. “I don't believe it. How do you know she isn't?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she said so. Lovely mornin' for a walk, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Black rose and stalked to the threshold. But there she turned once + more. + </p> + <p> + “If your wife knew,” she cried hysterically, “how I, her best friend, was + treated in her house, she—she—” + </p> + <p> + Daniel stepped forward. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Black,” he said. “Maybe I + have been pretty plain spoken. I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelin's. But, + you see, we're all upset here. I'm upset, and Gertie's as much so as the + rest. She can't talk to you, or anybody else, now. I'm willin' to try, but + you say my talkin' won't do any good.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it won't. Oh, don't you SEE? I'm sorry Serena is not well, but + this is IMPORTANT.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but so's her health, 'cordin' to my thinkin'.” + </p> + <p> + “If I might see her just a moment. It is so provoking. Just at this + critical time! Doesn't my—her election mean ANYTHING to you? Don't + you care about the cause?” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head. “All I'm carin' for is my wife, just now,” he + said. “She's all I can think about. If some of us had thought more about + her, maybe—” He stopped, cleared his throat, and added: “I know + you'll understand and forgive us, when you think it over. I'll tell her + you called. Good-mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + If he supposed this was the end, he was mistaken. Annette was not so + easily whipped or discouraged. She called again that afternoon, and again + the next day. Each morning for a week she came, and, between times, other + adherents of the Black-Dott party called. They all asked concerning the + invalid, but their interest plainly centered upon her part in the + campaign. Would she be well enough to take part in the election, that was + the question. They sent flowers and notes. The flowers reached the lady + for whom they were intended; the notes did not. And, after the first week, + the calls became fewer. Annette and her followers had, apparently, given + up hope of aid and advice from their candidate for vice-president. At any + rate they ceased to trouble the captain and his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “It's all the better, Daddy, dear,” said Gertrude. “Mother will have a + chance to rest and improve now.” + </p> + <p> + And Serena did improve, slowly at first, then with gratifying rapidity. + She began to sit up for a portion of each day and to sleep through the + greater part of each night. At the end of the tenth day the doctor + announced that the nurse's services were no longer necessary. + </p> + <p> + “She will be all right now,” he said, referring to his patient. “But she + must continue to have absolute rest and she must not be worried or + permitted to worry. If you and she could go somewhere, Captain Dott, to + some quiet place in the country, and stay there for six months, I think it + would help her more than anything. Can you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> can do it, Doctor,” replied Daniel eagerly. “I'd like to do it. + I'll go anywhere, if it will help her.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then I will advise it and you and Miss Dott must back my advice. + Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, and so'll Gertie, I'm sure. You speak to her, Doctor. We'll do + the backin' up.” + </p> + <p> + So the doctor made the suggestion. Serena received it quietly, but, when + her husband came to do his share of the “backing up,” she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to, Daniel,” she said. “I'd like to, but I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't? Course you can! Now let's think where we'll go. Niagara Falls, + hey? You always wanted to go to the Falls.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, then, how about Washin'ton? We'll see the President, and the + monument, and the Smithsonian Museum, and Congress—we'll see ALL the + curiosities and relics. We'll go to—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Daniel. It makes me tired out just to hear about them. I couldn't + stand all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Course you couldn't! What a foolhead I am! The doctor said you needed + rest and quiet, and Washin'ton is about as quiet as the Ostable Cattle + Show. Well, what do you say to the White Mountains?” + </p> + <p> + “In winter? No, Daniel, if I went anywhere I should like to go to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “Where, Serena? Just name it and I'll buy the tickets.” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel, I'd rather go to Trumet than anywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan could scarcely believe it. + </p> + <p> + “WHAT!” he cried. “Trumet? You want to go to Trumet, Serena? YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've been wanting to go for some time. I never told you; I wouldn't + even admit it to myself; but I've thought about it a great deal. I was + getting so tired, so sick of all the going about and the dressing up and + the talking, talking all the time. I longed to be somewhere where there + was nothing going on and where you and I could be together as we used to + be. And, oh, Daniel—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Serena? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Daniel, since I've been really sick, since I've been getting better + and could think at all, I've been thinking more and more about our old + house at Trumet, and how nice and comfortable we were there, and what + pleasant evenings you and I used to have together. It was home, Daniel, + really and truly home, and this place never has been, has it?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet it hasn't! It's been—well, never mind, but it wasn't home. + Lordy, but I'm glad to hear you talk this way, Serena! <i>I</i> haven't + thought anything else since we first landed, but I never imagined you + did.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't, at first. It has been only lately since I began to feel so + tired and my head troubled me so. Daniel, I'm not sure that our coming + here wasn't a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was perfectly sure. He sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, Serena,” he cried. “If it was a mistake it's one that + can be straightened out in two shakes of slack jib sheet. You stay here + and rest easy. I'll be back in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to make arrangements for our trip to Trumet. 'Twon't take me + long.” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel, stop! Sit down. I didn't say I was going. I said I should like to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the same thing. Now, Serena, I know what's frettin' you. You're + thinkin' what'll become of this house and all the fine things in it. + They'll be all right. We could rent this house in no time, I know it. I + ain't sure but what we could sell it if we wanted to. That real estate + fellow, the one Barney—B. Phelps, I mean—introduced me to down + street one time, met me t'other day and told me if I ever thought of + sellin' this place to let him know. Said he had a customer, or thought he + had, that knew the house well and always liked it. He believed that feller + would buy, if the price was right. Course I didn't pay much attention + then; I judged you wouldn't think of sellin', but—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! stop, Daniel! You are so excited it makes me nervous again to hear + you. I wasn't thinking of the house at all. The way I feel now I had as + soon sell it as not. But that isn't it. I can't leave Scarford. I can't!” + </p> + <p> + Daniel's enthusiasm faded. There was determination in his wife's tone. He + sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he observed wistfully, “you can't? You're sure you can't, Serena? + You know what the doctor said. Why can't you go?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I can't. It is impossible. I couldn't leave the Chapter. Don't + you SEE, Daniel? I am a candidate for vice-president. My friends—the + truest, most loyal friends a woman ever had—are depending upon me. I + couldn't desert them. I told you that before. Would they desert me?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose likely they wouldn't,” reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “You know they wouldn't. No personal considerations, no selfish reasons, + NOTHING could make them do it. But I've said this all before, Daniel. You + must see why I have to stay. I'd like to go, I'd love to, but I can't. + Let's talk of something else.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan sighed. “I presume likely you're right, Serena,” he admitted. + “It would seem like a mean trick, the way you put it. But after the + election? You said, when we was talkin' before, that after you was elected + maybe you would go with Gertie and me somewhere. And we'll go to Trumet, + that's where we'll go.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Daniel, dear, we'll see. And don't worry about me. I am almost + well again and I am going to be completely well. Now won't you ask Gertie + to come in and talk with me? I am beginning to think about the election. + Gertrude must go. We need her vote and her influence. Has she been helping + Annette? I hope she has. Send her to me, Daniel, please.” + </p> + <p> + So the captain, his hopes somewhat dashed, but finding comfort in his + wife's new longing to visit the one spot on earth which spelled home to + him, left the room to carry Serena's message to their daughter. + </p> + <p> + He was busy at the desk in the library when, several hours later, Gertrude + entered. She was wearing her hat and coat and, coming into the library, + stood beside him. He looked up. His expression surprised and alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter, Daddy?” she asked anxiously. “You look as if + something dreadful had happened. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Her father put down his pen. A sheet of paper, covered with figures, was + on the desk before him; so, also, was the family checkbook which had been, + until the illness of Mrs. Dott, in that lady's sole charge. + </p> + <p> + “Matter?” he repeated. “Matter? Humph! Do I look as if somethin' was the + matter? Where have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been out. Mother was so anxious about the election that I promised + her I would see Mrs. Black and some of the others this very day. I have + been calling on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have, hey? Well, what's the prospect? The cause of right and Black, and + justice and Dott is goin' to prevail, I presume likely, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I couldn't find out anything. Mrs. Black was not in, at + least that is what the maid said; but I am almost sure she was in. I think + I saw her peeping between the curtains as I went down the steps.” + </p> + <p> + “That so? Perhaps she was dosin' you with the same medicine I handed her + when she called that first day after Serena was taken down.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of that. But I called on three other leaders of Mother's party—” + </p> + <p> + “Yours and your mother's, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course. I called on three of our leaders. Two of them were in and + I talked with them. I could learn nothing from either about the election. + They would not discuss it, except to say that everything would be all + right. They behaved so oddly and were so embarrassed. It was perfectly + obvious that they wanted to get rid of me. I can't understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “There's lots of things we can't understand in this world. Don't fret your + mother about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't, of course. But what is troubling you, Daddy? Something, I + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Look that way, do I? My looks don't belie me, then. See here, Gertie, I'm + stumped. I've been goin' over back bills and the bankbook and the + checkbook and—and—well, I'm on my beam ends, that's where I + am.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Don't the books balance?” + </p> + <p> + “They balance all right. That's what's kicked me over. If they're true—course + they can't be, but IF they are—we've spent close to five thousand + dollars since we made this town.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Well?” + </p> + <p> + “WELL! Five thousand dollars! I'm sayin' five THOUSAND; do you + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. I'm not surprised. Living as we do, and moving in the—in + the best society as we have, the expense is large, naturally. You must + expect that.” + </p> + <p> + “Expect! Gertie Baker Dott, STOP talkin' that way! Our income, not + countin' what the store at Trumet is fetchin' in, ain't over six thousand + at the outside. Six thousand a YEAR, that is. And we've got rid of five + thousand in a few months! We've got a thousand or so to live the rest of + this year on. One thousand—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daddy! Don't shout and wave your arms. We shall have to use a part + of the principal, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Part of the prin—Oh, my soul and body! Use part of it this year, + and some more next year, and some more the next, and—and—Do + you know where we'll be ten year from now? In the poorhouse, that's + where.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope not as bad as that. And, besides, think what a beautiful time + we shall have during those ten years. Just as beautiful as we have had so + far; better, no doubt, for we have really only begun.” + </p> + <p> + “Ger-tie DOTT!” + </p> + <p> + “Just think of it, Daddy. We have only begun.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I won't think of it! I'll stop it, that's what I'll do!” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude smilingly shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you won't, Daddy,” she said. “You never stop anything.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to go. Captain Dan sat, speechless in his chair, staring at the + bills, the figures, the checkbook, and the prospect of the poorhouse. Then + he felt her hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Daddy, dear,” she said softly. “I wouldn't worry any more, if + I were you. I think—I am beginning to hope that YOUR worries are + almost over.” + </p> + <p> + She kissed him and hurried out before he could collect his senses + sufficiently to ask what she meant. He did ask her at their next meeting, + but she only smiled and would not tell him. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Serena's first remark was concerning the election, which + was to take place that evening. All that day she spoke of little else, and + when the evening came she insisted upon Gertrude's leaving for the hall + immediately after dinner. Laban went with her as escort, Mr. Hungerford's + former enviable duty, and one which that gentleman had appeared to enjoy + more than did its present occupant, who grumbled at missing his “after + supper” smoke. Laban returned early. Gertrude did not. + </p> + <p> + It was after ten when the young lady appeared. She was very grave when her + father met her in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “How is Mother?” she asked. “Asleep, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he said, “she's asleep, for a wonder. She vowed and + declared she was goin' to stay awake until you came, but I read out loud + to her and she dropped off while I was doin' it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't wake her, for the world. Tell her I have returned, that I am + tired and have gone to bed, and will give her the news in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “That won't do. She'll want to know to-night. What is the news? Can't you + leave some message? She won't rest if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude pondered. “Tell her,” she began slowly, “tell her Mrs. Black is + elected. That is all to-night. Perhaps she will take—other things + for granted.” + </p> + <p> + But when morning, very early morning, came, Captain Dan summoned his + daughter from her room. + </p> + <p> + “She's wide awake, Gertie,” he said, “and she wants to know it all. You'd + better come and tell her.” + </p> + <p> + But Gertrude had been thinking. “I think you had better tell her first, + Daddy,” she said. “I think it may be wiser for you to tell her. Things + were said and done at that election which she must not know. They were so + mean, so contemptible that she ought never to know. If I am not there she + cannot ask about them. I will tell you the result and how it came about + and you can tell her. Perhaps that will be sufficient. I hope it may be. + Listen, Daddy.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel listened. “My soul and body!” he exclaimed, when the tale was + ended. “My Godfreys! and those were the folks she figgered were her + friends!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And Annette Black—” + </p> + <p> + “She was the moving spirit in the whole of it, I'm certain.” + </p> + <p> + “My Godfreys! And she—and she—well, I guess maybe Serena'll be + willin' to go back to Trumet NOW. She wanted to go before; 'twas only + loyalty to that gang that kept her from goin'. She's sick of society, and + sick of politics, and sick of Scarford. She said she'd give anything to go + back to the old house and be comfortable same as we used to be; she said—” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy!” Gertrude seized his arm. She was strangely excited. “Did she—did + Mother really say that?” she demanded eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, she said it! Twice she told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “And she meant it?” + </p> + <p> + “She acted as if she did. Course we both realized 'twould be hard for you, + Gertie, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Go! Go and tell her about the election. Quick! quick!” She fairly pushed + him from her. “Don't wait,” she urged, “go.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel was on his way when she called him back. + </p> + <p> + “I almost forgot, Daddy, dear,” she said repentantly. “I was so gl—I + mean—well, never mind. What I want to say is that if you think the + news will be too great a shock, if you think she is not strong enough to + hear it now—” + </p> + <p> + Her father interrupted. “She's stronger than I've seen her for a + fortnight,” he declared. “And one thing's sure, she won't rest till she + does hear it. I shall tell her, and get it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Then be as gentle as you can, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try. But, Gertie, what did you mean by sayin' you was so—so + glad? That was what you was goin' to say, wasn't you? I don't see as + there's much to be glad about.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you? Well, perhaps.... Run along, Daddy, run along.” + </p> + <p> + She closed the door of her room. Daniel, much perplexed, departed on his + unpleasant errand. + </p> + <p> + His wife was eagerly awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Gertie?” she demanded. “Isn't she coming?” + </p> + <p> + “She'll come by and by, Serena. She isn't quite dressed yet.” + </p> + <p> + “What difference does that make? Why doesn't she come, herself? Didn't you + tell her I was dying to hear about the election? She must know I am.” + </p> + <p> + “She does; she knows that, Serena. But she thought—she thought I'd + better tell you first, myself.” + </p> + <p> + Serena leaned forward to look at him. His expression alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you tell, then?” she asked. “Is it—oh, Daniel, it isn't + bad news, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't very good, Serena.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean—why, you said that Annette was elected; you said so + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes, she was elected, Serena; but—” + </p> + <p> + “But—but <i>I</i> wasn't. Is that what you mean, Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + “Well now, Serena—” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't. Yes, it is true, I can see it in your face. I was defeated. Oh—oh, + Daniel!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan put his arm about her. + </p> + <p> + “There! there! Serena,” he said chokingly, “don't cry, don't. Don't feel + too bad about it. Politics is politics, inside Chapters and out, I guess. + I'm as much disappointed as you are, for your sake, but—but don't + care too much, will you? Don't make yourself sick again. Don't cry no more + than you can help.” + </p> + <p> + Serena raised her head from his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not crying,” she said. “Really I'm not, Daniel. It is a relief to me, + in a way.” + </p> + <p> + “A RELIEF?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If it had happened a month ago I should have felt it terribly. I was + crazy for office then. But lately I have dreaded it so. If I were + vice-president I should have so much care, so much responsibility. Now, I + shan't. The honor would have been great, I appreciate that. But, for the + rest of it, I don't really care.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't CARE! My soul and body!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't. And now,” bravely, “tell me all about it. I don't quite see + how Annette could win if I did not; but Miss Canby is popular, she has a + great many friends. I hope,” wistfully, “I hope I got a good vote. Did I, + Daniel?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel's indignation burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't get any votes, Serena,” he cried angrily. + </p> + <p> + “What? What? No votes? Why—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a blessed one. They put up a low-down political trick on you, Serena. + They left you out to save themselves. They took advantage of your bein' + sick to—to—Here, I'll tell you just what they did.” + </p> + <p> + What they had done was this: Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, heads of the + opposing factions, each realizing how close the vote was likely to be, + had, with their lieutenants—Mrs. Dott excepted—gotten together + five days before the election and arranged a compromise, a trade. By this + arrangement, Annette was to receive the Lake party's support for + president; Miss Canby was to be given the Black support for + vice-president; and the united support of both factions was to be behind + Mrs. Lake in her struggle for office in the National body. This + arrangement was carried through. Serena, not being on hand to protect her + own interest, had been sacrificed, her name had not even been brought + before the members to be voted upon. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan told of this precious scheme, just as it had been told him by + his daughter. At first his wife interrupted with exclamations and + questions; then she listened in silence. + </p> + <p> + “That's what they did,” cried the captain angrily. “Chucked you into the + scrap heap to save themselves. And you sick abed! This was the gang you + worked yourself pretty nigh to death for. These were the FRIENDS you + thought you had. And Annette Black was the worst of all. 'Twas her idea in + the first place. Why, Serena—” + </p> + <p> + But Serena could hear no more. She threw her arms about her husband's neck + and the tears, which she had so bravely repressed at the tidings of her + own disappointment, burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh, Daniel,” she sobbed, “take me away from here. I hate this + place; I hate Scarford and all the dreadful people in it! Take me to + Trumet, Daniel. Take me home! Take me home!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Captain Dan shouted his daughter's name over the + balusters. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie!” he called; “Gertie! come up here, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude came. She entered the room hastily. She had feared to find her + mother prostrate, suffering from a new attack of “nerves.” She was + prepared to obey her father's order to 'phone for the doctor. + </p> + <p> + But Serena did not, apparently, need a doctor. She was not prostrate, and, + although she was nervous, it was rather the nervousness of expectancy, + coupled with determination. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” said the captain, “I've got some news for you. Your mother and I + have made up our minds to go back to Trumet, and we want you to go along + with us.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady did not answer at once. She looked first at Serena and then + at Daniel. The troubled expression left her face and was succeeded by + another, an odd one. When she spoke it was in a tone of great surprise. + </p> + <p> + “To Trumet?” she repeated. “Go back to Trumet? Not to live there?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan hesitated, but his wife did not. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said decidedly, “to live. For the present, anyhow. At least we + shan't live here any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Not live here? Not live in Scarford, Mother! Why, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Her father answered. “She means what she says, I presume likely,” he + observed impatiently. “Think she's talkin' for the fun of it? This ain't + April Fool Day.” + </p> + <p> + “But she can't mean it. She can't! Give up the Chapter, and all our + friends—” + </p> + <p> + “Friends! They're a healthy lot of friends, they are!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daddy; I'm not talking to you. Do you realize what you are saying, + Mother? Give up the Chapter, and all your ambitions there? Give up Mrs. + Black and Mrs. Lake and Miss Canby—” + </p> + <p> + “And that twist and squirm, antique Greece disgrace of a Dusante woman—don't + forget her. Gertie, you stop now. Your ma knows—” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, be still. Be still, I say! Mother, are you willing to give them + up? And all our society! You say yourself—I've heard you often—that + there is no society in Trumet. Give up our bridge lessons, and our + dancing, and our teas, and—” + </p> + <p> + “For the land sakes! What is this; a catalogue you're givin' us? Stop it! + Serena, you tell her to stop.” + </p> + <p> + But Gertrude would not stop. She ignored her father utterly. + </p> + <p> + “Think what it would mean,” she protested. “Think of your social position, + Mother, the position we have worked so hard to attain.” + </p> + <p> + Serena shook her head. “I don't care,” she said firmly. “Our social + position was good enough in Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT! Why, Mother! how often I have heard you say—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what I said. I have said a lot of foolish things, and done a + lot, too. But I'm through. I'm sick and disgusted with it all. I'm going + to be simple and comfortable and happy—yes, happy. Oh, Gertie, DON'T + talk to me about society! There isn't a real, sincere person in it, not in + the set we have been in. I hate Scarford and I hate society.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother! how can you! And opportunity and advancement—” + </p> + <p> + “I hate them, too.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude gasped. “Why, Mother!” she exclaimed. “And it was you who first + showed me the way. Who showed me how common and dull and unambitious I had + been all my life? Think what leaving here would mean to me. What would + Miss Dusante think? I had almost arranged to take dancing lessons of her. + Think of Mr. Holway. Is there a young man like him in Trumet? Think of + Cousin Percy!” + </p> + <p> + That was quite enough. Serena rose, her eyes flashing. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” she cried. “Stop this minute! Gertrude Dott, your father and I are + going back to Trumet and you are going with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I'm not. Why, Cousin Percy—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you dare mention his name to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? He is very gentlemanly and very aristocratic. You told me that + when I first came, Mother. You were always talking about him and praising + him then. And I'm sure he moves in the highest circles; he says he does, + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a good-for-nothing loafer. He has sponged upon your father—” + </p> + <p> + “You have often spoken of him as an honor to the family.” + </p> + <p> + “A good-for-nothing, dissipated, fast—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a little dissipation is expected in society, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you would be ashamed!” + </p> + <p> + “Why? I haven't done a thing that you haven't done, Mother. That is, + nothing which your friends don't do every day. They are ever so much more + advanced than I am. I have only begun. No, indeed, I am not going back to + plain, common, everyday old Trumet. I shall stay here and progress. You + and your friends have shown me what is expected of a girl in my position + and I shall take advantage of my opportunities. Why, Mrs. Black says that, + if I play my cards well, I may catch a millionaire, perhaps a foreign + nobleman. How would you like to be mother-in-law to a—well, to a + count, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott did not answer this question. Instead she turned to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” she cried, “are you going to stand this? Are you that girl's + father, or aren't you? Are you going to make her mind, or not?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel would have spoken, but his daughter got ahead of him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Father doesn't count,” she observed lightly. “No one minds what he + says. He didn't want to move to Scarford at all. No one minds him.” + </p> + <p> + Serena stamped her foot. “Daniel Dott,” she cried, “do you hear that? I + call upon you, as the head of this family, to tell that girl what she's + got to do, and make her do it.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan stepped forward. Gertrude merely laughed. That laugh settled + the question. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” ordered the captain, his voice, the old quarter-deck voice which + had been law aboard the Bluebird, “you march your boots to your room and + pack up. We're goin' to Trumet and you're goin' along with us. March! or, + by the everlastin', I'll carry you there and lock you in! You speak + another word and I'll do it, anyway. Serena, I'll 'tend to her. You're + tired out; lie down and rest.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Daniel—” + </p> + <p> + “Lie down and rest. I'm runnin' this craft. Well,” wheeling upon his + daughter, “are you goin'? Or shall I carry you?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude looked at him and then at her mother. Her lips twitched. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go, Daddy,” she said meekly, and went. + </p> + <p> + When Captain Dan descended to the lower floor he found Mr. Ginn in the + library. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” hailed the latter, “you look kind of set-up and sassy, seems to + me. YOU ain't had nothin' to drink, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Drink? What do you mean by that? Has anybody around here had anything to + drink?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Some of 'em act as if they had. When I came into the + kitchen a spell ago I found my wife and Gertie dancin' like a couple of + loons.” + </p> + <p> + “Dancin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, holdin' hands and hoppin' around like sand fleas in a clam + bake. I asked 'em what set 'em goin' and they wouldn't tell me. I couldn't + think of anything but liquor that would start Zuby Jane dancin'. I don't + know's that would—I never tried it on her—but 'twas the only + likely guess I could make.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Captain Dan was seated in his old chair, at his old desk, behind the + counter of the Metropolitan Store. His pipe, the worn, charred briar that + he had left in the drawer of that very desk when he started for the + railway station and Scarford, was in his mouth. Over the counter, beyond + the showcases and the tables with their piles of oilskins, mittens, + sou'westers, and sweaters, through the panes of the big front windows, he + could see the road, the main street of Trumet. The road was muddy, and the + mud had frozen. Beyond the road, between the shops and houses on the + opposite side, he saw the bare brown hills, the pond where the city people + found waterlilies in the summer—the pond was now a glare of ice—the + sand dunes, the beach, the closed and shuttered hotel and cottages, and, + beyond these, the cold gray and white of the wintry sea rolling beneath a + gloomy sky. To the average person the view would have been desolation + itself. To Captain Dan it was a section of Paradise. It was the picture + which had been in his mind for months. And here it was in reality, + unchanged, unspoiled, a part of home, his home. And he, at last, was at + home again. + </p> + <p> + They had been in Trumet a week, the captain and Serena and Gertrude. Azuba + had been there two days longer, having been sent on ahead of the family to + open the house and get it ready. Laban remained behind as caretaker of the + Scarford mansion. His term of service in that capacity was not likely to + be a long one, for the real estate dealer was in active negotiation with + his client, and the dealer's latest report stated that the said client was + considering hiring the house, furnished, for a few months and, in the + event of his liking it as well as he expected, would then, in all + probability, buy. + </p> + <p> + Laban's remaining as caretaker was his own suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Me and the old gal—Zuby Jane, I mean—have talked it over,” he + explained, “and it seems like the best thing to do. You've got to have + somebody here, Cap'n Dott, you've got to pay somebody, and it might as + well be me. I'm out of a job just now, anyway. As for me and my wife bein' + separated—well, we're different from most married folks that way; it + seems the natural thing for us to BE separated. We're used to it, as you + might say. I don't know as we'd get along so well together if we wasn't + separated. There's nothin' like separation to keep husband and wife happy + along with one another. I've been with Zuby for most three weeks steady + now; that's the longest stretch we've had in a good many years. We ain't + quarreled once, neither.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to consider the fact remarkable. Captain Dott grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that shuttin' her up in the dish closet wasn't what you'd call + a quarrel, hey?” he observed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ginn was momentarily embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that!” he exclaimed. “Humph! I forgot that, for the minute. But that + wasn't a quarrel, rightly speakin'. 'Twas just a little difference of + opinion on account of my not understandin' her reason for bein' so sot on + havin' her own way. Soon's I understood 'twas all right. And you see + yourself how peaceable she's been ever since.” + </p> + <p> + So, after consultation with Azuba, the arrangement was perfected. Laban + was to receive ten dollars a week, from which sum he was to provide his + own meals. He was to sleep in the house, but the meals were to be obtained + elsewhere. Mrs. Dott would not consider his cooking in her kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Serena bore the fatigue of the journey well and the sight of her old home, + with the table set for supper, plants in the dining-room windows, and all + the little familiar touches which Azuba's thoughtfulness had supplied, + served to bring her the contentment and happiness she had been longing + for. Each day she gained in health and strength, and the rest and freedom + from care, together with the early hours—they retired at nine-thirty + each night—were doing wonders for her. Her husband was delighted at + the improvement. He was delighted with everything, the familiar scenes, + the smell of the salt marshes, and of the sea, the clear, cold air, the + meeting with friends and acquaintances, the freedom from society—he + had not even unpacked his dress suit, vowing to Gertrude that it might + stay buried till Judgment, he wouldn't resurrect it—all these things + delighted his soul. And now, on the Saturday morning at the end of his + first week at home, as he sat in his arm chair behind the counter of the + Metropolitan Store, looking at the view through the windows and at the + store itself, he was a happy man. There was one flaw in his happiness, but + that he had forgotten for the moment. + </p> + <p> + He glanced about him, took a long pull at his pipe, and said aloud: “Well, + if I didn't know 'twas the same place, I wouldn't have known it. I never + saw such a change in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel Bangs, standing by the front window, turned. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see much difference,” he said. “The old town looks about the same + to me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain smilingly shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't the town,” he observed. “It's this store. Nate, you're a wonder, + that's what you are, a wonder.” + </p> + <p> + For, if the view had not changed, if it was the same upon which Daniel + Dott had looked for many winters, through the windows of that very store, + the store itself had changed materially. Mr. Bangs had wrought the change + and it was distinctly a change for the better. The stock, and there was a + surprising deal of it, was new and attractively displayed. The contents of + the showcases were varied and up-to-date. Neatly lettered placards calling + attention to special bargains hung in places where they were most likely + to be seen. There was a spruce, swept, and garnished look to the + establishment; as Azuba said when she first saw it after her return, it + looked as if it had had a shave and a hair cut. In other words, the + Metropolitan Store appeared wide awake and prosperous, as if it was making + money—which it was. + </p> + <p> + It was not making a great deal, of course, as yet. This was the dullest + season of the year. But the Christmas trade had been good and, thanks to + Nathaniel's enterprise and effort, the scallop fishermen, the quahaug + rakers, and the members of the life-saving crews were once more buying + their outfits at the Metropolitan Store instead of patronizing Mr. J. + Cohen and The Emporium. Mr. Bangs was already selecting his summer stock; + and his plans for the disposal of that stock were definite and + business-like. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott,” he had explained, “I'm going to try + putting on a horse and wagon this summer. There's no reason why we + shouldn't get the cottage trade down at the Neck, and all along shore. Jim + Bartlett, Sam's older brother, would like the job driving that wagon. He's + smart as a whip, Jim is, and he's willing to work on commission. Let him + start out twice a week with a load of hats and oilskins and belts and + children's shovels and pails—all the sort of stuff the boarders and + cottage folks buy and that they'd buy more of if it was brought right to + their doors—and he'll catch a heap of trade that goes to Bayport or + Wellmouth or The Emporium now. What he don't carry he can take orders for + and deliver next trip. If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott, I'm going to try + it. And I'll bet a month's wages it's a go.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan had not said no. On the contrary he expressed enthusiastic + approval of his manager's plans and enterprise. Also, he had been thinking + of some adequate reward, some means of proving his gratitude real. + </p> + <p> + “You're a wonder, Nate,” repeated Daniel. “I don't know how to get even + with you, but I've got an idea. I've talked it over with Serena already + and she's for it. I want to ask Gertie's opinion and if she says yes, and + she will, I'm almost sartin, I'll tell you what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Cap'n. Don't you worry yourself trying to 'get even,' as you + call it, with me. I've enjoyed being in charge here. I always said there + was money in a store in Trumet, if it was run as it should be. One year + more and I can show you a few things, I'll bet.” + </p> + <p> + “You've shown 'em already. Land of love! I should say you had.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me time and I'll show you more. We have only begun.... Why, what's + the matter? What made you look that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin', nothin'. Only your sayin' we'd only begun reminded me of—of + other things. I don't suppose I'll ever hear 'only begun' without + shiverin'. Humph! there's some kind of beginnin's I hope I'll never hear + of again. Gertie been in this mornin', has she? She isn't in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I saw her go down street a little while ago. Gone for her morning + walk, perhaps. How is Mrs. Dott to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine. Tip top. I ain't seen her so satisfied with life for two months or + more. She's gettin' better every minute.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good. Contented to be back in Trumet, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Seems to be. <i>I</i> am; you can bet high on that.” + </p> + <p> + “And—er—Gertie, is she contented, too?” + </p> + <p> + This question touched directly the one uncertainty, the one uncomfortable + doubt in the captain's mind. He looked keenly at the questioner. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you ask that?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing much. She seems changed, that's all. She used to be so full + of spirits, and so bright and lively. Now she is quiet and doesn't talk + much. Looks thinner, too, and as if something was troubling her. Perhaps + it is my imagination. When's John Doane coming down? 'Most time for him to + be spending a Sunday with you, ain't it? Engaged folks don't usually stay + apart more than a week, especially when the one is as near the other as + Boston is to Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel knocked the ashes from his pipe into the wastebasket. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, John'll be along pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder,” he said + hastily. “He—he's pretty busy these days, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Nice thing his bein' taken into the firm, after Mr. Griffin died, wasn't + it. Well, he's a pretty smart fellow, John is, and he deserves to get + ahead. Did he tell you the particulars about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No, not all of 'em. Is that a customer in the other room?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bangs hurried away to attend to the customer. The captain seized the + opportunity to make a timely exit. He went into the house, remained a + while with his wife, and then returned. Nathaniel had gone on an + order-taking trip and Sam Bartlett, the boy, was in charge. Just as Daniel + entered the store from the side door Gertrude came in at the front. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Daddy,” she said. “All alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite, but I'd just as soon be. Sam, go into the other room; I'll + hail you if I need you. Gertie, come here. I want to have a talk with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude came. She took her old position, perching upon the arm of her + father's chair, with her own arm about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” began the captain, “what would you think of my makin' Nate Bangs + a partner in this concern?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude uttered an exclamation of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid!” she cried. “Just what I wanted you to do. I thought of it, but + I said nothing because I wanted you to say it first. It will be just the + right thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es, so it seemed to me. All that's good here in this store is due to + Nathaniel. He's made a real, live business out of a remains that was about + ready for the undertaker. I ought to give him the whole craft, but—but + I hate to.” + </p> + <p> + “You could. You could sell out to him and still have sufficient income to + live upon in comfort here in Trumet. You might sell out, retire, and be a + gentleman of leisure, one of the town's rich men. You could do that + perfectly well.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel grunted in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk that way,” he repeated. “I've had enough gentleman of leisure + foolishness to last me through. What do you think I am; a second-hand copy + of Cousin Percy, without the gilt edges? <i>I</i> might be kissin' Zuba by + mistake if I did that.” + </p> + <p> + The story of that eventful evening and the “mistake” had been told him by + his daughter since the return home. Gertrude smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” she declared. “You are not in the habit of 'dining out'—in + Trumet, at any rate. Have you told Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I told her. I don't think she was much surprised. She'd guessed as + much before, so I gathered from what she said.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt; the explanation was obvious enough. Well, Daddy, I did not + expect you would be contented to retire and do nothing. That is not your + conception of happiness. But, if you do take Mr. Bangs into partnership, + let him manage the entire business. You can be in the store as much as you + wish, and be interested in it, so long as you don't interfere. And you and + Mother can be together and take little trips together once in a while. You + mustn't stay in Trumet ALL the time; if you do you will grow discontented + again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I shan't. Serena may, perhaps, but I shan't.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will. You both have seen a little of outside life now, and it + isn't all bad, though you may think so just at this time. You mustn't + settle down and grow narrow like some of the people here in Trumet—Abigail + Mayo, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I'd have to swallow a self-windin' talkin' machine before I could + get to be like Abigail Mayo. But you may be right, Gertie; perhaps you + are. See here, though, how about you, yourself? You've seen a heap more of + what you call outside life than your ma and I have. How are YOU goin' to + keep contented here in Trumet?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall be contented. Don't worry about me.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do worry, and your mother is beginnin' to worry, too. There's + somethin' troublin' you; both of us see that plain enough. See here, + Gertie, you ain't—you ain't feelin' bad about—about leavin' + that Cousin Percy, are you?” + </p> + <p> + The young lady's cheeks reddened, but with indignation, not embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “DADDY!” she protested sharply. “Daddy, how can you! Cousin Percy!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know—” + </p> + <p> + “I hate him. I've told you so. Or I should, if he was worth hating; as it + is I despise him thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good! That's one load off my mind. But, you see, Gertie—well, + when your mother and I first told you we'd made up our minds to come back + here, you—you stood up for him, and said he was aristocratic and—and + I don't know what all. That's what you said; and 'twas after the Zuba + business, too.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude regarded him wonderingly. “Said!” she repeated. “I said and did + all sorts of things. Daddy—Daddy, DEAR, is it possible you don't + understand yet that it was all make-believe?” + </p> + <p> + “All make-believe? What; your likin' Cousin Percy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that and Mr. Holway and everything else—the whole of it. + Haven't you guessed it yet? It was all a sham; don't you see? When I came + back from college and found out exactly how things were going, I realized + at once that something must be done. You were miserable and neglected, and + Mother was under the influence of Mrs. Black and that empty-headed, + ridiculous Chapter and would-be society crowd of hers. I tried at first to + reason with her, but that was useless. She was too far gone for reason. So + I thought and thought until I had a plan. I believed if I could show her, + by my own example, how silly and ridiculous the kind of people she + associated with were, if I pretended to be as bad as the worst of them, + she would begin by seeing how ridiculous <i>I</i> was, and be frightened + into realizing her own position. At any rate, she would be forced into + giving it all up to save me. Of course I didn't expect her to be taken + ill. When THAT happened I was SO conscience-stricken. I thought I never + should forgive myself. But it has turned out so well, that even that is—” + </p> + <p> + “Gertie! Gertie Dott! stop where you are. Do you mean to tell me that all + your—your advancin' and dancin' and bridgin' and tea-in' and + Chapterin' was just—” + </p> + <p> + “Just make-believe, that's all. I hated it as much as you did; as much as + Mother does now.” + </p> + <p> + “My SOUL! but—but it can't be! Cousin Percy—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do forget Cousin Percy! I was sure he was exactly what he was and + that he was using you and Mother as conveniences for providing him with a + home and luxuries which he was too worthless to work for. I was sure of + it, morally sure, but I made up my mind to find out. So I cultivated him, + and I cultivated his particular friends, and I did find out. I pretended + to like him—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! for mercy sakes, hold on! YOU pretended, but—but HE + didn't. If ever a feller was gone on a young woman he was, towards the + last of it. Why, he—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! Don't speak of it. It makes me disgusted with myself even to + think of him. If he was—was as you say, it is all the better. It + serves him right. And I think that it was with my—with your money, + Daddy, much more than your daughter, he was infatuated. I had the + satisfaction of telling him my opinion of him and his conduct before he + left.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! you did, hey? Humph! I wish I might have heard it. But, Gertie,” his + incredulity not entirely crushed, “it wasn't ALL make-believe; all of it + couldn't have been. Even Zuba, she got the advancin' craziness. She joined + a—a 'Band,' or somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't. She pretended to, but she didn't. There wasn't any such + 'Band.' She was helping me to cure Mother, that's all. It was all part of + the plan. Her husband understands now, although,” with a laugh, “he didn't + when he first came.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel drew his hand across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he exclaimed. “WELL! and I—and I—” + </p> + <p> + “I treated you dreadfully, didn't I? Scolded you, and told you to go away, + and—and everything. I COULDN'T tell you the truth, because you + cannot keep a secret, but I was sorry, so sorry for you, even when you + were most provoking. You WOULD interfere, you know. Two or three times you + almost spoiled it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I? I shouldn't wonder. And—and to think I never suspicioned a + bit of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you didn't. It was so plain. I'm sure Mother suspects—now.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably she does. If I wasn't what I've called myself so much lately, an + old fool, I'd have suspected, too. I AM an old fool.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you're not. You are YOU, and that is why I love you—why, + everyone who knows you loves you. I wouldn't have you changed one iota. + You are the dearest, best father in the world. And you are going to be + happy now, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know. I ought to be, I suppose. I guess I shall be—if + I ever get over thinkin' what a foolhead I was. So Zuba was part of it + all, hey? And John, too? He was in it, I presume likely.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude's expression changed; so did her tone. + </p> + <p> + “We won't talk about John, Daddy,” she said. “Please don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I want to talk about him. In a way—yes, sir! in a way I + ain't sure that—that I didn't have a hand in spoilin' that, too. + Considerin' what you've just told me, I wouldn't wonder if I did.” + </p> + <p> + His daughter had risen to go. Now she turned back. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she asked. “What do you mean? Spoiling—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, you and John, you know. Whatever happened between you and + him happened that night when he come to Scarford. And he wouldn't have + come—not then—if I hadn't written for him.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was speechless. Her father went on. + </p> + <p> + “Long's we're confessin',” he said, “we might as well make a clean job of + it. I wrote him, all on my own hook. You see, Gertie, 'twas on your + account mainly. I was gettin' pretty desperate about you. Instead of + straightenin' out your ma's course you were followin' in her wake, runnin' + ahead of her, if anything. It looked as if you'd have her hull down and + out of the race, if you kept on. <i>I</i> couldn't hold you back, and, + bein' desperate, as I say, I wrote John to come and see if he could. And I + told him to come quick.... Hey? What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + The young lady had said nothing; she had been listening, however, and now + she seemed to have found an answer to a puzzle. + </p> + <p> + “So that was why he came?” she said, in a low tone, as if thinking aloud. + “That was why. But—but without a word to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I 'specially wrote him not to tell you he was comin'. I didn't want + you to know. I wanted to have a talk with him first and tell him just how + matters stood. After you'd gone to Chapter meetin' that night—I + always thought 'twas queer, your bein' so determined to go, but I see why + now; 'twas part of your plan, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I judge John thought 'twas funny, too—but never mind. After + you'd gone, he and I had our talk. I told him everything. He was kind of + troubled; I could see that; but he stood up for you through thick and + thin. He only laughed when I told him—told him some things, those + that worried me most.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude noticed his hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “What were those things?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin'. They seem so foolish now; but at that time—” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, did you tell him of my—my supposed friendship for Mr. + Hungerford?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel reluctantly nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “I told him some. Maybe I + told him more than was absolutely true. Perhaps I exaggerated a little. + But he was so stubborn in not believin', that.... Hey? By Godfreys!” as + the thought struck him for the first time, “THAT wasn't what ailed John, + was it? He wasn't JEALOUS of that consarned Percy?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “It couldn't be,” continued Daniel. “He's got more sense than that. + Besides, you told him, when you and he were alone together, why you was + actin' so, didn't you? Or did he know it beforehand? I presume likely he + did. Your mother and I seem to have been the only animals left outside the + show tent.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was no answer. When the young lady spoke it was to ask another + question. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy,” she said, not looking at him, but folding and unfolding a bit of + paper on the counter, “are you SURE you mailed that letter I gave you the + morning after—after he went away?” + </p> + <p> + “What? That letter to John that you gave me to mail? I'm sure as I can be + of anything. I put it right in amongst the bills and checks I had ready, + and when the postman came I gave 'em all to him with my own hands. Yes, it + was mailed all right.” + </p> + <p> + “And no letters—letters for me—came afterwards, which I didn't + receive? You didn't put one in your pocket and forget it?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm sure of that. Why, your mother's cleaned out all my pockets a + dozen times since. She says I use my clothes for wastebaskets, and she has + to empty 'em pretty nigh as often. No, I didn't forget any letter for you, + Gertie. But why? What made you think I might have?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing; nothing, Daddy.” Then, throwing down the bit of paper and + moving toward the door, “I must go in and see Mother. I have scarcely seen + her all the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “But hold on, Gertie! Don't go. I haven't found out what—Stop! + Gertie, look at me! Why don't you look at me?” + </p> + <p> + She would not look and she would not stop. The door closed behind her. + Captain Dan threw himself back in the chair. When Mr. Bangs, returning + from his trip after orders, entered the store he found his employer just + where he had left him. Now, however, the expression of high, good humor + was no longer upon the captain's face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Cap'n,” hailed Nathaniel cheerfully. “Still on deck, I see. What + are you doing; exercising your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! What little mind I'VE got has been exercised too blessed much. It + needs rest more'n anything, but it don't seem likely to get a great deal. + Nate, this world reminds me of a worn-out schooner, it's as full of + troubles as that is full of leaks; and you no sooner get one patched up + than another breaks out in a new place. Ah hum! ... What you got there? + The mail, is it? Anything for me?” + </p> + <p> + There was one letter bearing the captain's name. Nathaniel handed it to + the owner of that name and the latter inspected the envelope and the + postmark. + </p> + <p> + “From Labe Ginn,” he observed. “Nobody else in Scarford that I know would + spell Daniel with two 'l's and no 'i.' What's troublin' Laban? Somethin' + about the house, I presume likely.” + </p> + <p> + He leisurely tore open the envelope. The letter was a lengthy one, + scrawled upon a half dozen sheets of cheap note paper. The handwriting was + almost as unique as the spelling, which is saying considerable. + </p> + <p> + “From Laban, is it?” asked Mr. Bangs casually. + </p> + <p> + “Yup, it's from Labe.” + </p> + <p> + “There was another from him, then. At any rate there was one addressed in + the same hen-tracks to Azuba. I met her as I was coming out of the + post-office and gave it to her; she was on her way to the grocery store, + she said.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel nodded, but made no comment. He was doing his best to decipher Mr. + Ginn's hieroglyphics. Occasionally he chuckled. + </p> + <p> + Laban began by saying that he expected his term as caretaker of the + Scarford property to be of short duration. He had dropped in at the real + estate office and had there been told that arrangements for the leasing of + the mansion, furniture, and all, were practically completed. The new + tenant would move in within a fortnight, he was almost sure. Mr. Ginn, + personally, would be glad of it, for it was “lonesomer than a + meeting-house on a week day.” + </p> + <p> + “I spend the heft of my daytimes out in the Back yard,” he wrote. “I've + lokated a bordin house handy by, but the Grub thare is tuffer than the mug + on a Whailer two year out. I don't offen meet anybody I know, but tother + day I met barney Black. He asked about you and your fokes and I told him. + He was prety down on his Luck I thort and acted Blue. His wife is hed neck + and heles in Chapter goins on. I see her name in the Newspaper about evry + day. + </p> + <p> + “He said give you his Regards and tell you you was a dam lukky Man.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan's chuckle developed into a hearty laugh. He sympathized with + and understood the feelings of B. Phelps. + </p> + <p> + “He has sold his summer Plase at Trumet,” the letter went on. “Mrs. Black + don't want to come thare no more. He wuddent say why but I shuddent wonder + if it was becos she ain't hankering to mete your Wife after the way she + treted her. He has sold the Plase to some fokes name of Fenholtz. I know + thats the rite name becos I made him spel it for me. Do you know them?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel uttered an exclamation of delight and struck his thigh a resounding + slap. + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” asked Nathaniel. “Got some good news?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet! Mighty good! Some people I knew and liked in Scarford have + bought the Black cottage here in Trumet. I rather guess I am responsible + in a way; I preached Cape Cod to 'em pretty steady. The Fenholtzes! Well, + well!” + </p> + <p> + “What I realy wrote you for,” continued Mr. Ginn, at the top of page four, + “was to tell you that I had a feller come to see me Yesterday. It was that + forriner Hapgood who used to work for you. He looked prety run to seed. He + haddent got anny Job since he left you, he sed, and he was flat Broke. I + gave him a Square meel or what they call one at the bordin' house and he + and me had a long talk. He told me a lot of things but manely all he + wanted to talk about was that Swab of a Coussin of yours, that Hungerford. + Hapgood was down on him like a Gull on a sand ele. He sed Hungerford was a + mene sneak and had treted him bad. He told me a Lot about how Hungerford + worked you fokes for sukkers and how he helped. Seems him and Hungerford + was old shipmates and chums and had worked your ant Laviny the same way. + Hungerford used to pay him, but now that he is flat Broke and can't help + no more, he won't give him a cent. Hapgood says if you knew what he knows + you'd be intterested. He says Hungerford pade him to get a hold of + Tellygrams and letters that he thort you had better not see. He had one + Coppy of a tellygram that he says come to him over the Tellyfone 3 days + after John Doane left your house. I lent him a cupple of dollars and he + gave me the Coppy. It is from John to Gertie, but she never got it becos + Hapgood never told her. I send it in this letter.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan, who had read the latter part of this long paragraph with + increasing excitement, now stopped his reading and began a hurried search + for the “Coppy.” He found it, on a separate sheet. It was written in + pencil in Hapgood's neat, exact handwriting and was, compared to Mr. + Ginn's labored scrawl, very easy to read. And this was what the captain + read: + </p> + <p> + “MISS GERTRUDE DOTT, + </p> + <p> + “No. — Blank Avenue, “Scarford, Mass. + </p> + <p> + “Why haven't you written? Did you receive my letters? The firm are sending + me on urgent business to San Francisco. I leave to-night. If you write me + there I shall know all is well and you have not changed. If not I shall + know the other thing. I shall hope for a letter. San Francisco address is—” + </p> + <p> + Then followed the address and the signature, “John Doane.” + </p> + <p> + The “Coppy” dropped in Daniel's lap. He closed his eyes. Nate Bangs, + glancing at him, judged that he was falling asleep, but Mr. Bangs's + usually acute judgment was, in this instance, entirely wrong. So far from + sleeping, the captain was just beginning to wake up. + </p> + <p> + “Why haven't you written?” That meant that John had never received the + letter which Gertrude wrote, the letter which she had given him—her + father—to post. Why had it not been received? It had been posted. He + gave it to the carrier with his own hands. + </p> + <p> + Before the captain's closed eyes that scene in the library passed in + review. He was at his desk, Gertrude entered and handed him the letter. He + commented upon its address and placed it with the others, the envelopes + containing bills and checks, upon the table. Then the postman came and— + </p> + <p> + No—wait. The postman had not come immediately. Serena had called and + he, Daniel, had gone up to her room in answer to the call. But he had come + down when the postman rang and.... Wait again! There had been someone in + the library when he was called away. He dimly remembered.... What? ... + Why, yes! Cousin Percy had come in and— + </p> + <p> + Daniel leaped to his feet. His chair slid back on its castors and struck + the safe behind him. Mr. Bangs looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter?” he cried, in alarm. “Is—Where are you + going?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan did not answer. He was running, actually running, toward the + door. Bareheaded he dashed across the yard. His foot was on the threshold + of the back porch of the house, when he stopped short. For a moment he + stood still; then he turned and ran back to the store again. + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel, who had followed him to the side entrance of The Metropolitan, + met him there. + </p> + <p> + “For mercy sakes, Cap'n Dott!” he began. “What IS it?” + </p> + <p> + Daniel did not answer. He pushed past his perturbed manager and, rushing + to the closet in which the telephone instrument hung, closed the door + behind him. He jerked the receiver from the hook, placed it at his ear, + and shouted into the transmitter. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! Hello there, Central!” he bellowed. “I want a long distance call. + I want to talk to Saunders, Griffin and Company, Pearl Street, Boston.... + Hey? ... Yes, I want to talk to Mr. Doane.... NO, not Cone! Doane—Doane—Mr. + John Doane.... Hey? ... You'll call me? ... All right, then; be as quick + as you can, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up the receiver and, flinging the door open, dashed out into the + store again, and began pacing up and down. + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel ventured one more question. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it ain't any of my business, Cap'n Dott,” he stammered, “but—” + </p> + <p> + Daniel waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! shh!” he commanded. “It's all right. I'll tell you by and by. But + now I want to think. To think, by time!” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the telephone bell rang. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! Here is your Boston call,” announced Central. + </p> + <p> + “All right! all right! Is this Saunders, Griffin and Company? ... Hey? ... + Is Mr. Doane there?... What? I want to know! Is that you, John? ... This + is Dott, speakin'.... Yes, Dan Dott.... No, no, of Trumet, not + Scarford.... Yes.... YES.... Here! you let me do the talkin'; you listen.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan ate scarcely any luncheon that day. He seemed to have lost his + appetite. This was a good deal of a loss and his wife commented upon it. + </p> + <p> + “What does ail you, Daniel?” she asked anxiously. “Why don't you eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Oh, I don't know, Serena. Don't feel hungry, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's the first time you haven't been hungry since you came back to + Trumet. I was beginning to think Azuba and I couldn't get enough for you + TO eat. And now, all at once, you're not hungry. What does ail you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ail me? Nothin' ails me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you feel well?” + </p> + <p> + “Never felt better in my life. Don't believe I ever felt quite so good.” + </p> + <p> + “You act awfully queer.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I? Don't you worry about me, Serena. My appetite'll be back all right + by dinner time. You want to lay in an extra stock for dinner. I'll + probably eat you out of house and home then. Better figure on as much as + if you was goin' to have company. Ain't that so, Zuba?” + </p> + <p> + He winked at the housekeeper. His wife noticed the wink. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she demanded. “There's something going on that I don't know + about. Are you and Azuba planning some sort of surprise?” + </p> + <p> + “Surprise! What sort of surprise would Zuba and I plan? She's had one + surprise in the last six weeks and that ought to be enough. Laban's + droppin' in unexpected was surprise enough to keep you satisfied, wasn't + it, Zuba? I never saw anybody more surprised than you was that night in + the kitchen. Ho! ho!” + </p> + <p> + Azuba smiled grimly. “A few more surprises like that,” she observed, “and + I'll be surprised to death. Don't talk to ME about surprises.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> wasn't talkin' about 'em, 'twas Serena that started it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dott was still suspicious. She turned to her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Gertie,” she asked, “do YOU know what your father is acting so ridiculous + about? Is there a secret between you three?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude had been very quiet and grave during the meal. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “There is no secret that I know of. Father is happy + because we are back here in his beloved Trumet, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, his happiness hasn't interfered with his appetite before. + There's something else; I'm sure of it. Why, Gertie! aren't you going to + eat, either? You're not through luncheon!” + </p> + <p> + The young lady had risen from the table. + </p> + <p> + “You've eaten scarcely anything, Gertie,” protested her mother. “I never + saw such people. Are YOU so happy that you can't eat. Sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude did not look happy. She did not sit down. Instead she hastily + declared that she was not hungry, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Serena stared after her. + </p> + <p> + “Was she crying, Daniel?” she asked. “She looked as if she was just going + to. Ever since she came in from her walk she has been so downcast and sad. + She won't talk and she hasn't smiled once. Daniel, has she said anything + to you? Do you know what ails her?” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “She and I had a little talk out in the store,” he admitted. “I shouldn't + wonder if she was thinkin' about—about—” + </p> + <p> + “About John, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she talk with you about HIM? She won't let me mention his name. + Daniel, I feel SO bad about that. I'm afraid I was to blame, somehow. If + we hadn't gone to Scarford—if ... Daniel, I'm going to her.” + </p> + <p> + She rose. Her husband laid a hand on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Serena,” he urged. “Sit down.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Daniel, let me go. I must go to her. The poor girl! Perhaps I can + comfort her, though how, I don't know. John Doane!” with a burst of + indignation. “If I ever meet that young man I'll give him my opinion of + his—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! shh! Serena! You sit down and finish your luncheon. Don't you worry + about Gertie. And you needn't worry about her appetite or mine. I tell you + what I'll do: If she and I don't have appetite enough for dinner to-night—or + breakfast to-morrow mornin', anyhow—I'll swallow that platter whole. + There! A sight like that ought to be worth waitin' for. Cheer up, old + lady, and possess your soul in patience. This craft is just gettin' out of + the doldrums. There's a fair wind and clear weather comin' for the Dott + frigate, or I'm no sailor. You just trust me and wait. Yes, and let Gertie + alone.” + </p> + <p> + He positively refused to explain what he meant by this optimistic + prophecy, or to permit his wife to go to their daughter. Gertrude went out + soon afterward—for another walk, she said—and Serena retired + to her room for the afternoon nap which the doctor had prescribed as part + of her rest cure. For a time she could not sleep, but lay there wondering + and speculating concerning her husband's strange words and his equally + strange attitude of confident and excited happiness. What did it mean? + There was some secret she was sure; some good news for Gertrude; there + must be. She, too, began to share the excitement and feel the confidence. + Daniel had asked her to trust him, and she did trust him. He, and not she, + had been right in judging Mrs. Black and Cousin Percy, and Scarford, and + all the rest. He had been right all through. She had reason to trust him; + he was always right. With this comforting conclusion—one indication + of the mental revolution which her Scarford experience had brought about—she + ceased wondering and dropped to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan and Azuba had a short conference in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Understand, do you, Zuba?” queried the captain. “A late dinner and plenty + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. Land sakes! I ain't altogether a numskull or a young-one, + even if I do have to be shut up in the closet to make me behave.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! ho! I expect you could have knocked my head off for bein' in the way + just at that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” with a one-sided smile, “I could have knocked my own off for not + listenin' afore I come downstairs. If I'd heard Laban's voice I bet you I + wouldn't have come. All I needed was a chance to be alone with him and + explain what Gertie and I were up to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad you didn't have the chance. I wouldn't have missed that + show for somethin'. It beat all my goin' to sea, that did. How you did + holler!” + </p> + <p> + He roared with laughter. Azuba watched him with growing impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Got through actin' like a Bedlamite?” she inquired tartly, when he + stopped for breath. “If you have you can clear out and let me get to my + dish-washin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm through. Oh, by the way, what did Labe say in your letter? I've told + you what he wrote me, but I forgot that he wrote you, too.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ginn looked troubled. “I don't know what to do with that man,” she + declared. “I expect any minute to get word that he's been put in the + lock-up. If that house of yours ain't rented or sold pretty quick, so he + can get to sea again, he will be. Do you know what he's done to that + Hungerford critter?” + </p> + <p> + “DONE to him! What do you mean? He hasn't seen him, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he ain't seen him, thank goodness, but Labe is so wrought up over + what that Hapgood thief told him, about your precious cousin stealin' your + telegrams and so on, that he and Hapgood have gone in cahoots to play a + trick on Mr. Percy. Labe says Hapgood told him that Percy was keepin' + company now with another woman there in Scarford, a young woman with + money, of course—he wouldn't chase any other kind. Well, Hapgood—he's + a healthy specimen for my husband to be in with, he is—Hapgood knows + a lot about Hungerford and his goin's on in the past, and he's got a lot + of the Percy man's old letters from other girls. Don't ask ME how he got + 'em; stole 'em, I suppose, same as he stole that telegram from John. + Anyhow, Labe and Hapgood have sent those letters to the present young + woman's pa.” + </p> + <p> + Daniel whistled. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “That's interestin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it, now! Laban says the old commodore—meanin' the pa, I + suppose—is a holy terror and sets more store by his daughter than he + does by his hopes of salvation, enough sight. Good reason, too, I presume + likely; he's toler'ble sure of the daughter. Well, anyhow, the letters are + gone and Labe says he's willin' to bet that Cousin Percy'll be GOIN'—out + of the window and out of Scarford—when papa gets after him. Nice + mess, ain't it!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan whistled again. “Well, Zuba,” he observed, “we can't help it, + as I see. What's done's done and chickens do come home to roost, don't + they?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I wish my husband would come home and roost where I can keep my + eye on him. He says he's gettin' sick of bein' a land lubber. He'll be + aboard some ship and off again afore long, that's some comfort. The only + time I know that man is safe is when he's a thousand miles from dry land.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Serena and Daniel were together in the parlor. It was past dinner time, + but Azuba, for some reason or other, had not gotten dinner ready. This was + unusual for, if there was one thing upon which the housekeeper prided + herself, it was in being “prompt at meal times.” She was setting the table + now, however, and they could hear her rattling the knives and forks and + singing, actually singing. + </p> + <p> + “Azuba is in good spirits, isn't she,” observed Serena. “I haven't heard + her sing before for a long time. I suppose, like the rest of us, she has + been too troubled to sing.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Dan listened to the singing, shook his head, and remarked + whimsically, “There's some comfort to be got out of trouble, then. Say, + the 'Sweet By and By' would turn sour if it could hear her sing about it, + wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Daniel, don't be irreverent. Why don't you light the lamp, or let + me light it? It's getting so dark I can hardly see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; let's sit in the dark a spell. Gertie comin' down pretty + soon, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She's changing her dress, because you asked her to. Why did you ask + her? Why should she dress up just for you and me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just a notion of mine. I like that red dress of hers, anyway; the one + with the fringe trimmin's along the upper riggin'.” + </p> + <p> + “That dress isn't red, it's pink.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. I thought 'twas about the color of my nose, and if that's + pink then I'm losin' my complexion.” + </p> + <p> + “Daniel!” with a laugh, “how you do talk and act to-day! At luncheon you + were as queer as could be and now you're worse. I never saw you so fidgety + and excited. What IS going to happen? Something, I know. You wouldn't tell + me this noon; will you tell me now?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty soon, Serena; pretty soon. Now let's talk about somethin' + interestin'; about ourselves, for instance. How do you like bein' back + here in Trumet? Ain't gettin' tired of it, are you? The old town doesn't + seem stupid; hey?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! Don't speak that way, Daniel.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I just mentioned it, that's all. Soon as you do get tired and want + to see somethin' new, we'll take that cruise to Washin'ton or the Falls or + somewheres. Never mind the price. Way I feel now I'd go to the moon if + 'twould please you. Say the word and I'll hire the balloon to-morrow—or + Monday, anyway; no business done in Trumet on Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + Serena laughed again. “I shan't say it for a long while,” she declared. “I + am having such a good time. The house seems so snug and homey. And all our + old friends and neighbors have been so kind. They seemed so glad to see us + when we came, as if they were real friends, not the make-believe sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the Annette kind, you mean. That particular breed of cats is scarce + on the Cape—at least I hope it is.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I. I never want to see her again. I am so glad they have sold their + cottage here, and that the Fenholtzes have bought it—if they have + bought it, as you say you heard. You always liked the Fenholtzes, Daniel. + I did, too, or I should if Annette hadn't told me—” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. Some day that woman will tell the truth by accident and + the Ladies of Honor crowd'll be mournin' a leadin' light that went out + sudden. But never mind her. The folks here HAVE been nice to us, haven't + they?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed they have! And so thoughtful! Why, Sophronia Smalley even came to + ask me if I wouldn't consider taking my old place as president of Trumet + Chapter. She is president now, but she declared she would resign in a + minute in my favor.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Captain Dan's exuberant spirits were dashed. + </p> + <p> + “She did!” he cried. “Well, if that woman ain't.... Humph! Are you + thinkin' of lettin' her resign, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I wouldn't stand in your way if you did, you know. I mustn't be + selfish. Trumet ain't Scarford, and if you want to—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't, I don't. I may attend a meeting once in a while, later on, but I + never shall hold office again. I have had all the 'advancement' I want.” + </p> + <p> + “Advancin' backwards, some folks would call what you're doin' now, Serena, + I cal'late. There! I've said 'cal'late' again. I haven't said it before + for a long time. This Cape sand has got into my grammar, I guess. I must + be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be. Say 'cal'late' if you want to, I am not going to fret you + about your grammar any more, Daniel. I've got over that, too. I'd rather + have you, just as you are, than any other man in the world, grammar or no + grammar.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew! Hold on, old lady! If you talk that way I'll get so puffed up I'll + bust into smoke when you touch me, like a dry toadstool. I—Hello! + what was that? The train whistle, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Here is the night train in; it is almost mail time, and no dinner + yet. What IS the matter with Azuba? I'll speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + She was rising to go to the dining-room, but her husband detained her. + </p> + <p> + “No, you wait; no, you mustn't,” he said, hastily. “Sit right down, + Serena. Speakin' of dinners, this talk of ours is like that everlastin' + long meal that you and I went to at Barney Black's house just after we + landed in Scarford. You remember it took half an hour to get to anything + solid in that dinner, don't you? Yes, well, I'm just gettin' to the meat + of my talk. And I want Gertie to come in on that course. She is on her way + downstairs now; I hear her. Hi! Gertie! come in here, won't you!” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you, Daddy?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, over here by the window.” + </p> + <p> + “But why haven't you lighted the lamp? Why are you sitting here in the + dark?” + </p> + <p> + Serena answered. “Goodness knows,” she replied. “Your father would insist + on it. I think he is going crazy; he has acted that way ever since lunch.” + </p> + <p> + The demented one chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Gertie,” he explained, “'twas on account of my bashfulness. Your + mother, she wanted to sit along with me and hold hands, so—. Oh, all + right; all right. You can show a glim now, Serena, if you want to. I'll + cover up my blushes.” + </p> + <p> + The maligned Mrs. Dott announced that she had a good mind to box his ears. + “That's what I should do to a child,” she added, “and nobody could act + more childish than you have this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Second childhood, Serena. Second childhood and dodderin' old age are + creepin' over me fast. There!” as the lamp blazed and the parlor was + illuminated, “now you can see for yourself. Do I dodder much?” + </p> + <p> + Even Gertrude was obliged to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy!” she cried; “you silly thing! I believe you ARE getting childish.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I? All right, I'm willing to be, at the price. My! Gertie, you look + awfully pretty. Don't she look 'specially pretty to you to-night, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + Serena smiled. “That gown was always becoming,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I know it was; that's why I wanted her to put it on. And she's fixed her + hair the way I like, too. My! my! if some folks I know could see you now, + Gertie, they'd.... Ahem! Well, never mind. She looks as if she was + expectin' company and had rigged up for it, doesn't she, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude paid little attention to this rather strained attempt at a joke. + She merely smiled and turned away. But her mother appeared to suspect a + hidden meaning in the words. She leaned forward and gazed at her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Daniel,” she cried, sharply and with increasing excitement; “Daniel Dott, + what are you—” + </p> + <p> + The captain waved her to silence. She would have spoken in spite of it, + but his second wave and shake of the head were so emphatic that she + hesitated. Before the moment of hesitation was at an end Captain Dan + himself began to speak. He spoke in a new tone now and more and more + rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Serena, don't interrupt me,” he ordered. “Gertie, listen. I'm goin' to + tell you both a story. Once there was a couple of married folks that had a + daughter.... Hush, I tell you! Listen, both of you. I AIN'T crazy. If ever + I talked sense in my life I'm talkin' it now.... This couple, as I say, + had a daughter. This daughter was engaged to be married. The old folks + moved away from the place they had always lived and went somewhere else. + There they both commenced to make fools of themselves. The place was all + right enough, maybe, but they didn't belong in it. The daughter, she came + there and she saw how things were goin' and, says she: 'I'll fix 'em. I'll + cure 'em and save 'em, too, by showin' 'em an example, my example. I'll—'” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude broke in. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy,” she cried, with a warning glance at her mother, “be careful. + Don't be silly. What is the use—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Hush and be still! Never mind what she did. All is, she showed 'em + and she cured 'em and she saved 'em. But meanwhile her meddlesome old + father had got worried, not understandin' what was goin' on, and he put + his oar in. He wrote for the young chap she was engaged to to come down + and help cure HER. The father meant all right. He—” + </p> + <p> + Again the young lady interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “this is nonsense, the way father is telling it. I + meant to tell you, myself, by and by. I'm sure you have guessed it, + anyway, but—” + </p> + <p> + “There's one part she hasn't guessed,” shouted Captain Dan; “or that you + haven't guessed either, Gertie, God bless you. <i>I</i> guessed it myself, + this very day, and I guessed it because I had a letter from Labe Ginn up + at Scarford that put me on the right track. Gertie, that letter you wrote + to John WASN'T mailed; the postman DIDN'T get it; John himself never got + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Daddy! Daddy, what—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait! wait! How do I know? you were goin' to say. I know because I know + who did get it. Cousin Percy Hungerford—confound his miserable, + worthless hulk! HE got it; he stole it from my table, where it laid along + with my other letters, when I was out of the room. And—wait! that + isn't all. John DID write you, Gertie. He wrote you two or three times and + he telegraphed you once. And you didn't get either letters or telegram + because that Hapgood butler—Oh, if I had only known this when I + chased him out of the back yard! He'd have gone over the fence instead of + through the gate—he was helpin' our dear cousin and gettin' paid for + it, and HE stole 'em. There! that's the truth and.... My soul! I believe + I've scared the girl to death.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang forward. Serena, too, although she was almost as much surprised + and agitated as her daughter, hastened to the latter's side. + </p> + <p> + But Gertrude, although white and shaken, was far from being “scared to + death.” She was very much alive. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, Daddy?” she cried. “Are you SURE? How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I know because Labe wrote that Hapgood told him. That's how I know about + the telegram. And I know that's what happened to your letter because John + didn't get it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know he didn't get it? Please, Mother, don't worry about me. I + am all right. How do you know John didn't get my letter, Father?” + </p> + <p> + “I know because.... Is that a wagon stoppin' at our gate, Serena?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind if it is. Answer Gertie's question. HOW do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Steps sounded on the front porch. Captain Dan strode to the hall and stood + with one hand on the knob of the front door. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he declared triumphantly, “because I telephoned John this very + day and he told me so. And now, by the everlastin', he'll tell you so + himself!” + </p> + <p> + He flung the door wide. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, John!” he shouted, in a roar which was heard even by deaf old + Ebenezer Simpkins, driver of the depot wagon, who was just piloting his + ancient steed from the Dott gate. “Come in, John!” roared Captain Dan. + “There she is, in there, waitin' for you.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Doane came, you may be sure. + </p> + <p> + Serena and Daniel waited in the dining-room. They were obliged to wait for + some time. The captain's triumphant exuberance continued to bubble over. + He chuckled and laughed and crowed vaingloriously over his success in + keeping the secret ever since noon. + </p> + <p> + “I was bound I wouldn't tell, Serena,” he declared. “I was bound I + wouldn't. I told John over the 'phone; I said: 'I won't tell a soul you're + comin', John. We'll give 'em one surprise, won't we.' And, ho! ho! he + didn't believe I could keep it to myself; he said he didn't. But I did, I + did—though I felt all afternoon as if I had a bombshell under my + jacket.” + </p> + <p> + Serena laughed; she was as pleased as he. “You certainly exploded it like + a bombshell,” she declared. “I didn't know at first but that you really + had gone crazy. And poor Gertie! you didn't prepare her at all. You + blurted it out all at once. The words fairly tumbled over each other. I + wonder she didn't faint.” + </p> + <p> + “She isn't the faintin' kind. Serena, we never can be grateful enough to + Gertie for what she's done for us. And she sacrificed her own happiness—or + thought she did—for you and me and didn't whimper or complain once.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Daniel, I know. And pretty soon now we must give her up to + someone else. That's the way of the world, though. WE'LL have to be brave + then, won't we.” + </p> + <p> + “So we will. But I'd rather give her to John than any other man on earth. + The thought that it was all off between them and that she was grievin' + over it was about the hardest thing of all.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was. Well, now we can be completely happy, every one of us.” + </p> + <p> + Azuba flounced in from the kitchen. “Ain't they come out of that parlor + YET?” she demanded. “I can't keep roast chicken waitin' forever, even for + engaged folks.” + </p> + <p> + But the “engaged folks” themselves appeared at that moment. As one of + those who, according to Mrs. Dott, were to be completely happy, Mr. Doane + looked his part. Gertrude, too, although her eyes were wet, was smiling. + </p> + <p> + John and the Dotts shook hands. Daniel turned to his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gertie,” he asked, “are you ready to forgive me for what happened + on account of my sendin' that summons to John—that one up in + Scarford, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, Daddy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought maybe you would be, considerin',” with a wink at Mr. Doane, + “the answer you got to my telephone to-day. But, see here, young lady, I + want to ask you somethin' and I expect a straight answer. Can I keep a + secret, or can't I?” + </p> + <p> + “You can, Daddy, dear. You kept this one almost seven hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight! eight, by Godfreys! 'Twas a strain, but I kept it.” + </p> + <p> + “You managed it all beautifully, Daniel,” declared Serena. “I am proud of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “We're all proud of you, Captain Dan,” said John. + </p> + <p> + The captain smiled happily. + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged,” he said, “but I ain't the one you ought to be proud of. + When it comes to real managin' I ain't knee-high to the ship's cat + alongside of Gertie there. She's the one who pulled this family through. + No sir-ee! if you've got any time to spare bein' proud of folks, don't be + proud of Cap'n Dan, but of Cap'n Dan's daughter. Sit down, all hands. Here + comes dinner—at last.” + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Cap'n Dan's Daughter, by Joseph C. 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Lincoln + +Release Date: June 6, 2006 [EBook #6718] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson + + + + + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + + +By Joseph C. Lincoln + + +1914 + + + + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety Store at Trumet Centre was open +for business. Sam Bartlett, the boy whose duty it was to take down +the shutters, sweep out, dust, and wait upon early-bird customers, had +performed the first three of these tasks and gone home for breakfast. +The reason he had not performed the fourth--the waiting upon +customers--was simple enough; there had been no customers to wait upon. +The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety Store was open and ready for +business--but, unfortunately, there was no business. + +There should have been. This was August, the season of the year when, if +ever, Trumet shopkeepers should be beaming across their counters at the +city visitor, male or female, and telling him or her, that "white duck +hats are all the go this summer," or "there's nothin' better than an +oilskin coat for sailin' cruises or picnics." Outing shirts and yachting +caps, fancy stationery, post cards, and chocolates should be changing +hands at a great rate and the showcase, containing the nicked blue +plates and cracked teapots, the battered candlesticks and tarnished +pewters, "genuine antiques," should be opened at frequent intervals for +the inspection of bargain-seeking mothers and their daughters. July and +August are the Cape Cod harvest months; if the single-entry ledgers of +Trumet's business men do not show good-sized profits during that season +they are not likely to do so the rest of the year. + +Captain Daniel Dott, proprietor of the Metropolitan Store, bending over +his own ledger spread on the little desk by the window at the rear of +his establishment, was realizing this fact, realizing it with a sinking +heart and a sense of hopeless discouragement. The summer was almost +over; September was only three days off; in another fortnight the hotels +would be closed, the boarding houses would be closing, and Trumet, +deserted by its money spending visitors, would be falling asleep, +relapsing into its autumn and winter hibernation. And the Dott ledger, +instead of showing a profit of a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars, as +it had the first summer after Daniel bought the business, showed but a +meager three hundred and fifty, over and above expenses. + +Through the window the sun was shining brightly. From the road in front +of the store--Trumet's "Main Street"--came the rattle of wheels and the +sound of laughter and conversation in youthful voices. The sounds drew +nearer. Someone shouted "Whoa!" Daniel Dott, a ray of hope illuminating +his soul at the prospect of a customer, rose hurriedly from his seat by +the desk and hastened out into the shop. + +A big two-horsed vehicle, the "barge" from the Manonquit House, had +stopped before the door. It was filled with a gay crowd, youths and +maidens from the hotel, dressed in spotless flannels and "blazers," all +talking at once, and evidently carefree and happy. Two of the masculine +members of the party descended from the "barge" and entered the store. +Daniel, smiling his sweetest, stepped forward to meet them. + +"Good mornin', good mornin'," he said. "A fine mornin', ain't it?" + +The greeting was acknowledged by both of the young fellows, and one of +them added that it was a fine morning, indeed. + +"Don't know as I ever saw a finer," observed Daniel. "Off on a cruise +somewhere, I presume likely; hey?" + +"Picnic down at the Point." + +"Well, you've got picnic weather, all right. Yes sir, you have!" + +Comment concerning the weather is the inevitable preliminary to all +commercial transactions in Trumet. Now, preliminaries being over, Daniel +waited hopefully for what was to follow. His hopes were dashed. + +"Is--is Miss Dott about?" inquired one of the callers. + +"Miss Dott? Oh, Gertie! No, she ain't. She's gone down street +somewheres. Be back pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder." + +"Humph! Well, I'm afraid we can't wait. We hoped she might go with us on +the picnic. We--er--we wanted her very much." + +"That so? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid she couldn't go, even if she was +here. You see, it's her last day at home, and--we--her mother and +I--that is, I don't believe she'd want to leave us to-day." + +"No; no, of course not. Well, tell her we wish she might have come, +but we understand. Yes, yes," in answer to the calls from the "barge," +"we're coming. Well, good by, Captain Dott." + +"Er--good by. Er--er--don't want anything to take along, do you? A nice +box of candy, or--or anything?" + +"No, I think not. We stopped at the Emporium just now, and loaded up +with candy enough to last a week. Good morning." + +"How are you fixed for sun hats and things? I've got a nice line of hats +and--well, good by." + +"Good by." + +The "barge" moved off. Daniel, standing dejectedly in the door, +remembered his manners. + +"Hope you have a nice time," he shouted. Then he turned and moved +disconsolately back to the desk. He might have expected it. It was thus +in nine cases out of ten. The Emporium, Mr. J. Cohen, proprietor, was +his undoing in this instance as in so many others. The Emporium got the +trade and he got the good bys. Mr. Cohen was not an old resident, as +he was; Mr. Cohen's daughter was not invited to picnics by the summer +people; Mrs. Cohen was not head of the sewing circle and the Chapter of +the Ladies of Honor, and prominent socially, as was Mrs. Dott; but Mr. +Cohen bought cheap and sold cheap, and the Emporium flourished like a +green bay tree, while the Metropolitan Store was rapidly going to seed. +Daniel, looking out through the front window at the blue sea in the +distance, thought of the past, of the days when, as commander and +part owner of the three masted schooner Bluebird, he had been free and +prosperous and happy. Then he considered the future, which was bluer +than the sea, and sighed again. Why had he not been content to stick +to the profession he understood, to remain on the salt water he loved; +instead of retiring from the sea to live on dry land and squander his +small fortune in a business for which he was entirely unfitted? + +And yet the answer was simple enough. Mrs. Dott--Mrs. Serena Dott, his +wife--was the answer, she and her social aspirations. It was Serena +who had coaxed him into giving up seafaring; who had said that it was +a shame for him to waste his life ordering foremast hands about when he +might be one of the leading citizens in his native town. It was Serena +who had persuaded him to invest the larger part of his savings in +the Metropolitan Store. Serena, who had insisted that Gertrude, their +daughter and only child, should leave home to attend the fashionable +and expensive seminary near Boston. Serena who--but there! it was all +Serena; and had been ever since they were married. Captain Daniel, on +board his schooner, was a man whose word was law. On shore, he was law +abiding, and his words were few. + +The side door of the store--that leading to the yard separating it from +the Dott homestead--opened, and Azuba Ginn appeared. Azuba had been +the Dott maid of all work for eighteen years, ever since Gertrude was a +baby. She was married, but her husband, Laban Ginn, was mate on a steam +freighter running between New York and almost anywhere, and his shore +leaves were short and infrequent. Theirs was a curious sort of married +life. "We is kind of independent, Labe and me," said Azuba. "He often +says to me--that is, as often as we're together, which ain't often--he +says to me, he says, 'Live where you want to, Zuby,' he says, 'and if +you want to move, move! When I get ashore I can hunt you up.' We don't +write many letters because time each get t'other's, the news is so +plaguey old 'tain't news at all. You Dotts seem more like home folks to +me than anybody else, so I stick to you. I presume likely I shall till I +die." + +Azuba entered the store in the way in which she did most things, with +a flurry and a slam. Her sleeves were rolled up, she wore an apron, and +one hand dripped suds, demonstrating that it had just been taken from +the dishpan. In the other, wiped more or less dry on the apron, she held +a crumpled envelope. + +"Well!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "If some human bein's don't beat +the Dutch then _I_ don't know, that's all. If the way some folks go +slip-slop, hit or miss, through this world ain't a caution then--Tut! +tut! tut! don't talk to ME!" + +Captain Dan looked up from the ledger. + +"What?" he asked absently. + +"I say, don't talk to ME!" + +"We--ll," with deliberation, "I guess I shan't, unless you stop talkin' +yourself, and give me a chance. What's the matter now, Zuba?" + +"Matter! Don't talk to ME! Carelessness is the matter! Slip-sloppiness +is the matter! Here's a man that calls himself a man and goes mopin' +around pretendin' to BE a man, and what does he do?" + +"I don't know. I'd tell you better, maybe, if I knew who he was." + +"Who he was! I'll tell you who he was--is, I mean. He's Balaam +Hambleton, that's who he is." + +"Humph! Bale Hamilton, hey? Then it's easy enough to say what he +does--nothin', most of the time. Is that letter for me?" + +"Course it's for you! And it's a week old, what's more. One week ago +that letter come in the mail and the postmaster let that--that Hambleton +thing take it, 'cause he said he was goin' right by here and could leave +it just as well as not. And this very mornin' that freckle-faced boy +of his--that George Washin'ton one--what folks give such names to their +young ones for _I_ can't see!--he rung the front door bell and yanked +me right out of the dish water, and he says his ma found the letter in +Balaam's other pants when she was mendin' 'em, and would I please excuse +his forgettin' it 'cause he had so much on his mind lately. Mind! Land +of love! if he had a thistle top on his mind 'twould smash it flat. +Don't talk to me!" + +"I won't," drily; "I WON'T, Zuba, I swear it. Let's see the letter." + +He bent forward and took the letter from her hand. Then, adjusting his +spectacles, he examined the envelope. It was of the ordinary business +size and was stamped with the Boston postmark, and a date a week old. +Captain Dan looked at the postmark, studied the address, which was in an +unfamiliar handwriting, and then turned the envelope over. On the flap +was printed "Shepley and Farwell, Attorneys, ----- Devonshire Street." +The captain drew a long breath; he leaned back in his chair and sat +staring at the envelope. + +Azuba wiped the suds from her wet hand and arm upon her apron. Then she +wrapped it and the other arm in said apron and coughed. The cough was +intended to arouse her employer from the trance into which he had, +apparently, fallen. But it was without effect. Captain Daniel did stop +staring at the envelope, but he merely transferred his gaze to the +ink-spattered blotter and the ledger upon it, and stared at them. + +"Well?" observed Azuba. + +The captain started. "Hey?" he exclaimed, looking up. "Did you speak?" + +"I said 'Well?'. I suppose that's speakin'?" + +"'Well?' Well what?" + +"Oh, nothin'! I was just wonderin'--" + +"Wonderin' what?" + +"I was wonderin' if that letter was anything important. Ain't you goin' +to open it and see?" + +"Hey? Open it? Oh, yes, yes. Well, I shouldn't wonder if I opened it +some time or other, Zuba. I gen'rally open my letters. It's a funny +habit I have." + +"Humph! Well, all right, then. I didn't know. Course, 'tain't none of my +business what's in other folks's letters. _I_ ain't nosey, land knows. +Nobody can accuse me of--" + +"Nobody can accuse you of anything, Zuba. Not even dish washin' just +now." + +Azuba drew herself up. Outraged dignity and injured pride were expressed +in every line of her figure. "Well!" she exclaimed; "WELL! if that +ain't--if that don't beat all that ever _I_ heard! Here I leave my work +to do folks favors, to fetch and carry for 'em, and this is what I get. +Cap'n Dott, I want you to understand that I ain't dependent on nobody +for a job. I don't HAVE to slave myself to death for nobody. If you +ain't satisfied--" + +"There, there, Zuba! I was only jokin'. Don't get mad!" + +"Mad! Who's mad, I'd like to know? It takes more'n that to make me mad, +I'd have you understand." + +"That's good; I'm glad of it. Well, I'm much obliged to you for bringin' +the letter." + +"You're welcome. Land sakes! I don't mind doin' errands, only I like +to have 'em appreciated. And I like jokes well as anybody, but when you +tell me--" + +"Hold on! don't get het up again. Keep cool, Zuba, keep cool! Think of +that dish water; it's gettin' cooler every minute." + +The answer to this was an indignant snort followed by the bang of the +door. Azuba had gone. Captain Daniel looked after her, smiled faintly, +shook his head, and again turned his attention to the letter in his +hand. He did not open it immediately. Instead he sat regarding it with +the same haggard, hopeless expression which he had worn when he first +read the firm's name upon the envelope. He dreaded, perhaps, as much as +he had ever dreaded anything in his life, to open that envelope. + +He was sure, perfectly sure, what he should find when he did open it. +A letter from the legal representatives of Smith and Denton, the Boston +hat manufacturers and dealers, stating that, unless the latter's +account was paid within the next week, suit for the amount due would be +instituted in the courts. A law suit! a law suit for the collection of +a debt against him, Daniel Dott, the man who had prided himself upon +his honesty! Think of what it would mean! the disgrace of it! the +humiliation, not only for himself but for Serena, his wife, and +Gertrude, his daughter! + +He did not blame Smith and Denton; they had been very kind, very lenient +indeed. The thirty-day credit originally given him had been extended to +sixty and ninety. They had written him many times, and each time he had +written in reply that as soon as collections were better he should be +able to pay in full; that he had a good deal of money owed him, and +as soon as it came in they should have it. But it did not come in. No +wonder, considering that it was owed by the loafers and ne'er-do-wells +of the town and surrounding country, who, because no one else would +trust them, bestowed their custom upon good-natured, gullible Captain +Dan. The more recent letters from the hat dealers had been sharper and +less kindly. They had ceased to request; they demanded. At last they had +threatened. And now the threat was to be fulfilled. + +The captain laid the envelope down upon the open ledger, rose, and, +going to the front of the store, carefully closed the door. Then, going +to the door communicating with the other half of the store, he made sure +that no one was in the adjoining room. He had a vague feeling that all +the eyes in Trumet were regarding him with suspicion, and he wished to +shut out their accusing gaze. He wanted to be alone when he read that +letter. He had half a mind to take it to the cellar and open it there. + +His fingers shook as he tore the end from the envelope. They shook still +more as he drew forth the enclosure, a typewritten sheet, and held it to +the light. He read it through to the end. Then, with a loud exclamation, +almost a shout, he rushed to the side door, flung it open and darted +across the yard, the letter fluttering from his fingers like a flag. The +store was left unguarded, but he forgot that. + +He stumbled up the steps into the kitchen. Azuba, a saucer in one hand +and the dish towel in the other, was, to say the least, startled. As she +expressed it afterward, "the everlastin' soul was pretty nigh scart out +of her." The saucer flew through the air and lit upon the top of the +cookstove. + +"What--what--what--" stammered Azuba. "Oh, my land! WHAT is it?" + +"Where's Serena?" demanded Captain Daniel, paying no attention to the +saucer, except to tread upon the fragments. + +"Hey? Oh, what IS it? Is the store afire?" + +"No, no! Where's Serena?" + +"She--she--what--" + +"Where's SERENA, I ask you?" + +"In her room, I cal'late. For mercy sakes, what--" + +But the captain did not answer. Through dining-room, sitting-room, and +parlor he galloped, and up the front stairs to the bedroom occupied by +himself and wife. Mrs. Dott was standing before the mirror, red-faced +and panting, both arms behind her and her fingers busily engaged. Her +husband's breath was almost gone by the time he reached the foot of the +stairs; consequently his entrance was a trifle less noisy and startling +than his sky-rocket flight through the kitchen. It is doubtful if his +wife would have noticed even if it had been. She caught a glimpse of him +in the mirror, and heaved a sigh of relief. + +"Oh, it's you, is it!" she panted. "My, I'm glad! For mercy sakes fasten +those last three hooks; I'm almost distracted with 'em." + +But the hooks remained unfastened for the time. Captain Dan threw +himself into a chair and waved the letter. + +"Serena," he cried, puffing like a stranded porpoise, "what--WHAT do you +suppose has happened? Aunt Laviny is dead." + +Serena turned. "Dead!" she repeated. "Your Aunt Lavinia Dott? The rich +one?" + +"Yes, sir; she's gone. Died in Italy a fortnight ago. Naples, I think +'twas--or some such outlandish place; you know she's done nothin' but +cruise around Europe ever since Uncle Jim died. The letter says she was +taken sick on a Friday, and died Sunday, so 'twas pretty sudden. I--" + +But Mrs. Dott interrupted. "What else does it say?" she asked excitedly. +"What else does that letter say? Who is if from?" + +"It's from her lawyers up to Boston. What made you think it said +anything else?" + +"Because I'm not blind and I can see your face, Daniel Dott. What else +does it say? Tell me! Has she--did she--?" + +Captain Dan nodded solemnly. "She didn't forget us," he said. "She +didn't forget us, Serena. The letter says her will gives us that solid +silver teapot and sugar-bowl that was presented to Uncle Jim by the Ship +Chandlers' Society, when he was president of it. She willed that to us. +She knew I always admired that tea-pot and--" + +His wife interrupted once more. + +"Tea-pot!" she repeated strongly. "Tea-pot! What are you talking about? +Do you mean to say that all she left us was a TEA-POT? If you do I--" + +"No, no, Serena. Hush! She's left us three thousand dollars besides. +Think of it! Three thousand dollars--just now!" + +His voice shook as he said it. He spoke as if three thousand dollars was +an unheard-of sum, a fortune. Mrs. Dott had no such illusion. She sat +down upon the edge of the bed. + +"Three thousand dollars!" she exclaimed. "Is that all? Three thousand +dollars!" + +"All! My soul, Serena! Why, ONE thousand dollars just now is like--" + +"Hush! Do be still! Three thousand dollars! And she worth a hundred +thousand, if she was worth a cent. A lone woman, without a chick or +a child or a relation except you, and that precious young swell of a +cousin of hers she thought so much of. I suppose he gets the rest of it. +Oh, how can anybody be so stingy!" + +"Sh-sh, sh-h, Serena. Don't speak so of the dead. Why, we ought to be +mournin' for her, really, instead of rejoicing over what she left us. +It ain't right to talk so. I'm ashamed of myself--or I ought to be. But, +you see, I thought sure the letter was from those hat folks's lawyers, +sayin' they'd started suit. When I found it wasn't, I was so glad I +forgot everything else. Ah hum!--poor Aunt Laviny!" + +He sighed. His wife shook her head. + +"Daniel," she said, "I--I declare I try not to lose patience with you, +but it's awful hard work. Mourning! Mourn for her! What did she ever do +to make you sorry she was gone? Did she ever come near us when she was +alive? No, indeed, she didn't. Did she ever offer to give you, or even +lend you, a cent? I guess not. And she knew you needed it, for I wrote +her." + +"You DID? Serena!" + +"Yes, I did. Why shouldn't I? I wrote her six months ago, telling her +how bad your business was, and that Gertie was at school, and we were +trying to give her a good education, and how much money it took and--oh, +everything. When your Uncle Jim's business was bad, in the hard +times back in '73, who was it that helped him out and saved him from +bankruptcy? Why, his brother--your own father. And he never got a cent +of it back. I reminded her of that, too." + +Daniel sprang out of his chair. + +"You did!" he cried again. "Serena, how could you? You knew how Father +felt about that money. You knew how I felt. And yet, you did that!" + +"I did. Somebody in this family must be practical and worldly-minded, +and I seem to be the one. YOU wouldn't ask her for a cent. You wouldn't +ask anybody for money, even if they owed it a thousand years. You sell +everybody anything they want from the store; and trust them for it. You +know you do. You sold that good-for-nothing Lem Brackett a whole suit of +clothes only last week, and he owes you a big bill and has owed it for a +year." + +Her husband looked troubled. "Well," he answered, slowly, "I suppose +likely I didn't do right there. But those Bracketts are poor, and +there's a big family of 'em, and the fall's comin' on, and--and all. +So--" + +"So you thought it was your duty to help support them, I suppose. Oh, +Daniel, Daniel, I don't know what to do with you sometimes." + +Captain Dan looked very grave. + +"I guess you're right, Serena," he admitted. "I ain't much good, I'm +afraid." + +Mrs. Dott's expression changed. She rose, walked over, and kissed him. +"You're too good, that's the main trouble with you," she said. "Well, I +won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three thousand anyway--and +the tea-pot." + +"It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the +sugar-bowl's almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena." + +"Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and think +of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her fortune. No +wonder she didn't leave him the tea-pot; precious little tea he +drinks, if stories we hear are true. Well, there's one good thing about +it--Gertie can keep on with her college. This is her last year." + +"Yes; I thought of that. I thought of a million things when I was racin' +across the yard with this letter. Say, Serena, you've never told Gertie +anything about how trade was or how hard-up we've been?" + +"Of course not." + +"No, I knew you wouldn't. She's such a conscientious girl; if she +thought we couldn't afford it she wouldn't think of keepin' on with that +college, and I've set my heart on her havin' the best start in life we +can give her." + +"I know. Ah hum! I wish she could have the start some people's daughters +have. Mrs. Black was with me at the lodge room yesterday--we are +decorating for the men's evening to-morrow night, you know--and Mrs. +Black has been helping me; she's awfully kind that way. You'd think she +belonged here in Trumet, instead of being rich and living in Scarford +and being way up in society there. She and her husband are just like +common folks." + +"Humph! Barney Black IS common folks. He was born right here in Trumet +and his family was common as wharf rats. HE needn't put on airs with +me." + +"He doesn't. And yet, if he was like some people, he would. So +successful in his big factory, and his wife way up in the best circles +of Scarford; she's head of the Ladies of Honor there as I am here, and +means to get a national office in the order; she told me so. But there! +that reminds me that I was going to meet her at the lodge room at ten, +and it's half-past nine now. Do help me with these hooks. If I wasn't so +fleshy I could do them myself, but I almost died hooking the others." + +"Why didn't you call Zuba? She'd have hooked 'em for you." + +"Azuba! Heavens and earth! She's worse than nobody; her fingers are all +thumbs. Besides, she would talk me deaf, dumb and blind. She doesn't +know her place at all; thinks she is one of the family, I suppose." + +"Well, she is, pretty nigh. Been here long enough." + +"I don't care. She isn't one of the family; she's a servant, or ought to +be. Oh dear! when I hear Annette Black telling about her four servants +and all the rest it makes me so jealous, sometimes." + +"Don't make ME jealous. I'd rather have you and Gertie and this place +than all Barney Black owns--and that means his wife, too." + +"Daniel, I keep telling you not to call Mr. Black 'Barney.' He is +B. Phelps Black now. Mrs. Black always calls him 'Phelps.' So does +everybody in Scarford, so she says." + +"Want to know! He was Barney Black when he lived here regular. Havin' +a summer cottage here and a real house in Scarford must make a lot of +difference. By the way, speakin' of Scarford, that's where Aunt Laviny +used to live afore she went abroad. She owned a big house there." + +"Why, so she did! I wonder what will become of it. I suppose that cousin +will get it, along with the rest. Oh dear! suppose--just suppose there +wasn't any cousin. Suppose you and I and Gertie had that house and the +money. Wouldn't it be splendid? WE could be in society then." + +"Humph! I'd look pretty in society, wouldn't I?" + +"Of course you would. You'd look as pretty as Barney--B. Phelps Black, +wouldn't you? And I--Oh, HOW I should love it! Trumet is so out of date. +A real intelligent, ambitious woman has no chance in Trumet." + +The captain shook his head. He recognized the last sentence as a +quotation from the works of Mrs. Annette Black, self-confessed leader +in society in the flourishing manufacturing city of Scarford, and summer +resident and condescending patroness of Trumet. + +"Well," he observed; "we've got more chance, even in Trumet, than we've +had for the last year, thanks to Aunt Laviny's three thousand. It gives +us a breathin' spell, anyhow. If only trade in the store would pick up, +I--Hey! Good heavens to Betsy! I forgot the store altogether. Sam +hadn't got back from breakfast and I left the store all alone. I must be +crazy!" + +He bolted from the room and down the stairs, the legacy forgotten for +the moment, and in his mind pictures of rifled showcases and youthful +Trumet regaling itself with chocolates at his expense. Azuba shrieked +another question as her employer once more rushed through the kitchen, +but again her question was unanswered. She hurried to the window and +watched him running across the yard. + +"Well!" she exclaimed, in alarmed soliloquy. "WELL, the next time I +fetch that man a letter I'll fetch the doctor along with it. Has the +world turned upside down, or what is the matter?" + +She might have made a worse guess. The Dott world was turning upside +down; this was the beginning of the revolution. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Captain Dan's fears concerning the safety of his showcases were +groundless. Even as he sprang up the steps to the side door of his place +of business, he heard familiar voices in the store. He recognized +the voices, and, halting momentarily to wipe his forehead with his +handkerchief and to regain some portion of his composure and his breath, +he walked in. + +Gertrude, his daughter, was seated in his chair by the desk, and John +Doane was leaning upon the desk, talking with her. In the front of the +store, Sam Bartlett, the boy, who had evidently returned from breakfast, +was doing nothing in particular, and doing it with his usual air of +enjoyment. It was only when required to work that Sam was unhappy. + +Gertrude looked up as her father entered; prior to that she had been +looking at the blotter on the desk. John Doane, who had been looking at +Gertrude, also changed the direction of his gaze. Captain Dan struggled +with the breath and the composure. + +"Why, Dad!" exclaimed Gertrude. "What is it?" + +"What's the matter, Cap'n Dott?" asked Mr. Doane. + +Daniel did his best to appear calm; it was a poor best. At fifty-two one +cannot run impromptu hurdle races against time, and show no effects. + +"Hey?" he panted. "Matter? Nothin's the matter. I left the store alone +for a minute and I was in a kind of hurry to get back to it, that's +all." + +The explanation was not entirely satisfactory. Gertrude looked more +puzzled than ever. + +"A minute," she repeated. "Left it a minute! Why, John and I have been +here fifteen minutes, and Sam was here when we came." + +The captain looked at his watch. "Well, maybe 'twas a little more'n a +minute," he admitted. + +Master Bartlett sauntered up to take part in the conversation. + +"I got here twenty minutes ago," he observed, grinning, "and you wasn't +here then, Cap'n Dan'l. I was wonderin' what had become of ye." + +Daniel seized the opportunity to change the subject. + +"Anybody been in since you came?" he asked, addressing Sam. + +"No, nobody special. Abel Calvin was in to see if you wanted to buy some +beach plums for puttin' up. He said he had about a bushel of first-rate +ones, just picked." + +"Beach plums! What in time would I want of beach plums? I don't put up +preserves, do I? Why didn't he go to the house?" + +"I asked him that, myself, and he said 'twa'n't no use." + +"No use! What did he mean by that?" + +"Well, he said--he said--" Sam seemed suddenly to realize that he was +getting into deep water; "he said--he said somethin' or other; I guess +I've forgot what 'twas." + +"I guess you ain't. WHAT did he say?" + +"Well, he said--he said Serena--Mrs. Dott, I mean--was probably +gallivantin' down to the lodge room by this time. Said 'twa'n't no use +tryin' to get her to attend to common things or common folks nowadays; +she was too busy tryin' to keep up with Annette Black." + +This literal quotation from the frank Mr. Calvin caused a sensation. +Captain Dan struggled to find words. His daughter laid a hand on his +sleeve. + +"Never mind, Dad," she said, soothingly. "You know what Abel Calvin is; +you don't mind what he says. Sam, you shouldn't repeat such nonsense. +Run away now and attend to your work. I'm sure there's enough for you to +do." + +"You--you go and clean up the cellar," ordered the irate captain. Sam +departed cellarward, muttering that it wasn't his fault; HE hadn't said +nothin'. Gertrude spoke again. + +"Don't mind that, Dad," she urged. "Why, how warm you are, and how +excited you look. What is it? You haven't spoken a word to John." + +Her father shook his head. "Mornin', John," he said. "I beg your pardon. +I ain't responsible to-day, I shouldn't wonder. I--I've had some news +that's drivin' everything else out of my mind." + +"News? Why, Dad! what do you mean? Bad news?" + +"No, no! Good as ever was, and.... Humph! no, I don't mean that. It is +bad news, of course. Your Great-aunt Laviny's dead, Gertie." + +He told of the lawyer's letter, omitting for the present the news of the +legacy. Gertrude was interested, but not greatly shocked or grieved. She +had met her great-aunt but once during her lifetime, and her memory of +the deceased was of a stately female, whose earrings and brooches and +rings sparkled as if she was on fire in several places; who sat bolt +upright at the further end of a hotel room in Boston, and ordered +Captain Dan not to bring "that child" any nearer until its hands were +washed. As she had been the child and had distinctly disagreeable +recollections of the said hands having been washed three times before +admittance to the presence, the memory was not too pleasant. She said +she was sorry to hear that Aunt Lavinia was no more, and asked when it +happened. Her father told what he knew of the circumstances attending +the bereavement, which was not much. + +"She's gone, anyhow," he said. "It's liable to happen to any of us, +bein' cut off that way. We ought to be prepared, I suppose." + +"I suppose so. But, Daddy, Aunt Lavinia wasn't cut off exactly, was she? +She was your aunt and she must have been quite old." + +"Hey? Why, let's see. She was your grandpa's brother's wife, and +he--Uncle Jim, I mean--was about four years older than Father. She +was three years younger'n he was when he married her. Let's see again. +Father--that's your grandpa, Gertie--was sixty-five when he died and... +Humph! No, Aunt Laviny was eighty-eight, or thereabouts. She wasn't +exactly cut off, was she, come to think of it?" + +Gertrude's brown eyes twinkled. "Not exactly--no," she said, gravely. +"Well, Daddy, I'm sure I am sorry she has gone, but, considering that +she has never deigned to visit us or have us visit her, or even to write +you a letter for the past two years, I don't think we should be expected +to mourn greatly. And," glancing at him, "I don't understand just what +you meant by saying first that the news was good, and then that it was +bad. There is something else, isn't there?" + +Her father smiled, in an embarrassed way. "Well, ye--es," he admitted, +"there is somethin' else, but--but I don't know as I didn't do wrong to +feel so good over it. I--I guess I'll tell you by and by, if you don't +mind. Maybe then I won't feel--act, I mean--so tickled. It don't seem +right that I should be. Let me get sort of used to it first. I'll tell +you pretty soon." + +His daughter laughed, softly. "I know you will, Dad," she said. "You +couldn't keep a secret in that dear old head of yours if you tried. Not +from me, anyway; could you, dear?" + +"I guess not," regarding her fondly. "Anyhow, I shan't try to keep this +one. Well, this time to-morrow you'll be back at college again, in among +all those Greek and Latin folks. Wonder she'll condescend to come and +talk plain United States to us Cape Codders, ain't it, John." + +John Doane admitted that it was a wonder. He seemed to regard Miss Dott +as a very wonderful young person altogether. Gertrude glanced up at him, +then at her father, and then at the blotter on the desk. She absently +played with the pages of the ledger. + +"Dad," she said, suddenly, "you are not the only one who has a secret." + +The captain turned and looked at her. Her head was bent over the ledger +and he could see but the top of a very becoming hat, a stray lock of +wavy brown hair, and the curve of a very pretty cheek. The cheek--what +he could see of it--was crimson. He looked up at Mr. Doane. That young +man's face was crimson also. + +"Oh!" said Captain Daniel; and added, "I want to know!" + +"Yes, you're not the only one. We--I--there is another secret. Daddy, +dear, John wants to talk with you." + +The captain looked at Mr. Doane, then at the hat and the face beneath +it. + +"Oh!" he said, again. + +"Yes. I--I--" She rose and, putting her arms about her father's neck, +kissed him. "I will be back before long, dear," she whispered, and +hurried out. Mr. Doane cleared his throat. Captain Dan waited. + +"Well, sir," began the young man, and stopped. The captain continued to +wait. + +"Well, sir," began Mr. Doane, again, "I--I--" For one who, as Gertrude +had declared, wished to talk, he seemed to be finding the operation +difficult. "I--Well, sir, the fact is, I have something to say to you." + +Captain Dan, who was looking very grave, observed that he "wanted to +know." John Doane cleared his throat once more, and took a fresh start. + +"Yes, sir," he said, "I have something to say to you--er--something +that--that may surprise you." + +A faint smile disturbed the gravity of the captain's face. + +"May surprise me, hey?" he repeated. "Is that so?" + +"Yes. You see, I--Gertie and I--have--are--" + +Daniel looked up. + +"Hard navigatin', ain't it, John?" he inquired, whimsically. "Maybe I +could help you over the shoals. You and Gertie think you'd like to get +married sometime or other, I presume likely. Is that what you're tryin' +to tell me?" + +There was no doubt of it. The young man's face expressed several +emotions, relief that the great secret was known, and surprise that +anyone should have guessed it. + +"Why, yes, sir," he admitted, "that is it. Gertie and I have known each +other for years, ever since we were children, in fact; and, you see--you +see--" he paused once more, began again, and then broke out impatiently +with, "I'm making an awful mess of this. I don't know why." + +Captain Dan's smile broadened. + +"I made just as bad a one myself, once on a time," he observed. "Just +as bad, or worse--and _I_ didn't know why either. There, John, you sit +down. Come to anchor alongside here, and let's talk this thing over in +comfort." + +Mr. Doane "came to anchor" on an empty packing case beside the desk. As +he was tall and big, and the box was low and small, the "comfort" was +doubtful. However, neither of the pair noticed this at the time. + +"So you think you want Gertie, do you, John?" said the captain. + +"I know it," was the emphatic answer. + +"So. And she thinks she wants you?" + +"She says so." + +"Humph!" with a sidelong glance. "Think she means it?" + +"I'm trying to believe she does." + +The tone in which this was uttered caused Captain Dan to chuckle. "'Tis +strange, I'll give in," he remarked, drily. "No accountin' for taste, is +there--Well," his gravity returning, "I suppose likely you realize that +her mother and I think consider'ble of her." + +"I realize that thoroughly." + +"You don't realize it as much as you will some day, perhaps. Yes, we +think Gertie's about right. She's a smart girl and, what's more, she's +a good girl, and she's all the child we've got. Of course we've realized +that she was growin' up and that--Oh, good mornin', Alphy. Fine weather, +ain't it. Lookin' for somethin', was you?" + +He hurried out into the store to sell Mrs. Theophilus Berry, known +locally as "Alphy Ann," a box of writing paper and a penholder. The +transaction completed, he returned to his chair. John Doane, who had +recovered, in a measure, from his embarrassment, was ready for him. + +"Cap'n Dott," said the young man, "I know how you feel, I think. I +know what Gertie is to you and how anxious you and her mother must +be concerning her future. If I did not feel certain--practically +certain--that I could give her a good home and all that goes with it, +I should not have presumed to speak to her, or to you, concerning +marriage. My business prospects are good, or I think they are. I--" + +The captain held up his hand. "Er--er--John," he said, uneasily, "maybe +you'd better tell about that part of it when Serena's around. She's the +practical one of us two, I guess, far's money's concerned, anyway. I +used to think I was pretty practical when I was on salt water, but--but +lately I ain't so sure. I'm afraid--" + +He stopped, began to speak again, and then relapsed into silence, +seeming to forget his companion altogether. The latter reminded him by +saying: + +"I shall be glad to tell Mrs. Dott everything, of course. I have been +with the firm now employing me for eight years, ever since I left high +school. They seem to like me. I have been steadily advanced, my salary +is a fairly good one, and in another year I have the promise of a +partnership. After that my progress will depend upon myself." + +He went on, in a manly, straightforward manner, to speak of his hopes +and ambitions. Daniel listened, but the most of what he heard was +incomprehensible. Increased output and decreased manufacturing +costs were Greek to him. When the young man paused, he brought the +conversation back to what, in his mind, was the essential. + +"And you're certain sure that you two care enough for each other?" he +asked. "Not just care, but care enough?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, I guess I ain't got much to say. There's one thing, though. +Gertie's young. She ain't finished her schoolin' yet, and--" + +"And you think she should. So do I. She wishes to do it, herself, and I +should be the last to prevent her, even if I could. We have agreed that +she shall have the final year at college and then come back to you. +After that--well, after that, the time of our marriage can be settled. +Gertie and I are willing to wait; we expect to. In a few years I shall +have a little more money, I hope, and be more sure of success in life. +I may never be a rich man, but Gertie's tastes and mine are modest. She +does not care for society--" + +The captain interrupted. "That's so," he said, hastily, "she don't. She +don't care for 'em at all. Her mother has the greatest work to get her +to go to lodge meetin's. No, she don't care for societies any more'n I +do. Well, John, I--I--it'll come pretty hard to give her up to anybody. +Wait till you have a daughter of your own and you'll know how hard. But, +if I've got to give her up, I'd rather give her to you than anybody +I know. You're a Trumet boy and I've known you all my life, and so's +Gertie, for that matter. All I can say is, God bless you and--and take +good care of my girl, that's all." + +He extended his hand and John seized it. Then the captain coughed, +blew his nose with vigor, and, reaching into his pocket, produced two +battered cigars. + +"Smoke up, John," he said. + +At dinner, a meal at which Mrs. Dott, still busy with the lodge room +decorations, was not present, Gertrude and her father talked it over. + +"It comes kind of hard, Gertie," he admitted, "but, Lord love you, +there's a heap of hard things in this world. John's a good fellow +and--and, well, we ain't goin' to lose you just yet, anyhow." + +Gertrude rose and, coming around the table, put her arms about his neck. + +"Indeed you're not, dear," she said. "If I supposed my marriage meant +giving you up, I shouldn't think of it." + +"Want to know! Wouldn't think of John, either, I suppose, hey?" + +"Well, I--I might think of him a little, just a tiny little bit." + +"I shouldn't wonder. That's all right. You can't get rid of me so easy. +After you two are all settled in your fine new house, I'll be comin' +around to disgrace you, puttin' my boots on the furniture and--" + +"Dad!" + +"Won't I? Well, maybe I won't. I cal'late by that time I'll be broke +to harness. Your mother's gettin' in with the swells so, lately, Barney +Black's wife and the rest, that I'll have to mind my manners. There! +let's go into the sittin'-room a few minutes and give Zuba a chance to +clear off. Sam's tendin' store and his dinner can wait a spell; judgin' +by the time he took for breakfast he hadn't ought to be hungry for the +next week." + +In the sitting-room they spoke of many things, of Gertrude's departure +for school--she was leaving on the three o'clock train--of the +engagement, of course, and of the three thousand dollar windfall from +Aunt Lavinia. The captain had told that bit of news when they sat down +to dinner. + +"What is that cousin's name?" asked Gertrude. "The one who inherits all +of your aunt's fortune?" + +"Let's see. His name? I ought to know it well's I know my own. +It's--it's Starvation, or somethin' like that. Somethin' about bein' +hungry, anyhow. Hungerford, Percy Hungerford, that's it!" + +Gertrude looked surprised. + +"Not Percy Hungerford--of Scarford!" she cried. "What sort of a man is +he? What does he look like?" + +"Looked like a picked chicken, last time I saw him. Kind of a spindlin' +little critter, with sandy complexion and hair, but dressed--my soul! +there wasn't any picked chicken look about his clothes." + +Gertrude nodded. "I believe it is the same one," she said. "Yes, I am +sure of it. He came out to the college at one of our commencements. One +of the girls invited him. He danced with me--once. They said he was very +wealthy." + +"Humph! All the wealth he had come from Aunt Laviny, far's I ever +heard. He was her pet and the only thing she ever spent money on, except +herself. And you met him! Well, this is a small world. Like him, did +you?" + +"No," said Gertrude, and changed the subject. + +Before her father departed for the store and she went to her room to +finish packing, she sat upon the arm of his chair and, bending down, +said: + +"Daddy, if you hadn't got this money, this three thousand dollars, do +you know what I had very nearly made up my mind to do?" + +"No, I'm sure I don't." + +"I had almost decided not to stay at college, but to come back here and +live with you and mother." + +"For the land sakes! Why?" + +"Because I was sure you needed me. You never told me, of course--being +you, you wouldn't--but I was sure that you were troubled about--about +things." + +"Me? Troubled? What put that into your head? I'm the most gay, +happy-go-lucky fellow in the world. I don't get troubled enough. Ask +your mother if that ain't so." + +"I shall not ask anybody but you. Tell me truly: Weren't you troubled; +about the business, and the store? Truly, now." + +Captain Dan rubbed his chin. He wished very much to deny the allegation, +or at least to dodge the truth. But he was a poor prevaricator at any +time, and his daughter was looking him straight in the eye. + +"Well," he faltered, "I--I--How in time did you guess that? I--Humph! +why, yes, I was a little mite upset. You see, trade ain't been first +rate this summer, and collections were awful slow. I hate to drive +folks, especially when I know they're hard up. I was a little worried, +but it's all right now. Aunt Laviny's three thousand fixed that all +right. It'll carry me along like a full sail breeze. You go back to +school, like a sensible girl, and don't you worry a mite. It's all right +now, Gertie." + +"Honest?" + +"Honest to Betsy!" with an emphatic nod. + +He meant it; he really thought it was all right. The fact that he owed +a thousand already and that the remaining two would almost certainly be +swept into the capacious maw of the Metropolitan Store did not occur to +him then. Daniel Dott was a failure as a business man but as an optimist +he was a huge success. + +"Then you're sure you can afford to have me go back for my last year?" + +"Course I am. I couldn't afford to do anything else." + +His absolute certainty stifled his daughter's doubts for the time, but +she asked another question. + +"And there's nothing that troubles you at all?" + +"No-o." The captain's answer was not quite as emphatic this time. +Gertrude smiled, and patted his shoulder. + +"Daddy, dear," she said, "you're as transparent as a window pane, aren't +you. Well, don't worry any more. That will be all right pretty soon, +too. Mrs. Black doesn't stay in Trumet all the year." + +Her father gasped. That this child of his, whom he had always regarded +as a child, should dive into the recesses of his soul and drag to light +its most secret misgivings was amazing. + +"What on earth?" he demanded. + +"You know what I mean. I'm not blind. I can see. Mother is just a little +carried away. She has heard so much about big houses and servants and +society and woman's opportunity, and all the rest of it, that she has +been swept off her feet. But it won't last, I'm sure. She isn't really +discontented; she only thinks she is." + +Daniel sighed. "I know," he said. "Fact is, I ain't up-to-date enough, +myself, that's what's the matter. She's a mighty able, ambitious +woman, your mother is, Gertie, and I don't wonder she gets to thinkin', +sometimes, that Trumet is a kind of one-horse town. I like it; I AM +one-horse, I suppose. But she ain't, and she ain't satisfied to be +satisfied, like me. It's a good thing she ain't, I guess. Somebody's got +to live up to the responsibilities of life, and--" + +Gertrude laughed. "She said that, didn't she," she interrupted. + +"Why, yes, she did. She says it every once in a while. How did you +know?" + +"I guessed. And I imagine Mrs. Phelps Black said it first. But there, +Dad, be patient and.... Sh-sh! here's Mother now." + +It was Serena, sure enough, breathless from hurrying, her hat a bit +on one side, one glove off and the other on, but full of energy and +impatience. + +"I suppose you've had dinner," she exclaimed. "Well, all right, I don't +care. I couldn't help being late, there was so much to do at the lodge +rooms and nobody to do it right, except me. If Mrs. Black hadn't helped +and superintended and--and everything, I don't know where we should have +been. And those visiting delegates from Boston coming! I must get a bite +and hurry back. Where's Azuba? Azuba!" + +She was rushing in the direction of the kitchen, but her husband +detained her. + +"Hold on, Serena," he shouted. "Goin' back! What do you mean? You ain't +goin' back to that lodge this afternoon, are you? Why, Gertie's goin' on +the up-train!" + +"I know, but I must go back, Daniel. Goodness knows what would happen +if I didn't. If you had seen some of the decorations those other women +wanted to put up, you would think it was necessary for someone with +respectable taste to be there. Why, Sophronia Smalley actually would +have draped the presiding officer's desk--MY desk--with a blue flag with +a white whale on it, if I hadn't been there to stop her." + +"Well, I--Why, Serena, you know Sophrony thinks a sight of that flag. +Simeon Smalley, her father, was in the whalin' trade for years, and that +flag was his private signal. She always has that flag up somewhere." + +"Well, she shan't have it on my desk. Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--said +it was ridiculous. If such a thing happened in Scarford the audience +would have hysterics. Would you want your wife to make a spectacle of +herself, before those Boston delegates, standing behind a white whale, +and a dirty white at that! Gertie, I shall be at the depot to say good +by, but I must be at that lodge room first. I MUST. You understand, +don't you?" + +Gertrude said she understood perfectly and her mother hurried to the +kitchen, where she ate lukewarm fried fish and apple pie, while Azuba +washed the dishes and prophesied darkly concerning "dyspepsy." Gertrude +went to her room to put the last few things in her trunks, and Captain +Dan returned to the store, where he found the Bartlett boy pacifying a +gnawing appetite with chocolate creams abstracted from stock. + +At a quarter to three the captain was at the railway station, where +he was joined by John Doane, who, his vacation over, was returning +to Boston. After a five-minute wait Serena and Gertrude appeared. The +latter had called at the lodge room for her mother and, during the walk +to the station, had broken the news of her engagement. + +Serena was not surprised, of course; she, like everyone else, had +expected it, and she liked John. But she was a good deal agitated and +even the portentous business of the lodge meeting was driven from her +mind. She and Mr. Doane shook hands, but the young man felt very much +like a thief, and a particularly mean sort of thief, as young men are +likely to feel under such circumstances. Farewells were harder to say +than usual, although Gertrude tried her best to seem cheerful, and +the captain swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled and joked in a +ghastly fashion all through the ceremony. Just before the train started, +his daughter led him to one side and whispered: + +"Now, Daddy, remember--you are not to worry. And, if you need me at +any time, you will tell me so, and I shall surely come. You'll promise, +won't you? And you will write at least once a week?" + +The captain made both promises. They kissed, Serena and Gertrude +exchanged hugs, and John Doane solemnly shook hands once more. Then the +train moved away from the station. + +Daniel and Serena walked homeward, Mrs. Dott wiping her eyes with a damp +handkerchief, and her husband very grave and silent. As they passed the +lodge building the lady said: + +"I ought to go right back in there again. I ought to, but I just can't, +not now. I--I want to be with you, Daniel, a time like this." + +"Goodness knows I want you, Serena; but--but for mercy sakes don't call +it a 'time like this.' Sounds as if we'd just come from the cemetery +instead of the depot. We ain't been to a funeral; we're only lookin' +for'ard to a weddin'." + +In spite of this philosophical declaration the remainder of that +afternoon was rather funereal for Captain Dan. He moped about the store, +waiting half-heartedly upon the few customers who happened in, and the +ring of the supper bell was welcome, as it promised some company other +than his thoughts. + +But the promise was not fulfilled. He ate his supper alone. Mrs. Dott +had gone back to the lodge room, so Azuba said. + +"I don't think she was intendin' to," remarked the latter, +confidentially. "She said she guessed she'd 'lay down a spell'; said she +was 'kind of tired.' But afore she got upstairs scarcely, along comes +that Black automobile with that Irish 'shover man'--that's what they +call 'em, ain't it?--drivin' it and her in the back seat, and he gets +out and comes and rings the front door bell, and when I answer it--had +my hands all plastered up with dough, I did, for I was makin' pie, and +it took me the longest time to get 'em clean--when I answered it he said +that she said she wanted to see her and--" + +"Here! hold on, Zuba!" interrupted her bewildered employer. "'Vast +heavin' a second, will you? You ought to run that yarn of yours through +a sieve and strain some of the 'hes' and 'shes' out of it. 'He said that +she said she wanted to see her.' Who wanted to see what?" + +"Why, Barney Black's wife. She wanted to see Serena. So in she came, all +rigged up in her best clothes and--" + +"How do you know they were her best ones?" + +"Hey? Well, they would have been MY best ones, if _I_ owned 'em, I tell +you that. I never see such clothes as that woman has! All trimmin' and +flounces and didos, and--" + +"Hi! steady there, Zuba. Keep your eye on the compass. You're gettin' +off the course again. Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--came to see Mrs. +Dott; that's plain sailin' so far. What happened after that?" + +"Why, they went off together in the automobile and Serena said to tell +you she had to go to lodge, and she'd be back when she could and not to +wait supper. That's all I know." + +The captain finished his lonely meal and returned to the store, where +he found Abel Blount's wife and their twin boys, aged eight, waiting to +negotiate for rubber boots. The boots were for the boys, but Mrs. Blount +did the buying and it was a long and talky process. At last, however, +the youngsters were fitted and clumped proudly away, bearing their +leather shoes in their hands. It was a dry evening, but to separate +the twins from those rubber boots would have been next door to an +impossibility. + +"There!" exclaimed the lady, as she bade the captain good night, "that's +done; that much is settled anyhow. I'm thankful I ain't got four twins, +instead of two, Cap'n Dott." + +Daniel, entering the sale in the ledger, was thankful also. If the +lengthy Blount account had been settled he would have been still more +so. + +At nine o'clock he and Sam locked up, extinguished the lamps, and closed +the Metropolitan Store for the night. Crossing the yard to the house, +which he entered by the front door, he found Serena in the sitting-room. +She was reclining upon the couch. She was tired, and out of sorts. + +"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, acknowledging her husband's greeting with a +nod, "I am just about worn out, Daniel." + +"I should think you would be, Serena. You've been makin' tracks between +here and that lodge room all to-day and yesterday, too. I should think +you'd be about dead." + +"It isn't that. I don't mind the work. It's the thanklessness of it all +that breaks me down. I give my time and effort to help the lodge, and +what does it amount to?" + +"Well, I--I give in that it don't seem to me to amount to much, 'cordin' +to my figurin'. I don't care much for lodge meetin's and sociables and +such, myself. I'd rather have one evenin' at home with you than the +whole cargo of 'em." + +This statement was frank, but it was decidedly undiplomatic. Serena +sniffed contempt. + +"Of course you would!" she said. "I don't get a bit of encouragement +here at home, either. I should think you'd be proud to have your +wife the head of the Chapter, presiding at meetings and welcoming the +visiting delegates and--and all." + +"I am," hastily. "I'm proud of you, Serena. Always have been, far's that +goes. But I'm just as proud of you here in this sittin'-room as I am +when you're back of that pulpit, poundin' with your mallet and tellin' +Alphy Ann Berry to 'come to order.' Notwithstanding that you're the only +one can make her come--or go, either--unless she takes a notion. Why," +with a chuckle, "it takes her husband half an hour to make her go home +after meetin's over." + +Mrs. Dott did not chuckle. + +"You think it's a joke," she said. "I don't. It is the Berry woman and +her kind that make me disgusted. I'm tired of them all. I'm tired of +Trumet. I wish we were somewhere where I had an opportunity; somewhere +where I might be appreciated." + +"_I_ appreciate you, Serena." + +Serena ignored the remark. "I wish we had never settled here," she went +on. "I'd leave in a minute, if I could. I'd like to be in with nice +people, cultivated people, intelligent, up-to-date society, where I +could have a chance to go on and be somebody. I'd like to be a leader. +I could be. Annette says I would be in a city like Scarford. She says I +'have the faculty of the born leader.' All I lack is the opportunity." + +Her husband sighed. He had heard all this before. Inwardly he wished +Mrs. Black at Scarford, or China, or anywhere, provided it was not +Trumet. + +His wife heard the sigh. "There, Daniel," she said; "I won't be +complaining. I try not to be. But," she hesitated, "there is one thing +I'd like to ask, now that we've got your Aunt Lavinia's three thousand: +Don't you suppose I could have some new clothes; I need at least two +dresses right away." + +"Why--why, I guess likely you could, Serena. Yes, course you can. You go +see Sarah Loveland right off." + +Miss Loveland was the Trumet dressmaker. At the mention of her name +Serena shook her head. + +"I don't want Sarah to make them, Daniel," she said. "Mrs. Black says +the things she makes are awful old-fashioned; 'country,' she calls +them." + +Daniel snorted. "I want to know!" he exclaimed. "Well, I remember her +husband when his ma used to make his clothes out of his dad's old +ones. I don't know whether they was 'country' or not, but they were the +dumdest things ever _I_ saw. Country, huh! Scarford ain't any Paris, is +it? I never heard it was." + +"Well, it isn't Trumet. No, Daniel, if we could afford it, I'd like to +have these dresses made up in Boston, where Gertie gets hers. Mrs. Black +often speaks of Gertie's gowns; she says they are remarkably stylish, +considering." + +"CONSIDERIN'! What does she mean by that?" + +"Don't be cross. I suppose she meant considering that they were not +as expensive as her own. DO you suppose I could go to that Boston +dressmaker, Daniel?" + +Captain Dan's reply was slow in coming. He hated to say no; in fact, he +said it so seldom that he scarcely knew how. So he temporized. + +"Well, Serena," he began, "I--I'd like to have you; you know that. If +'twasn't for the cost I wouldn't hesitate a minute." + +"But we have that three thousand dollars." + +"Well, we ain't got all of it. Or we shan't have it long. I was footin' +up what I owed--what the store owes, I mean--just now, and it come to a +pretty high figure. Over twelve hundred, it was. That's GOT to be paid. +Then there's Gertie's schoolin' and her board. Course, I never tell her +we ain't so well off as we were. You and I agreed she shouldn't know. +But it takes a lot of money and--" + +Mrs. Dott sat up on the couch. Her eyes snapped. "Oh!" she cried; +"money! money! money! It's always money! If only just once I had all the +money I wanted, I should be perfectly happy. If I wouldn't GO IT!" + +Steps sounded on the front porch, and the patent door bell clicked and +clanged. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through Trumet. It +spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it grew. The Dotts +had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The Dotts were millionaires! +Captain Daniel's brother had died and left him fifty thousand dollars! +His brother's wife had died and left him a hundred thousand! It was not +his brother's wife, but Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance +was two hundred and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story +reached Trumet Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott +relatives on both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole +survivors of the family all the money and property in the world, with a +few trifling exceptions. + +Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,--one must eat, or try to eat, even +though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is moving in +a sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always present--Captain Dan, +coming into the house for dinner, expressed his opinion of Trumet gossip +mongers. + +"My heavens and earth, Serena!" he cried, sinking into his chair at the +table, "am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or what's +happened to me, or don't I?" + +Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him across the +table. + +"I should hope you did, Daniel," she answered. + +"Well, if _I_ do, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. I've +heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had alive. And +yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and body! Say, did you +know you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?" + +"I? In California? Nonsense!" + +"No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a epileptic +or an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or a palace or a +jail, and he was worth four millions or forty, I forget which, and +fell out of an automobile or out of a balloon or out of bed--anyhow, it +killed him--and--" + +"Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!" + +"Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this +forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to folks that +come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And some of 'em was +people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My head's kind of wobbly +this mornin', after the shock that hit it last night, but it's a regular +Dan'l Webster's alongside the general run of heads in this town. Aunt +Laviny's will has turned Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all +runnin' loose." + +"But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?" + +"'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen folks you +meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell you you had +one. They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a grandmother or a +step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or the Cape of Good Hope, +but they all know it's dead now, and we've got anywheres from a postage +stamp to a hogshead of diamonds. Serena, if you hear yells for help this +afternoon, don't pay any attention. It'll only mean that my patience has +run out and I'm tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at +least. There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed." + +"Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to be +excited. I'm excited myself." + +The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. "_I_ ain't exactly a +graven image, now that you mention it," he admitted. "But you and I have +got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to see you; or did +you lock the doors?" + +"I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. Tripp, and +the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The first four pretended +they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge woman to get my recipe for +chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I knew what they really came for. +Daniel, HOW do you suppose the news got out so soon? I didn't tell a +soul and you promised you wouldn't." + +"I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down at the +Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over one seed +of a yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll have a crop of +lies next mornin' that would load a three-master. They come up in the +night, like toadstools." + +"But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?" + +"You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' to +hire a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the job was +finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell your gang?" + +"I simply said," Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke with +a gracious dignity; "I said they might quote me as saying it was NOT a +million." + +Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter. + +"There!" she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; "I don't +know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I done the +best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a mercy I didn't +fry the platter." + +Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more +wonderful and surprising than falling heir to three thousand dollars and +a silver tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the Metropolitan Store the +previous evening and started for the house, the bearer of the great news +was on his way from the Manonquit House, where he had had supper. When +Serena bewailed her fate and expressed a desire for an opportunity, he +was almost at the front gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted +her conversation with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in +the person of Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of +Shepley and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door. + +Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young, +a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much +professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat +of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown +into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to +remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the +pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain +assured him that he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and +its wearer to remember etiquette. + +"Won't you--won't you sit down, Mr. er--er--" began the captain. + +Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After +a glance about the room, which took in the upright piano--purchased +second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons--the what-not, +with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, and +West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the mantel +of Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded directly to +business. + +"Captain Dott," he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely +to Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, "you +received a letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?" + +Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his +caller's identity, shook his head. "As a matter of fact," he stammered, +"I--I only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, it got as far +as the post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it over to Balaam +Hamilton, to bring to me. Well, Balaam is--well, his underpinnin's all +right; he wears a number eleven shoe--but his top riggin' is kind of +lackin' in spots. You'd understand if you knew him. He put the letter in +his pocket and--" + +"Mercy!" cut in Serena, impatiently, "what do you suppose Mr. Farwell +cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. Farwell, and +we only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't been answered. What +about the letter?" + +The visitor did not answer directly. "I see," he said. "That letter +informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott--your aunt, Captain,--was dead, and +that we, her legal representatives, having, as we supposed, her will in +our possession, and being in charge of her affairs--" + +Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since she +learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not notice the +peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did. + +"As you supposed?" she repeated. "You did have the will, didn't you?" + +"We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years ago. +But we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was another, +a much more recent one, which superseded the one in our possession. Of +course, that being the case, the bequests in the former were not binding +upon the estate. That is to say, our will was not a will at all." + +Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her. + +"Then we--then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?" she +cried. + +"Or--or the tea-pot?" faltered Captain Dan. + +Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation. +However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense +too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart. + +"She left you a great deal more than that," he said. "In the former +will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal +legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of +her property--some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities, +and her estate at Scarford--to him. But last February it appears that he +and she had a falling out. He--Mr. Hungerford--is, so I am told, a good +deal of a sport--ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable +and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, +rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was +grouchy--er--not well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically +disinheriting him. Under the new will he receives twenty thousand +dollars in cash. The balance--" Mr. Farwell, who, during this long +statement, had interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional +lapse into youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,--"the +balance," he said, "one hundred thousand in money and securities, +and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five +thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, Captain +Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my services and +those of the firm, should you desire legal advice." + +Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to +enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be +the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were +characteristic. + +"My soul and body!" gasped Captain Dan. "I--I--my land of love! And only +this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!" + +"A hundred thousand dollars!" cried Serena. "And that beautiful house at +Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!" + +Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. "A very handsome little windfall," he +observed, with condescension. + +"We get a hundred thousand!" murmured the captain. "My! I wish Father +was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young +Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!" + +"A hundred thousand!" breathed his wife, her hands clasped. "And that +lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to! +Yes, and live there! Oh--oh, Daniel! I--I don't know why I'm doing it, +but I--I believe I'm going to cry." + +Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her +shoulder. + +"Go ahead, old lady," he commanded. "Cry, if you want to. I--I'm goin' +to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!" + +Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and it +was the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which set all +Trumet by the ears next day. + +Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast had +been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they could not +eat. They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or the other was +certain to break out with an exclamation or a wondering surmise, and the +meal was, as the captain said, "all talk and no substantials." They had +scarcely risen from the table when the doorbell rang. + +Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had +remembered this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried it in +her hand. + +"I'm a-goin'," she declared; "I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can." + +She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front of +her. + +"You stay right where you are," he ordered. "I'll answer that bell +myself this time." + +"Daniel," cried his wife, "what are you going to do?" + +"Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' to do. +They shan't get in here to pester you to death with questions, not if I +can help it." + +"But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be." + +"I don't care." + +"Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult people." + +"I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em--I'll tell 'em you're sick and can't +see anybody." + +"But I'm not sick." + +"Then, I am," said Captain Dan. "They make me sick. Shut up, will you?" +addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. "I'll come when I +get ready." + +He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he strode +from the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba heard him +tramping through the front hall. + +"What--WHAT is he going to do?" faltered Serena; "or say?" + +Azuba shook her head. "Land knows!" she exclaimed. "I ain't seen him +this way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for THAT with +the hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't talk to ME!" + +But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. The +anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they were subdued +ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked troubled. + +"It's Barney Black and his wife," he answered, in a whisper. "I couldn't +tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, waitin'. I +suppose we'll have to see 'em, won't we?" + +Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and patting +her hair into presentable shape. + +"See 'em!" she repeated. "Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think +it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way +round under your ear." + +They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her +husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie. + +Mrs. and Mr. Black--scanning them in the order of their importance--rose +as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to +view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife, +and did not look his height. Annette swept forward. + +"Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott," she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own +gloved one. "We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't +resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!" + +Serena admitted that it was wonderful. "We can hardly believe it yet, +ourselves," she said. "But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down +again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair." + +Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. "Sit down anywhere, Barney," said +the former. "Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in +the leg." + +Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank +into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word +"Barney," and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were +entirely lost upon the latter. + +"We had that rocker up in the attic till last month," he observed; "but +Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go +now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all +right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want +folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter, +Serena?" + +Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that "nothing was the matter." + +"The rocker isn't very strong," she explained, addressing Mrs. Black. +"But it belonged to my great--that is, it has been in our family for a +good many years and we think a great deal of it." + +Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a +"dear." + +"I love old-fashioned things," she said. "So does Mr. Black. Don't you, +Phelps?" + +"Yes," replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be +over-enthusiastic. + +"But do tell us about your little legacy," went on the lady. "Of course +we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than +to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million. +Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!" + +Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in +his direction, and he closed it again. + +"Yes," said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, "that was absurd, of course." + +"So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people +exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that +your cousin had died--that is, _I_ heard it was a cousin; Phelps heard +it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?" + +"Yes," said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation. + +"So," went on Mrs. Black, "we didn't know which it was." + +She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and +again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had +quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned +to him. + +"Wasn't it funny!" she gushed. "I don't wonder you laugh. Here was I +saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. It was +so odd and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; which was it, +really, Captain Dott?" + +Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. "Why," he +stammered, "it was--it was--" He looked appealingly at Serena. + +"Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?" inquired his wife, rather sharply. + +"It was my Aunt Laviny," said the captain. + +Mrs. Black nodded and smiled. + +"Oh! your aunt!" she exclaimed. "There! isn't that funny! And SO +characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an aunt. +What did you say her name was?" + +"Laviny?" + +"Yes, I know. Laviny--what an odd name! I don't think I ever heard it +before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?" + +Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here. + +"It wasn't Laviny at all," she said. "That is only Daniel's way of +pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a child. A--a +sort of pet name, you know." + +"Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I ever +heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of Sheba. She--" + +"Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was +Lavinia. She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James Dott, +Daniel's father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew her. She has +spent most of her time in Europe lately, but her home, her American +home, was where you live, in Scarford." + +This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped audibly, and +leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first sign of interest. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't say! +Why, of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. Everybody in +Scarford did. Her place is one of the finest in town." + +Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments than +this. + +"Yes," she said, calmly, "so we understand. The place--er--that is, the +estate--is a PART--" she emphasized the word--"a PART of what she left +to my husband." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her face +was a study. + +Captain Dan crossed his knees. + +"I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it," he +observed, reminiscently. "I tell you it looked big enough to me! I was +only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house looked big +as a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got inside and was sittin' +in the front parlor, I declare I was all feet and hands! didn't know +what to do with 'em.... Hey? did you speak, Serena?" + +"I was only going to say," replied his wife, "that that was a good while +ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a great deal +since. Things look different after we grow up, don't they, Mrs. Black?" + +Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time. +Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice. + +"They do, indeed," she said. "I remember the Dott house, of course. It +was very fine, I believe, in its day." + +Her husband interrupted. "In its day!" he repeated. "Humph! there's +nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I had as good. +Why--" + +"Phelps!" snapped Annette, "don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands what +I meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, indeed. Perhaps +some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that is a matter of taste." + +"Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old-fashioned--I +thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. That's what she +said, wasn't it, Dan?" + +Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark +entirely. Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an +uncertain fashion. It was Serena who spoke. + +"I haven't any doubt it is lovely," she said. "We're just dying to see +it, Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. Black. You +might suggest some improvements, you know." + +"Improvements!" the visitor repeated the word involuntarily. +"Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?" + +"I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we haven't +made up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a beautiful +city. Mrs. Black has told us so ever so many times. What were you going +to say, Mrs. Black?" + +The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several things, +particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. But what she +did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and agree that Scarford +was beautiful. + +"And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott," she added. "A very charming, +quaint old house. But--you'll excuse my saying so, won't you; you know +Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a city estate--don't +you think it might prove rather expensive for you to maintain?" + +Serena's armor was not even dented. "Oh," she said, lightly, "that +wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the +expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, Mrs. +Black." + +"Indeed!" rather feebly, "wasn't it?" + +"My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and our +affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I must find time +to run down there this afternoon for a last look around. I want this +open meeting to go off nicely. Who knows--well, I may not have the care +of the next one." + +Azuba appeared in the doorway. + +"The minister and his wife's comin'," she announced. + +Mrs. Dott turned. + +"The minister and his wife?" she repeated. "The bell hasn't rung, has +it? How do you know they're coming here?" + +"See 'em through the window," replied Azuba, cheerfully. "They was at +the gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and he was +helpin' her. Here they be," as the callers' footsteps sounded on the +porch. "Shall I let 'em in?" + +"Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?" + +"Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was havin' +dinner, I thought--oh, that reminds me," addressing the horror stricken +Daniel, "Sam was in just now and wanted you to come right out to the +store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another pair of them checkered +overalls, same as he had afore." + + + +That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early +hour, the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge meeting, +Daniel voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed his mind ever +since the Blacks' call. + +"Say, Serena," he asked, "ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends any +more?" + +"Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is." + +"Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this afternoon. +Slappin' each other back and forth--" + +"Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What DO you +mean?" + +"I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely +I meant that. But the way you talked to each other--and the way you +looked. And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked you four +or five times who it was that had died and you wouldn't tell, so, of +course, I supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when she asked me and +I was backin' and fillin', tryin' to get off the shoals, you barked +out why didn't I 'answer her'? That may be sense, but I don't see it, +myself." + +Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own. + +"Did I bark?" she asked. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did make +me cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty way--" + +"It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she didn't act +as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small craft better get +out from under her bows." + +"I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and nice +to me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, and Doctor +Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the summer folks, that +she has anything to do with." + +The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him like +her any better. His wife continued. + +"I was a little put out by her to-day," she admitted. "You see, she was +SO anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be very rich, and +SO certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big house, that--that I +just had to give her as good as she sent." + +Daniel chuckled. "You did that all right," he said. + +"But I wouldn't hurt her feelings--really hurt them--for the world. I +like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me." + +"Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other +I'm goin' out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard you +admirin' Zuba out in the kitchen just before we left." + +"Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell her; +she will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she shouldn't. +Just think what she said about you when the minister called. It was just +Providence, and nothing else, that kept her from telling the Blacks what +you said and how you acted at dinner. That's it--laugh! I expected you'd +think it was funny." + +"Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though it +didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba talkin' +any more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's awful +good-hearted--yes, and sensible, too, in her way." + +"I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of having her +up there at Scarford, behaving as she does." + +The captain caught his breath. + +"Scarford!" he repeated. "At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what are you +talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black woman about +our goin' to Scarford to live?" + +"I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I don't +say I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely house, +hasn't she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What are we going to +do with it?" + +"Why--why, I--I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. We've got +our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do we?" + +"We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what we +shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of--you and I will go +to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, don't argue, +please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you don't tell anyone how +much money we've got or anything about it. They'll all ask, of course, +and they'll all talk about us, but you must expect that. Our position in +life has altered, Daniel, and rich folks are always looked at and talked +over. Are your shoes clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and +don't applaud too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told +that Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't +order him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her +mouth. She isn't married and ain't likely to be, but.... Oh, Mrs. Black, +I'm SO glad to see you! It's real lovely of you to come so early." + +Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love for +lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished him to, but +he was not happy while they were going on. At this one he was distinctly +unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black exchange greetings as if +the little fencing match of the afternoon had been but an exchange of +compliments. He saw the two ladies go, arm in arm, to the platform, +where sat the "Boston delegates." He nodded to masculine acquaintances +in the crowd, other captives chained, like himself, to their wives' and +daughters' chariot wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's +opening speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and +Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from the +president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when it was +over, he could not have repeated a sentence of all those which had +reached his ears. + +No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful "open +meeting" ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of +Honor. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will had +changed their position in life, so Serena had said. She had said other +things, also, and he was beginning, dimly, to realize what they might +mean. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +"SCARFORD!" screamed the brakeman, throwing open the car door. +"Scarford!" + +Mrs. Dott, umbrella in hand, was already in the aisle. Captain Dan, +standing between the seats, was struggling to get the suitcase down from +the rack above. It was a brand-new suitcase. Serena had declared that +their other, the one which had accompanied them on various trips to +Boston during the past eight years, was altogether too shabby. She had +insisted on buying another, and, the stock in the store not being +good enough, had selected this herself from the catalog of a Boston +manufacturer. Her umbrella, silk with a silver handle, was new also. So +was her hat, her gown and her shoes. So, too, was the captain's hat, and +his suit and light overcoat. There was a general air of newness about +the Dotts, so apparent, particularly on Daniel's part, that various +passengers had nudged each other, winked, and whispered surmises +concerning recent marriage and a honeymoon trip. + +The suitcase, the buckle of which had caught in the meshes of the rack, +giving way, came down unexpectedly and with a thump on the seat. The +captain hurriedly lifted it. A stifled laugh from the occupants of +adjacent seats reached Serena's ears. + +"What is it?" she demanded impatiently. "Aren't you coming? Do hurry." + +"I--I'm comin'," stammered her husband, thrusting his fist into the new +hat which, as it lay on the seat, had received the weight of the falling +suitcase. "I'm comin'. Go ahead! I'll be right along." + +He pounded the battered "derby" into more or less presentable shape, +clapped it on his head, and, suitcase in hand, followed his wife. + +Through the crowd on the platform they passed, through the waiting room +and out to the sidewalk. There Captain Dan put down the case, gave the +maltreated hat a brush with his sleeve, and looked about him. + +"Lively place, ain't it, Serena?" he observed. "Whew! that valise is +heavy. Well, where's the next port of call?" + +"We'll go to the hotel first. Oh, dear, it's a shame things happened so +we had to come now. In another fortnight the Blacks would have been here +and we could have gone right to their house. Mrs. Black felt dreadfully +about it. She said so ever so many times." + +The captain made no answer. If he had doubts concerning the depths of +the Blacks' sorrow he kept them to himself. Picking up the suitcase, he +stepped forward to the curb. + +"Where are you going?" demanded his wife. + +"Why, to the hotel. That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?" + +"Certainly; but how were you going? You don't know where it is." + +"No, so I don't. But I can hail one of those electrics and ask the +conductor to stop when he got to it. He'd know where 'twas, most +likely." + +"Electric" is the Down East term for trolley car, lines of which were +passing and repassing the station. Daniel waved his disengaged hand to +the conductor of the nearest. The car stopped. + +"Wait a minute," said Serena quickly. "How do you know that car is going +the right way?" + +"Hey? Well, of course I don't know, but--" + +"Of course you don't. Besides, we don't want to go in an electric. We +must take a carriage." + +"A carriage? A hack, you mean. What do we want to do that for?" + +"Because it's what everyone does." + +"No, they don't. Look at all the folks on that electric now. Besides, +we--" + +"Hi there!" shouted the conductor of the car angrily. "Brace up! Get a +move on, will you?" + +Mrs. Dott regarded him with dignity. + +"We're not coming," she said. "You can go right along." + +The car proceeded, the conductor commenting freely and loudly, and the +passengers on the broad grin. + +"Now, Daniel," said Serena, "you get one of those carriages and we'll go +as we ought to. I know we've always gone in the electrics when we were +in Boston, but then we didn't feel as if we could afford anything else. +Now we can. And don't stop to bargain about the fare. What is fifty +cents more or less to US?" + +The captain shook his head, but he obeyed orders. A few minutes later +they were seated in a cab, drawn by a venerable horse and driven by a +man with a hooked nose, and were moving toward the Palatine House, the +hostelry recommended by Mrs. Black as the finest in Scarford. + +"There!" said Serena, leaning back against the shabby cushions, "this is +better than an electric, isn't it? And when we get to the hotel you'll +see the difference it will make in the way they treat us. Mrs. Black +says there is everything in a first impression. If people judge by your +looks that you're no account they'll treat you that way. But what were +you and the driver having such a talk about?" + +Captain Dan grinned. "I got the name of the hotel wrong at first," he +admitted. "I called it the Palestine House instead of the other thing. +The driver thought I was makin' fun of him. It ain't safe to mention +Palestine to a feller with a nose like that." + +The Palatine House was new and gorgeous; built in the hope of attracting +touring automobilists, it was that dreary mistake, a cheap imitation of +the swagger metropolitan article. Scarford was not a metropolis, and +the imitation in this case was a particularly poor one. However, to the +Dotts, its marble-floored lobby and gilded pillars and cornices were +grand and imposing. Their room on the third floor looked out upon the +street below, and if the view of shops and signs and trucks and trolleys +was not beautiful it was, at least, distinctly different from any view +in Trumet. + +Serena gloried in it. + +"Ah!" she sighed, "this is something like. THIS is life! There's +something going on here, Daniel. Don't you feel it?" + +Daniel was counting his small change. + +"What say?" he asked. + +His wife repeated her question, raising her voice to carry above the +noises of the street. + +"Feel it! Yes, yes; and hear it, too. How we're ever goin' to sleep with +all that hullabaloo outside I don't know. Don't you suppose we could get +a quieter room than this, Serena?" + +"I don't want a quiet room. I don't want to sleep. I feel as if I'd been +asleep all my life. Now, thank goodness, I am where people are really +awake. What are you doing with that money?" + +"Oh, just lookin' at it, while I can. I shan't have the chance very +long, if the other folks in this town are like that hack driver. A +dollar to drive half a mile in that hearse! Why, the whole shebang +wa'n't worth more than two dollars, to buy. And then he had the cheek to +ask me to give him 'a quarter for himself.'" + +"Yes, that was his tip. We must expect that. Gertrude says she always +has to tip the servants and drivers and such at college. Did you give it +to him?" + +"Who? Me? I told him I was collectin' for a museum, and I'd give him a +quarter for the horse, just as it stood--or WHILE it stood. I said he'd +better take the offer pretty quick because the critter looked as if +'twould lay down most any minute." + +He chuckled. Serena, however, was very solemn. + +"Daniel," she said, "I must speak to you again about your language. +You've lived in Trumet so long that you talk just like Azuba, or pretty +nearly as bad. You mustn't say 'critter' and 'wa'n't' and 'cal'late.' Do +try, won't you, to please me?" + +"I'll try, Serena. But I don't see what difference it makes. We DO live +in Trumet, don't we?" + +"We HAVE lived there. How long we shall--But there, never mind. Just +remember as well as you can and get ready now for dinner." + +Her husband muttered that he didn't see where the "getting ready" came +in; he had on the best he'd got. But he washed his hands and brushed +his hair and they descended to the dining-room, where they ate a 'table +d'hote' meal, beginning with lukewarm soup and ending with salty ice +cream. + +They had left Trumet the previous evening, spending the night at +Centreboro and taking the early morning train for Scarford. Two weeks +had passed since the fateful visit of young Mr. Farwell, and, though +the wondrous good fortune which had befallen the Dott family was still +wonderful, they were beginning to accept it as a real and established +fact. All sorts of things had happened during those two weeks. They had +gone to Boston, where they spent the better part of two days with +the lawyers, going over the lists of securities, signing papers, and +arranging all sorts of business matters. Serena and the attorneys did +the most of the arranging. Captain Dan looked on, understanding very +little, saying "Yes" or "No" as commanded by his wife, and signing his +name whenever and wherever requested. + +After another day, spent in the Boston shops, where the new clothes +were purchased or ordered, a process which Serena enjoyed hugely and her +husband endured with a martyr's patience, they had paid a flying visit +to the college town and Gertrude. They found the young lady greatly +excited and very happy, but her happiness was principally on their +account. + +"I'm so glad for you both, Daddy," she told her father. "When I got +Mother's letter with the news the very first thing I thought was: +'There! now Father won't have to worry any more about the old store +or anything else. He can be comfortable and carefree and happy, as he +deserves to be.' And you won't worry, will you, Dad?" + +The captain seemed oddly doubtful. + +"I shan't if I can help it," he said. "But I'm the most foolish chap +that ever lived, in some ways, seems so. When the business was so I had +to worry about it all the time I used to set up nights wishin' I didn't +own it. Now that we're fixed so it don't make much difference whether I +get a profit or not, I find myself frettin' and wonderin' how Nathaniel +and Sam are gettin' along. I wake up guessin' how much they've sold +since I've been away, and whether we're stuck on those canvas hats and +those middy blouses and one thing or 'nother, same as I was afraid we'd +be. I've only been away three days altogether, but it seems about a +year." + +Gertrude smiled and shook her head. + +"Why don't you sell out?" she asked. "Or would no one buy? I presume +that's it." + +"No-o, that ain't it. I don't wonder you think so, but it ain't. +Cohen--the fellow that owns the Emporium--was in only the day afore we +left, hintin' around about my retirin' and so on. He didn't make any +real bid for the business, but he as much as said he'd consider buyin' +me out if I'd sell. Your mother, she'd give me fits if she knew it. She +wants me to sell; but--but somehow I can't make up my mind to. I've been +so used to goin' out to that store every mornin' and--and havin' it on +my mind that somehow I hate to give it up. Seems like cuttin' my anchor +rope, as you might say." + +"I understand. I shall feel much the same, I know, when I graduate and +my college work is over. I shall be lost for a time without it; or I +should be if it were not for John and--and my other plans. But, whether +you keep the store or not, you mustn't worry any more, Daddy dear. +Nathaniel is a clever, able fellow; every one says so. You were +fortunate to get him. Why don't you engage him permanently? With his +experience, he might make a real success of the business. Who knows?" + +He could not possibly make less of a success than the captain had made, +that was fairly certain, although she did not say so. Nathaniel Bangs +was a Trumet young man who had been getting on well with a little +business of his own in Brockton, but who, owing to ill health, had +been obliged to return to the Cape the year before. Then, health much +improved, he was very glad of the opportunity to take charge of the +Metropolitan Store during its owners' short absence. Serena had thought +of him, and Serena had hired him. + +Captain Dan's real reason for not selling out to the astute Mr. Cohen +he had kept to himself. His wife's hints concerning Scarford and her +discontent in Trumet were his reasons. These were what troubled him +most. He liked Trumet; he liked its quiet, easy-going atmosphere; +he liked the Trumet people, and they liked him. He had never been in +Scarford, but he was certain he should not like the life there, the kind +of life lived by the B. Phelps Blacks, at any rate. The Metropolitan +Store was, he felt, an anchor holding him fast to the Cape Cod village. +If he cut the anchor rope, goodness knows where he might drift. + +On the very day of their return from the Boston trip Serena had begun to +discuss the visit to Scarford, the visit of inspection to Aunt Lavinia's +"estate." They must go, she said; of course they must go. It was their +duty to do that, at least. How could they know what to do with the +property until they saw it? To all Daniel's feeble objections and +excuses she was deaf. Of course they could leave the house. Azuba would +take care of that, just as she always did when they were away. As for +the store, Nathaniel would be glad to remain as manager indefinitely if +they wanted him. Surely he had done splendidly with it while they were +in Boston. + +He had. During the four days' absence of its proprietor the Metropolitan +Store had actually sold more goods for cash than it had sold during +any previous week that summer. Bangs was optimistic concerning its +prospects. He was loaded with schemes and ideas. + +"All you need is a little push and up-to-date methods, Cap'n," he said. +"You must advertise a little, and let people know what you've got to +sell. That's how I got rid of all that stale candy you had in the boxes +behind the showcase. I knew the Methodist folks had a Sunday school +picnic on the slate for Tuesday. Kids like candy, but candy costs money. +I got out all that stale stuff, put it up in bags at five cents apiece, +and sent the bags and Sam here to the picnic. About every kid had ten +cents or so to spend, and it didn't make any difference to him or her +whether the candy was fresh or not, so there was enough of it. If a +chocolate cream is harder than the rock of Gibraltar it lasts longer +when you're eating it, and that's a big advantage to the average young +one. Sam came back, sold out, and we've got four dollars and eighty +cents right out of the junk pile, as you might call it. The kids are +happy and so are we. There's a half-dozen dried-up oilskin coats in the +attic that I've got my eye on. The Manonquit House crowd are going off +on a final codfishing cruise to-morrow and I'll be on the dock with +those coats at a dollar apiece when they sail." + +"But--but those coats are old as Methuselah," faltered the captain. +"They'll leak, won't they?" + +"Not if it's fair weather, they won't. And, if it's rough, they're +better than nothing. You can't expect a mackintosh for a dollar." + +Daniel's method would have been to refuse selling the coats because they +"wouldn't be much good in a no'theaster." When the codfishers returned, +enthusiastic because, although it had "drizzled" for fifteen minutes, +they had not gotten wet, he scratched his head and regarded his new +assistant with awe. Mr. Bangs' services were retained, "for a spell, +anyhow," and the captain's principal excuse for not visiting Scarford +was knocked in the head. To Scarford they went, and at the Palatine +Hotel in Scarford they now were. + +The 'table d'hote' meal eaten, the next feature of Mrs. Dott's program +was the visit to the Aunt Lavinia homestead. There was a caretaker in +charge, so the Boston lawyers told them, and Serena had written him +announcing the coming of the new owners. In spite of her husband's +protestations, another carriage was hired for the journey. Daniel was +strongly in favor of walking or going by trolley. + +"Walkin'll be cheaper, Serena," he declared, "and pretty nigh as fast, +to say nothin' of bein' more cheerful. A hack always makes me think +of funerals and graveyards, and that skeleton of a horse looked like +somethin' that had been buried and dug up. Let's walk, will you?" + +But Serena would not walk. + +"We must get used to carriages," she said. "We may ride in them a great +deal from now on. And, besides, we needn't take a horse carriage. +We shouldn't have taken one before. Get one of those new kind, the +automobile ones. What is it they call them? Oh, yes--taxis." + +The taxi gave no opportunity for complaint as far as slowness was +concerned. After the first quarter of a mile dodge up the crowded street +Captain Dan shouted through the window. + +"Hi!" he hailed, addressing the driver. "Hi, you! You've made a mistake, +ain't you? You thought we wanted to fly. We don't. Just hit the ground +once in a while, so we'll know it's there." + +After this the cab moved at a more reasonable speed and its occupants +had an opportunity to observe the streets through which they were +passing. The business district was being left behind and they were +entering the residential section. + +Mrs. Dott seized her husband's arm. + +"Look!" she cried. "Look, Daniel, quick! Do you see that? That building +there!" + +"I see it. Some kind of a hall or somethin', ain't it?" + +"Yes. And I'm quite sure, from what Mrs. Black said, that it is the hall +where the Scarford Guild meets. Yes, it's just as she said it was. I'm +SURE that's it. Oh, I'm glad I've seen it! Yes, and Mrs. Black said +they lived not very far from the hall. Daniel! Daniel! ask the man if he +knows where the Blacks live and if he can show us their house." + +Captain Dan obediently made the inquiry. + +"Who?" grunted the driver. "Which Black? Black and Cobb, the Wee Waist +Corset feller? Sure! I know where he lives. I'll show you." + +A few moments later the cab slackened its speed. + +"There you are!" said the driver, pointing. "That's Black's house. Built +two years ago, 'twas." + +Serena and Daniel looked. The house was new and commodious, a trifle +ornate in decoration, perhaps, and a bit mixed in architecture, owing to +Mrs. Black's insisting upon the embodiment of various features which +she had seen in magazines; but on the whole a rather fine house. To the +Dotts, of course, it was a mansion. + +"My!" said Serena, "to think of our knowing, really knowing, people +who live in a house like that! Oh, dear!" with a sigh, "I almost wish +I hadn't seen it until after we'd seen our own. We must try not to be +disappointed, mustn't we?" + +Captain Dan was surprised. "Disappointed?" he said. "Why, what do you +mean? As I recollect Aunt Laviny's place, 'twas just as good as that, if +not better. You said so yourself. You used to call it a regular palace." + +"I know, but don't you think that was because we hadn't seen many fine +houses then? I'm afraid that was it. You know Mrs. Black said it was +old-fashioned." + +"Humph! Barney--What's his name? Phelps, I mean--he said he wished his +was as good. Don't you remember he did?" + +"Probably he didn't mean it. I'm not going to expect too much, anyway. +I'm going to try and think of it as just a nice old place, and then I +shan't feel bad when I see it. I'm not going to get my expectations up +or be a bit excited." + +In proof of the sincerity of this determination, she sat bolt upright +on the seat and looked straight before her. Her husband, however, was +staring out of the window with all his might. + +"Say!" he exclaimed, "this is a mighty nice street, anyhow." + +"Is it? Is it really?" For a person not excited, Mrs. Dott's breathing +was short and her fingers, tightly clasped in her lap, were trembling. + +"You bet it is! Hey! Why, we're slowin' up! We're stoppin'." + +The cab drew up at the curb and came to a standstill. + +"Here you are," said the driver. "This is Number 180." + +Daniel made no reply. Leaning from the window, he was staring with all +his might. Serena's impatience got the better of her. + +"Well? WELL?" she burst forth. "What does it look like? Do say +something!" + +The captain drew back into the carriage. + +"My--soul!" he exclaimed presently. "Look, Serena." + +Serena looked, and her look was a long one. Then, her face flushed and +her eyes shining, she turned to her husband. + +"Oh! Oh, Daniel!" she gasped. "It's as good as the Blacks', isn't it? +I--I do believe it's better! Get out, quick!" + +The caretaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mutton-chop +whiskers, met them at the top of the stone steps leading to the front +door. He bowed low. + +"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said. "Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Dott, ain't +it, sir? And Mrs. Dott, ma'am. My name is 'Apgood, sir. I was expecting +you. Will you be so good as to walk in?" + +He threw open the door and, bowing once more, ushered them into the +hall, a large, old-fashioned hall with lofty ceiling and a mahogany +railed staircase. + +"I presume, sir," he said, addressing the captain, "that you and the +madam would wish to 'ave me show you about a bit. I was Mrs. Dott's--the +late Mrs. Dott's--butler when she resided 'ere, sir, and she was good +enough to make me 'er caretaker when she went away, sir." + +Captain Dan, rather overawed by Mr. Hapgood's magnificent manner, +observed that he wanted to know, adding that he had heard about the +caretaking from the lawyers "up to Boston." After an appraising glance +at the speaker, Mr. Hapgood addressed his next remark to Serena. + +"Shall I show you about the establishment, madam?" he asked. + +Serena's composure was a triumph. An inexperienced observer might have +supposed she had been accustomed to butlers and establishments all her +life. + +"Yes," she said loftily, "you can show us." + +Mr. Hapgood was a person of wide experience; however, he merely bowed +and led the way. Serena followed him, and Captain Dan followed Serena. + +A large drawing-room, a library, a very large dining-room, five large +bedrooms--"owners' and guest rooms," Mr. Hapgood grandly termed them, +to distinguish from the servants' quarters at the rear--billiard room, +bathroom, and back to the hall again. + +"You would wish to see the kitchens, I suppose, ma'am," said Mr. +Hapgood. "Doubtless Mr. Dott wouldn't care for those, sir. Most +gentlemen don't. Perhaps, sir, you'd sit 'ere while the lady and I go +through the service portion of the 'ouse, sir." + +Daniel, who was rather curious to see the "service portion," partly +because he had never heard of one before, hesitated. His wife, however, +settled the question. She was conscious of a certain condescension in +the Hapgood tone. + +"Of course," she said lightly, "Cap'n Dott will not go to +the--er--service portion. Such things never interest him. Sit here, +Daniel, and wait. Now--" cutting off just in time the "Mister" that +was on the tip of her tongue and remembering how butlers in novels +were invariably addressed--"Now--er--Hapgood, you can take me to +the--ahem--kitchens." + +It was somewhat disappointing to find that the plural was merely a bit +of verbal embroidery on the caretaking butler's part, and that there was +but one kitchen, situated in the basement. However, it was of good size +and well furnished with closets, the contents of which stirred Serena's +housekeeping curiosity. The inspection of the kitchen and laundry took +some time. + +Meanwhile, upstairs in the dim front hall, Captain Dan sat upon a most +uncomfortable carved teak-wood chair and looked about him. Through +the doorway leading to the drawing-room--"front parlor," he would have +called it--he could see the ebony grand piano, the ormolu clock, and +the bronze statuettes on the marble mantel, the buhl cabinet filled with +bric-a-brac, the heavy mahogany-framed and silk-covered sofa. There were +oil paintings on the walls, paintings which foreign dealers, recognizing +Aunt Lavinia's art craving as a gift of Providence--to them--had sold +her at high prices. They were, for the most part, landscapes, inclining +strongly to snow-covered mountains, babbling brooks, and cows; or +marines in which one-third of vivid sunset illumined two-thirds of +placid sea. Of portraits there were two, Uncle Jim Dott in black +broadcloth and dignity and Aunt Lavinia Dott in dignity and black satin. + +Captain Dan felt strangely out of place alone amid this oppressive +grandeur. Again, as on the memorable occasion of his first visit to the +house, he was conscious of his hands and feet. Aunt Lavinia's likeness, +staring stonily and paintily from the wall, seemed to regard him with +disapproval, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. If the portrait +could have spoken he might have expected it to say: "Here is the person +upon whom all these, my worldly possessions, have been bestowed, and he +does not appreciate them. There he sits, upon the teakwood chair which +I myself bought in Cairo, and, so far from being grateful for the gifts +which my generosity has poured into his lap, he is wondering what in the +world to do with them, and wishing himself back in Trumet." + +Mrs. Dott and the caretaker reentered the hall. + +"Thank you, Mr.--er--Thank you, Hapgood," said the lady. "That will be +all for to-day, I think. We will go now. Come, Daniel." + +Hapgood bowed. "You would wish me to stay 'ere as I've done, ma'am?" he +asked. + +"Yes. You may stay, for the present. Cap'n Dott and I will pay your +regular wages as long as we need you." + +"Thank you kindly, ma'am. And might I take the liberty of saying that +if you decide to stay 'ere permanently, ma'am, and need a butler or a +manservant about the place, I should be glad to 'ave you consider me for +the position. I'm sure it would 'ave pleased the late Mrs. Dott to 'ave +you do so, ma'am." + +"Well," said the captain, with surprising promptness for him, "you see, +Mr. Hapgood, as far as that goes we ain't intendin' to--" + +"Hush, Daniel. We don't know what we intend. You know that our plans are +not settled as yet. We will consider the matter, Hapgood. Good day." + +"Good day, ma'am," said Hapgood. "Good day, sir." + +He opened the big front door, bowed them out, and stood respectfully +waiting as they descended the steps. The taxi driver, whom the captain +had neglected to discharge or pay, was still there at the curb with his +vehicle. Serena addressed him. + +"The Palatine Hotel," she said, with great distinctness. "Come, Daniel." + +They entered the cab. Captain Dan closed the door. The driver, looking +up at Mr. Hapgood, grinned broadly. The latter gentleman glanced at the +cab window to make sure that his visitors were not watching him, then he +winked. + +As the cab whizzed through the streets Serena gloated over the splendors +of their new possessions. The house was finer than she expected, the +furniture was so rich and high-toned, the pictures--did Daniel notice +the pictures? + +"And the location!" she cried ecstatically. "Right on the very best +street in town, and yet, so the Hapgood man said, convenient to the +theaters and the clubs and the halls. We saw the Ladies of Honor hall on +the way up, Daniel, you remember." + +Daniel nodded. "Yes," he admitted, "it's fine and convenient and all. +We"--with a sidelong glance at his wife's face--"we ought to get a good +rent for it if we decide not to sell; hey, Serena?" + +Serena did not answer. When they reached the hotel she left her husband +to settle with the driver and took the elevator to their room. A few +minutes later the captain joined her. He looked as if suffering from +shock. + +"My heavens and earth, Serena!" he exclaimed, "what do you suppose that +tax hack feller had the cheek to--" + +"Sshh! shh!" interrupted the lady, who was reclining upon the couch. +"Don't bother me now, Daniel. I don't want to be bothered with common +every-day things now; I want to think." + +"Common! Everyday! My soul and body! if what that pirate charged me was +everyday, I'd be in the poorhouse in a fortni't. Why--" + +"Oh, don't! Please don't! Can't you see I am trying to realize that it's +true and not a dream. That it has really happened--to ME. Please don't +talk. Do go away, can't you? Just go out and take a walk, or something; +just for a little while. I want to be alone." + +Captain Dan slowly descended the stairs. The elevator, of course, would +have been quicker, but he was in no hurry. If he must walk, and it +seemed that he must, he might as well begin at once. He descended the +stairs to the ground floor of the hotel and wandered aimlessly about +through the lobby into the billiard room, and finally to a plate glass +door upon which was lettered the word "Rathskeller." + +What a Rathskeller might be he did not know, but, as there was another +set of letters on the door and those spelled "Push," he pushed. + +The Rathskeller was a large room, with a bar at one end and many little +tables scattered about. At these tables men were eating, drinking and +smoking. A violin, harp and piano, played by a trio of Italians, were +doing their worst with a popular melody. + +The captain looked about him, selected one of three chairs at an +unoccupied table, and sat down. A waiter drifted alongside. + +"What'll you have, sir?" inquired the waiter. + +"Hey? Oh, I don't know. Give me a cup of coffee." + +"Coffee? Yes, sir. Anything to eat?" + +"No, I guess not. I've had my dinner." + +"Smoke?" + +"Well, you might bring me a ten-cent cigar." + +The coffee and cigar were brought. Daniel lit the latter, took a sip +of the former and listened to the music. This was not taking a walk +exactly, but, so far as leaving his wife alone was concerned, it +answered the purpose. + +The room, already well tenanted, gradually filled. Groups of men +entered, stopped to glance at the tape of a sporting news ticker near +the bar, exchanged a word or two with the bartenders, and then selected +tables. Several times the two vacant chairs at the captain's table were +on the point of being taken, but each time the prospective occupants +went elsewhere. + +At length, however, two young men, laughing and talking rather loudly, +sauntered through the room. One of them paused. + +"Here are a couple," he said, indicating the chairs. + +His companion, an undersized, dapper individual, whose raiment--suit, +socks, shirt, shoes, hat and tie--might comprehensively be described as +a symphony in brown, paused also, turned and looked at the chairs, then +at the table, and finally at the captain. + +"Yes," he drawled, regarding the latter fixedly, "so I see. Well, +perhaps we can't do better. This place is getting too infernally common, +though. Don't think I shall come here again. If it wasn't that they put +up the best cocktail in town I should have quit before. All right, this +will have to do, I suppose." + +He seated himself in one of the chairs. His friend followed suit. The +watchful waiter was on hand immediately. + +"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said, bowing obsequiously. + +Neither of the young men acknowledged the bow or the greeting, although +it was evident that the waiter was an old acquaintance. The symphony in +brown did not even turn his head. + +"Two dry Martinis," he said. "And mind that they ARE dry. Have Charlie +make them himself. If that other fellow does it I'll send them back." + +"Yes, sir. All right, sir. Will you have a bit of lunch with them, sir? +Caviare sandwich or--" + +"No." + +"Shall I bring cigars, sir?" + +"Lord, no! The last I had here nearly poisoned me. Get the cocktails and +be lively about it." + +The waiter departed. The young gentleman drew a gold cigarette case from +his pocket. + +"Here you are," he drawled, proffering the case. "Cigars!" with a +contemptuous laugh. "They buy their cigars by the yard, at the rope +walk. Fact, Monty; take my word for it." + +"Monty" laughed. "That's pretty rough, Tacks," he declared. + +"Oh, but it's so. You can actually smell the hemp. Eh? By gad, you can +smell it now, can't you?" + +Captain Dan was relighting the stump of his "ten-center" which had gone +out. He had scarcely noticed the newcomers; his thoughts were far away +from Scarford and the Palatine Hotel. Now, however, he suddenly became +aware that his tablemates were regarding him and the cigar with apparent +amusement. He smiled good naturedly. + +"Been runnin' her too low," he observed. "Have to get up steam if I want +to be in at the finish." + +This nautical remark was received with blank stares. "Monty" turned his +shoulder toward the speaker. "Tacks" did not even turn; he continued +to stare. The arrival of the cocktails was the next happening of +importance. + +"I say, Tacks," observed Monty, leaning back in his chair and sipping +his Martini, "how are you getting on? Made up your mind what to do?" + +"No," shortly. + +"Going to fight, are you?" + +"No use. The confounded lawyers say I wouldn't have a show." + +"Humph! Low-down trick of the old woman's, wasn't it, giving you the +shake that way? Everybody thought you were her pet weakness. We used to +envy your soft snap. Did you get the go-by altogether?" + +"Pretty near. Got a little something, but it was precious little." + +"Can you pull through on it?" + +"'Twill be a devilish hard pull." + +"Too bad, old man. But cheer up! You'll come out on top. Have another +one of these things?" + +"All right." + +More Martinis were ordered. "Monty" and his friend lit fresh cigarettes. +The former asked another question. + +"Who are the lucky winners?" he inquired. "Some country cousins or +other, I know that; but who are they?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Yes, I know; but what difference does it make?" + +"Isn't there a girl somewhere in the crowd?" + +"Yes, but--" He broke off. Captain Dan was regarding him intently. + +"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Uncle?" +drawled "Tacks," with bland sarcasm. + +Daniel was taken aback. + +"Why," he stammered, "I--I don't know's there is." + +"Shall I speak a little louder? Possibly that might help. Delighted to +oblige, I'm sure." + +This was plain enough, certainly. The captain colored. His confusion +increased. + +"I--I hope you don't think I was listenin' to you and your friend's +talk," he protested hastily. "I wasn't. Why, if--if you two would like +this table to yourself you can have it just as well as not. I can go +somewhere else. You see, I was thinkin'--when you spoke to me--I was +thinkin' there was somethin' familiar about your face. Seemed as if I'd +seen you somewhere before, that's all; and--" + +The young gentleman in brown interrupted him. "You're mistaken," he +said, "I was never there." Then, turning to his friend, he added, with +an elaborate "Josh Whitcomb" accent: "Monty, 'taters must be lookin' up. +All aour folks have come to town to spend their money." + +Monty, upon whom, like his companion, the second cocktail--second in +this particular sense--there had been others--seemed to be having some +effect, laughed uproariously. Even the joker himself deigned to smile. +Captain Dan did not smile. He had risen, preparatory to leaving the +table; now he slowly sat down again. + +"I guess I WAS mistaken," he said gravely. "I guess you're right about +my not havin' seen you before. If I had I wouldn't have forgot where." + +Monty evidently thought it his turn to be funny. + +"You have a good memory, haven't you, Deacon?" he observed. + +The captain looked at him. + +"That don't necessarily follow, young man," he said. "There's some +things you CAN'T forget." + +There was a choking sound at the next table; a stout man there seemed to +be having trouble in swallowing. Those with him looked strangely happy, +considering. + +"Tacks" frowned, pushed back his chair and stood up. + +"Come on, Monty," he growled. "This place is going to the dogs. They let +ANYTHING in here now." + +Daniel turned to the stout man and his party. + +"That's strange, ain't it?" he said in a tone of grave surprise. "I was +just thinkin' that myself." + +Then, his cigar smoked to the bitter end, he, too, rose, and, declining +the invitations of the stout man and his friends to have something +"because he had earned it," he walked out of the Rathskeller and took +the elevator to the third floor. + +He opened the door of the room gently and entered on tiptoe, for he +thought it likely that Serena was taking a nap. She was not, however; on +the contrary, she was very wide awake. + +"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've been waiting and waiting for +you." + +Daniel chuckled. + +"I've been down below in a place they call the Rat Cellar, or some such +name," he said. "The rats was there, two of 'em, anyhow. And I'd met one +of 'em before. I know I have. I wish I could think who he was. A sort +of--" + +But Serena was not listening. + +"Daniel," she interrupted, "it is all settled. I have made up my mind." + +Her voice was tremulous with excitement. Captain Dan looked at her. + +"Made up your mind?" he repeated. "I want to know! What about?" + +"About our plans and our future, Daniel; my opportunity has come, the +opportunity I was wishing for. It has been sent to me by Providence, I +do believe--and it would be wicked not to take advantage of it. Daniel, +you and I must move to Scarford." + +The captain gasped. + +"Why--why, Serena," he faltered. "What are you talkin' about? DON'T talk +so! Move to Scarford! Give up Trumet and--" + +"Trumet! Don't mention Trumet to me. Daniel Dott, you'll never get me +back to Trumet again--to live there, I mean--never, never, NEVER!" + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Captain Dan said--Well, it does not matter much what he said. He said +a great deal, of course, during that evening and the next morning, and +would have kept on saying it all the way to Trumet if his wife had not +declined to listen. + +"It is no use, Daniel," she declared calmly but firmly. "I have thought +it all out and I KNOW it is the right thing for us to do. You will think +so, too, one of these days." + +"Durned if I will! I tell you, Serena--" + +"Hush! you're telling everybody in the car, and THAT isn't necessary, +at any rate. Now we won't argue any more until we get home. Then you +can say your say; but"--with discouraging candor--"it won't change my +decision a single mite. My mind is made up. A higher power than you or +me has settled everything for us. We are going to Scarford to live, and +we will go just as soon as we can get ready." + +And go they did. The captain fought a stubborn battle, surprisingly +stubborn and protracted for him, but he surrendered at last. Serena +drove him from one line of entrenchments after the other, and, at +length, when she had him in the last ditch, where, argument and +expostulation unavailing, he could only say, "No! no, I won't, I tell +you!" over and over again, she used her most effective weapon, tears, +and brought him to terms. + +"You don't care," she sobbed. "You don't care for me at all. All you +care about is just yourself. You're willing to stay here in this awful +place, you're willing to plod along just as you always have; and it +doesn't make any difference about my wishes or my hopes, or anything. If +you were like most husbands you'd be proud and glad to see me getting +on in the world; you'd be glad to give me the chance to be somebody; +you'd--" + +"There! there! Serena, don't talk so. I'd do anything in this world to +please you." + +"Hush! hush! I should think you'd be ashamed to say such things. I +should think you'd be AFRAID to say them, afraid something would happen +to you--you'd be struck down or something. Oh, well! I must be resigned, +I suppose. I must give in, just as I always do. I must be satisfied to +be miserable and--and--Oh, what shall I do? What SHALL I do?" + +Sobs and more sobs, frantic clutchings at the sofa pillows and +declarations that she had better die; it would be better for her and +ever so much better for everyone else if she were dead. No one would +care. + +Poor Daniel, distressed and remorseful, vaguely conscious that he was +right, but conscience stricken nevertheless, hoisted the white flag. + +"Hush, hush, Serena!" he pleaded. "Land sakes, don't say such +things--please don't. I'll do anything you want, of course I will. I'll +go to Scarford, if you say so. I was just--" + +"I don't ask you to go there forever. I never have asked that. I only +ask you to go there and live a while and just see how we like it. That +was all I asked, and you knew it. But you won't! you won't!" + +"Why, yes I will, too. I'll go--go next week, if you say so. I--I +just--" + +He got no further. Mrs. Dott, wet-eyed but radiant, lifted her head from +the sofa pillow and threw her arms about his neck. + +"Will you?" she cried ecstatically. "Will you, Daniel? I knew you would. +You're a dear, good man and I love you better than all the world. We +will be so happy. You see if we aren't." + +The captain was no less doubtful of the happiness than he had ever been, +but he tried to smile and to find comfort in the thought that she was +happy if he was not. + +He had written Gertrude telling of her mother's new notion and asking +for advice and counsel. The reply, which came by return mail, did not +cheer him as much as he had hoped. + +"It was inevitable, I suppose," Gertrude wrote. "I expected it. I was +almost certain that Mother would want to live in Scarford. Mrs. Black +has been telling her all summer about society and club life and what +she calls 'woman's opportunity,' and Mother has come to believe that +Scarford is Paradise. You will have to go, I think, Daddy dear. Perhaps +it is just as well. Mother won't be satisfied until she has tried it, +and perhaps, after she has tried it, she may be glad to come back to +Trumet. My advice is to let her find out for herself, but, of course, if +you feel sure it is wrong, then you must put your foot down, say no, and +stick to it. No one can do that for you; you must do it yourself." + +Which was perfectly true, as true as the other fact--namely, that +Captain Dan could not "stick to it" in a controversy with his wife, +having lost the sticking faculty years before. + +But, oddly enough, there was one point upon which he did stick and +refused to budge: That point was Azuba's going to Scarford with them. +Mrs. Ginn's attitude when she was told of the family exodus was a +great surprise. Serena, who broke the news to her, expected grief and +lamentations; instead Azuba was delighted. + +"Well, now!" she exclaimed. "Ain't that fine! Ain't that splendid! I +always wanted to go somewhere's besides Trumet, and now I'm goin'. I +always told Labe, my husband, that if there was one thing I was jealous +of him about 'twas travelin'. 'You go from Dan to Beersheby,' I says to +him, 'any time you want to.' 'Yes,' says he--this was the last time he +was to home, three years ago--'Yes,' he says, 'and when I don't want to, +too.' 'And I,' I says, 'I have to say stuck here in Trumet like a post +in a rail fence.' 'You look more like the rail, Zuby,' he says--he's +always pokin' fun 'cause I ain't fleshy. 'Don't make no difference what +I LOOK like,' I says, 'here I be and I ain't never been further than +the Brockton cattle show since I was ten year old.' But now I'm goin' to +travel at last. My! I'm so tickled I don't know what to do. I'll start +in makin' my last fall's hat over this very night. Say, it's a good +thing you've got me to help in the goin' and the settlin', ain't it, +Sereny--Mrs. Dott, I mean." + +In the face of this superb confidence Serena, who had intended leaving +Azuba behind, lacked the courage to mention the fact. And when she +sought her husband in the store and asked him to do it, he flatly +refused. + +"What!" he said. "Tell Zuba Ginn we're goin' to cast her adrift! I +should say not! Of course we can't do any such thing, Serena." + +"But what can we do with her, Daniel? We might leave her here to take +care of the place, I suppose, but that would only be for a time, until +we find somebody to buy it. Of course we can't run two places, and we'll +have to sell this one some time or other." + +Daniel, to whom the idea of selling the home of which he had been so +proud was unthinkable, ignored the question. + +"You couldn't leave her here," he declared. "She wouldn't stay. Zuba's +queer--all her tribe are and always was--but she's nobody's fool. She'd +know right off you were tryin' to get rid of her. No, it may be all +right enough to leave Nate Bangs in charge of the store, because he'd +like nothin' better, but you can't leave Zuba in the house." + +"Then what can we do with her?" + +"Take her with us. She can do housekeepin' in Scarford same as she can +here, can't she?" + +"Take her with us! Why, Daniel Dott! the very idea! Think of Azuba in +a place like that Scarford mansion! Think of her and that dignified, +polite Hapgood man together! Think of it!" + +The captain seemed to find the thought amusing. + +"Say, that would be some fun, wouldn't it?" he chuckled. "I'd risk Zuba, +though. He wouldn't do the Grand Panjandrum over her more'n once. I'd +risk her to hold up her end." + +"What do you think the B. Phelps Blacks would say if they saw Azuba +trotting through the grand front hall with her kitchen apron on?" + +The mention of the name had an odd effect upon the captain. He +straightened in his chair. + +"I don't care what they say," he declared. "I don't care what the Blacks +would say, nor the Yellows nor the Blues either. If they don't like it +they can stay in their own front halls and lock the door. Look here, +Serena: Zuba Ginn has been with us ever since Gertie was born; she took +care of her when she had the scarlet fever, set up nights and run the +risk of catchin' it herself, and all that. The doctor told us that if +it hadn't been for Zuba and her care and self-sacrifice and common sense +Gertie would have died. She may be queer and hard to keep in her place, +as you call it, and a regular walkin' talkin' machine, and all that. I +don't say she ain't. What I do say is she's been good enough for us all +these years and she's good enough for me now. She ain't got any folks; +her husband is as queer as she is, and only shows up once in two or +three years, when he happens to think of it. She ain't got any home +but ours, and nobody else to turn to, and I won't cast her adrift just +because I've got more money than I did have. I'd be ASHAMED to do it. +No, sir! if Zuba Ginn wants to go to Scarford, along with us, she goes, +or I don't go myself." + +He struck the desk a violent blow with his clenched fist. Serena +regarded him with astonishment. It had been a long time since she had +seen him like this, not since the old seafaring days. + +"Why--why, Daniel," she faltered, "I didn't mean to make you cross. I--I +only thought.... Of course, she can go with us if you feel that way." + +"That's the way I feel," said her husband shortly. Then, as if suddenly +awakening and with a relapse into his usual manner, he added, "Was +I cross? I'm real sorry, Serena. Say, don't you want some candy? +Nathaniel's just openin' a new case from Boston. Hi, Sam! Sam! bring me +a pound box of those Eureka chocolates, will you?" + +Serena did not again suggest Azuba's remaining in Trumet. Neither she +nor Captain Dan referred to the subject again. Mrs. Dott was, to tell +the truth, just a bit frightened; she did not understand her husband's +sudden outbreak of determination. And yet the explanation was simple +enough. So long as he was the only sufferer, so long as only his own +preferences and wishes were pushed aside for those of his wife or +daughter, he was meekly passive or, at the most, but moderately +rebellious; here, however, was an injustice--or what he considered an +injustice--done to someone else, and he "put his foot down" for once, at +least. + +So, upon the fateful day when, preceded by a wagonload of trunks and +bags and boxes, the Dotts once more drove through Scarford's streets +to the mansion which was to be their home--permanently, according to +Serena; temporarily, so her husband hoped--Azuba accompanied them. And +Azuba was wildly excited and tirelessly voluble. Even Captain Dan, the +long-suffering, grew weary of her exclamations and chatter at last. + +"Say, Zuba," he remonstrated, "is this an all-day service you're givin' +us? If it is, I wish you'd take up a collection or somethin', for a +change. Mrs. Dott and I are gettin' sort of tired of the sermon." + +"Why--why, what do you mean? I was only just sayin' I never see so many +folks all at once since that time I was at the Brockton cattle show. +I'll bet there's a million right on this street." + +"I'll take the bet. Now you start in and count 'em, and let's see who +wins. Count 'em to yourself, that's all I ask." + +Azuba, with an indignant toss of the "made-over" hat, subsided for the +time. But the sight of the Aunt Lavinia mansion, with Mr. Hapgood bowing +a welcome from the steps, was too much for her. + +"Oh!" she burst forth. "Oh! you don't mean to tell me THAT'S it! Why, +it's perfectly grand! And--and there's the minister comin' to call +already! Ain't it LOVELY!" + +That night, as they sat down for the first meal in the new abode, a meal +cooked by Azuba and served by the light-footed, soft-spoken, deft-handed +Hapgood, Serena voiced the exultation she felt. + +"There, Daniel," she observed, beaming across the table at her husband, +"now you begin to appreciate what it means, don't you. NOW you begin to +see the difference." + +Captain Dan, glancing up at the obsequious Hapgood standing at his +elbow, hesitated. + +"Yes, sir?" said Mr. Hapgood anxiously. "What is it you wish, sir?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Why, yes, I tell you: You go out and--and buy me a +cigar somewhere. Here's the money." + +"Cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What kind do you--" + +"Any kind; only get it quick." + +Then, as the door closed behind the dignified Hapgood, he added: + +"I've got three cigars in my pocket now, but that doesn't matter. I had +to send him after somethin'! Say, Serena, is it real necessary to have +that undertaker hangin' over us ALL the time? Every time he looks at +me I feel as if he was takin' my measure. Has EVERY meal got to be a +funeral?" + +There was no doubt that the captain noticed the difference. He noticed +it more the following day, and more still on each succeeding one. + +The next evening the Blacks called--called in state. A note from Mrs. +Black, arriving by the morning's post, announced their coming. Serena +noted the Black stationery, its quality and the gilded monogram, and +resolved to order a supply of her own immediately. Also she bade her +husband don his newest and best. She did the same, and when Captain Dan, +painfully conscious of a pair of tight shoes, entered the drawing-room +he found her already there. + +"My!" he exclaimed, regarding her with admiration, "you do look fine, +Serena. Is that the one the Boston dressmaker made?" + +"Yes. I'm glad you like it." + +"Couldn't help likin' it. I can't hardly realize it's my wife that's got +it on. Walk around and let me take an observation. Whew! I always +said you looked ten years younger than you are. THAT rig don't spell +forty-five next January, Serena." + +Mrs. Dott sniffed. + +"Don't remind me of my age, Daniel," she protested. "It isn't necessary +to tell everyone how old I am." + +"All right. Nobody'd guess it, anyhow. But how funny you walk. What +makes you take such little short steps?" + +"I can't help it. This dress--gown, I mean--is so tight I can hardly +step at all." + +"Have to shake out a reef, won't you? How in the world did you get +downstairs--hop?" + +"Hush! Don't be foolish. The gown is no tighter than anyone else's. It's +the style, Daniel, and you and I must get used to it. Are those your new +shoes?" + +"They certainly are. Do they look as new as they feel? I walk about the +way you do, Serena. Bein' in style ain't all joy, is it?" + +"It's better than being out of it. And, Daniel, please remember not to +say 'ain't.' I've asked you so many times. We have our opportunity now +and so must improve ourselves. You're not keeping store in the country +any longer. You are a man of means, living among cultivated society +people, and you must try to behave like the ladies and gentlemen you +will be called upon to associate with." + +"Humph!" doubtfully. "I don't know as I could behave like a lady if I +tried. As for the gentleman, if you mean Barney Black--" + +"I mean B. Phelps Black. Don't you dare call him Barney to-night. If you +do I shall be SO mortified. Hush! Here they are. Very well, Hapgood. You +may show them in." + +Even Serena's new gown, fine as it was and proud as she had been of it, +lost something of its glory and sank into a modest second place when +Annette appeared. Mrs. Black had dressed for the occasion. Also, she had +insisted upon her husband's dressing. + +"What in blazes must I climb into a dress suit for?" demanded that +gentleman grumpily. "Going to call on Dan Dott and his wife. You don't +expect Dan to be wearing a dress suit, do you? He never wore one in his +life." + +"It doesn't make any difference what he wears. I want you to go in +evening dress." + +"But, confound it, Annette, we've been calling on those people all +summer." + +"THAT was in the country; this is not. Don't you SEE, Phelps? Can't you +understand? Those Dotts have come here to live. I did all I could to +prevent it, but--" + +"WHAT?" Mr. Black interrupted with an amazed protest. "Did all you could +to prevent it! Why, you used to preach Scarford to Serena Dott from +morning till night. You were always telling her how much better it was +than Trumet. I don't believe she would ever have thought of coming here +if it hadn't been for you." + +Annette stamped her foot impatiently. "Don't you suppose I know it?" she +demanded. "That was when I never imagined there was any chance of their +really coming. But now they have come and we've got to be with them to +some extent. We've GOT to; we can't get out of it. That is why I want +them to see how people of our class dress. I can't TELL her that her +clothes are a sight, as country as a green pumpkin, but I can show +her mine, and she's clever enough to understand. And you can show her +husband. Not that that will do much good, I'm afraid. HE is the real +dreadful part of the thing. Goodness knows what he may say or do at any +time!" + +Phelps grinned. Nevertheless, he donned the dress suit. + +Mrs. Black had another reason, one which she did not mention, for making +this, their first, call upon the Dotts in their new home a ceremonial +occasion. It was true that they would be obliged to associate with these +acquaintances from the country more or less; the commonest politeness +required that, considering all that had gone before. But she meant there +should be no misunderstanding of the relations between the families. In +Trumet she had made Mrs. Dott her protegee because it was her nature to +patronize, and Serena had not resented the patronage. Now circumstances +were quite different; now the Dotts possessed quite as much worldly +wealth as the Blacks, but Annette did not intend to let Serena presume +upon that. No, indeed! She intended, not only by the grandeur of her +raiment and that of her husband, but by her tone and manner, to make +perfectly plain the fact that the acquaintanceship was still a great +condescension on her part and did not imply equality in the least. + +But this lofty attitude was destined to be shaken before the evening was +over. The first shock came at the very beginning, and Mr. Hapgood +was responsible for it. Annette had referred, during the Trumet +acquaintanceship, to her "staff of servants," and had spoken casually +of her cook and second girl and laundress and "man," as if the quartette +were permanent fixtures in the Black establishment. As a matter of fact, +the only fixtures were the cook and second girl. The laundress came in +on Mondays and Tuesdays to do the washing and ironing, and the "man" +acted as janitor's helper at the factory three days of the week. The +chauffeur was but a summer flourish; B. Phelps drove his own car eight +months in the year. + +So when the door of the Dott mansion was opened by a butler--and such +a dignified, polite, imposing butler--Mrs. Black's soul was shaken by +a twinge of envy. The second shock was Serena's appearance and the +calm graciousness of her demeanor. The Boston gown was not as grand, as +prodigal of lace and embroidery, as was the visitor's, but it was in +the latest fashion and Serena wore it as if she had been used to such +creations all her life. Neither was she overawed or flurried when her +callers entered. Serena had read a good deal, had observed as much as +her limited opportunities would allow, and was naturally a clever woman +in many ways. + +"Why, how do you do, Mrs. Black?" she said. "It's so good of you to +come. And to bring Mr. Black, too. You must take off your things. Yes, +you must. Hapgood, take the lady's wraps. Daniel!" + +The captain, who, not being used to butlers and lacking much of his +wife's presence of mind, had started forward to assist with the wraps, +stopped short. + +"Yes, Serena?" he faltered. + +"Can't you ask Mr. Black to sit down?" + +"Hey? Why, course I can. I judged he was goin' to sit down anyway. +Wasn't figgerin' to stand up all the evenin', was you, Bar--er--Phelps?" + +"No," replied Mr. Black. To prove it he selected the most comfortable +chair in the room. + +"I had such a time to get Phelps to come," declared Annette, sinking, +with a rustle, into the next best chair. "He wanted to see you both, +of course, and to welcome you to Scarford, but he is SO busy and has +so many engagements. If it isn't a directors' meeting it is a house +committee at the club, or--or something. You should be thankful that +your husband is not a man of affairs and constantly in demand. It was a +club meeting to-night, wasn't it, Phelps, dear?" + +"'Twas a stag dinner," observed Mr. Black. "Say, Dan, I'll have to take +you to one of 'em some time. It's a good bunch of fellows and we have +some of the cleverest vaudeville stunts afterward that you ever saw. +Last week there were a couple of coons that--" + +"Phelps!" Annette interrupted tartly, "you needn't go into details. I +don't imagine Captain and Mrs. Dott will be greatly interested. What a +charming old room this is, isn't it? SO quaint! Everything looks as if +it had been here a hundred years." + +Before Serena could frame a reply to this back-handed compliment +the unconscious B. Phelps removed the greater part of its sting by +observing: + +"That butler of yours looks as if he had been here a thousand. I felt as +if George the First was opening the door for me. He's a star, all right. +Did he come with the place?" + +Mrs. Dott explained that Hapgood was one of Aunt Lavinia's old servants. +"She thought the world of him. Daniel and I feel perfectly safe in +leaving everything to him. Auntie found him somewhere abroad--working +for a lord or a count or something, I believe--and brought him over. He +is pretty expensive, his wages, I mean, but he is worth it all. Don't +you think so?" + +Yes, Mrs. Black found it much more difficult to patronize than she +expected, and Serena was correspondingly happy. But the crowning triumph +came later. The doorbell rang, and Hapgood entered the drawing-room +bearing a tray upon which were several cards. He bent and whispered +respectfully. + +Mrs. Dott was evidently surprised and startled. + +"Who?" she asked. + +Hapgood whispered again. + +Serena rose. "Yes, of course," she said nervously. "Yes, certainly. I +declare, I--" + +"What's up?" asked her husband, his curiosity aroused. "Nothin' wrong, +is there? What's that he's bringin' you on that thing?" + +He referred to the cards and the tray. His wife, who had caught a +glimpse of Mrs. Black's face, fought down her nervousness and announced +with dignified composure. + +"Some more callers, that's all, Daniel," she said. "Oh, you mustn't go, +Mrs. Black. You know them, I'm sure. I've heard you speak of 'em--of +them often. It's"--referring to the cards--"the Honorable Oscar Fenholtz +and Mrs. Fenholtz. Ask them right in, Hapgood. Daniel, get up!" + +Daniel hurriedly obeyed orders. Mr. Black also rose. + +"The Fenholtzes!" he observed in a tone of surprise. "Say, Dan, I didn't +know you knew them. Annette didn't say anything about it." + +Annette hadn't known of it; her expression showed that. The Honorable +and Mrs. Fenholtz were Scarford's wealthiest citizens. Mr. Fenholtz +was proprietor of a large brewery and was an ex-mayor. His wife was +prominent socially; as prominent as Mrs. Black hoped to be some day. + +Hapgood reappeared, ushering in the new arrivals. The Honorable Oscar +was plump and florid and good-natured. He wore a business suit and his +shoes were not patent leathers. Mrs. Fenholtz was likewise plump. Her +gown, in comparison with Annette's, or even Serena's, was extremely +plain and old-fashioned. + +She hastened over to where Serena was standing and extended her hand. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Dott?" she said pleasantly. "Welcome to Scarford. +You and I have never met, of course, but I used to know Mrs. Lavinia +Dott very well indeed. And this is Mr. Dott, I suppose. How do you do? +And here is my husband. Oscar, these are our new neighbors." + +Mr. Fenholtz and the captain shook hands. Captain Dan felt his +embarrassment disappearing under the influence of that hearty shake. + +"I suppose you scarcely expected callers--or calls from strangers--so +soon," went on Mrs. Fenholtz. "But, you see, I hope we shan't be +strangers after this. I couldn't bear to think of you all alone here in +this great house in a strange place, and so I told Oscar that he and I +must run in. We live near here, only on the next corner." + +"I said you would be having your after-dinner smoke, Mr. Dott," +explained the Honorable, with a smile and a Teutonic accent. "I said +you would wish we was ouid instead of in; but Olga would not have it so. +And, when the women say yes, we don't say no. Eh; what is the use?" He +chuckled. + +Captain Dan grinned. "That's right," he said. "No use for the fo'mast +hand to contradict the skipper." + +Mrs. Black stepped forward. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Fenholtz?" she said with unction. + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Serena. "I--I'm forgetting everything. But you know +Mr. and Mrs. Black, don't you, Mrs. Fenholtz?" + +Mrs. Fenholtz turned. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Black?" she said. Her tone lacked the enthusiasm of +Annette's. + +"Hello, Black," said her husband. "What are you doing here? I thought +you would be at the club, listening to the--what is it?--the cabaret. +Py George, my wife says I shall not go any more! She says it is no place +for a settled man so old as I am. Ho! ho! Yet I tell her the stag dinner +is good for the beer business." + +Before B. Phelps could answer, Mrs. Black spoke. + +"He wanted to go, Mr. Fenholtz," she declared. "But he felt, as I did, +that our first duty was here. Captain and Mrs. Dott are old friends of +ours. We meet them every year at the Cape; we have a summer home there, +you know." + +Fenholtz seemed interested. "That is so," he said. "I forgot. Dott, are +you one of those Cape Cod skippers they tell me about? I am glad of it. +I have got a boat myself down in Narragansett Bay. One of those gruisin' +launches, they call them. But this one is like the women, it will gruise +only where and when it wants to, and not where I want to at all. There +is something the matter with the engine always. I have had egsperts--ah, +those egsperts!--they are egsperts only in getting the money. When they +are there it will go beautifully; but when they have left it will not go +at all. I wish you could see it." + +Captain Dan was interested, too. + +"Well," he said, "I'd like to, first rate. I've got a boat of my own +back home; that is, I used to have her. She was a twenty-five foot +cat and she had a five-horsepower auxiliary in her. I had consider'ble +experience with that engine. Course, I ain't what you'd call an expert." + +"I am glad of that. Now I will explain about this drouble of mine." + +He went on to explain. In five minutes he and the captain were head over +heels in spark plugs and batteries and valves and cylinders. Mr. +Black endeavored to help out with quotations from his experience as +a motorist, but his suggestions, not being of a nautical nature, were +ignored for the most part. After a time he lost interest and settled +back in his chair. + +Meanwhile the three ladies were engrossed in other matters. Mrs. +Fenholtz asked to be shown the house; she had not seen it for a long +time, she said, and was much interested. Annette suddenly remembered +that, she also was "mad" to see it. So Serena led a tour of inspection, +in which Mr. Hapgood officiated as assistant pilot and superintendent of +lighting. + +After the tour was at an end, and just before the party descended to the +drawing-room, Mrs. Fenholtz turned to Serena and said: + +"Mrs. Dott, are you interested in club matters; in women's clubs, I +mean?" + +Serena's answer was a prompt one. + +"Indeed I am," she said. "I have always been interested in them. In +fact, I am president of the Trumet Chapter; that is, I was; of course, I +resigned when I came here." + +Mrs. Fenholtz looked puzzled. + +"Trumet Chapter?" she repeated. + +"Why, yes, the Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor. The order +Mrs. Black belongs to." + +"Oh!" in a slightly different tone. "Oh, yes, I see." + +"I'm terribly interested in THAT," declared Serena enthusiastically. "If +you knew the hours and hours I have put in working for the Guild. It is +a splendid movement; don't you think so?" + +"Why--why, I have no doubt it is. I don't belong to it myself. I was +thinking of our local club, our Scarford women's club, when I spoke. I +thought perhaps you might care to attend a meeting of that with me." + +"I should love--" began Serena, and stopped. + +Mrs. Black, who was standing behind Mrs. Fenholtz, was shaking her head. +The last-named lady noticed her hostess' hesitation. + +"But of course," she went on, "if you are interested in the Ladies of +Honor you would no doubt prefer visiting a meeting of theirs. In that +case Mrs. Black could help you more than I. She is vice-president of +the Scarford Branch, I think. You are vice-president, aren't you, Mrs. +Black?" + +Annette colored slightly. + +"Why--why, yes," she admitted; "I am." + +Serena was surprised. + +"Vice-president?" she repeated. "Vice-president--I--I--must have made a +dreadful mistake. I introduced you as president at that Trumet meeting. +I certainly thought you were president." + +Now, as a matter of fact, if Mrs. Black had not specifically said that +she was president of the Scarford Chapter, she had led her acquaintances +in Trumet to infer that she was; at all events, she had not corrected +Serena's misapprehension on the night of the meeting. She hastened to do +so now. + +"Oh, no!" she said. "I noticed that you made a mistake when you +introduced me, but, of course, I could hardly correct you publicly, and, +when it was all over, I forgot. I am only vice-president, just as Mrs. +Fenholtz says." + +Mrs. Fenholtz smiled. "Well, I am not even an officeholder in our club," +she said, "although I was at one time. I have no doubt you will prefer +to be introduced by a vice-president rather than a mere member; and I am +sure Mrs. Black is planning for you to attend one of the Guild meetings, +so I mustn't interfere." + +Annette was visibly flurried. The Scarford Chapter was the one subject +which she had carefully avoided that evening. But between it and the +Woman's Club there was a bitter rivalry, and, although she had not been +at all anxious to act as sponsor for her friend from the country, +now that Mrs. Fenholtz had offered to do so and had placed the +responsibility squarely on her shoulders, she could not dodge. + +"Why--why, of course," she said. "That was understood. We have had so +many things to talk about this evening that I had really forgotten it, +my dear Mrs. Dott. I had indeed! When," she hesitated, "when could you +make it convenient to attend one of our meetings? Of course I know how +busy you are just now in your new home, and I shall not be unreasonable. +I shouldn't, of course, expect you to attend the NEXT meeting." + +"Oh," said the unconscious Serena, "I'm not so busy as all that. I could +go to the next meeting just as well as not. I should love to." + +They entered the drawing-room, to find Captain Dan and the Honorable +Oscar still deep in the engine discussion and Mr. Black sound asleep in +his chair. Roused by his indignant wife, he drowsily inquired if it +was time to get up, and then, becoming aware of the realities of the +situation, hastily explained that he had been thinking about business +affairs and had forgotten where he was. + +"Going, Annette, are you?" he asked. + +Annette tartly observed that she was going, and added that she judged it +high time to do so. Mrs. Fenholtz said that she and her husband must be +going, also. + +"But we shall hope to see a great deal of you and Mr.--I should say +Captain Dott," she said. "You must dine with us very soon. I will set an +evening and you mustn't say no." + +"That is right," said Mr. Fenholtz heartily. "Captain, some of these +days you and I will take a gouple of days and go down and look at that +boat. If she does not go then, we will put an 'egspert' in her and sink +them both. What?" + +Altogether, it was a wonderful evening. The only fly in the ointment was +Azuba, who appeared just as the visitors were at the door, to announce +that "that foolhead of a grocer's boy" hadn't brought the things she +ordered and what they was going to do for breakfast she didn't know. + +"I could give you b'iled eggs," she added, "but Captain Dan'l made such +a fuss about them we had yesterday that I didn't dast to do it without +askin' you. I wanted to have some picked-up fish, but they didn't keep +none but the hashed-up kind that comes in pasteboard boxes, and I'd just +as soon eat hay as that." + +On the way home Mrs. Black divided her discourse into two parts, one a +scorching of her husband for falling asleep and making her ridiculous +before the Fenholtzes, and the other a sort of irritated soliloquy +concerning "those Dotts" and the way in which they had been loaded upon +her shoulders. + +"I did my best to keep the Guild out of the conversation," she said, +"but that Fenholtz woman had to drag it in, and now, of course, I've +got to take that Dott person to the next meeting and introduce her to +everybody, and I suppose I shall have to see that she is made a member. +Oh, dear! I almost wish I had never seen Trumet." + +B. Phelps grunted. "Humph!" he said. "If the Fenholtzes take them up I +don't see what you've got to kick about. You've been trying to get in +the Fenholtz set yourself for the last three years. Maybe you can do it +now." + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The Scarford Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor was not as +large a body as Mrs. Black in the exuberance of her Trumet conversation +had led Serena to think. In reality, its membership was less than a +hundred. It was formed in the beginning by a number of seceders from the +local Women's Club, who, disappointed in their office-seeking ambitions +and deeming the club old-fashioned and old-fogyish in its ideas, had +elected to form an organization of their own. They had affiliated +with the national order of the Ladies of Honor, chiefly because of the +opportunity which such a body offered for office holding and notoriety. +The members were not drawn from the oldest families of Scarford nor from +those whose social position was established. They were chiefly the +wives and daughters of men who had made money rather suddenly; would-be +geniuses whose genius had not been recognized as yet; women to whom +public speaking and publicity were as the breath of their nostrils; +extravagants and social climbers of all sorts. + +The purposes of the organization, outside those specified in the +constitution of the parent body, were rather vague. Ex-Mayor Fenholtz +expressed a rather general opinion when he said: + +"The Ladies of Honor? Sure! it is a place where the women go who think +their husbands don't appreciate them. If I was one of those husbands I +should appreciate their having that place. They might stay at home if +they didn't. That would be a galamity." + +The ladies of the Scarford Chapter made it a point to be always abreast +of the times. Theirs was not a suffrage organization because, as many +of them said, the belief in suffrage was so common nowadays. Their motto +was "Advancement." Just what sort of advancement seemed to make little +difference. + +The next meeting--that is, the meeting to which Serena had been +invited--was one of the few at which men were permitted to be present. +The Blacks called at the Dott mansion with the car, Mr. Black not +acting as driver this time, and the journey to the hall was made in that +vehicle. It was not a lively journey, so Captain Dan thought. He and B. +Phelps occupied the folding seats facing the two ladies and Mr. Black +maintained a gloomy silence all the way. As for Annette and Serena, they +talked and talked upon subjects miles above the head of the captain. +Mrs. Black did most of the talking; Serena was content to listen and +pretend to understand. + +"This is to be an open meeting, Mrs. Dott," said Annette graciously. +"You see, we have open meetings, just as you do in Trumet, although +I doubt if you find much resemblance between the two. You'd scarcely +expect that, would you? Ha! ha! It is a good thing," she added, +addressing the occupants of the carriage in general, "for these husbands +of ours to be shown occasionally what their wives are capable of. Here +is our Chapter building. Phelps, give Mrs. Dott your arm." + +The Chapter building proved to be not quite up to Serena's expectation. +It was a building, of course, but the Chapter occupied only two or three +rooms on the third floor, the other floors being occupied by offices of +various sorts. The largest room, that which Mrs. Black dignified by the +title of "Assembly Hall," was partially filled when they entered. +Some sixty women of various ages, with a sprinkling of men among them, +occupied the chairs on the floor. Upon the speakers' platform half a +dozen ladies in radiant attire were chatting volubly with another, an +imposing creature in crimson silk, who surveyed the audience through a +gold lorgnette, and whose general appearance reminded Daniel of one of +the stuffed armchairs in the parlor of their new home. + +"That is Mrs. Cornish, the speaker of the evening," whispered Annette. +"She is one of our most brilliant members." + +"Yes," replied Dan'l, to whom the information had been imparted, and +upon whom the crimson silk had made an impression; "yes, she--she does +look sort of--sort of brilliant." + +"But I thought the Chapter was larger than this," said the puzzled Mrs. +Dott. "I thought Scarford had one of the largest Chapters." + +"Oh, no, not the largest, merely one of the best. Our motto always has +been quality not quantity. And now will you excuse me? They are waiting +for me on the platform. I will see you when the open meeting is over. +Phelps, find good seats for Mr. and Mrs. Dott." + +She bustled away to the platform. The gloomy B. Phelps found seats for +the guests and himself and sank heavily down beside them. Daniel, who +had been gazing about him with curiosity, whispered a question. + +"What do they do at these things, Barney--Phelps, I mean?" he asked. +"Are they like lodge meetings at home? This is my first trip here, you +know." + +"Humph!" grunted his companion. "You're in luck." + +"Talk, don't they?" + +"Talk! Good Lord! Say, Dan, if I get to sleep and you notice Annette +looking this way, nudge me, that's a good fellow." + +He settled himself in his chair and closed his eyes. Daniel turned to +his wife. + +"Serena," he murmured. "Say, Serena, don't you think it is a +queer-lookin' crowd? Seems to me I never saw such clothes or so many +different kinds of hair. Look at that woman's skirt. It's tore all up +one side." + +"Sshh! Don't speak so loud. That's the latest style." + +"What! THAT? Well, I--" + +"Sshh! It's the latest style, I tell you. Haven't you seen the fashion +magazines? All the new dresses are made that way." + +"Yours ain't." + +"Well, I--I'm not as young as that woman is." + +"You wouldn't wear a thing like that if you were as young as Gertie; and +she wouldn't either, not if I saw it first. I never saw such folks as +these at Trumet." + +"Of course you didn't. Trumet isn't Scarford. We are in society now, +Daniel. We mustn't show our ignorance." + +"Humph! I'd rather show my ignorance than--Hello, the doin's are goin' +to commence." + +The Chapter president, a Mrs. Lake, advanced to the desk, smote it +fiercely with a gavel and demanded order. The hall, which had been +buzzing like a colony of June bugs, gradually grew still. Then Mrs. Lake +opened the meeting. She delivered a short speech. Mrs. Black, in lieu of +the secretary, who was absent, read the minutes. Then there were motions +and amendments and excited calls for recognition from "Madam President." +It was livelier than Daniel had expected. + +But soon the woman in crimson silk was introduced. Mrs. Cornish bowed in +recognition of the gloved applause, and proceeded to talk... and talk... +and talk.... + +At first Captain Dan endeavored to pay strict attention to the address. +Its title was "The Modern Tendency," and the tendency in this case +seemed to be to say as much as possible about nothing in particular. + +Daniel found his attention wandering and his eyes closing. They opened +at intervals as the applause burst forth, but they closed between +bursts. The tremendous enthusiasm at the end, however, awoke him for +good, and he remained awake until the close of the "open meeting," a +marked contrast to Mr. Black, who slumbered to the finish. + +When it was over Annette descended from the platform and came hurrying +to them. + +"How did you enjoy it, Captain Dott?" she purred. + +Daniel rather dubiously admitted that he guessed 'twas first rate, far's +he could make it out. His wife was enthusiastic; she affirmed that it +was splendid. + +"I'm sure we couldn't help enjoying it, Mrs. Black," she said. "Everyone +of us. Didn't you enjoy it, Mr. Black?" + +"Sure!" replied Phelps promptly. "Great stuff!" + +His wife swooped upon him like a swallow on a fly. + +"You?" she snorted contemptuously. "You didn't hear a word of it. I only +hope Mrs. Cornish wasn't watching you, as I was. And now," she added, +turning to Serena, "comes the other part, the important part. Captain +Dott, there is to be a short business meeting in a few minutes, and men +are, of course, excluded. Phelps, will you have James drive Captain Dott +home? You had better go with him, and then come back again and wait for +us. Captain Dott, I am going to borrow your wife for a short time." + +Daniel, not knowing exactly what to say, said nothing. Phelps seized +his arm and led him down to the carriage. The driver received his +instructions and the homeward ride began. + +"I say, Barney," observed Daniel, after waiting for his escort to +volunteer a word or two, "are all their meetings like that?" + +Mr. Black snorted. "No," he declared; "some are a d----d sight worse." + +It was after eleven when Serena returned. Her face was flushed and +shining with excitement. She did not wait to remove her hat, but rushed +into the parlor where her husband sat in lonely magnificence. The +solicitous Hapgood, who had happened in every few minutes to see if his +employer "wished anything," had been ordered to "go aloft and turn in." +The tone in which the order was given made an impression and Hapgood had +obeyed. + +"Oh, Daniel!" she cried. "What do you think? I've been made a member of +the Chapter!" + +Captain Dan should perhaps have been enthusiastic. If he was, he +suppressed his feelings wonderfully. + +"Have you, Serena?" he observed. "I want to know!" + +He listened while his wife dilated upon the wonderful happenings at +the meeting and the glorious consequences which she felt sure were to +follow. Just before putting out the light he asked one more question. + +"That--that Mrs. Lake?" he said. "She's a grass widow, ain't she--isn't +she, I mean?" + +"Yes, what of it?" + +"Oh, nothing. Only I thought you were kind of prejudiced +against--against--" + +"I've had a good many prejudices, I suppose, like other people. But Mrs. +Lake's husband was a brute; Mrs. Black told me so. He must have been, +for she is perfectly lovely. I've met them all, and they are ALL lovely. +They're going to call and--and everything. Oh, Daniel, this means so +much to us!" + +Captain Dan turned out the gas. + +"Yes, Serena," he said slowly. "I shouldn't wonder if it did." + +The calls began the very next afternoon. Mrs. Black, having made up her +mind that the taking of the Dotts under her wing was a necessity, made a +virtue of that necessity and explained to her fellow members of Scarford +Chapter that Serena and Daniel were really very nice people. "A little +countrified, of course. You must expect that. But they are very kind +hearted and immensely wealthy--oh, immensely." She was kind enough to +add that Serena was quite an exceptional person and an advanced thinker, +considering her opportunities. "The club people were going to take them +up, and so I felt that we should get in first," she explained. "If they +should prove to be impossible we can drop them at any time, of course." + +In making this explanation she did not mention the Fenholtzes, and yet +if it had not been for the call of the Honorable Oscar and his wife it +is extremely doubtful if Serena would have become a member of Scarford +Chapter so soon. Also it is doubtful if the little dinner given by the +Blacks to Mr. and Mrs. Dott would have taken place within the week. At +that dinner Captain Dan wore his first dress suit. He bought it ready +made at one of the Scarford shops and it fitted him remarkably well, +considering. What he could not do, however, was to feel at ease in it. + +"Good land, Serena!" he said, when the dressing was completed and they +were about to start for the dinner, "don't pick at me so everlastin'ly. +Don't you suppose I know I look as stiff and awkward as if I'd froze? +You won't let me put my hands in my pockets, and all I can do is hang +'em around loose and think about 'em, and this blessed collar is so high +I can't scarcely get my chin over it. I'm doin' my best, so don't keep +remindin' me what I look like all the time." + +"I don't care what you say, Daniel," declared his wife. "The clothes +are just what you ought to wear, and if you would only forget them for a +little while you would look all right." + +"But I can't forget. I know the clothes are all right. It's me that's +all wrong. My red face stickin' over the top of this collar looks like +a fireman's shirt on a white fence. I tell you I ain't used to this kind +of thing. I wasn't born to it and it don't come natural to me." + +"Neither was Mr. Black 'born to it,' but he has got used to it and so +can you if you will try." + +"Oh, I'll try. But I'm beginnin' awful late in life. I know you'll be +ashamed of me, Serena. You ought to have a different husband." + +"I don't want a different one. I wouldn't change you for anybody. But I +do think you ought to try and help me as much as you can. My chance +has just come; I am only just beginning and I mean to go on and improve +myself and our position in life all I can. All I ask you to do is not to +hold me back by complaining." + +The "little dinner" was not as little as it might have been. Annette +had taken pains to make it as elaborate and as costly an affair as she +could. This was not solely on the Dotts' account. She had invited +Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz and the impression was to be made upon them, +if possible. But, unfortunately, the Fenholtzes did not attend. Mrs. +Fenholtz wrote that she had a prior engagement and sent regrets, just as +she had previously done on the occasions of Mrs. Black's other "little" +functions. + +However, the leading lights of Scarford Chapter attended and the display +of gowns and coiffures was more varied and elaborate than at the open +meeting. Serena, seated at the right hand of B. Phelps, was in her +glory. She felt that at last she was in touch with the real thing. +Daniel, sandwiched between Annete and Mrs. Lake, was not as happy. The +necessity of forgetting his clothes and remembering his grammar was +a heavy burden. His conversation was limited to "Yes" and "No" and "I +shouldn't wonder," and after a time the ladies ceased in their efforts +to make him talk and carried on an animated dialogue across his shirt +front. + +After dinner there was music and bridge. Daniel was fond of music, but +most of the songs, sung by a thin young lady with a great deal of hair +and a decollete gown, were in a language which he did not understand, +and the piano solos seemed to him to be made up of noise and gymnastics +with very little melody. He watched Serena, however, who, in turn, was +watching Mrs. Lake and the rest; when they applauded, she applauded and +the captain followed suit. + +Bridge was an unknown quantity to both of them, and they sat and looked +on while Mrs. Black made it "without" and found fault with her partner +when they lost. The thin young lady, who had obliged with the vocal +selections, asked the captain if he played "nullos." Daniel, who was not +sure whether "nullos" was a musical instrument or a game, replied that +he wasn't sure, but he didn't think he did; after which he retired into +the corner to avoid further questioning. + +They reached home about two o'clock, and the captain fell sound asleep +in the taxi and had to be shaken into consciousness when the machine +reached the Dott door. + +"My soul, Serena," he said, when they were upstairs in the bedroom, +"don't those folks ever go to bed? There was stuff enough to eat at +that dinner to last the average family through three meals. Time I had +finished the ice cream I was ready to curl up like a cat in front of the +fire; but the rest of them seemed to be just startin' in to be lively. +Are we goin' to keep this up very long? If we are, I'll have to sleep in +the daytime, like a fo'mast hand on night lookout." + +"But wasn't it splendid?" explained his wife. "Weren't they cultivated, +brilliant people? You and I never went to anything like THAT dinner +before, Daniel Dott." + +The captain admitted that they never did. "Could you make anything out +of that game they were playin'?" he asked. "What was it they called it?" + +"Bridge. No, I couldn't, but I'm going to. I'm going to learn it just as +soon as I can. Mrs. Black says everybody plays it now." + +Her husband chuckled. "Those that don't play it had better not try," +he observed. "Judgin' from what I saw to-night, if they do try they get +into trouble. That Lake woman was givin' that poor little bald-headed +fellow she was playin' with fits most of the time. Whenever they won +she patted herself on the back, and when they didn't she said it was +his fault. He ought to have 'echoed' or hollered back--or somethin'. One +time she put down a card and he put another kind of a one on it, and +she glared at him and said, 'Havin' no clubs?' and he had one that he'd +forgot. He spent the next ten minutes beggin' her pardon, but 'twas a +good thing SHE didn't have a club. She'd have used it on him if she +had. He was all shriveled up like a frostbitten cranberry when they got +through." + +After they were in bed he said, "Serena, what was that black stuff they +had on the toast at the beginnin' of that supper? Looked like tar, but +it tasted kind of salty and good." + +"Don't say supper, Daniel. It was a dinner. All city people have dinner +at night. That was caviar on the toast. I've read about it. It comes +from Russia." + +Silence for a moment. Then Captain Dan said reflectively, "Caviar? +Caviar, eh? I've heard of that somewhere before; where was it? Yes, yes, +I know. 'Twas a caviar sandwich the waiter asked that young fellow I met +in the Rat Cellar to have. I never found out who that young fellow was, +and yet I know I've met him somewhere before. I wish I could remember +where it was. My memory is failin' me, I guess; must be gettin' old. +Can't you remember, Serena?" + +But his wife bade him stop talking and go to sleep. + +The next day there were more calls, and Serena was asked to attend a +committee meeting as a guest. She attended it and returned more full of +Chapter enthusiasm than ever. She announced that she might be asked to +prepare a paper to be read before the Chapter, and that she intended +to study and prepare for it. Study and prepare she did, and, between +dodging callers, or helping to entertain them, and keeping out of his +wife's way while she was busy with the encyclopedias which she had taken +from the library, the captain began to feel somewhat deserted. Hapgood's +company was too stately to be congenial, and Daniel sought refuge in the +kitchen, where Azuba, as usual, was always ready to talk. + +Azuba was brimming over with the novelty of city life. She had been to +the theater once already since her arrival, and to the moving picture +show three times. + +"Don't talk to ME," she said. "If them pictures ain't the most wonderful +things that ever was, then _I_ don't know. _I_ never expected to +see such sights--soldiers paradin', and cowboys a-ridin', and houses +a-burnin', and Indians scalpin' 'em! I was so worked up I hollered right +out." + +"I should think you would. An Indian scalpin' a house is enough to make +anybody holler." + +"They didn't scalp the house; what sort of foolishness would that +be--the idea! They scalped the folks IN the house. That is, they +would have scalped 'em, only along come the cowboys wavin' pistols and +hurrahin'--" + +"Could you hear 'em hurrah?" + +"No, but I could see 'em. And the way they went for them Indians was a +caution. And--Oh, say, Captain Dott, there was one set of pictures there +made me think of you. 'Twas all about some people that wanted to go into +society. She had a paralyzed father and they had a child, a real pretty +girl, and, would you believe it, they commenced to neglect their child +and go off playin' cards and dancin' and carousin' around, and the child +was took down sick and the poor paralyzed grandfather--" + +"Grandfather? Thought you said it was a father." + +"'Twas the WOMAN'S father--the child's grandfather. Well, anyhow, the +poor thing had to take care of it, and the nurse went to sleep and the +father come home and found her dyin'--" + +"Who, the nurse?" + +"No, no, the child. The nurse wa'n't sick; but the child was terrible +sick." + +"What was the matter with the child; paralysis, too?" + +"I don't know what was the matter with it. 'Tain't likely 'twas +paralysis. You get me so mixed up I shan't know what I AM sayin' pretty +soon. Well, anyhow, what happened was that the child's mother and father +neglected it on account their fashionable goin's-on, and the child up +and died. 'Twas the most affectin' thing. There was the child a-dyin', +and the mother and father cryin', and the old grandfather goin' all to +pieces--" + +"All to pieces! That's worse than paralysis. Hold on a minute, Azuba! +Was all this in the picture?" + +"Yes." + +"And you paid to see it?" + +"Course I paid to see it. They wouldn't let me in for nothin', 'tain't +likely." + +"Well, seems to me you've made a mistake. If cryin' and misery is what +you want, I don't doubt you can find a lot of funerals to go to for +nothin'. But what was there about all this mess of horrors that made you +think of me?" + +"Oh, I don't know, unless the way you and Mrs. Dott are goin' in for +society in Scarford. Course your child is grown up, so that's different, +though, ain't it?" + +"Yes, and there isn't any paralysis in the family, so far as I know. +That's a mercy. Don't you get paralysis, Azuba. If you do, it will take +you longer to get breakfast than it does now." + +"That's all right. You ought to be thankful you've got me to get +breakfast. If I wa'n't here you'd have to get it yourself, I cal'late. +Your wife's too busy these days, and that Hapgood man wouldn't do it. I +know that." + +Relations between the butler and Azuba were already somewhat strained. +He considered her a rude and interfering person and she considered that +he would bear watching. + +"He's always recommendin' folks for us to trade with," she told Captain +Dan. "What business is it to him who we trade with?--unless he gets +a little somethin' for himself out of it. He won't do it more than +once--not if I catch him at it. Don't talk to me about that Hapgood! I +wouldn't trust one of them foreigners, anyhow." + +The invitation to dine with the Fenholtzes came about a week after the +dinner at the Blacks'. Daniel, who opened the letter containing the +invitation, was very much pleased. He liked the Fenholtzes at first +sight and felt sure he should like them better on further acquaintance. +But when Serena came back from the lodge meeting--the first regular +meeting which she had attended since becoming a member--she received the +news rather coldly. + +"When is it they want us?" she said. "Next Tuesday night? Well, we could +go, I suppose, but I don't believe we shall. Mrs. Lake said something +about coming around that evening to help me read my paper and criticise +it." + +The captain was surprised and troubled. "She could come some other time, +couldn't she? I think 'twas real kind of the Fenholtzes to ask us. Seems +to me we ought to go. You and I haven't even been to pay back that call +yet." + +"I know it. I've meant to, but I've been so busy. Besides, I don't know +whether it is worth while or not. The Fenholtzes have got a great deal +of money, but all the Chapter people say they are sort of back numbers." + +However, she decided to accept the invitation, and they went in state. +But the state was largely on their part. The dinner was a very simple +affair compared to the elaborate spread of the Blacks, and the two or +three people whom they met were quite different from Mrs. Lake and +her friends. Captain Dan enjoyed himself hugely. He sat next to Mrs. +Fenholtz at the table, and her quiet conversation on every-day subjects +he could understand. Before the dinner was over he was thoroughly at +ease, and when later on, in company with the Honorable Oscar and the +male guests, he sat smoking in the library, he found himself spinning +yarns and joking as freely as if he had been in the back room of the +Metropolitan Store in Trumet. The shouts of laughter from the library +could be heard in the parlor, and Serena grew nervous. + +"Your husband must be very entertaining," said Mrs. Fenholtz. "I haven't +heard Mr. Fenholtz laugh so heartily in a long time." + +Mrs. Dott was fearful that Daniel might be making himself ridiculous. +She didn't mention her fears. Her own remarks were delivered with a +great deal of dignity, and she quoted Mrs. Black and the encyclopedia +often. On the way home she took her husband to task. + +"What in the world were you talking about with those men?" she demanded. +"I never heard such a noise as they made. I do hope you didn't forget +yourself." + +The captain rubbed his chin. "I don't know but what I did forget myself, +Serena," he replied. "I know I had a good time and never thought about +my clothes after the first ten minutes. Could you hear 'em laughin'? I +was tellin' em' about Azuba's goin' to the movin' pictures then." + +His wife was shocked. "And Azuba is our cook," she said, "and they know +it. I don't know what sort of servants they think we have. They must +think you're pretty familiar with them." + +"Good land, Serena! I've been familiar with Zuba all my life. If I was +to put on airs with her she'd take me down in a hurry." + +Mrs. Dott sighed. "I'm afraid you did forget yourself," she declared. +"I think if you could hear what the Fenholtzes are saying about us now +you'd be ashamed. I'm sure I should." + +And at that very moment Mr. Fenholtz was saying: "That man Dott is all +right. I have not laughed so for years. And he has common sense, too. I +like him." + +His wife nodded. "So do I," she said; "and I think I should like Mrs. +Dott, too, if she had not been spoiled by Annette Black and the rest of +those foolish women she associates with. I don't mean to say that Mrs. +Dott is completely spoiled yet, but she will be soon, I'm afraid, unless +I can make her realize that she is beginning all wrong here in Scarford. +If she could only have gone to the Woman's Club first I think she might +understand, but now I'm afraid it's too late." + +At the next meeting of the Chapter Serena read her paper. She +mounted the platform with fear and trembling. She left it exalted and +triumphant. The paper had been applauded and she had been congratulated +by her fellow members. Annette was enthusiastic and Mrs. Lake and the +other leaders equally so. Stories of the "vast" wealth inherited by +the Dotts had been circulated freely, and these, quite as much as the +wonderful paper, were responsible for Serena's bound into popularity. + +But the popularity was there, and the unconscious Serena believed it to +be real. That meeting was the beginning of her obsession. Thereafter she +talked chapter and society and opportunity and advancement, and ate them +and drank them, too--at least the meals--those at home--seemed to the +captain to be made up of very little else. Their evenings alone together +became few and fewer. When they were not entertaining callers they +were calling. Captain Dan actually began to feel at home in his evening +clothes; a good deal more than he did in his night clothes, so he +told his wife. Breakfast, which, in the beginning of their Scarford +residence, had been served at seven-thirty, was now an hour later, and +even then Daniel frequently ate alone. + +Then came the reception idea. Annette--she and Mrs. Dott were calling +each other by their Christian names now--had dropped the hint concerning +it. She had said that a good way in which to repay social obligations +was by doing it all at once, by giving a dinner, or reception, or a tea, +to which everyone should be invited. Serena decided that the reception +was perhaps the better, all things considered. And so preparations for +the reception began. There was to be a collation, and when this item +of information was imparted to Azuba the kitchen became a maelstrom of +activity in which Captain Daniel could no longer find rest and refuge. + +"But, Zuba," he remonstrated, "what do you think's comin' here; a drove +of hyenas? You've cooked enough already to victual a ship halfway across +the ocean. These folks eat sometimes at home. You don't think they're +comin' here to make up for six months' starvation, do you?" + +"Don't talk to me!" was all the satisfaction he got. "I've heard about +what they had to eat over there at Barney Black's, and I don't mean +for folks to say that they went hungry when they come here. Don't say +another word. I don't know now whether it was a cup full of sugar or a +pinch of salt I put in, or the other way 'round. Cookin'! Don't talk to +ME." + +The captain found it practically impossible to talk to anybody. Hapgood +was busy; Serena was busier, and Azuba was busiest of all. Wherever he +went he seemed to be in the way, and when he fled for walks up and down +the streets the crowds of strange faces made him feel lonelier than +ever. On the evening before that upon which the reception was to be held +he returned from one of these walks to find Serena in tears. + +"Why, good gracious sakes!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?" + +"Matter!" sobbed his wife. "Oh, dear me! Everything is the matter! I'm +so tired I don't know what to do, and Annette and Mrs. Lake were coming +here to-morrow to help me, and now they can't come. They'll be at the +reception, of course, but they can't come before; and there's so much to +get ready and I don't know whether I'm doing it right or not. What SHALL +I do!" + +Daniel shook his head. "Seems to me I'd do the best I could and let it +go at that," he advised. "If they ain't satisfied I'd let 'em stay the +other way. I wish I could help you, but I don't know how." + +"Of course you don't. You don't have any sympathy for the whole thing, +and I know it. I feel it all the time. You haven't any sympathy for ME." + +The captain sighed. He had a vague feeling that he could use a little +sympathy himself, but with characteristic unselfishness he put that idea +from his mind. + +"I guess what you need is a manager," he said. "Somebody that's used to +these sort of things that could help you out. I wish I knew where there +was one." + +Hapgood appeared and announced that dinner was served. Serena hurriedly +dried her eyes and they descended to the dining-room. Just as they were +about to take their seats at the table the doorbell rang. Hapgood left +the room and returned a few moments later bearing a card on a tray. +Serena took the card, looked at it, and then at her husband. Her face +expressed astonishment and dismay. + +"Why, Daniel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why, Daniel! WHO do you +suppose is here?" + +Her husband announced that he didn't know. He took the card from her +hand and looked at it. It was a very simple but very correct card, and +upon it in old English script was the name "Mr. Percy Hungerford." + +Daniel's face reflected the astonishment upon his wife's. + +"My soul!" he muttered. "Percy Hungerford! Why, that's--that's the +cousin; the one Aunt Laviny cut out of her will; the one that would have +had all this place and all the money if we hadn't got it. I thought he +was in New York somewhere. Black said he was, and now he's here. What in +the world does he want?" + +Mrs. Dott rose. "I don't know," she gasped. "I can't imagine. But +I suppose we must see him. We've got to. Did you ask him to wait, +Hapgood?" + +Hapgood bowed respectfully. "Mr. Hungerford is in the drawing-room, +ma'am," he said. + +To the drawing-room moved Serena, followed by her husband. + +"Good evening, Mr. Hungerford," said the lady, with a partially +successful attempt at calmness. "How do you do? My husband and I--" + +She paused. The expression on Mr. Hungerford's face was an odd one. She +turned to Daniel, and his expression was odder still. He was standing in +the doorway gazing at the visitor, his eyes opening wider and wider. + +Mr. Percy Hungerford was the young man whom his friend had addressed as +"Tacks," the young man with whom Captain Dan had exchanged repartee in +the Rathskeller of the Palatine Hotel. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Of the two men, Mr. Hungerford was the first to recover presence of +mind. Presence of mind was one of the qualities upon which he prided +himself, and it was a very awkward situation to which he could not rise. +For just an instant the color rushed to his cheeks as he recognized the +captain and saw that the latter recognized him. Then: + +"Why, how do you do, Captain Dott?" he said. "By Jove, this is +extraordinary, isn't it! Strange that relatives shouldn't know each +other when they meet. How do you do?" + +He stepped forward with extended hand. Captain Dan, who had expected +almost anything but this bland cordiality, scarcely knew what to say or +do. He took the proffered hand mechanically and dropped it again. + +"Well!" he stammered. "Well!--I declare I--I didn't expect to--" + +He paused. Mrs. Dott, who had been watching this scene in bewilderment, +spoke before he could finish his sentence. + +"Why, what is it?" she asked. "Have you--" + +Mr. Hungerford smiled. "Your husband and I have met before," he +explained. "Just a casual meeting and we weren't aware of each other's +identity. I'm afraid I was not as cordial as I might have been on that +occasion, Captain. I was a bit tired and rather out of sorts. I hope +you'll forgive me, I'm sure." + +Daniel hesitated; then he smiled. + +"Why, I guess I can forgive my half if you can yours," he said slowly. + +Before the puzzled Serena could ask another question the visitor turned +to her. + +"I'm sure you must be very much surprised to see me here," he said. "I'm +somewhat surprised to be here myself. I've spent a greater part of the +past month in New York and have only just returned--that is, to stay. I +fully intended to call before, and should if I had been in town. How are +you getting on? How do you like the dear old place? Ah!" with a sigh, as +he seated himself and looked about him, "how familiar it all seems!" + +The Dotts looked at each other. Serena sank into a chair. Captain Dan +remained standing. + +"Does it?" said the former rather feebly. + +"Indeed it does. One almost expects to see Auntie coming in at the door. +Dear old Auntie! I can scarcely realize that she has gone." + +Again Serena looked at Daniel and he at her. This was so strange, +so different from the attitude which a disappointed legatee might be +expected to assume that neither of the pair knew exactly how to reply. +But Mr. Hungerford did not appear to notice the look or the hesitation. + +"This house seems like home to me," he said. "I've spent so many happy +hours here. When old Hapgood opened the door for me I almost ordered him +to take my bags to my room. Really I did. That would have been droll, +wouldn't it?" + +He laughed languidly. Serena admitted that it would have been droll. +Captain Dan remained silent as before. + +"Are--are you stopping at the hotel?" queried Mrs. Dott. + +"Not yet. In fact, I'm not really stopping anywhere. I've just arrived. +I must be hurrying back to dinner, I suppose, but I couldn't resist +coming here first. It seemed the natural thing to do." + +Voices were heard in the hall. One of the voices was Azuba's; she was +informing Mr. Hapgood that if that soup didn't go back on the stove +pretty soon it might just as well be on ice. The words were distinctly +audible, and Serena colored. Mr. Hungerford rose. + +"I'm sure I must be keeping you from your own dinner," he said. "Don't +let me do that for the world." + +"Why--why--" faltered Serena. She looked appealingly at Daniel, and the +latter's instinctive hospitality asserted itself. He had disliked the +young man "Tacks" when he met him in the Rathskeller. Now that "Tacks" +had become Mr. Percy Hungerford, Aunt Lavinia's cousin and his own +distant relative, the dislike was only partially abated. But to turn him +away from the door hungry seemed wrong somehow. + +"Hadn't you better--" he began. + +"Have dinner with us?" finished his wife. + +Mr. Hungerford protested. + +"Oh, I couldn't think of it," he declared. "No doubt you have guests--" + +"Oh, no, we haven't. We're all alone and it would be no trouble at all. +We should like to have you stay. Shouldn't we, Daniel?" + +"Sartin, no trouble at all," said Daniel heartily. "Like to have you +first rate." + +"Well, if you insist. It is a frightful imposition--I shouldn't think of +it, of course, but--well, thank you so much." + +So Hapgood received orders to lay another plate, and Mr. Hungerford, +still murmuring protests, suffered himself to be conducted to the +dining-room. + +All through the meal the captain regarded him with puzzled curiosity. +That he had come to the house merely for a friendly call he could +scarcely believe. He had heard little or nothing of the conversation +between Hungerford and his friend at the table in the Rathskeller, and +yet the attitude of the former on that occasion had not indicated +a temperament likely to forgive "dear Aunt Lavinia" so freely or +to display such angelic cordiality toward those who had come into +possession of her property. But the cordiality remained unchanged, and +the visitor, so far from bearing a grudge toward his more fortunate +relatives, continued to treat them as though they were near and dear +friends, and do everything in his power to relieve their constraint and +to make himself agreeable. The dinner ended and they adjourned to the +drawing-room, with Captain Dan's mental question "What in the world is +this young chap really up to?" still unanswered. + +Serena had asked herself that same question when the caller first came, +but now she was beginning to be ashamed of her suspicions and to think +them unfounded. Mr. Hungerford was agreeable; there was no doubt of +that. Also he was good-looking, in an effeminate sort of way, and his +conversation was fluent and cultured. He led Serena into speaking of +the Chapter and her work there, and he displayed a knowledge of and an +interest in that Chapter and its members which was very gratifying. + +The coming reception was mentioned, and the visitor's interest in that +was more gratifying still. It was evident that receptions and society +functions generally were matters of every day, or every night, +occurrence to him. He asked Mrs. Dott who was to assist her in +receiving, and when she answered the question his approval of the +selections was unqualified. He suggested one or two little ideas which +he said might add to making the affair a success. Serena welcomed the +suggestions as a starving man might welcome a meal. + +"That'll be lovely," she said, "and we can do it just as well as not. +And I had thought of having some bridge or something afterwards; but +Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--didn't seem to think bridge would be just +the thing after a reception. And there's music; I know we really ought +to have music, and I had meant to have somebody play the piano. But the +woman I wanted can't come, and now I don't know what to do. What would +you think about that, Mr. Hungerford?" + +Mr. Hungerford suggested hiring one or two professional musicians. "A +violinist, or harpist, or both, perhaps," he said. "Music is always, as +you say, a great addition to such affairs, Mrs. Dott. I happen to know +of a young fellow who plays exceptionally well, and his sister is really +a very accomplished performer on the harp. Of course they should be +engaged in merely a professional capacity. They are not persons who +would mingle with our set, but they're not at all objectionable, +really." + +The diplomatic phrasing of this remark had its effect. It indicated +that Mrs. Dott's "set" was an exclusive one and, incidentally, that the +accomplished and polished Mr. Hungerford considered his host and hostess +as social equals. + +"There!" exclaimed Serena. "I think that will be just fine. And you are +the first one, Mr. Hungerford, to think of it. Do you suppose you could +get these--these--er--persons you speak of to come and play for us?" + +"I think so. I have befriended the young man in various ways, and he is, +if you will excuse my saying so, under some obligations to me. I should +be glad to make the attempt if you wish it, Mrs. Dott." + +"Cost somethin', won't it?" observed Captain Dan casually. Mr. +Hungerford regarded him with well-bred surprise. + +"Why, of course," he said, "there will be some expense. I think fifty +dollars will cover the bill. The usual rate for musicians of their class +is somewhat higher." + +There was no doubt that the captain was surprised. "Fifty DOLLARS!" he +repeated. "Why--" + +His wife interrupted. "That will be all right, Mr. Hungerford," she +said. "That will be quite satisfactory." + +"Of course, there are many whom you can obtain for less, and, if you +feel that that figure is too high, I shall be glad to try elsewhere. I +have had little experience outside of the best, but--" + +Serena interrupted again. "We don't want anybody but the best," she +declared, emphatically. "Be still, Daniel. This isn't Trumet." + +Daniel drew a long breath. "There ain't much doubt of that," he +observed. "But, all right, Serena, if you and Mr. Hungerford think it's +all right, I guess it is. I'm more used to hirin' sailors than I am +folks to play the harp." + +"Music," went on Mr. Hungerford, "is almost a necessity, in these days, +when everyone dances. Is this a formal reception, or had you intended +clearing a floor for dancing, Mrs. Dott?" + +Mrs. Dott had not intended any such thing; she had not thought of it. +But she concealed the fact from her visitor with remarkable presence of +mind. + +"Oh, of course!" she said. + +The conversation continued, a conversation limited to Mr. Hungerford and +his hostess, while Captain Dan remained a silent and amazed listener. +The young gentleman was invited to attend the reception, Serena making +many apologies for the informality of the invitation, and the guest +expressing himself as delighted. + +"Of course," he said, "I wouldn't intrude for the world, but I don't +feel like an intruder in this house, where I have spent so many happy +hours. Feeling as I do, I'm going to make another suggestion which, +under different circumstances, might be considered an impertinence. I am +at leisure to-morrow--in fact, all this week--and if there is anything +that I can do to help you and Cousin Daniel, in this matter of the +reception or any other, I shall be at your service. I do hope you +will permit me to help and that you will not consider me presuming in +offering to do so." + +It was quite evident that the offer was very welcome. Mrs. Dott +accepted it with enthusiasm and called upon her husband to confirm the +acceptance. He did so, but with less warmth, and it was agreed that the +obliging Mr. Hungerford should drop in the next morning after calling +upon his protege, the violinist. A half hour later he said "Good-night," +and departed. + +"There!" said Serena. "If that isn't Providence, then I don't know. And +it only goes to show how one person can misjudge another without +knowing anything about him. I've always had a prejudice against that Mr. +Hungerford simply because of what you told me of meeting him years ago, +and now I don't think I ever met a kinder, nicer young man. Did you, +Daniel?" + +The captain hesitated. "I--I," he stammered, "well, Serena, I will give +in that he seemed nice and obligin' enough to-night, but you see there's +just one thing that--" + +Serena turned on him. "Yes, I know," she said. "There's always 'one +thing' about everybody that _I_ like. He's smart and bright and well +dressed and polite. He's a gentleman! and a different kind from any that +we've ever met. That makes YOU suspicious, of course." + +"Now you know it isn't that; but--but--" + +"But what?" + +There was more hesitation on the captain's part. He had intended to tell +of the meeting at the Rathskeller; then he remembered the young man's +explanation and apology and thought better of it. He and "Cousin Percy" +might have another interview on the morrow. Meanwhile, he would keep +still, particularly as his wife seemed to have forgotten their caller's +reference to the meeting. He finished his sentence in another way. + +"But I don't see what he came here for," he said. + +"He came here to see us. And, I think, considering how he was treated in +Aunt Lavinia's will, it was awfully nice of him to come at all. And, +as for helping me out on that reception, he's been a perfect godsend +already. I should THINK you would appreciate it." + +Before the next day was over, and long before the first of the evening's +guests arrived, the services of the new-found friend of the family were +appreciated even by the reluctant Daniel. Mr. Hungerford came early and +proceeded immediately to make himself useful. He had seen the violinist, +and the latter and his sister had promised to be on hand. He took +Hapgood in charge and superintended the arranging of the drawing-room +and the library for the reception and the dancing. When the messenger +from the florist came with the flowers which Serena, acting upon the +suggestion of Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, had ordered, he saw that they +were placed in exactly the right positions for effect. Being urged to +stay for lunch, he stayed. And his conversation during the meal was +so fluent, so aristocratic in flavor, and yet so friendly, that Serena +became more and more taken with him. With the captain he was not quite +as much at his ease. But he did his best to be agreeable, and Daniel, +still vaguely suspicious, found nothing tangible upon which to base +distrust. There was so much to be done in the afternoon that, acting +upon a hint so delicate that it could scarcely be called a hint, Mrs. +Dott urged him to send to the hotel for his bag and stay at their home +overnight. He accepted and was even busier than he had been during the +forenoon session. He was never so busy as to perform manual labor with +his own hands--he never stooped to that extent--but he managed to convey +the impression of being always ready and always helpful. + +To say that Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake were, upon their arrival, surprised +to find him there would be expressing their feelings far too mildly. +They knew Mr. Hungerford, but, heretofore, that gentleman had moved in +circles other than their own. It is true that he belonged to the same +club as did Mr. Black, but Mr. Hungerford's friends had been younger, +the ultra-fashionable set, the set which Annette had characterized as +"rather fast" but which, because of its money and society connections, +she secretly envied. To find him here, an associate and friend of the +people she had called "countrified," was most astonishing. She wondered, +but she could not help being impressed, and her attitude toward her dear +friend Serena was never so gushingly cordial. As for Mr. Hungerford, he +greeted the Chapter representatives with condescending urbanity. When +the reception began, somehow or other, Cousin Percy was in the receiving +line. + +Captain Dan, uncomfortably starched and broad-clothed, received +likewise, but his remarks to those who pressed his hand and murmured +compliments were rather commonplace and very much alike; this consisted +principally of "How d'ye do's" and "Glad to see you's"; and it was only +when the Honorable and Mrs. Fenholtz came that he appeared to remember +anything else. It was evident that Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz were as +surprised as the rest to see Mr. Hungerford there. The Honorable, +seizing an opportunity when the captain was for a moment alone, +whispered in his ear. + +"Where did he come from?" he asked, with a jerk of the head in Cousin +Percy's direction. + +"Him?" replied Daniel. "Oh, he came last night." + +"Is that so? Is he a friend of yours?" + +"Well, he ain't--isn't exactly a friend, I guess. He's a sort of +relation, a nephew of Aunt Laviny's." + +"Oh, oh, I see--I see." + +There was something in the tone which caused Captain Dan to ask a +question in return. + +"Know him, do you?" he inquired. + +"Yes, I know him, but--it is all right, Olga; I'm coming." + +He passed on to make room for another assortment of new arrivals, lady +members of the Chapter, and Daniel's curiosity remained unsatisfied. + +After the reception proper, came a social and, to Daniel, very +uncomfortable hour, and then Mr. Hungerford, who seemed to have taken +upon himself the position of master of ceremonies, suggested dancing. + +Of all the captain's society experiences so far, this was the most +amazing. He had danced in his younger days, it is true, but his were +dances of quite another variety. Quadrilles and Virginia reels he was +acquainted with, but tangos and Bostons and all the infinite varieties +of the one-step were to him revelations, and revelations of a kind which +caused him to gasp. He saw middle-aged matrons dipping and hopping and +twisting about the room in company with middle-aged, stout, red-faced +men who looked as if on the verge of apoplexy. He saw Mr. Hungerford +laboring dutifully to pilot a woman of forty through the sinuosities +of the "hesitation waltz," and when the lady, who was inclined toward +plumpness, had collapsed into an armchair, he sought out her late +partner and vented his feelings. + +"For the land sakes!" he demanded; "what did you do that for?" + +"Do what?" inquired Mr. Hungerford, himself as fresh and unwilted as an +Easter lily. + +"Why, that--to her. Look at her, she's pretty nigh gone! She ain't +caught more than two breaths in the last minute and a half. I've been +watchin' her." + +Cousin Percy condescended to smile. "It's her own fault," he observed. +"She said she was dying to learn the 'hesitation' and asked me to teach +it to her." + +"Well, she ought to be satisfied. If she was dyin' before, she's pretty +near dead now. Why didn't you stop sooner? She all but capsized a dozen +times in the last two or three turns you and she took around the room." + +Percy's smile became broader. "That is all part of the dance," he +explained. "Watch this couple here." + +Daniel watched as directed. The couple were a young man and a girl about +Gertrude's age. They were doing the "hesitation" with the hesitancy +emphasized. + +"My soul!" muttered the captain. "Where's that girl's mother? Somebody +ought to tell her." + +Hungerford smiled once more. "That was her mother I was dancing with," +he said. + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Daniel. It was the only comment he made. He +watched the rest of the dancing in silence. + +The collation followed the dancing, and Azuba and Mr. Hapgood served it, +assisted by four waiters who, at Mr. Hungerford's suggestion, had been +hired for the occasion. The butler's serving was done with grace and +elegance, not to mention dignity. Azuba served as if the main object to +be attained was to provide each guest with as much food as possible in +the shortest possible time. She was arrayed in a new black gown, worn +under protest, for her own idea had been to wear her Sunday dress, a +vivid purple, with trimmings which, for color and variety, looked +"like a patchwork tidy," as Captain Dan expressed it. Also, under still +greater protest, she wore a white apron and cap. + +"I feel like my grandmother doin' dishes," Azuba declared when Mrs. Dott +brought the cap and apron to her and insisted on a dress rehearsal. "The +old woman lived to be ninety-five and wore a cap for all the world like +this one for thirty year. She had some excuse for wearin' it--it hid +the place where her hair was thin on top. But I ain't bald and I ain't +ninety-five neither. And why in the world you want me to put an apron on +in the parlor, _I_ don't see. You've been preachin' at me to leave one +off till I was just rememberin' to do it, and now you want me to put it +on again." + +"Not this kind of an apron, Azuba. Mrs. Black's maids wear aprons like +that, and so do Mrs. Fenholtz's. It's the proper thing and I expect you +to do it." + +"Humph! All right. Land knows I don't want to be improper. But I'd just +like to ask you this: Does that Fenholtz hired help have to wear black +clothes like this dress?" + +"Yes, always." + +"Well, then I suppose I'll have to do the same, but I hope they don't +feel as much like bein' in mournin' as I do. I thought this reception +thing was supposed to be a good time, but when I looked at myself in the +glass just now, all I could think of was the Trumet post-office draped +up for President McKinley's funeral. I suppose it's style, so it'll have +to be. But if Labe, my husband, should see me now, he'd have a shock, I +guess. Cal'late he'd think he was dead and I'd got word of it afore he +did." + +But the food was good and the guests seemed to enjoy it. Some of them +seemed to enjoy Azuba, and Mr. Fenholtz was observed by the indignant +Serena to laugh heartily every time the transformed maid-of-all-work +addressed him. + +As they were leaving he said to Captain Dan: "Captain, that maid of +yours is a wonder. If you ever want to get rid of her, let me know. I +thought Mrs. Fenholtz and I had tried every variety of servant, but she +is something fresh." + +Daniel grinned. "She's fresh enough, if that's all you want," he +admitted. "That's the main trouble with her, accordin' to my wife. I +like her myself. She reminds me of home." + +The Honorable shook his hand. "Home is a good thing to remember," he +said earnestly, "and a bedder thing not to be ashamed of. You are not +ashamed of your home and you do not forget it. That is why I like you. +Good night!" + +Somehow this remark pleased the captain greatly, but when he repeated it +to Serena, she did not seem pleased. + +"I don't know what we shall do with that Azuba," she said. "She +mortifies me to death, and yet you won't let me get rid of her." + +Her husband did not answer. In the matter of Azuba he was as determined +as ever. Amid the new life into which he had been thrown, head over +heels, the housekeeper was the one familiar substantial upon which he +could rely. He was used to her, her conversation, and her ways. As he +had said, she reminded him of home, his real home, the home from which +he was drifting further and further every day. + +Next morning Serena was suffering from headache and had breakfast in her +room. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not descend to the morning meal. Daniel +wrote a long letter to Gertrude, describing the reception, after his own +fashion, but taking care to seem as cheerful as ever. He did not feel +cheerful, but there was nothing to be gained by troubling his daughter, +as he reasoned. + +Mr. Hungerford remained through that day and the next day and the next. +At the end of that time he sent for his trunks and settled down to make +the Dott house his home, for "a short season," he said. This, of course, +was done only after much protest on his part and strenuous urging on the +part of Serena. Cousin Percy had taken her fancy at the very beginning +of their acquaintance, and his conduct since then had strengthened that +liking tremendously. + +"Of course he can stay," she said in conversation with her husband. +"Why, Daniel, I don't know what I should do without him. His coming was +a special Providence, just as I told you. Just see how he helped at that +reception. It would never have been the success it was if it hadn't been +for him. And see how he's helped me since. He knows just what is right +and proper for people in our station to do; he's been in society all +his life. He's educated and he has helped me with my paper for the next +meeting of the Chapter so much already. There's no reason why he can't +be here; we've got plenty of room. And it will only be while he's on his +vacation, anyway." + +Daniel rubbed his chin. "I know," he admitted; "so he says. But how long +a vacation is it goin' to be?" + +"How do you suppose I know that? I haven't asked him, it isn't likely." + +"No, I didn't suppose you had; but it seems kind of funny he hasn't +told you himself. What's it a vacation from? What's he do for a livin'? +Anything but run receptions?" + +"That's it--sneer! He does a great many things. He is interested in +literary work, so he says. He writes for a living, I suppose that +means." + +"Humph! Has he got any answer?" + +"Answer? Answer to what?" + +"Why, to his writing. Has the livin' sent him word 'twas on the way, +or anything like that? I don't want to be mean, Serena. You know well +enough I ain't stingy. But I can't quite make that young fellow out. Why +did he come here, anyway? that's what sticks in my mind. What sort of +a chap is he? You know what that lawyer man said about him. Nigh as I +could make out from that, he thought he was a kind of high-toned loafer, +sportin' round on his aunt's money. Why does that kind of a fellow come +to live along with us? WE ain't sports." + +"Will you EVER remember not to say 'ain't'? He came here because he +isn't that kind of a fellow at all. He explained about that. It seems +that he and that young upstart of a Farwell, the lawyer, had had some +words and Farwell had a grudge against him. He thinks it was largely +owing to those lawyers' influence that Aunt Lavinia treated him as she +did in her will. But he doesn't hold any grudge. I never heard anybody +speak more forgiving or kind than he did about the whole affair. I +declare, it was positively affecting! He told me about his life and +about how he was all alone in the world; how he had never had to earn +much--never having been brought up to it--but that now he was trying to +do his best. I felt so sorry for him, and that was one of the reasons +why I thought we, the only relations he has, ought to be kind and +show him hospitality at least. I never thought you were inhospitable, +Daniel." + +"I ain't, Serena. That is, I mean I are--am not. But--but--Well, I'll +tell you. I haven't told you before, although I meant to, but he and I +met once since we've been in Scarford. I told you about the meeting, but +I didn't know then who I met. Now I--" + +"I know. He told me about that, too. He was the one you met at the hotel +that afternoon. He said he was ashamed of his behavior that day, that +he was tired, out of sorts, and discouraged. He thought you had been +listening to what he and his friend had been saying, and it made him +cross. He said that he apologized when he first came to the house, and +I remember that he did, and he asked me whether I thought any further +apology was necessary. I said no, of course it wasn't." + +"Well, I don't suppose it is. But--well, there was somethin' else. It +seemed to me that afternoon at the Rathskeller that he and that chum of +his had been drinkin'." + +"Drinking? Do you mean that they were intoxicated?" + +"No, not exactly that; but they had a couple of cocktails while I was +there." + +"Is that all? Oh, dear me! Daniel, you are SO old-fashioned. Your ideas +don't change a single mite. In Trumet a cocktail is a dreadful thing; +but here it isn't. Why, everybody drinks a cocktail before dinner. The +Blacks always have them. There were cocktails at that dinner at their +house." + +"I know there was, but I didn't see you drinkin' yours, Serena." + +His wife hesitated. "No," she admitted rather reluctantly, "I didn't. +I've been temperance all my life and somehow I couldn't bring myself +to do it. I hope Annette didn't think it was bad manners, but I just +couldn't somehow. Perhaps I ought to have tried--" + +"Tried! My soul and body, Serena! Don't talk that way. If I see you +startin' in to drink cocktails I shall begin to think the world's comin' +to an end. SOMETHIN' will come to an end right then and there, I'll +tell you that! The first cocktail you drink will be the signal for me +to clear decks for action. There's some things I WON'T stand, and that's +one of 'em!" + +"There, there! Don't get excited! I shan't begin at my time of life. But +I shan't be narrow, either. I don't want you to be. If all you've got +against Cousin Percy is that he drinks a cocktail once in a while I +think you'd better get over it as soon as you can. He does help me, +Daniel, in my Chapter work and all the rest of it, and I'd like to have +him stay here at present. Now won't you be nice and obliging, same as +you usually are, and let him stay, for my sake? You will, won't you, +dear?" + +Captain Dan said that he would, and yet he said it with considerable +inward reluctance. There was no real reason why he should have +distrusted Percy Hungerford. At least he could think of none in +particular. His distrust was based upon generalities and a knowledge of +human nature acquired during his years of knocking about among men. +His wife's words made an impression. If what she said was true, his +conscience told him that he should be kind and generous in his attitude +toward the literary person. But--well, the "but" was still there. + +It was his intention to seek out Fenholtz and ask a few questions +concerning Cousin Percy, but the opportunity did not offer itself, and +shortly after the reception the Fenholtzes left for the South, where +they were to spend the winter. So that source of information was cut +off. + +During the next fortnight the captain's sense of desertion and of being +almost a stranger in his own house grew stronger than ever. There were +more callers and more calls to return; there were more bridge parties +and teas. His wife astonished him by announcing that she was going to +take lessons in bridge and that Mr. Hungerford had found a teacher to +perfect her in that branch of knowledge. + +"Of course," she said, "it will cost quite a little, but Cousin Percy +says there's no use having a teacher at all unless you have a good one, +and three dollars a lesson isn't too much, because you learn so quickly +from an expert. I was sure you would be willing for me to take the +lessons, Daniel." + +Daniel shook his head. "I'm willin' for you to do most anything that +pleases you, Serena," he said, "but three dollars a lesson for learnin' +how to play cards seems to me a pretty good price. If it was me I should +feel as if 'twas doubtful whether I'd get as much out of it as I put in. +That's what Ezra Small, back home, said when he put his sprained foot +in a plaster cast. Ezra said he never expected to get more than half his +foot back, because the way that plaster stuck he cal'lated it would hang +on to the rest. I should feel the same way about the three dollars for a +bridge lesson." + +"Oh, no, you wouldn't after you had taken a few. You'll like it then." + +"_I_, like it! Good Heavens, you don't mean--" + +"I meant that you're going to take lessons, too, of course. You must +learn to play bridge--everybody plays it. And you used to like cards." + +"I used to like high-low-jack, and I could manage to take a hand at +euchre without raisin' too big a disturbance; but I never could learn +that bridge and play it with those women friends of yours--never in this +world. More'n that, I don't intend to try." + +And he positively refused to try in spite of his wife's pleading. +However, he consented to the employment of the bridge teacher for +her and, thereafter, two hours of each alternate afternoon, Sundays +excepted, were spent by Mrs. Dott and two other female students in +company with a thin and didactic spinster who quoted Elwell and Foster +and discoursed learnedly concerning the values of no-trump hands. The +lessons were given at the Dott home and Mr. Hungerford was an interested +spectator. Daniel, who was not interested, and felt himself in the way, +moped in his own room or went upon more of the lonely walks about town. + +Chapter meetings and Chapter activities occupied more of Serena's time. +There were "open" meetings occasionally and these Captain Dan seldom +attended. Mr. Hungerford acted as his wife's escort and seemed to enjoy +it, in his languid fashion. Chapter politics began now to have their +innings. There was to be a national convention of the Ladies of Honor, a +convention to be held in the neighboring city of Atterbury, and Scarford +Chapter was to send delegates. Mrs. B. Phelps Black, who aspired to +national honors, was desirous of being one of these delegates, but so +were many others, and Mrs. Black's candidacy was by no means unopposed. +She called upon Serena for help, and into the fight in aid of her friend +Serena flung herself, heart and soul. + +There were meetings, and more meetings, and letter writing, and +canvassing of voters. Here again, Daniel was of no use. Cousin Percy's +experience--he seemed to have had all sorts of experience--helped +amazingly. Mr. Hungerford's willingness to help in all things where no +particular labor was concerned was most astonishing. By this time he was +as much a member of the Dott household as Serena herself--more than the +captain, who began to feel that he was not a member at all. Even bridge +was side-tracked for the more absorbing political game, and evening +after evening Captain Dan spent alone. Occasionally Mr. Hungerford kept +him company, but his was company not too congenial. It is true that the +young man was agreeable enough, but he and the captain found nothing in +common to talk about, and Cousin Percy usually gave up the attempt at +conversation rather early and fell asleep upon the sofa or went out on +little excursions of his own to which Daniel was not invited. + +Mr. Hungerford smoked a good deal, and it was Daniel's cigars that he +smoked. His vacation seemed no nearer the end than it had when he first +came. The shrewd Azuba informed the captain that she guessed it was "one +of them vacations that didn't have any end, but was all beginnin'." +Her employer reproved her for speaking in this way of a friend of the +family--he felt it was his duty to do that--but the rebuke was a mild +one. + +One night, or rather one morning, for it was nearly two o'clock, he was +awakened by a series of violent shakes, and opened his eyes to find his +wife bending over him. She had been out, attending a special meeting of +the Chapter, and had hastened upstairs without stopping to take off her +wraps. + +"Daniel, Daniel, wake up!" she cried. + +The captain groaned. "Hey! what is it?" he asked sleepily. Then, with a +little more interest, "Is the house afire?" + +"No, no, but do wake up and listen. I've had the greatest honor done me. +You will hardly believe it. The delegates to the Atterbury Convention +were elected to-night. Annette Black is one--I just KNEW she'd win--and +Mrs. Lake is another, and who do you suppose is the third?" + +Captain Dan sat up in bed. "Not you?" he shouted. + +"Yes, I. And, more than that, I was the one selected to read a paper +there. Annette expected to do that, but, when it came to the vote, my +last paper, the one I read Thursday night, the one Cousin Percy helped +me so in preparing, was selected over all the rest. The vote was nearly +two to one. I am to read it on the second day of the Convention. Isn't +it wonderful! Annette was so jealous she hardly said good-night to me. +But I don't care. There, Daniel Dott! aren't you proud of your wife?" + +There was a little hesitation in her husband's manner, and yet he tried +his best to be enthusiastic. "Oh, yes," he said, "but then I was proud +of you before, Serena. But--but what does this mean? Have you and I got +to traipse way over to Atterbury?" + +"Not you. You're not going. None of the men are. This is a women's +convention. Men are not invited." + +"I know. But I've got to go there with you. You ain't goin' off +travelin' by yourself." + +"I'm going with the other Chapter delegates; we will travel together." + +"I want to know! How long are you goin' to be gone?" + +"I'm not sure. Three or four days probably." + +"And I've got to stay here alone?" + +"Why, you won't be alone. Cousin Percy will be here, and there's Azuba." + +"Yes, and that everlastin' Hapgood, I suppose. Say, Serena, have you GOT +to go?" + +"Got to? Why, I WANT to! It's an honor. Don't you want me to go?" + +"Why--why, I suppose I do; but--but--" + +"But, what? Oh, you DON'T want me to go! I can see--and I thought you'd +be so glad!" + +She was almost in tears. Daniel's sensitive conscience smote him once +more. "Land sakes!" he protested. "Of course I want you to go, Serena! I +wouldn't have you do anything else for the world. I--I was just kind of +lonesome, that's all. I get that way sometimes, lately. Seems as if you +and I don't see as much of each other as we used to. Do you think it's +all worth while?" + +"Worth while! Why, Daniel Dott!" + +"There, there! don't take on. I guess it is. I suppose you know best +about such things. But I get kind of blue settin' around here thinkin', +without you to talk to; and Gertie isn't here. You see, I miss you +both." + +"Yes, I suppose you do. Well, after this convention is over I shall have +a little more time, I hope. And Gertie will be home pretty soon. It's +almost time for her Christmas vacation." + +"Yes, I know it is. I was thinkin' that to-day. My! we'll be glad to see +her, won't we?" + +"Of course we will. But, do you know, Daniel, I've been so busy that I +almost forgot about Christmas and Gertie's vacation and everything. It +was Cousin Percy that reminded me of it." + +"Reminded you of what?--of Christmas?" + +"No, of course not--of Gertie's vacation. He said that she was coming +and that he should be glad to make her acquaintance." + +"HE said so? How did he know? _I_ never told him." + +"I don't remember that I did, either. But I suppose I must have. Anyhow, +he knew. He is very much interested in Gertie and how she was getting on +at college and all that. I saw him looking at her photograph that very +day of the reception. He knew that it was she, without being told." + +"Humph! He seems to know a lot. But, there! I recollect now--Gertie said +she met him at college. Well, Serena, I won't complain any more. You can +go to Atterbury if you want to. I'll get along all right." + +And to Atterbury Mrs. Dott went. It was the first time since the old +sea-going days that Captain Dan and his wife had been separated longer +than twenty-four hours. He saw her off on the train and then moped +drearily back to Aunt Lavinia's mansion, which he was now beginning to +hate, and, seating himself in the library, tried to find interest in a +novel. He did not find it, however, and went to bed early. Cousin Percy, +who was out that evening, did not retire early. Next morning he seemed +to have little appetite for breakfast, and was less agreeable than +usual. + +The three days passed somehow. The wanderer was to return on Thursday +morning, but she did not. Instead came a telegram, reading as follows: + + +"Meeting and paper great success. Send immediately one of my latest +photographs. Serena." + + +The puzzled Daniel sent the photograph preceded by a telegram of his own +which read: + + +"When are you coming home? Why don't you write? Have been worried about +you. Answer." + + +The answer was delayed still another day. When it came, it was in the +shape of a very short note stating that Saturday was the date of return. +Serena wrote that she was having a lovely time. She would tell him all +about it when she got back. "And," she added, "I am sending you by this +mail copies of the Atterbury paper. Please show it to any of the Chapter +members whom you may meet." + +Captain Dan unfolded the paper and gazed at the page marked with blue +pencil. Here, under black headlines, which screamed the success of +the convention of the Ladies of Honor, was a horrible blotted outrage +resembling a stout negress peering through a screen door and labeled, +"Mrs. Serena Sarah Dott, of Scarford, whose brilliant paper scored the +success of the meeting." It was only by a process of deduction that +Daniel realized the thing to be a reproduction of the photograph he had +sent. He glanced hurriedly over the account of the meeting, catching +here and there phrases like "Mrs. Dott's forte is evidently platform +speaking"--"clear thought, well expressed"--"tumultuous applause." He +felt that he ought to read the account from beginning to end, but also +that he could not. Azuba, however, when it was shown to her, had no such +feeling. She bore it to the kitchen, read it all, and returned to crow +vaingloriously. + +"Well, there now, Captain Daniel!" she exclaimed. "Ain't it wonderful! +Ain't it grand! Ain't you a lucky man to have a wife as notorious as +she's gettin' to be! I swan to man, if it ain't--" + +The captain interrupted her. "Azuba," he said, rather testily for him, +"if you use that word again I don't know as I won't make you eat a +dictionary. My wife may be famous and she may be a platform speaker, but +I'm blessed if I'll have her notorious, not if I can help it." + +"But she is notorious, ain't she? Look at her right there in the +newspaper, with all that piece about her in print! I wish Labe could +read such a piece in the paper about me. Why, what ails you, Daniel +Dott? Just look at that photograph!" + +Captain Dan rose. "Yes," he said drily, "I've been lookin' at it. That's +part of what ails me." + +On Saturday he was at the station to meet his wife. Serena was inwardly +jubilant, although, because of the presence of Mrs. Lake and Annette, +she tried to appear dignified and calm. But when she and her husband +were alone on their way to the house her jubilation burst forth. + +"Oh, it was a wonderful success!" she declared. "I declare, I wish you +might have been there. The way they applauded! And the entertainment +they gave me! And the reporters after interviews! And the things the +women of the other Chapters said! Oh, Daniel, it was splendid!" + +Lunch was a mere formality on her part. She talked incessantly, while +Cousin Percy and her husband listened. Mr. Hungerford's congratulations +were hearty. His praise was as close to fulsome flattery as it could be +and not overstep the mark. + +Daniel offered congratulations, too. He was glad that his wife had +succeeded, but the pleasure was solely because of her happiness. He was +not as happy on his own account. Several remarks which Serena had +made seemed to prophesy that the excursion to Atterbury was but the +beginning. + +All that afternoon Mrs. Dott spent in her room. She was going to be very +busy, she said, and she must not be interrupted. It was only just before +dinner that the captain found a moment for an uninterrupted interview. +He entered the room to find her seated at the writing table, her fingers +ink-stained, and the table covered with closely written sheets of +manuscripts. She looked up when he appeared. + +"Oh," she said, "I'm so tired! I've written steadily all the afternoon. +My report had to be ready, and there was so much to say." + +Daniel regarded her gravely. "You look tired, Serena. You're doin' +altogether too much of this sort of thing. You ought to stop, or you'll +be sick. Now, you just rest a while. My, it does seem good to have you +back again! We can have an evening together now. I'll tell you what +we'll do: You tell Hungerford you're tired and then come right up here, +and I'll come, too. Then we can sit and talk. I've got so much to say to +you." + +But Serena shook her head. "No, Daniel," she said. "I can't talk +to-night." + +"Then don't; I'll do the talkin'. Land's sakes! it'll be enough just to +look at you. I don't feel as if I'd seen you for a hundred years." + +Another shake of the head. "I'm sorry, Daniel, but I can't be with you +at all to-night. I must present my report to the Chapter and I shall +probably not be home till very late." + +Daniel sprang from his chair. "Serena Dott!" he cried. "Do you mean +to tell me that you're goin' out to that Chapter thing again TO-NIGHT! +after bein' away from me all this time! Why, you've just got home!" + +"I can't help it, Daniel. I must present my report. It's my duty to do +it. The Chapter expects me and I must be there." + +"Expects you! _I_ expected you, didn't I? And, by the everlastin', I +think I had a right to expect you! I'm your husband, ain't I? Seems to +me I am entitled to a little of your society." + +"I can't help it, Daniel. The Chapter--" + +Captain Dan's feelings got the better of his prudence. "Damn the +Chapter!" he shouted. "I wish you and I had never heard of it, nor +anybody that belongs to it." + +The instant after the words left his lips he would have given a good +deal to recall them, but it was too late. His wife slowly rose. + +"Daniel Dott!" she gasped. "Daniel Dott! You--YOU--why--my husband +talking to me like that! My own HUSBAND! the man of all men that I +expected would be proud of me! The man who should be proud and glad that +I have found my lifework--speaking to me like that! Oh! oh! what shall I +do! How CAN I bear it!" + +She fell back into the chair, her head sank upon her arms over the +manuscript of the precious report, and she burst into a storm of sobs. + +Daniel was as much overcome as she. He hurried to her side and in an +agony of remorse bent over her. + +"There, there, Serena," he pleaded. "Don't do so. I didn't mean it. It +kind of--" + +He would have put his arms about her but she pushed them away. + +"And swearing at me," she sobbed. "And using language that--" + +"I didn't mean to swear, Serena. I never swore at you before in my life. +I didn't mean to this time. It just seemed to come out all of itself. +Please forgive me, won't you? Please?" + +But Serena was not ready to forgive. The sleepless nights and days of +wild excitement had thrown her nerves into a state where it needed but +the slightest jar to break them completely. She sobbed, and choked, and +gasped, her fingers clutching at her hair. Daniel, hanging over her, +tried in vain to put in a word. + +"Please, Serena," he kept saying. "Please." + +Suddenly the sobs ceased. Serena's hands struck the desk and she rose so +abruptly that her husband had scarce time to get out of her way. + +"Serena," he cried. + +But Serena cut him short. "Go away," she commanded. "Go away and leave +me. I don't want to speak to you again." + +"But, Serena--" + +"Go away. Don't come near me again to-night. Go, go, GO!" + +And Daniel went, slowly, reluctantly. He was scarcely past the sill, his +hands still upon the knob of the door, when that door was closed from +within with a slam. He made one more effort to speak, but he heard the +key turn and his wife's voice commanding him to go away. He descended +the stairs to the library and threw himself into a chair. Mr. +Hungerford, smoking one of his host's cigars and reading the evening +paper, looked at him curiously and asked what was the matter. + +Daniel turned on him. "Nothin'," he roared. "Nothin', do you hear?" Then +he rushed from the library to the hall, seized his hat and coat from the +rack and hurried out of the house. He walked and walked, but if, upon +his return, anyone had asked him where he had walked he could not have +told them. This was the first serious quarrel that he and his wife had +had during their married life. + +It was half-past seven when he returned and found Azuba fidgeting in the +dining-room. It was Mr. Hapgood's free evening and he had left early. + +"For mercy sakes!" Azuba demanded. "Where have you been?" + +"Out!" was the gloomy rejoinder. "Where's the rest of the folks?" + +"Gone to Chapter meetin'." + +"Both of 'em?" + +"Yes. It was an open meeting and Mr. Hungerford went along, too. Where +are you goin' now? Don't you want anything to eat? It's been waitin' for +you for an hour." + +"Let it wait; I don't want it." + +He walked from the room. Azuba gazed after him open-mouthed. + +"Well!" she soliloquized in a voice loud enough for the captain to +hear. "Well, if anybody'll tell me what's the use of gettin' all het +up cookin' vittles in this house, then I'd like to have 'em do it. Here +I've worked and worked and fussed and fussed to get dinner and nobody's +ate a mouthful but one, and he's the one that gets it for nothin'. I +never saw such doin's. Don't talk to ME!" + +Captain Dan didn't talk to anybody. He sat alone in the library, +miserable and downhearted. After a while Azuba came and announced that +she guessed she'd get a mouthful of fresh air, if she wasn't needed. +Receiving no answer, she apparently considered the request granted +and the captain heard the back door shut. Still the captain sat in the +library, a huddled, pathetic heap in the armchair, gazing at vacancy. +Occasionally he sighed. + +The doorbell rang. Aroused from his doleful reverie by the sound, Daniel +jumped from his chair and, going to the hall, shouted for Azuba. Then +he remembered that Azuba was not on the premises and answered the ring +himself. He had forgotten to push the button of the porch light and, +peering out into the dark, he could see only that the person standing +upon the top step was a woman. A carriage had drawn up at the curb and +the driver was unloading a trunk from the rack. + +"Good evenin'!" said Daniel. + +The answer was a surprise. There was a laugh, and then a pair of arms +were thrown about Captain Dan's neck and a girlish voice said: "Good +evening! Is THAT all you've got to say to me? Why, Daddy, you dear old +goose, don't you know me?" + +Daniel's answer was a shout that might have been heard at the next +corner. + +"What!" he roared. "GERTIE! Good land of love! Where'd you come from?" + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"But aren't you glad to see me, Daddy?" asked Gertrude. They were in +the library. The trunk had been carried upstairs and the young lady had +assured her father over and over again that she really didn't want +any dinner, as she had eaten on the dining car during the journey from +Boston. + +The captain, who had scarcely taken his eyes off her since her arrival +at the house, drew a long breath. + +"Glad to see you!" he repeated. "I never was more glad to see anybody in +MY life. How'd you happen to come so soon? We weren't expectin' you for +a week." + +"I hadn't expected to come, but I changed my mind. Now tell me all about +yourself. How are you, and how's Mother? And how are you getting on? +Mother has gone to the Chapter meeting, you say. Did she go alone?" + +"No, she didn't go alone. That--Cousin Percy went with her." + +"Cousin Percy? Oh, you mean Mr. Hungerford. Do you call him Cousin +Percy? How funny!" + +She seemed much amused. Her father smiled, but it was a rather sheepish +smile. + +"'Tis kind of funny, I suppose," he admitted. "I don't know as he really +is a cousin. Fact is, I guess he ain't any real relation." + +"Of course he isn't. He was Aunt Lavinia's second cousin, or something +like that, but she was only your aunt by marriage. I don't see why you +should speak of him as 'Cousin Percy.' Did he ask you to?" + +"No-o; I don't know as he did. But, you see, he always calls your mother +Cousin Serena and me Cousin Daniel, and--and--well, I guess we've kind +of got into the habit. Your mother began it and, now that he's been here +so long, I've caught the disease, I shouldn't wonder." + +"Long! Why, he hasn't been here more than a month, has he?" + +"Hey? No; no; now that you mention it I don't suppose he has. But it +seems a lot longer than that to me." + +He sighed. Gertrude regarded him keenly. Unconscious of the regard he +sat there, lost in thought, apparently forgetful of her presence. She +reminded him by saying: + +"Why does it seem longer?" + +He started and looked up. + +"Hey? Why?" he repeated. "Oh, I don't know. So many things have +happened, I guess." + +"What kind of things?" + +"All kinds. But there--tell me about yourself. How's college? And how's +John? Land sakes! I ain't said a word about John, and he's about as +important as anything on earth just now, or he ought to be. Guess you +think I'm a selfish old pig, not to ask about him before this. How is +he?" + +"You couldn't be selfish if you tried, Daddy. You never knew how to be. +John is well and very busy. He sent his love to you and Mother, and he +hopes to run down here before very long and spend a few days with us." + +"Does, hey? That's good. I suppose YOU don't hope he'll come. Ha! ha! +no, of course not. He's doin' all the hopin'." + +"Well, perhaps not all. But there, Daddy, don't waste time talking of +John or me. I want to hear about you and about Mother, and how you like +living in Scarford." + +"Why, I wrote you all about that." + +"Yes, I know you did, but I want to hear more, lots more. And I want +to see the house. Just think, I haven't seen it at all. Now, Daddy, you +must show me all the rooms right away. We can talk as we go. Come on." + +She led the way and Daniel followed. The house was shown from top to +bottom. Gertrude asked many questions, the majority of which seemed +to have little to do with the new establishment and more with the life +which her parents had spent in it. Captain Dan answered these questions +in the intervals between rooms, and his answers were less guarded than +they might have been under different circumstances. At length the young +lady ceased to question, and the tour of inspection was finished in +silence on her part. + +When they returned to the library, the captain, who had been waiting for +some expression of approval from his daughter, suddenly blurted out: + +"Well, why don't you say somethin', Gertie? Don't you like it?" + +Gertrude, seated in the easy chair, her elbow resting on the chair arm +and her chin supported by her hand, answered promptly. + +"No," she said, "I don't like it at all." + +"What! Don't LIKE it? Don't like this house? Well, for mercy sakes!" + +"Oh, not the house; I like that well enough. I liked our old one quite +as well--but never mind that now. The house is all right. It is the rest +of it that is all wrong. I don't like that." + +"The rest of it? What do you mean?" + +Gertrude did not answer. Instead she raised her head and looked at him. +It was a long look and a steady one, and the captain found it hard to +bear. He fidgeted for a moment and then blurted out: + +"Well, what is it? Why are you starin' at me like that?" + +The stare continued. + +"What is it?" demanded Daniel. "What does ail you, Gertie? Or is it me?" + +His daughter nodded. "Yes," she said, "it is you. Why don't you tell me +all about it, Daddy? I have a right to know. Why don't you tell me?" + +"Tell you? Tell you what?" + +"You know. Why don't you tell me? You have told me so much already that +you may as well make a clean breast of it. Why, you silly old Dad, what +do you suppose brought me here a week ahead of my vacation? Why do you +think I came?" + +"Why do I think--? Why--why, you came because you wanted to see your +mother and me, I suppose. That's reason enough--or I flattered myself +that 'twas. I thought you was as anxious to see us as we was to see +you." + +"So I was; but that wasn't reason sufficient to make me leave my work at +college before the term was over, leave it for good, very likely. I came +because I was sure you needed me. And your letters made me sure." + +Daniel gasped. His letters had been triumphs of diplomatic evasion, so +he considered. He had been so careful to write nothing of his troubles, +to leave out everything which should hint at his disturbed state of +mind. He had taken pains to express, in each epistle, his contentment +and happiness, had emphasized them. And now-- + +"My letters!" he exclaimed. "My letters made you think--made you sure--" + +"Yes; your letters and mother's. Hers were full of all sorts of things, +the very things that you never mentioned. She didn't say she was having +a good time here, but it was plain enough that she was. You said it in +every letter--that you were having the good time, I mean--but it was +perfectly plain that you weren't. And her last letter was so short--she +was so busy with the Atterbury preparations that she could not write +more, she said--and yours was so very, very long, and SO full of +lonesomeness--" + +Her father interrupted. Lonesomeness was the very thing he had tried to +keep out of that letter. + +"Gertrude Atwell Dott!" he shouted. "How you talk! I never wrote a +word--" + +"Yes, you did. It was all there, between the lines. I could read it, for +you and I have been acquainted a good many years. As soon as I received +that letter I made up my mind to come at once. Since I have been here +I have asked a good many questions, and you have answered them. But +I didn't need the answers. Just to look at you was enough. You are +miserable, Daddy dear, and, because you are you, you won't admit it. But +you've got to; you've got to tell me the whole story. I want to know all +about everything." + +The wind was taken completely out of Daniel's sails. He could only +sit there, guilt written plainly upon his face, and stammer frantic +protestations. + +"No, no," he declared. "It ain't so. You're all wrong, Gertie. You're +way off the course. The idea of you sayin' your mother was neglectin' +me." + +"I didn't say it. You have said it a dozen times, but I haven't." + +"_I_ said it? I never. Your mother is a fine woman, Gertie; as good a +woman as ever was." + +"I know that. And she would not neglect you wilfully for the world. But +she has not had experience. She takes people and things at their face +value. She doesn't understand--Why are you smiling? Is it so funny?" + +Captain Dan rubbed the smile from his lips. In spite of his perturbation +he had been amused for the moment. + +"Why," he observed, "I don't know as 'tis, but--but--well, I couldn't +help wonderin' how old you'd got to be in the last couple of months, +Gertie. You talk as if you was the grandmother and your ma and I were +young ones just out of school. About how much experience have YOU had, +young lady? now that we're speakin' of it." + +Gertrude's earnestness was too real to be shaken by this pertinent +inquiry. + +"I have had a good deal," she declared. "One can get a lot of experience +in college. There are as many kinds of character there, on a small +scale, as anywhere I know. I have seen girls--but there! this is all +irrelevant, away from the subject. You ARE neglected, Daddy; you are +lonely and miserable. Now, I want you to tell me all about it." + +But her father had, in a measure, recovered his composure, and he +declined to tell. He had been longing for a confidant, and here was the +one he had longed for most; but his sense of loyalty to Serena kept him +silent. + +"There's nothin' to tell," he vowed stoutly. "I'm all right. You're +dreamin', Gertie." + +"Nonsense! I shall lose patience with you pretty soon, and I don't want +to. Judging by what I have seen and learned so far, I am likely to need +a great deal of patience in this house, and I can't waste any. Mother +has gone head over heels into this precious Ladies of Honor work of +hers, hasn't she?" + +"We-ll, she's terrible interested in it, of course; but she's so smart +anyhow, and here in Scarford she's got the chance she's been lookin' +for." + +"And she is very much in society here, isn't she?" + +"Yes. That's natural, too, with her smartness and all." + +"What kind of society is it?" + +"Hey? What kind? Why, it's the genuine gilt-edged kind, I should say. +_I_ never saw such clothes, nor such dinners, nor dances. It--" + +"Hush! Yes, I can believe all that. You wouldn't be likely to see +them--in Trumet. And I can believe in the gilt; the genuine part is what +I am most doubtful of. Mrs. Black is as influential with Mother as ever, +isn't she?" + +"Yes. She and Serena bein' such close friends, it--" + +"I know. Tell me, Daddy, are the rest of Mother's friends like the +Blacks?" + +"Pretty much. They're all the same tribe--that is, I mean they're all +brilliant, fashionable folks." + +"I see. What sort of friends have YOU made?" + +This was straight from the shoulder and the captain was somewhat +staggered. + +"Well," he admitted, after a slight pause, "I--I ain't made so dreadful +many friends, Gertie. Most of the men here are--are kind of different +from me, seems so. They belong to clubs and such, and they're out a lot +nights. I don't care for goin' out much; I've always been a great home +body--you know that, Gertie. I don't doubt, if I joined the club and +went to 'stag' dinners and so on, I'd have more friends. It ain't their +fault, you know, it's me." + +"Yes, it always is you, isn't it, Daddy? No one else is to blame, of +course. Well, I'm very glad I came when I did. How many evenings have +you spent alone, as you were spending this one?" + +"Not a great many. I just--" + +"Why didn't you go to the Chapter to-night? It must have been an open +meeting, otherwise Mr. Hungerford couldn't have gone. Why didn't you go +with Mother?" + +Here was the one question Daniel had dreaded most. To answer it +truthfully meant telling of the quarrel between Serena and himself. He +could not tell that, not even to his daughter. + +"I--I didn't feel like goin', somehow," he faltered. + +"That's strange. I knew that you were not particularly interested in the +Chapter--at least you never were in Trumet--but I never knew you to stay +at home when Mother asked you to go with her. Did she ask you?" + +"Now--now, Gertie, 'tain't likely I--I--" + +"Never mind; you needn't answer. Tell me more about this new relative of +ours, 'Cousin Percy.' Do you like him, now that you really know him?" + +"Why--why, yes, I like him all right enough, I guess. Course he and +I are different, in some ways; but, then, he's younger by a good many +years." + +Gertrude nodded slowly. "I see," she said. "You've made up your mind +not to tell me anything, haven't you, Daddy? You wouldn't hurt anyone's +feelings for the world, and you are afraid I may blame Mother. Well, +I am not going to blame anyone yet. And I am not going to quiz you any +longer. But I came home to find out things, and I am going to find out. +If you won't help me, I must help myself." + +Her father leaned forward and patted her hand. + +"Now--now, Gertie," he pleaded nervously, "don't be foolish. +Everything's all right, I tell you. Don't go stirrin' up any trouble. +I am so tickled to have you here I don't know what to do. Let's be +contented with that. Let's just be happy together. Don't--Hello! here +comes the Chapter folks now, I guess. Maybe your mother won't be glad to +see you! Oh, Serena, who do you think is here? I'll bet you'll be some +surprised!" + +There was no doubt of the surprise; neither was there any doubt as +to Serena's joy at seeing her daughter. An outburst of greetings and +questions and explanations followed. Gertrude explained that she had had +an opportunity to leave college a week earlier than the end of the term +and had availed herself of it. + +"I just had to see you and father," she declared. "I couldn't wait any +longer. I've been telling father so; haven't I, Daddy?" + +She accompanied this question with a glance which Captain Dan recognized +as a warning. He nodded. + +"Yes," he said. + +Serena suddenly remembered that the family was not alone. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "What have I been thinking of? Your coming +home like this, Gertie, has made me forget everything else. Cousin +Percy--Why, where is Cousin Percy?" + +Mr. Hungerford, who, from motives of delicacy or other reasons, had +stepped back into the hall, where he could see and hear without being +too conspicuous, now made his appearance. + +"Gertrude," said Mrs. Dott, "this is our cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford. +You've heard him spoken of. Oh, yes--why, you and he have met. I +remember now, so you have." + +Mr. Hungerford bowed. + +"I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Dott one evening a year or two ago," +he observed politely. "No doubt she has forgotten me, however, by this +time." + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"Oh, no," she said. "I remember you very well, indeed. How do you do, +Mr. Hungerford?" + +The young gentleman announced that he was quite well. He made a move as +if to shake hands, but as there was no corresponding move on Miss Dott's +part, he put his hand in his pocket instead. + +"That evening--the evening of the college dance--is one of my +pleasantest recollections," he observed. "I made some delightful +acquaintances there. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten the names +of the young ladies, but forgetfulness is one of my failings." + +"He meets so many people," cut in Serena, by way of apology. + +Gertrude smiled. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. + +"I'm sure he hasn't forgotten us all," she declared. "He could not be so +ungallant as that." + +"He didn't forget you, anyway," declared Daniel. "He knew your +photograph just as soon as he laid eyes on it." + +"Oh, thank you, Daddy. You've saved my self-respect. But I was not +referring to myself. There are others whom I am sure Mr. Hungerford has +not forgotten. Isn't that true, Mr. Hungerford?" + +Cousin Percy appeared somewhat disconcerted. + +"Why," he stammered, "I don't understand. I can't recollect--" + +"Can't you! Oh, that is dreadful! Do you correspond with so many young +ladies that you can't remember their identity? Oh! oh! and Margaret was +SO proud of those letters! Really, Mr. Hungerford!" + +She shook her head. Her eyes were brimming over with fun. Cousin +Percy's cheeks had lost something of their aristocratic pallor. Margaret +Babcock, the daughter of a well known glass manufacturer, had been one +of the list of feminine acquaintances whom he had honored with long +distance familiarity. She was an impressionable young person and her +papa was very wealthy. The correspondence had broken off when her +mother discovered one of the letters. Mrs. Babcock had definite views +concerning her daughter's future, and Mr. Hungerford was not included in +the perspective. The latter had forgotten, for the moment, that he met +Miss Babcock at the college dance; therefore he was confused. + +But the confusion was short-lived. He recovered quickly. + +"I BEG your pardon, Miss Dott," he said with a laugh. "I had forgotten +Miss Babcock. Poor Margaret! She was of an age when letters, especially +masculine letters, are delightfully wicked. Forbidden fruit, you know. +She asked me to write, and I was foolish enough to do so. I presume my +humble epistles furnished harmless amusement for the class. Very glad to +have contributed, I'm sure." + +"You did contribute. We all enjoyed them so much--especially Margaret. +She is a year older than I, Mr. Hungerford." + +Serena, who, like the captain, did not understand a great deal of +all this, decided to change the subject. She did not address her +husband--she had not spoken to him since the scene in the room +upstairs--but the exaltation and triumph which the evening just passed +had brought to her soul now burst forth. She began to describe the +Chapter's meeting and to tell of her great success at Atterbury, and +the enthusiastic reception by the Scarford members of her report. Mr. +Hungerford seized the opportunity to deprive the family of his society. +He was rather tired, he explained, had a bit of writing to do before +retiring, and, if they would excuse him, would go to his room. Being +excused, with reluctance on Mrs. Dott's part and silence on the part of +Gertrude and her father, he said good-night and withdrew. + +"And now, Mother," said Gertrude, "tell me more about yourself, and +about the Chapter, and the friends you have made, and everything. Father +has told me a little, and your letters and his have told me more, but I +want to know it all. I am very much interested." + +Serena did not need to be asked twice. She told a great deal, warming to +her subject as she proceeded. She told of their arrival in Scarford, of +the kindness shown by the Blacks and Mrs. Lake and the rest. "Wonderful +women, Gertie! brilliant, intellectual, advanced thinkers, every one of +them. Not much like Abigail Mayo and the rest at Trumet." + +She told of their adventures in society, of the Blacks' dinner, of the +reception, of her bridge lessons. Gertrude listened, saying nothing, but +watching both her parents intently as the narrative proceeded. + +Daniel, fidgeting in his chair, waited, nervously expectant, for the +protest which he felt sure his daughter might make at any moment. But no +protest came. Only once did the young lady interrupt, and then it was to +ask a question. + +"I suppose Daddy enjoys all this as much as you do, Mother?" she said. +"Doesn't he?" + +Mrs. Dott's expression changed. The radiant joy, which had illumined her +face as she described her progress at bridge, faded, and she seemed on +the verge of tears. + +"Don't, Gertie," she begged. "Don't ask me about your father, please. +Enjoy it? No, he doesn't enjoy it at all. He has no sympathy for my aims +and ambitions. He takes no pride in my advancement. To-night--only this +very night, he said to me--Oh, I can't tell you what he said! Don't ask +me, please." + +Captain Dan almost slipped from his chair in the agony of justification. + +"I never meant it, Gertie," he declared. "It just happened, I don't know +how. I'll leave it to you; I'll leave it to anybody, if--" + +For the first time his wife noticed his presence. + +"Leave it to anybody!" she repeated wildly. "You'll leave it to anybody! +I wish you would! I wish you could hear what people think of it. Why, +Cousin Percy said--" + +For the second time since lunch the captain forgot to be prudent. + +"Cousin Percy said!" he shouted. "He said! Do you mean to say you told +him--THAT? What business was it of his, I'd like to know? What did he +say? If he says it to me, I'll--I'll--" + +Gertrude motioned him to stop. + +"There! there!" she commanded. "Daddy, be quiet. Mother, you're tired +out. You must go to bed. I'll go up with you, and we can talk while you +are getting ready. Daddy will wait here. Come, Mother, come." + +She led the sobbing Serena from the room. Captain Dan, his feelings +divided between deep contrition at his own behavior and anger at Mr. +Hungerford's interference in the affairs of himself and wife, obeyed +orders and remained where he was. + +It was a long wait. He smoked a cigar half through, lighting it three +times in the process. When it went out for the fourth time he dashed the +stump into the fireplace and took to pacing up and down the room. This +reminded him of other days, days when he had paced the deck of his +three-master, counting the hours which separated him from his wife +and his home. He thought of the welcome he had always received when he +reached that home. Oh, why--WHY had he ever retired from the sea? That +was where he belonged; he was of some use in the world there. With a +groan he stopped pacing and went out into the hall to listen for sounds +from above. He heard the low murmurs of voices, the voices of his wife +and daughter, but he could not distinguish words. Back he went to the +library and lit another cigar. These cigars cost three times what his +old Trumet brand had cost, but he got not a hundredth of the enjoyment +from them. + +Twelve o'clock struck before Gertrude re-entered the library. She +entered quietly and, walking over to her father's chair, laid a hand on +his shoulder. He looked up at her in mute appeal. + +"It's all right, Daddy," she said. "You can go up now." + +"But--but she--is she--" + +"She has forgiven you, I think. You must be very kind to her." + +"Kind to her? Kind! Why, Gertie, I never meant to be anything else. I +wouldn't have--" + +"Of course you wouldn't. Oh, Daddy, if you weren't the very worst +diplomat in all this world this wouldn't have happened. Why didn't you +tell me all about it? Why didn't you write me the truth long, long ago? +If I had only come sooner! If I had only known! Oh, WHY did you let +things reach this state? Why didn't you stop it?" + +"Stop it? Stop what?" + +"Oh, everything. Don't you remember that I told you to send for me +if you needed me? To send at any time and I would come? And don't you +remember that I wrote you if you felt this moving to Scarford was wrong +to say no and stick to it? Why didn't you do that?" + +"Why, I--I--Serena, she was so set on comin' and all that, that--" + +"I know. You needn't tell me. And yet, in a way, it seems strange. I +remember some things Laban Ginn, Azuba's husband, told me about you and +your ways aboard ship; he said your crews obeyed every order you gave +as if it was what he called 'Gospel.' You, and no one else, was master +there. However, that is not pertinent just now. Run along to bed, +there's a dear." + +Daniel obediently rose. + +"But what are you goin' to do, Gertie?" he asked. + +"I don't know what I am going to do. First of all I am going to see and +find out for myself. Then I shall decide. One thing seems certain: I +shall not go back to college." + +"Not go back! Not go back to college? Why, it's your last term! What'll +your mother say? What'll John say?" + +Gertrude's lips closed tightly and she gave a determined toss of her +head. + +"John will say what I say, I think," she declared. "As for Mother--well, +what she says won't make any difference, not at present. Good-night, +Daddy. Now don't worry, and," she repressed a smile, "be very careful +and, if you must express your opinion of the Chapter, do it in the back +yard or somewhere out of hearing. Good-night." + +She kissed him and he went slowly and fearfully upstairs. Serena's +attitude of reproachful and self-sacrificing forgiveness he met with +meek repentance and promises not to offend again. He got into bed, worn +out and troubled, but with a ray of hope in his bosom, nevertheless. +Gertie had come home; Gertie was going to do something or other, he did +not know and could not guess what. At any rate she was with him, and he +could see her every day. Perhaps--perhaps--still wondering perhapses he +fell asleep. + +Next morning at breakfast the young lady seemed to be in good spirits +and, except for Serena's absence--Serena had breakfast in her room, a +proceeding which was apparently developing into a habit--the meal was +to Daniel quite like one of the happy breakfasts of Trumet days. Mr. +Hungerford marred the captain's pleasure somewhat by joining the pair +before they left the table, and to him Gertrude was surprisingly cordial +and communicative. Cousin Percy, who had been, at first, rather on his +guard, soon thawed and became almost loquacious. Gertrude and he found a +kindred taste for pictures and art in general, and before the captain's +second cup of coffee was disposed of Mr. Hungerford had invited Miss +Dott to accompany him to a water-color exhibition at a neighboring +studio. Gertrude said she thought she might accept the invitation, if +the exhibition was to remain for a few days. + +"Is the artist a friend of yours?" she asked casually. + +"Oh, no," was the languid answer. "He's a queer old gink--old chap, I +mean--whose work is quite the go about here recently. Some very decent +people have taken him up, I believe. He's worth meeting, so I'm told, as +a curiosity. I've seen only two or three of his paintings, but they're +really not bad. Some of the fellows at the club were talking about him +the other night. I think you'd enjoy the exhibition, Miss Dott." + +"I'm sure I should. I should like to see the pictures and the--er--gink +as well. Thank you very much, Cousin Percy." + +When they were alone, Captain Dan turned to his daughter in puzzled +amazement. + +"What did you call him 'Cousin Percy' for?" he demanded. "Thought you +thought your mother and I callin' him that was funny; you said you did." + +Gertrude laughed. "Did I?" she replied. "Well, perhaps I think so +still." + +Whatever she may have thought, it did not prevent her continuing to be +very cordial to the newly discovered relative. He and she were together +a good deal during the day. She seemed to really enjoy his society. The +remainder of the time she spent with her mother. Captain Dan scarcely +saw her except at luncheon and dinner. Once he found her in the kitchen +talking with Azuba, and on another occasion she and Mr. Hapgood were in +conversation, but for her father she could spare only odd moments. The +captain did not know what to make of it. When, taking advantage of a +fleeting opportunity, he asked her she only laughed. + +"I am very busy, Daddy," she said. "You mustn't bother." + +"Bother! Well, I like that! How long since my company was a bother to +you, Gertie? It never used to be." + +"It isn't now, and you know it. But, as I say, I am very busy. Business +first, pleasure afterwards." + +"Humph! I'm glad I'm a pleasure, even if it's the kind that comes after +everything else. What have you and your ma been talkin' about upstairs +for the last hour?" + +"A great many things--society and the Chapter and--oh, all sorts." + +"Want to know! What were you and Azuba talkin' about?" + +"About household matters and the people IN the house." + +"People in the house! What people?" + +"You and mother and Mr. Hun--that is, Cousin Percy--and Hapgood." + +"That's all there is, except yourself. What was you and Hapgood havin' a +confab on; more household matters?" + +"Yes, in a way. Daddy, have Mr. Hungerford and Hapgood known each other +long?" + +"I guess so. He was Aunt Laviny's butler for a good many years, and +Percy was a regular visitor there. What made you ask that?" + +"Feminine curiosity, probably. Has our cousin many friends here in +Scarford?" + +"Why, he seems to know 'most everybody; everybody that's in what he and +your mother call society, that is." + +"But has he any intimate friends? Have you met any of them?" + +"I met one once. He seemed to be pretty intimate. Anyhow, they called +each other by their first names. Ho! ho! that whole thing was kind of +funny. I never wrote you about that, did I?" + +He told of the meeting in the Rathskeller. Gertrude evinced much +interest. + +"What was this friend's name?" she asked. + +"'Monty,' that's all I heard. Queer name, ain't it--isn't it, I +mean. But it ain't any queerer than 'Tacks'; that's what he called +Hungerford." + +"Has this 'Monty' called here? Has he been here at the house?" + +"No-o, no, he hasn't. I caught a glimpse of him at the club, that time +when I went there with Barney--Godfreys! it's a good thing Serena didn't +hear me say that--with Phelps Black, I mean." + +"Daddy, sometime when you have an opportunity, ask Mr. Black about this +Monty, will you?" + +"Sartin, if you want me to. But what do you care about Percy +Hungerford's friends?" + +"I don't--about his friends." + +With which enigmatical remark she moved away to join Cousin Percy, who +had just entered the room. + +During the next three days, Daniel's feeling that his daughter was +neglecting him grew stronger than ever. Her "business," whatever it +might be, occupied practically all her time, and the captain and she +were scarcely ever alone. He was disappointed. He had regarded her +coming as the life preserver which was to help him through the troubled +waters to dry land, and so far he was as helplessly adrift as before. +Serena had forgiven his profane expression concerning her beloved +Chapter, that was true, but Serena also was "busy" during the days and +evenings, and at bedtime she was too tired to talk. Gertrude was with +her mother a great deal, and with Cousin Percy almost as much. They +visited the water-color exhibition together, and would have gone on +other excursions if the cousin had had his way. Daniel did not like Mr. +Hungerford. He had grown to tolerate him because Serena liked him so +much, and declared him such a help in her literary and political labors, +but the captain had found secret comfort in the belief that his daughter +did not like him any better than he did. Now it looked as if she was +beginning to like him, after all. And there was no doubt whatever that +Cousin Percy liked her. + +Gertrude's apparent interest in her mother's social and Chapter affairs +was another disquieting feature of the situation, as Daniel viewed it. +Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called one afternoon and to them the young +lady was cordiality itself. They talked "Chapter," of course, and to +her father's horror Gertrude talked it, too. Being invited to attend the +next meeting she announced that she should be delighted to go. + +"You didn't mean it, did you, Gertie?" pleaded the captain, when Serena +had escorted the guests to the door. "You didn't mean you was figgerin' +to go to that devilish--to that Chapter?" + +"Hush! Yes, of course I meant it." + +"But--but YOU!" + +"Hush! Daddy, don't interfere. I know what I'm about." + +Daniel was doubtful. If she had known she surely would not think of +going. And yet, on the evening of the meeting, go she did. The meeting +was a protracted one, and, on their return, Serena, finding the lower +rooms apparently deserted, went upstairs. Gertrude was about to follow, +but a figure stepped from the shadows of the library and detained her. + +"Why, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing up at this hour?" + +"Sh-sh!" in an agitated whisper. "Don't let your mother hear you. +I--I've been waitin' for you, Gertie. I just had to talk to you. Come in +here." + +He led the way into the library. + +"Don't say anything," he whispered; "that is, don't say very much. +Serena'll be wantin' to know where I am in a minute. Gertie, what are +you up to? WHY did you go to that Chapter?" + +"Hush, Daddy, hush! It is all right." + +"All right! Yes, I know it's all right so far. That's what your mother +used to say, back in Trumet, when she first started in. You begin by +sayin' it's all right and pretty soon it IS all right. It ain't all +right for me--it's all wrong. Why did you go to that meetin'?" + +"I went because I wanted to see for myself. And I saw." + +"Yes, you saw. And you heard, too, I'll bet you. Well, did you like it?" + +"LIKE it! Daddy, tell me: There is another Woman's Club in Scarford, +isn't there? This can't be the only one." + +"No, it ain't. I believe there's another. A different one--a sensible +one, so I've heard tell. Mrs. Fenholtz--you've heard me speak of her, +Gertie; she's a fine woman--she belonged to the other one. She wanted +Serena to join, but Annette Black had her innin's first, and after that +'twas all off." + +"I see, I see." + +"You see; but what are you goin' to do? Are you goin' to any more of +them blessed meetin's?" + +"I may. I probably shall. Daddy, dear, you must trust me. It is all +right, I tell you." + +Ordinarily this would have been enough. But to-night it was not. Captain +Dan had spent some troubled hours since dinner and his nerves were on +the ragged edge. + +"All right!" he repeated impatiently. "Don't say that again. Is it all +right for you to be gettin' into the same mess your mother is in? Is it +all right for you to be talkin' about society and Chapters and--and I +don't know what all? I did trust you, Gertie. I said so. I told Serena +so this very afternoon. She was talkin' about Cousin Percy, she's always +praisin' him up, and she said you liked him just as much as she did. He +was a cultivated, superior young man, she said, and you recognized it. I +laughed at her. I says, 'That's all right,' I says, 'but I wouldn't take +too much stock in that. Gertie knows what she's up to. She's got some +plan in her head, she told me so. She may pretend--'" + +His daughter interrupted him. + +"Father!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Daddy! did you tell Mother +THAT?" + +"Course I did! Why not? It's so, ain't it? What is the plan, Gertie? +What are you up to? You are pretendin', aren't you? Don't tell me you +ain't! Don't tell me--" + +"I shan't tell you anything. You don't deserve to be told. I'm out +of patience with you, altogether. You deserve to be miserable. You'll +spoil--But there! good-night." + +"Gertie! Gertie! hold on. Don't--" + +Serena's voice sounded at the head of the stairs. + +"Gertie!" she called. "Who is it you're talking with? Is your father +there? Why doesn't he come to bed?" + +"He's coming, Mother, right away. So am I. Good-night, Daddy." + +The next forenoon, as Azuba was blacking the stove, Gertrude entered the +kitchen. + +"Good-morning, Azuba," she said. "Are you alone?" + +"Yes, yes, I'm alone." + +"Where is Hapgood?" + +"Land knows! Upstairs, lookin' out for that Hungerford man's clothes, I +guess likely. He waits on that young critter as if he was the Prince of +Wales. Well, you went Chapterin' and advancin' last night, I understand. +What did you think of it?" + +"Think? I thought--Oh, Azuba!" + +"Yup. It's 'oh, Azuba,' I guess. That's what I've been sayin' to myself +for quite a spell. I'd have said it to your pa, too, if it would have +done any good." + +"It wouldn't. We mustn't say a word to him, or anyone else." + +"I know. And yet, when I think of the way things are goin' at loose ends +I have the shakes. Do you know what it's costin' to run this place the +way it's run? I know. And I know, too, that nobody else seems to know or +care. Your pa trusts everything to his wife, and she trusts everything +to that Hapgood. She can't be bothered, she says, and Hapgood's such a +capable buyer. Capable! he'll be rich as well as capable if it keeps on, +and the rest of us'll be capable of the poorhouse. And there's Serena's +health. She's gettin' more nervous all the time, and just wearin' +herself out with her papers and conventions and politics and bridge and +society. My land! Don't talk to me! And it ain't no use to talk to her. +There's got to be somethin' more'n talk." + +Gertrude nodded. + +"So I think," she affirmed. "Azuba, I have a scheme. It may be the best +idea in the world and it may be the worst, but I am going to risk it. +And you must help me. Will you?" + +"Sartin sure I will!" + +"And you won't tell a soul, not a living soul?" + +"Not one, livin' or dead. You needn't look at me like that. I swan to +mercy, I won't tell anybody." + +"Good! Then listen." + +Azuba listened, listened in silence. When her young mistress ceased +speaking she shook her head slowly. + +"Well," she observed, "it looks some like hoppin' out of the fryin' pan +into the fire, but, even if it turns out that way, perhaps it's just as +well to be roasted as fried. Humph! no, 'twon't do to tell anybody. I +shan't, and you mustn't." + +"I don't intend to." + +"Um! Not even John Doane?" + +"Well," doubtfully, "I may tell John later on. But I shall wait to tell +him, I shan't write. He'll have to trust me, too." + +"So he will. Fur's that goes, it's a good thing for men folks to learn +to trust us women. If Labe, my husband, hadn't trusted me all these +years, he'd have done some worryin', I cal'late. All right, Gertie, I'm +with you till the last plank sinks. But," with a chuckle, "I'm kind of +sorry for your pa. The medicine may cure us all in the end, but it'll be +a hard dose for him to take, won't it?" + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Captain Dan's foundations were slipping from beneath him. His daughter's +return had seemed to him like the first ray of sunshine breaking through +the clouds and presaging the end of the storm. Now, it began to look as +if the real storm was but beginning. Gertrude was apparently contracting +the society and Chapter disease. Gertrude, upon whose good sense and +diplomacy he had banked so heavily, was rapidly losing that sense. So +far from influencing her mother to give up the "crazy notions" which +were, Daniel firmly believed, wrecking their home and happiness, she was +actually encouraging and abetting these notions. + +The young lady was certainly spending a great deal of time with her +mother and her mother's friends. When Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called +for consultations concerning Chapter affairs, Gertrude took part in +these consultations. Daniel, peeping into the library, saw the four +heads together over the table, and heard his daughter's voice suggesting +this and that. Invitations to various social functions came, and it was +Gertrude who urged acceptance of these invitations. Captain Dan's pleas +for quiet evenings together at home went for nought. + +"You needn't go, Daddy," said Gertrude. "Mother and I know you don't +care for such things. She and I can go without you." + +"Go without me? The idea! Look pretty, wouldn't it, to have you two +chasin' around nights all by yourself, without a man to look after you!" + +"Oh, Cousin Percy will go with us. He is always obliging that way. +Cousin Percy will go, I am sure." + +The captain was equally sure. Cousin Percy was altogether too willing +to go anywhere, at any time, provided Miss Dott went also. This very +obvious fact did not add to Daniel's peace of mind. Rather than have his +family escorted by its newest member, he resolved to sacrifice his own +inclinations and go himself. + + + +Miss Canby--the blonde young woman who played the piano at the Black +home on the night of the dinner--issued invitations for an "At Home" in +her apartments. All the Dott household--Mr. Hungerford included--were +invited. Mrs. Black, who came to call, was enthusiastic. Her jealousy +of Serena, which had manifested itself on the night of the latter's +appointment as an Atterbury delegate, had apparently disappeared. She +was again the dear friend and counselor, with all the old cordiality and +a good deal of the old condescension. + +This condescension, however, was confined to Serena and Captain Dan. +Toward Cousin Percy she was extremely polite, but never patronizing, +perhaps because that gentleman was so languidly at ease in her presence. +He listened to her conversation with apparent interest, but his answers, +gravely delivered, were at times a trifle sarcastic. She seemed to be a +bit afraid of Cousin Percy, afraid and somewhat suspicious. + +To Gertrude she was gushingly friendly, overwhelmingly so, and the +friendship was, to all outward seeming, returned. Daniel, who had +gathered from his daughter's previous remarks that she disliked the +great Annette, was surprised and dismayed. + +"For goodness sakes, Gertie," he demanded, "what did you kiss her for? +Anybody'd think she was somebody near and dear that you hadn't laid eyes +on for ten years. And she was here only yesterday. Do you love her so +much you have to hug her every time you see her?" + +Gertrude laughed. "Do you think I do?" she asked. + +"I don't know what to think. It's a mighty sudden love, that's all I've +got to say. Do you want her here ALL the time?" + +"Well, when she is here I know where she is." + +"So does anybody within hearin'. I never saw such a change in a person +as there is in you. And all inside of a week. You used to go out of +the room when that Black woman came into it. Now you kiss her when she +comes." + +"No, Daddy; I kiss her when she goes." + +With which puzzling statement the interview ended. + +B. Phelps accompanied his wife when the latter called to discuss +the Canby invitation. His coming was unusual, the Dotts had seen +comparatively little of him since their arrival in Scarford. Daniel was +glad he came. Black and he were not altogether congenial; the captain +would not have chosen him as an intimate; but at least there would be +someone present with whom he could exchange a word. As B. Phelps did not +care for Chapters and "At Homes" any more than he did, there was that +bond between them. + +Mr. Hungerford was, for a wonder, not in when the callers came. He went +out very little nowadays, except when Miss Dott and her mother went; +then he was always ready to go. + +Annette declared that the Canby "At Home" was certain to be a most +unusual affair. "So--er--well, so different," she explained. "Miss Canby +is a very unusual woman, a unique woman, and her affairs are always +as unique as she is. So truly Bohemian. I adore Bohemians, don't you, +Gertrude?" + +Gertrude said she did. "I don't know that I've met a great many," she +added, "but I'm sure they must be very enjoyable." + +"Oh, they are! And Miss Canby is one. The very first time I attended a +gathering at her home I said to myself: 'THIS is true Bohemianism.'" + +Captain Dan was astonished. + +"Why!" he exclaimed, "Miss Canby's folks came from Down-East +somewheres--Bangor, Maine, I think 'twas. She told me so, herself." + +The remark was received in various ways, by various individuals. Serena +frowned; Gertrude bit her lip; B. Phelps Black burst into a roar of +laughter. + +"I did not mean my statement literally, Captain Dott," explained Annette +in gracious toleration. "But when people are independent and free from +the usual conventionalities, as Miss Canby is, we speak of them as +Bohemians. It is an--er--a term among artists and musicians, I believe." + +Daniel understood little or nothing of this. He understood perfectly +well, however, that he had blundered somehow, a glance at his wife's +face told him that. Gertrude smiled at him kindly and observed: "Father +is like myself, his acquaintance in Bohemia has been limited." + +Captain Dan muttered that he guessed likely that was so, adding that +he had an Armenian steward once who was a pretty good fellow. Then he +subsided. Serena took up the conversation, changing the subject to the +ever fruitful one of her beloved Chapter. In a moment the two ladies +were deep in a discussion concerning the election of National officers +for the Legion, an election which was to take place in Boston a few +months later. Gertrude joined in the discussion, a proceeding which her +father noticed with apprehension. + +Mr. Black accepted an invitation to smoke, and he and Captain Dan went +into the library. After the cigars were lighted, B. Phelps, lowering his +voice so as not to be heard in the adjoining room, said suddenly: + +"Dan, is that daughter of yours going off her head like the rest of the +females?" + +Daniel was indignant. + +"Off her head!" he repeated. "Gertie! She's as smart and sensible a +girl as ever lived. I say so, even if she is my daughter. What are you +talkin' about?" + +Mr. Black waved his hand. "Keep your hair on, Dan," he counselled +pleasantly. "I like Gertrude, always have. I always thought she was as +sensible as she is pretty, and that's saying something. But what has got +into her since she got here in Scarford? You used to tell me she didn't +care anything for society and all the rest of it; now she seems to be as +daffy as her--well, as my wife, if you like that better." + +"Daffy! See here, Barney Black, I--" + +"Hush! Don't begin to yell or we'll have that hen convention in the +parlor down on us. I'm not finding any fault with your daughter. I'm +only talking for her good and yours. What does she care about this +confounded Chapter foolishness?" + +"She don't care nothin' about it." + +"Doesn't she? She seems to be mighty interested in that talk they're +having in there now. And she was as joyful as the rest of 'em over this +Canby woman's 'At Home.'" + +The captain was quite aware of the apparent joy; and Gertrude's growing +interest in her mother's Chapter and its members was too obvious to be +denied. Nevertheless, he tried to deny it. + +"Oh, that's nothin'," he declared. "She and Serena have always been +plannin' together over things, and this Chapter's like the rest, that's +all. As for the 'At Home,' why--why--well, Gertie's young, and young +folks generally like a good time." + +"A good time! Great Scott! Have you ever been to that Canby apartment +and seen the crowd that--No, of course you haven't. Dan, if my wife +heard me she'd take my head off, but you're an old friend of mine and +I like your daughter. Listen to me: Don't let Gertrude go to that 'At +Home' if you can help it." + +"Don't let her! How am I goin' to help it?" + +"I don't know. Keep her in the house. Lock the door and hide the key. +I would. If she was my daughter I'd--I'd chloroform her. Hanged if I +wouldn't!" + +Captain Dan's indignation was rapidly changing to alarm. + +"See here, Barney," he demanded, "what are you tryin' to say, anyhow? +What's wrong with this Miss Canby? Out with it." + +"Nothing's wrong with her, so far as I know. And yet there isn't +anything right. She's good enough, I guess, and she can play the piano +like a streak, but she's a fool. She and the gang she is with +are bleached-haired, frowzy-headed idiots, who hope they are +Bohemians--whatever that is. They like to do what they call unusual +things; they like to shock people--think it's smart. Don't let your +wife or Gertrude--Gertie, especially--get in with that crowd. They don't +belong there. And there's something else." + +He hesitated. Daniel, trembling with anxiety, urged him to continue. + +"What is it?" he begged. "What is the somethin' else?" + +"Oh, nothing. It isn't my business anyhow. I ought to keep still." + +"Keep still! After sayin' as much as you have? You go ahead or I'll +shake it out of you one word at a time. Heave ahead now! I'm waitin'." + +"Well, then, don't get mad. Remember I'm saying it merely as a friend. +Is Gertie engaged to be married?" + +"Sartin she is. To a fine fellow, too. What of it?" + +"Why, this: If she is engaged why is she trotting about with this +precious cousin of yours--this Percy Hungerford?" + +Captain Dan started violently. He had asked himself that very question +many times during the week which had just passed. To have someone else +ask it, however, was too much. He bristled up like an angry cat. + +"By Godfreys!" he sputtered, "what do you mean? Do you mean to hint--" + +"I'm not hinting anything. Be quiet, or I'll stop right here. What do +you know about Hungerford, anyway? Why is he here at your house?" + +"Here! Why--why, he's here 'cause we asked him to stay. He's on his +vacation and he's just makin' us a visit. As to knowin' anything about +him, what do you mean by that? Do YOU know anything about him?" + +"Not much. Neither does anyone else; that's the queer part of it. While +old lady Dott--your Aunt Lavinia--occupied this house, he was here a +good deal. He didn't do anything then, except to be a general high-flyer +around town with a few chums like Monty Holway, who is another gay young +bird with money. After Mrs. Dott went abroad to live, he left Scarford +and went to Providence a while; after that to Boston and New York, and +various places. He had the reputation of being something of a sport, +and in with a fast set. Now, all at once, he comes back here and settles +down on--with you and your wife. What did he do that for?" + +"I--I don't know. He didn't intend to settle. Says he didn't, anyway. As +for bein' a sport--well, he's told us about that, told Serena the whole +yarn. He owned up that he never took life very seriously while Aunt +Laviny lived; had plenty of money and didn't have to. But now it's +different. He's realized that he must work, same as other folks, and +he's doin' it. He works for some magazine or other, doin' what he calls +literary work." + +"Humph! What magazine is it?" + +"I don't know. I never asked." + +"Well, all right. I tell you, honestly, Dan, there's a feeling that he +is working you and the family for easy marks. You give him a good home +and plenty to eat and smoke and it's a pretty soft thing for him. As to +work--Humph!" + +Daniel hesitated now. He had had faint but uneasy suspicions along this +very line, although these, like other suspicions and misgivings, he had +kept to himself. And Serena was such a firm believer in Cousin Percy; +at the least hint against that young gentleman she flew to arms. The +captain remembered this and his strong sense of loyalty to his wife +caused him to remonstrate. He shook his head. + +"No, no," he said, "you're wrong there, Barney, sure you are. Why, Percy +has done a lot of writin' and such since he's been here. He goes to his +room 'most every afternoon to write, and he's helped Serena with her +Chapter papers and speeches more than you could imagine. As for Gertie's +trottin' around with him, that's just foolishness. She's gone to picture +shows and such when he asked her to, but that's only because she likes +such things and wanted company her own age. It's all foolishness, I +tell you. If anybody says 'tain't, you tell 'em I say they're lyin'. By +Godfreys! if they say it to me I'll--" + +"There! there! Keep your hair on, I tell you." + +"'Tis on, what there is left of it. But, Barney, what sort of talk have +you been givin' me? If Hungerford ain't all right, how is it that +he knows so many folks in this town? How is it that he's invited +everywhere, to all sorts of places, into everybody's houses? +Invitations! Why, he gets more'n we do, and," with a sigh, "land knows +that's enough, nowadays." + +B. Phelps grunted contemptuously. "It is easy enough to get +invitations," he observed. "When you've been in this town as long as +I have you'll know that any young fellow, who is as good looking and +entertaining as he is, will be invited to all sorts of things. The girls +like him, so do their mothers--some of them. But there! I may be all +wrong. Anyhow, I mustn't stay with you any longer or Annette'll be +suspicious that you and I are knocking her dashed Chapter. I've told +you this for your own good. Gertrude's a bully girl; I always liked +her--wished a good many times I had a daughter like her. I should hate +to see her get in wrong like--well, like some people you and I know. +You keep her at home as much as you can. Good Lord, man!" with sudden +vehemence, "do you want your house to get to be an empty d----d hole, +only fit to sleep in, like--like--Yes, Annette, I'm coming." + +This conversation remained in Captain Dan's head for days. It disturbed +him greatly. Several times he made up his mind to speak to Serena +concerning it, but each time he changed his mind. He even thought of +writing a note to John Doane, urging the latter to run down to Scarford +for a few days, but he was fearful that to do this might be a mistake. +John would tell Gertrude, and she might not like it. Besides, Gertrude +had said that she expected John to come before very long. So Daniel did +nothing further than to remonstrate mildly concerning the acceptance of +Miss Canby's invitation. As he gave no reason for his objection, other +than the general one that he was tired and did not care about it, his +remonstrances were unheeded. He need not go unless he wished, said +Serena, she and Gertrude and Cousin Percy could go and he could stay at +home and rest. Gertrude said the same. When the evening came, the whole +family went, the captain included. + +Annette had characterized the gifted Miss Canby as unusual, and the +social affairs given by her as unique. After the first half hour in the +"Bohemian" apartments, Daniel would have agreed with her, although his +opinion might have been more emphatically expressed. Miss Canby WAS +unusual, her apartments were unusual, and the "Bohemians" there gathered +most unusual of all. + +Gertrude, strolling about in the company of a young gentleman--not +a Bohemian, but, like herself, merely a commonplace guest--found +her father seated in a corner, sheltered by a Japanese screen and +an imitation palm, and peering out at the assembled company with a +bewildered expression on his face. + +"Well, Daddy," she asked, "are you having a good time?" + +Daniel, who had not noticed her approach, started and looked up. + +"Hey?" he asked. "A good time! My soul and body! Yes, I'm havin' a good +time. I haven't had a better one since I went to the sideshow at the +circus. Who's that long-legged critter with the lay-down collar and the +ribbon necktie? That one over there, talking to the woman with the hair +that don't match. What ails him?" + +Gertrude looked and laughed. "That is Mr. Abercrombie, the poet," she +said. "Nothing ails him; he is a genius, that's all." + +"Humph! That must be bad enough, then. What--" + +He stopped. His daughter's escort had caught his attention. The young +man's face was familiar. + +"Why!" he faltered, "isn't this--" + +"This is Mr. Holway, Daddy. I wanted you to meet him." + +Her tone was quite serious, but there was an odd expression in her eye. +Mr. Holway, blond, immaculate and blase, bowed. Then he, too, started. + +"Eh!" he exclaimed. "Why, by Jove!" + +Captain Dan nodded. "Yes," he observed, quietly. "Well, I'm much obliged +to you, Gertie, but Mr. Holway and I have met before." + +Gertrude's surprise, real or assumed, was great. + +"Have you?" she cried. "Why, how odd! When?" + +Mr. Holway, himself, answered. He seemed confused and his explanation +was hurriedly given. + +"Your father and I met one afternoon at--at the Palatine," he stammered. +"I--I should have known. Tacks told me, but--but I had forgotten. I'm +ashamed of my part in that, Mr. Dott. I really am. I owe you an apology. +I hope you--I hope--" + +Captain Dan nodded. "All right," he said briefly. "Don't say any more +about it." + +"But--but I hope you and Miss Dott won't--won't think--" + +"We won't. I won't, anyway. I stopped thinking about it long ago. Well, +Gertie, what have you been doin'? 'Most time to go home, is it?" + +"Time to go home? Why, Daddy, we've just got here. We haven't been here +an hour yet." + +"Haven't we? I want to know! Seemed a good deal longer than that to me. +All right, don't you worry about me. I can stand it, I guess. Where's +your mother and--and Cousin Percy?" + +"Mother is in the next room with Mrs. Lake and some more of the Chapter +members. Cousin Percy is--Oh, here he comes now." + +Hungerford appeared, strolling in their direction. He seemed surprised +when he saw his relatives in company with Mr. Holway. + +"Hello, Monty!" he said. "You here? How are you?" + +The two young men shook hands. Gertrude smiled upon them both. + +"Father and Mr. Holway were renewing acquaintanceship," she observed, +cheerfully. "It seems that they have met before." + +Cousin Percy's acknowledgment of this statement was a brief "Oh, +indeed!" He and his friend exchanged glances. + +"The--er--performance is about to begin, I believe," announced Mr. +Hungerford. "Our hostess has--er--reluctantly consented to be led to the +piano. Shall you and I adjourn to the next room, Cousin?" + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"Oh, thank you," she said, "but Mr. Holway has been telling me the most +interesting stories about Scarford and the people in it, and I want to +hear the rest. He is dreadfully sarcastic; I should not listen, I know, +but I want to. Come, Mr. Holway." + +She moved away, the flattered "Monty" in her wake. Mr. Hungerford gazed +after them. He appeared not altogether pleased. + +"Very sociable, chatty chap, that friend of yours, I should judge," +observed Captain Dan drily. + +"Um-hm!" grunted Cousin Percy. "Been chatting to you, has he?" + +"No-o, not much this time. But you remember I've had the pleasure +before." + +Mr. Hungerford doubtless remembered; he looked as if he did. Then +he, too, strolled away. The captain, left alone, indulged in a quiet +chuckle. + +Miss Canby's rendition on the piano, of what she was pleased to call +"A sweet little thing of Tschaikovsky's--one of my favorites," was +enthusiastically applauded, and she obliged with another, and still +another. Then Mr. Abercrombie was prevailed upon to read one of his own +outpourings of genius, a poem called "The Tigress," in which someone, +presumably the author, described the torments involved in his adoration +of a feminine person with "jetty brows and lambent eyes," whose kiss was +like "a viper's sting" and who had, so to speak, raised the very dickens +with his feelings. He read it with passionate fervor, and Captain Dan, +listening, decided that the Tigress must be a most unpleasant person. + +However, judging by the acclaim of the rest of the audience, she was +a huge success, and the poet was coaxed into reading again, this time +something which he had labeled "Soul Beams," and in which "love" rhymed +with "dove" and "heart" with "dart" and "bliss" with "kiss" in truly +orthodox fashion. Mr. Abercrombie's poetic gems were not appreciated by +the mercenary and groveling minions who edited magazines, but here, +amid his fellow Bohemians, they were more than appreciated, a fact which +their creator announced gratified him more than he could express. +And yet, he seemed to have little difficulty and less hesitation in +expressing most things. + +Daniel was not enthusiastic over the poems. He could not understand a +great deal of them, but he understood quite enough. When B. Phelps Black +winked at him from his seat at the other side of the room, he did not +return the wink, although he knew perfectly well what it meant. + +The poems were bad enough, according to his figuring, but when Miss +Beatrice Dusante tripped into the circle to slip and twist and slide +and gyrate in "one of her delightful Grecian dances," he found himself +looking about for a convenient exit. Discovering none he remained where +he was and blushed for the company. + +The Bohemians, however, did not blush; neither, to his amazement, did +Serena, who looked on and applauded with the rest. He found some comfort +in the absence of his daughter, who was not among the seated guests, +but, at last, even this comfort was dispelled. He caught a glimpse of +Gertrude, still accompanied by the attentive Mr. Holway, standing in +the back row. He tried to catch her eye and, by frowns and shakes of +the head, to indicate his disapproval of the dance and her presence as +a witness. He did not succeed in attracting her attention, but when, a +moment later, she and her escort moved off, he was somewhat relieved. +Gertrude looked as if she did not care for Miss Dusante's dancing any +more than he did. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not appear interested. He +was looking at Miss Dott and "Monty," and there was a frown on his face. + +Upon their return, after they were together in the library at home, +Daniel's shocked indignation burst forth. + +"Well!" he declared, "that's enough. That's the limit, that is! What +kind of a gang IS that, anyway?" + +His wife regarded him with astonishment. Gertrude, after one glance at +his face, turned and walked to the other side of the room, where she +busied herself with a book on the table. Cousin Percy smiled broadly. + +"Gang!" repeated Serena. "Gang! Why, what are you talking about, +Daniel?" + +"I'm talkin' about that gang at that Canby woman's place to-night. +I never saw such a brazen gang anywhere. Haven't they got ANY +respectability? How'd they come to let that dancin' thing in there? +Couldn't they see her before she got in? Couldn't they stop her? Why--" + +Serena interrupted. "Stop her!" she repeated. "How could they stop her? +She was an invited guest." + +"Who invited her? That's what I want to know. Who invited her?" + +"Miss Canby, I suppose. She is a friend of hers." + +"A friend! A FRIEND!" + +"Yes. Now, Daniel, don't be silly. I know what you mean, and I must say +I sympathize with you just a little. Annette explained to me afterwards +though, so I suppose it is all right. Annette says that this Miss +Dusante's dancing is all the rage now. She has made a study of the +ancient Grecian dances and she does them everywhere. She is paid high +prices for it, too." + +"I don't doubt it. I should think she'd want to be. Did you see the way +she was dressed? I never--" + +"Hush, Daniel! That was the old Greek costume. Miss Canby told me all +about it; the old Greeks used to dress like that." + +"They did! Then it didn't take 'em long. Brazen thing! Why!" with a +sudden turn upon his daughter, "Gertie--Gertie Dott, stop fussin' with +that book and listen to me. You were there; I saw you lookin' on. YOU +didn't like that Greek dancin', did you?" + +Gertrude hesitated. Her cheeks were red and, for a moment, she seemed to +find it difficult to speak. Then, after a quick look at her mother, she +answered, calmly: + +"Like it! Why not, Daddy? It is all the rage, just as Mother says, +and it is certainly graceful. I rather think I should like to learn it +myself. I understand Miss Dusante gives lessons." + +Daniel's mouth opened and remained open. Cousin Percy stared at the +speaker. Even Serena, defender of the dances of the ancient Greeks, +looked shocked. + +"Why, Gertie!" she cried. "Gertie! You! the idea!" + +"Why not, Mother?" + +"Why not! I should think you would know why not. I never heard you speak +like that before." + +"I never saw any dances like those before. I have heard about them, +of course, but I never saw them. We never did--you or father or any of +us--a great many things that we are doing now. We are learning all the +time; that's what you told me, Mother. I never went to a Bohemian 'At +Home' before." + +Serena's eyes snapped. "Well, you'll never go to another one," she +declared, "if it's going to have this effect on you." + +The young lady smiled. "Why, of course I shall," she cried. "I want to +learn, just as you do, Mother. And I mean to. Good-night!" + +She left the room and they heard her ascending the stairs. Daniel and +Serena looked at each other. Cousin Percy looked at them both. + +Captain and Mrs. Dott had a long talk before retiring. The captain +derived some satisfaction from the talk; it seemed to him that their +daughter's declaration of independence had startled Serena somewhat. She +even went so far as to admit that, in spite of Mrs. Black's explanations +and gracious commendations, she, herself, had not been impressed by Miss +Canby's guests. She and Gertrude would have an interview in the morning, +she declared. + +Captain Dan waited hopefully for the result of that interview. The hope +was crushed when Serena reported to him. + +"It is all right, Daniel," said Mrs. Dott. "I guess Gertie didn't +really mean what she said about taking lessons of the Dusante woman. +She thought the dances graceful, and they were, of course. But Gertie is +older now--yes, she is older, and she expects to have her own way more +than she has had it. She said a lot of things to me, things that she +hasn't said before. It seems that when she first came home she was +inclined to think I had exaggerated when I wrote her about the lovely +people here in Scarford, and the Chapter, and the brilliant women in it. +Now, she sees I was right. She has helped me a good deal already with my +Chapter work, and she means to do more. She is going to join the Chapter +herself. She--why, what's the matter?" + +Daniel had made a choking noise in his throat; he appeared to be +strangling. + +"Noth--nothin'," he gasped. "Nothin' much. I'm all right. But--but you +said--why, how can Gertie join the Chapter? She ain't goin' to stay +here. She's goin' back to college soon as her vacation's over." + +Serena shook her head. There was just a shade of doubt, almost of +trouble, in her voice as she answered. + +"No-o," she said, "no, Daniel, she isn't. She isn't going back any more. +She thinks it isn't necessary." + +"Not necessary! Why, how you talk, Serena! Not necessary to finish out +her last term! What do you mean? One of the things that troubled me +most, back there in Trumet before we was rich, was that I might not +afford for her to finish out at that college, and now, when I can, she +ain't goin'. I say she is. I say she's got to." + +"I don't believe that will make any difference, Daniel. She seems +to have made up her mind. I'm kind of sorry, I must say, but she is +obstinate. She says it is so much more interesting here that she is +going to stay. You can talk to her, if you want to, but I don't think it +will do any good." + +Serena was right; although Captain Dan did talk to his daughter his +arguments and persuasions were quite useless. + +"No, Daddy," said Gertrude, "I am going to stay right here. I told you +that if I were needed I should come home. I have come home and I am +needed. I shall not go back. It is only the last half term, anyway." + +"Yes, but then's when the girls have all their best times, all the +dances and--and entertainments and society times. You said so. Do you +want to miss all those?" + +Gertrude smiled. "Oh," she observed, "I expect to have a great many +'society times,' as you call them, right here in Scarford. There seems +to be no lack of them, and Mother is decidedly in the swim. It's no use, +Daddy; my mind is made up. Don't you worry, it is all right." + +"Well--well, I--I must say--See here, are you really going to join that +Chapter thing?" + +"Yes." + +"You are! After all you said--" + +"Yes, no matter what I may have said." + +"By--by time! I don't know what to do with you. I--I set a lot of store +by you, Gertie. I kind of banked on you. And now--" + +Gertrude's expression changed. She patted his cheek. + +"Keep on banking on me, Daddy dear," she whispered, "perhaps I'm not +altogether hopeless, even yet." + +But her father, for once, refused to believe her. + +"I don't like it," he declared. "And other folks don't like it, either. +Why, Barney Black got after me only the other day about you. He wanted +to know why you--you, an engaged girl--was cruisin' around so much with +this Cousin Percy of ours. He thought 'twas queer. I said--" + +Gertrude rose to her feet. Her arm was snatched from the captain's +shoulder so quickly that he jumped. + +"Daddy!" she cried, her cheeks blazing, "do you mean to say that you +have been discussing me with--with Mr. Black?" + +"I didn't start it, he did. He said--" + +"I don't care what he said. Oh, the impertinence of it! And you +listened! listened and believed--" + +"I didn't say I believed it." + +"You did believe it, though. I can see you did. I shan't try to comfort +you any more. You deserve all that is coming to you. And," with a +deliberate nod, "it is coming." + +"Comin'! It's HERE! Gertie, there's another thing: What about John? +What do you think John would say if he knew you weren't goin' back to +college?" + +Gertrude looked at him. Her lips twitched. + +"Oh," she said, mischievously, "as to that--well, Daddy, you see, he +DOESN'T know it." + +That afternoon Daniel wrote a letter. He said nothing to anyone, not +even Serena, about the letter, but wrote it in the solitude of the +library and posted it with his own hands. Just before sealing the +envelope he added this postscript: "Whether you come or not, don't tell +a soul that I wrote you this. And, if you do come, just let them think +it was all on your own hook. THIS IS IMPORTANT." + +On Saturday evening there was to be a meeting of the Chapter, and +on Tuesday Serena returned from committee with the joyful news that +Gertrude was to be admitted to membership at that meeting. The +young lady expressed herself as delighted. Cousin Percy extended +congratulations. Captain Dan said nothing. Later, he visited Azuba in +the kitchen, and there he received another shock. + +Azuba was not, as usual, busy with her cooking or scrubbing. She was +seated in a chair by the window, reading a paper. She looked up as he +entered, but immediately resumed her reading. The captain waited for her +to speak. As a general thing he did not have to wait. + +"Hello, Zuba," he hailed. + +Azuba turned a page of the paper. She did not answer. + +"Hello!" he hailed again. "What's the matter, Zuba? Gone into a trance, +have you?" + +"Hey?" Azuba did look up then, but at once looked down again. "Hey?" she +repeated. "No, I ain't in no trance. I'm readin', that's all." + +"I should think that was enough, if it fixes you so you can't speak to +anybody. Must be mighty interestin' readin'." + +"Hey? Interestin'? I guess 'tis interestin'! It's more'n that, it's +upliftin', too. I'm just beginnin' to realize what I am." + +"That so? Well, what are you?" + +"I'm a woman, that's what I am." + +She made the declaration with the air of one imparting news of a +startling discovery. Daniel laughed. + +"Is that so!" he exclaimed. "Well, well! I want to know! I always +suspected it, Zuba, but I'm glad you told me, just the same. Does it say +so in that paper?" + +Azuba rose from her chair. She did not laugh; she was intensely serious. + +"It says a lot of things," she announced, "a lot of things I never +thought of afore. I don't mean that exactly. I've thought of 'em, but I +never knew how to make anything out of my thoughts. I just kept thinkin' +and let it go at that. Now, I'm beginnin' to realize. I'm a woman, I +am, a free woman. That paper is for free women. Have you read it, Cap'n +Daniel?" + +Captain Dan took the paper which she extended to him at arm's length. He +recognized it immediately. It was "The Woman's Voice," official organ of +the National Guild of Ladies of Honor. Serena was a subscriber. + +He glanced at the paper and tossed it on the table. + +"Yes," he said shortly, "I've read some of it." + +Azuba seized the discarded journal as if it were a precious treasure, a +thing to be treated tenderly and with reverence. + +"Some of it!" she repeated. "Humph! I'd read all of it, if I was you. +'Twould do the men good if they was made to read every number ten times +over. It's a wonderful paper. It's opened MY eyes, I can tell you that." + +It had, apparently, opened her mouth as well, although to do that +required no great urging at any time. She went on to preach the glories +of the "Voice," and concluded by reading an editorial which, like Mrs. +Lake's addresses at Chapter meetings, contained a great many words and, +to the captain's mind, little understanding. + +He listened, fidgeting impatiently, to perhaps two-thirds of the +editorial, and then he interrupted. + +"Hold on! Heave to!" he ordered. "For the land sakes, Zuba, what's set +you goin' like this? Are YOU goin' to--to--" + +"To what? Am I goin' to what?" + +"Are you goin' to 'advance' or whatever you call it? What ails all you +women, anyway?" + +"What ails us? Hain't I been readin' you what ails us?" + +"You've been readin' a whole lot, but I've heard it all before. You want +to be 'free'! Confound it, you ARE free, ain't you? You want to take +your place in the world! Why, you've had the front place ever since Eve +got Adam to eat the apple. She was skipper of that craft, wasn't she! +And us men--most of us, anyhow--have been fo'mast hands ever since. What +is it you want? Want to vote? Go ahead and vote. I'M willin'." + +But Azuba laughed scornfully. + +"Vote!" she repeated. "I don't care whether I vote or not." + +"Then what do you want?" + +"We want--" Azuba hesitated, "we want--what this paper says we want. +And," with determination, "we're goin' to have it." + +"All right, have it, then! Meantime, let's have dinner. It's pretty nigh +half-past five, and the table ain't set. And," with a sniff, "there's +somethin' burnin' somewheres, I smell it." + +This statement had an effect. Azuba dropped the precious paper and +sprang to open the oven door. + +"Well!" she declared, "it's all right. 'Twas that cranberry pie, and +'twas only beginnin' to scorch. It's all right." + +"Glad to hear it. Now, say, Zuba, you take my advice; you're a +practical, sensible woman, I always said so. Don't you get to be silly, +at your age." + +It was an impolitic remark. Azuba bristled. + +"At my age!" she repeated. "Humph! I ain't so much older than some folks +in this kitchen, nor in the rest of the house, either. What do you mean +by silly?" + +"I mean--I mean--well, I mean don't you get to joinin' lodges and +readin' papers and racin' out every night in the week to somethin' or +other. It ain't worth while. It's silly--just silly." + +"Oh, is it! Well, other women do it. Your wife's been doin' it ever +since we got here. And now Gertie's startin' in. You always made your +brags that she was about as sensible, smart a girl as ever drawed +breath. _I_ ain't got money; nobody's left ME a cart load of dollars and +a swell front house. But I've got rights and feelin's. I'm a woman, a +free woman, and if it ain't silly for Mrs. Dott and Gertie to want to +advance and--and so on, I cal'late 'tain't silly for me either. Perhaps +you'd like to have me tell Serena that you said she was silly. Shall I?" + +Daniel did not answer, but his look was answer sufficient. Azuba smiled +triumphantly. + +"Practical," she sneered. "No, Cap'n Daniel, I ain't been practical so +far, but I'm goin' to be. I'm a-goin' to be. You watch me." + +Her employer's guns were spiked. He marched out of the kitchen, slamming +the door viciously. The library was tenanted by Cousin Percy, who was +taking a nap on the lounge. Upstairs, Gertrude was helping her mother +with a "report" of some kind. Hapgood, the butler, was in the hall, and +he bowed respectfully. + +"Yes, sir," he said. "Did you wish anything, sir?" + +"No," snarled Captain Dan, and went out for a walk. This was the last +straw. If Azuba was going crazy the situation was hopeless indeed. And +he had received no reply to his letter. + +Hapgood, left alone in the hall, grinned, strolled into the library and, +regardless of Mr. Hungerford's presence, filled his pockets with cigars +from his employer's box. Downstairs, in the kitchen, Azuba was busy +getting dinner. At intervals she burst out laughing. + +That evening Mr. "Monty" Holway called. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mr. Holway's call was, ostensibly, a call upon the Dott family +in general, but it was to Gertrude that he addressed most of his +conversation. The young lady was very affable and gracious. She +expressed herself as glad to see him, and she appeared to be. "Monty" +was a voluble person, and he talked a great deal, although a critic +might possibly have considered his remarks more remarkable for quantity +than quality. In the presence of Captain Dan he appeared a trifle ill +at ease, a fact which the captain attributed to circumstances attending +their first meeting. Serena seemed somewhat surprised at the call. She +regarded her daughter and Mr. Holway with an odd expression, and, so it +seemed to her husband, was apparently dissatisfied or disturbed. At all +events she said little and, when addressed, answered absent-mindedly. + +Mr. Hungerford was the most surprised of all. He had been out, and when, +returning, he found his friend in the drawing-room, his greeting was not +too cordial. Mr. Holway also seemed embarrassed, and a bit on his guard. + +"Hello, Tacks!" he said, rising and extending his hand. + +Cousin Percy did not see the hand, or, if he saw it, did not offer his +own. + +"Hello," he said, gruffly. Then, after a quick glance at the quartette +in the drawing-room, he pulled forward a chair and, without waiting for +an invitation, seated himself. + +"How goes it?" inquired Monty. + +"All right enough. Oh--er--Gertrude, I've found out about that recital +affair. It is next Wednesday afternoon. I have arranged for us to go. +Rather difficult business to manage, at such a late date, but I managed +to pull it off." + +Gertrude smilingly declared that she was much obliged. "I don't know, of +course," she added, "what Mother's plans for that day may be, but if she +is not busy I'm sure we shall be pleased to go. Thank you for thinking +of us." + +Mr. Hungerford hesitated. "Well," he said, "to tell you the truth, I +had supposed that Mrs. Dott might be rather busy. It is your committee +meeting afternoon, isn't it, Mrs. Dott? and so I arranged for only two. +Awfully stupid of me, I know." + +"Oh, that will be all right. You and Mother can go, then. I don't mind +at all. Really, I don't. And Mother is so fond of music. It is all +right, Mother," turning to Serena, who had been about to speak, "you can +go just as well as not. You must. Never mind the committee meeting; I'll +act as your substitute there." + +Cousin Percy was not overcome with joy; at least, he managed to restrain +his ecstasy. Mr. Holway volunteered a word. + +"Is it the Wainwright Recital you are talking about?" he inquired, +eagerly. "That's all right. I can get cards for that. It's a cinch. +I'll see that you go, Miss Dott. By George! I'll--I'll go myself. Yes, I +will, really. We'll all go." + +This prompt suggestion should have cleared the air. Somehow it did not. +Mr. Hungerford merely grunted. Gertrude shook her head. + +"No," she said, "I think, perhaps, I had better not go, after all. But +it is ever so nice of you to offer, Mr. Holway. You and Cousin Percy can +take Father and Mother. That will be splendid." + +"Don't bother about me," put in Daniel, hastily. Recitals were almost as +distasteful as Chapter meetings or "At Homes" to his mind. + +"It won't be any bother, I'm sure," declared Gertrude. "Will it, Cousin +Percy? Will it, Mr. Holway?" + +Both the young gentlemen murmured their pleasure at the prospect of +acting as escorts to the elder members of the Dott family. Serena said +she would "see about it," she couldn't say for certain whether or not +she would be able to attend the recital. Captain Dan said nothing. + +The conversation dragged somewhat after this. "Monty" and Mr. Hungerford +addressed the greater portion of their remarks to Gertrude, only +occasionally favoring Serena and Daniel with a word or question. To each +other they were very uncommunicative. At last, however, after Mr. Holway +had given a very full account of a "dinner dance" which he had recently +attended, "a very exclusive affair, only the best people, you know," +Percy, who had been listening impatiently, turned toward him and +drawled: + +"I remember that dance. Beastly tiresome, I judged it would be, so I +sent regrets. I heard you enjoyed yourself, old chap. Said I imagined +so, considering your company. By the way, that must be getting quite +serious, that affair of yours. When may we expect the announcement?" + +Holway colored. His usual facility of speech seemed to have deserted +him. + +"Announcement!" he stammered. "Announcement! What--what--" + +His friend laughed. + +"Oh, it's all right, old man," he observed. "Don't get excited. She's a +charming girl. No one blames you." + +"Monty" continued to sputter. Gertrude was all excitement. + +"Oh, how interesting!" she said. "Do tell us about her, Mr. Holway. Do I +know her?" + +"Know her!" Mr. Holway's indignation was intense. "I--I don't know her +myself. He's just guying, Miss Dott. He--he thinks because he--he is so +confoundedly fascinating, and has so many--so many-- + +"Oh, that reminds me, Tacks," turning upon the smiling Hungerford, +"I saw a friend of yours yesterday. She looked quite desolate, quite +broken-hearted, my word she did. You were a little cruel there, weren't +you, my boy? Just a bit cruel. Everyone expected--" + +He did not finish the sentence, but his expression indicated that much +was expected. It was Cousin Percy's turn to color. + +"Don't be an idiot, Monty," he snapped. "That is, more of an idiot +than you can help. Don't mind him, Gertrude; he has an amazing idea of +repartee, that's all." + +Serena volunteered a remark concerning the weather just then. She +observed that it might be raining, it had looked that way before dinner. +Mr. Holway possibly considered that a hint was involved; at any rate, +he rose and announced that he must be going. Gertrude begged him not +to hurry, they had all enjoyed his call so much, she said. Cousin Percy +suddenly declared that he would accompany his friend on his way, a walk +would do him good. Monty expressed no enthusiasm at the prospect of +company, but the pair left the house together. + +After they had gone, Daniel turned to his wife. + +"Humph!" he observed, "what sort of talk do you call that? I thought +those two were chums; and yet I didn't know but they was goin' to fight +one spell. It's a good thing you hove in that about the rain when you +did, Serena." + +Serena was grave. "Gertie," she inquired, "did you ask that young man to +call here?" + +Gertrude was the picture of surprised innocence. + +"Ask him to call?" she repeated. "Mr. Holway, do you mean? I don't know. +I think not. Why?" + +"WHY?" Captain Dan almost shouted it. His wife motioned him to be quiet. + +"Hush, Daniel," she said. "You know why, Gertie, as well as I do. You +are engaged to be married." + +Gertrude smiled. "Of course I am," she answered. "What of it?" + +"What OF IT?" + +"Hush, Daniel, hush! Engaged girls, Gertie, are not supposed to have +young men calling upon them." + +"Oh," with a shrug. "I don't know that he was calling on me. He did +not ask for me when he came. And you and Daddy were here all the time. +Besides, merely because I am engaged isn't any reason why I should +retire from the world altogether, is it? Mrs. Lake says--" + +Daniel struck the table with his fist. + +"Mrs. Lake!" he shouted. "Mrs. Lake don't live with her husband. She's a +grass widow, that's what she is." + +"She is one of Mother's dearest friends, and any friend of Mother's +should be good enough for me." + +The captain choked. "You--you talk to her, Serena," he stammered; "I +can't." + +Serena looked more troubled than ever. + +"Gertie," she faltered, "if Mrs. Lake has been advising you--to--to--" + +"She hasn't advised me at all. Now, Mother, what IS the use of all this? +If I have learned anything from you and your Chapter friends it is to +be broad-minded and independent. If Mrs. Lake is not a living example of +independence, who is?" + +Serena could not seem to find an answer at the moment. Her husband tried +again. + +"Gertie Dott," he declared, "I--I don't know what to make of you, all at +once. And John Doane wouldn't either. If John knew--" + +Gertrude interrupted. "That's enough, Daddy," she said, firmly. "I am +quite willing John shall know; when I am ready I shall tell him. He is a +dear, good fellow, in his way, but--" + +She hesitated. Her parents asked a question in concert. + +"But what?" they demanded. + +"Why--why, nothing of importance. But I am learning here in Scarford. My +opportunity has come, just as yours did, Mother. I am a free woman and I +shall not be a slave--a SLAVE to any man." + +With which remark, a quotation from a paper read at the most recent +Chapter meeting, she walked from the room. Her astonished parents looked +at each other. Daniel was the first to speak. + +"My soul and body!" he gasped. "What--what--Serena, did you hear what +she said? That about John? That he was a good fellow--in his way? In his +WAY! My soul and body!" + +Serena shook her head. + +"I--I don't believe she meant it, Daniel," she said. "I'm sure +she didn't. She's just a little carried away, that's all. All this +society--this altered social position of ours--has turned her head the +least bit. She didn't mean it. I'll have another talk with her pretty +soon." + +"I should say you'd better. Serena, do you know what I've done? Done on +my own hook, I mean. I've written--" + +He paused. The disclosure which, on the impulse of the moment, he had +been about to make was, for him, a serious one. He had written the +letter "on his own hook," without telling his wife of his action. What +would she say if he told her now, so long afterward? + +"You've done? What have you done?" asked Serena sharply. + +The captain still hesitated. Before his mind was made up the front +door opened and Cousin Percy made his appearance. He entered the hall +quickly, and to Mr. Hapgood--who hastened from somewhere or other to +take his coat and hat--he said nothing, except to snarl a comment on +the butler's slowness. He did not speak to the Dotts either, but tramped +savagely up the stairs. His face, as seen by the electric light, was +flushed and frowning. + +Serena turned to her husband. + +"How cross he looked," she said, wonderingly. "I never saw him so +before. What do you suppose has happened?" + +Speculation concerning Cousin Percy's evident perturbation caused her +to forget the disclosure Captain Dan had been about to make. By the time +she remembered to ask about it the captain had decided not to tell. He +fabricated some excuse or other, and the excuse was accepted, to his +great relief. + +None of the Dott household attended the Wainwright recital. Mr. Holway +called on Wednesday, just after luncheon, to say that he had obtained +the necessary cards, but his kindness went for nought. He stayed, so +it seemed to Daniel, a good deal longer than was necessary, and Mr. +Hungerford, who remained in the room every moment of the time, evidently +thought so, too. So did Serena. Gertrude, however, was very cordial, and +again begged the visitor not to hurry. + +Saturday evening was that of the Chapter meeting, the meeting at which +Gertrude was to be made a member. That forenoon Azuba electrified her +mistress by expressing an ardent desire to become a member also. Her +wish was not received with enthusiasm. + +"Why, what do you want to do that for, Azuba?" asked Serena in +amazement. + +"Why shouldn't I want to? You're a member, ain't you? Gertie's goin' to +be a member to-night, ain't she?" + +"Yes. But--but--" + +"Well, but what?" + +"I didn't know you were interested in such things. You never were when +we lived in Trumet." + +Azuba dismissed the past with a scornful sniff and a wave of the hand. + +"Trumet!" she repeated. "Trumet ain't nothin'. Nobody's anything in +Trumet. We're in Scarford now, and Scarford's a progressive, up-to-date +place. We've all changed since we've been here, and I'm changin' much as +anybody. I've been hearin' your papers, when you read 'em to Gertie and +the cap'n, and I've been readin' 'The Voice,' too. Yes ma'am, I've read +it and I've found out what a back number I've been. But, I ain't goin' +to be so no more. I'm goin' to be as up-to-date as the next one, even +if I do have to wash dishes for a livin'. Serena--Mrs. Dott, I mean--I'd +like first rate to join that Chapter of yours. You put my name in +to-night and maybe it can be voted on next meetin'." + +"But--but, Azuba, are you sure you know what it means? Do you think your +husband would want you to--" + +"My husband! What's he got to do with it? If we free women have got to +be slaves to our husbands it's a pretty state of things, I must say. You +don't ask your husband every time you go to meetin' whether he likes +it or not. No, ma'am, you don't! You're above that, I cal'late. And I +shan't ask Labe neither--even if he was where I could ask him, which he +ain't. Husbands! Don't talk to me about husbands! THEY don't count." + +Serena said that she would see what could be done and hurried away to +discuss the new development with the family. + +"Of course she can't join," she declared. "It is ridiculous. The idea! I +supposed she had more sense." + +Daniel chuckled. "So did I," he observed, "until she got shoutin' +independence to me the other day. But it looked then as if she'd got it +bad. All right, Serena, if Zuba Jane Ginn is goin' to make speeches at +your Chapter meetin's, I'll go any time. You won't have to ask me but +once." + +He laughed aloud. His wife was vexed. + +"Of course you think it's a great joke," she said. "Anything that makes +trouble for me is a joke to you. She can't join. What do you suppose +Annette and Mrs. Lake and the rest would say if I proposed my servant +girl as a member? Do stop being silly, if you can. What are you grinning +at now?" + +Captain Dan, repressing his grin with difficulty, explained that he +was thinking of what they would say. Serena, giving him up in disgust, +turned to her daughter. + +"Gertie," she begged, "why don't you say something? Azuba can't join +that Chapter and you know it." + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"I suppose, she can't," she replied. "And yet, I'm afraid, Mother, that +you will find that fact rather hard to explain to her. Azuba doesn't +consider herself a servant, in the ordinary sense, at all. She feels, +I think, that she is a friend of the family. And she has a right, of +course, to improve and advance in every way. I am very much pleased to +know she is so ambitious." + +"Ambitious! Azuba Ginn! What does she know about progress or +advancement? Who put such ridiculous ideas in her head?" + +"Perhaps I did. She and I have had some long talks on the subject. She +asked questions and it was duty--and my privilege--to answer them. I am +very hopeful of Azuba. She is my first convert. I shall help her all I +can." + +"Help her! Help her to what? To be too high and mighty for her place? +Help her to be dissatisfied with her station in life?" + +"Yes; why not? None of us should be satisfied, short of the very +highest. Why, Mother, if you had been satisfied we might all be +stagnating in Trumet." + +Serena abandoned the argument. She refused to mention Azuba's desire +for advancement again. Several times during the day Captain Dan saw her +regarding her daughter with the same odd, doubtful look that she had +worn when Mr. Holway made his first call. + +After dinner that evening Gertrude and Serena hastened upstairs to dress +for the Chapter meeting. Mr. Hungerford, after expressing his regret +that the gathering was not to be an "open" one and he, therefore, would +not be permitted to see Miss Dott become one of the elect, went out. +When he first became a member of the household it was his custom, +on occasions of this kind, to remain in the library as "company" for +Captain Dan. Now, however, he seldom did this. The captain did not mind; +he preferred his own society to that of Cousin Percy. + +Just as the ladies descended the stairs the doorbell rang. Hapgood +answered the ring, and the voice which replied to his polite query +concerning the caller's name was a familiar one. + +"Why!" exclaimed Serena, "it is--isn't that--" + +"It's John!" cried Gertrude. "Why, JOHN!" + +Mr. Doane pushed past the butler and entered the hall. His glance took +in the group at the foot of the stairs, but it lingered upon only one +member of it. + +"Gertie!" he said, and stepped forward. Captain and Mrs. Dott looked the +other way; Hapgood gave his attention to the closing of the door. + +A moment later the young man was ready to shake hands with the less +important inhabitants of the mansion. He did so heartily. + +"My!" he exclaimed, "but I'm glad to see you all. It seems a hundred +years since I did see you. How are you?" + +Serena answered. Captain Dan, his first surprise over, seemed nervous. + +"We're real well," declared Serena. "And it seems awfully good to have +you here. Gertrude and I--" + +Gertrude interrupted. + +"But, John," she said, "how did you happen to come so unexpectedly? I +didn't know--you didn't write me a word about it." + +"I didn't know it, myself. That is, I wasn't sure of it. You know our +junior partner, Mr. Griffin, has been very ill--I wrote you that. He +is very ill even yet, but he is a little better, and so I grabbed the +opportunity. I should have come before, just as soon as--" + +He paused. Daniel, in the background, was grimacing and shaking his +head. + +"As soon as what, John?" asked Gertrude. + +"As soon as--as soon as I could. You're glad I came, aren't you; even if +it was rather sudden?" + +"Of course I am. You know it." + +Her tone was hearty enough, and yet Mr. Doane seemed to find something +lacking in it. Serena, too, looked quickly at her daughter. + +"Of course she's glad," she declared. "So are we all. But what are we +thinking of? Take off your things. Where's your trunk? Have the man +bring it right in." + +"There isn't any trunk. There's a bag outside there, that's all. My +visit is likely to be a very short one. If I should have a wire that +Mr. Griffin was worse it might be shorter still. I should have to go +at once. But we won't worry about that. Dinner? No, thank you, I have +dined." + +Captain Dan ushered the newcomer into the drawing-room. John exclaimed +at the grandeur of the apartment. + +"Whew!" he whistled. "You're fine, aren't you? Gertie wrote me how grand +you were and I have been anxious to see the new house. Gertie--why, +Gertie! what is it?" + +Gertrude was standing in the doorway. She looked perplexed and troubled. +John noticed, for the first time, that she was wearing her coat and hat. + +"Were you going out?" he asked. + +Gertrude hesitated. Serena answered for her. + +"Gertie and I were going out," she said. "It is Chapter night and she +was going to be made a member. But you won't go now, of course, Gertie. +I'll go--John will excuse me, I know--and you can join at the next +meeting. It will be all right, I think. It will have to be, of course." + +But Gertrude still hesitated. Her father was surprised. + +"Why, Gertie!" he cried. "What are you standin' there for? 'Tain't +likely you'll go to that meetin' now that John's come all the way from +Boston to see you. Tell him you ain't goin'." + +The young lady was plainly much disturbed. She looked at Mr. Doane and +it was evident that she wanted to say something very much indeed. What +she did say, however, was a surprise to everyone. + +"I--I ought to go, John," she faltered. "It is a very important meeting. +I can't tell you--now--how important it is." + +John's disappointment showed in his look, but his answer was prompt. + +"Then go, by all means," he said. "I'll go with you, if I won't be in +the way." + +But this self-sacrificing proposal was dubiously received by both the +ladies. Serena shook her head. + +"I'm afraid you couldn't do that, John," she said. + +"It isn't an open meeting, and men are not admitted. But Gertie doesn't +need to go." + +"Yes, I do, Mother." + +"No, you don't. I'll explain to Mrs. Lake and the rest. Of course you +won't go and leave John here alone." + +"Daddy will be with him and I shall hurry home as soon as I can. I must +go, John; I really must. I will explain why later. If I had only known +that you were coming! If you had only written me! WHY did you come +without writing?" + +Captain Dan, fearful of the answer, and indignant at his daughter's +conduct, burst into protest. + +"You ought to be glad he's come, anyhow," he declared. "I cal'late he +thought--I don't care, Serena, I've said 'cal'late' all my life, and +I can't help forgettin' once in a while--I suppose John thought he'd +surprise you, Gertie. And now you're goin' to clear out and leave him, +just on account of that--that Chapter of yours. You never used to be +crazy about Chapters. You used to poke fun at 'em. You did and you know +it. But since you've got here to Scarford--I can't help it, Serena; I'm +mad clean through. Can't YOU tell that girl to stay to home where she +belongs?" + +"Gertie," began Serena, again; but her daughter would not listen. + +"Don't, Mother!" she cried, "you are wasting time. We shall be late, as +it is. John knows that my going is necessary, or I should not do it. He +trusts me to that extent, I hope." + +"Of course," said Mr. Doane heartily. "Run along and don't say any more +about it. Come back as soon as you can, that's all. Shan't I come after +you? I can wait outside until the thing is over." + +"No; I don't intend to wait until it is over. Mother and I can take a +cab. Come, Mother." + +Serena reluctantly led the way to the hall. Hapgood opened the door. + +"One moment, Mother," said Gertrude. She left Serena on the step and +hurried back to the drawing-room. Captain Dan and John were standing +there in silence. + +"Daddy," said the young lady, "I think I left my pocketbook upstairs in +my room. Will you get it for me?" + +The captain ran to the stairs. Gertrude stepped quickly over to her +lover. + +"John," she whispered, "you will forgive me, won't you, dear? I MUST go. +It will spoil everything if I don't. You see--why, Daddy! you haven't +found that pocketbook so soon!" + +Daniel had reappeared in the doorway. + +"I sent Hapgood for it," he announced. "It's a good thing to make him +work once in a while. What's the use of my runnin' errands when I pay +him wages to run 'em for me? He'll be down in a minute." + +Gertrude did not seem pleased. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Well, never mind. +Why! here is the pocketbook in my bag, after all. Good-by, John. I +will hurry back. You and Daddy will have a lot to talk about, I know. +Good-by." + +The door closed behind her. Captain Dan stepped to the foot of the +stairs. + +"Found it yet?" he shouted. + +Hapgood answered from above. + +"No, sir, not yet." + +"Then keep on lookin' till you do. It's a good excuse to keep him out +of the way," he explained, turning to Mr. Doane. "He makes me nervous, +hangin' around and lookin' at me. I never was brought up to a butler and +I can't get used to this one. Come on into the sittin'-room--library, I +mean. The furniture ain't so everlastin' straight up and down there and +there's somethin' to smoke--or there ought to be, if Cousin Percy ain't +smoked it first. Come on, John." + +In the library, with lighted cigars and in comfortable easy chairs, the +two men looked at each other. + +"Well, John," began the captain, "you--you come, didn't you?" + +"Yes, of course. I should have come as soon as I got your letter, but I +couldn't get away. I was going to tell you that." + +"Yes," drily, "I know you was. If I hadn't cut across your bows, you +would. Whew! if you had I guess likely there'd have been somethin' +doin'. If Gertie or Serena knew I wrote you that letter I'd stand to +lose what hair I've got left. Didn't I write you not to mention that +letter to a livin' soul?" + +"You did. But I couldn't understand why. What is all this secrecy, +anyhow? And what is troubling you about Gertie?" + +"Well, now, I don't know as there's anything." + +"Humph! I judged there was a little of everything. What is the matter? +Out with it. + +"Well--we-ell--you see--you see--" + +"I don't see anything, Captain Dott." + +"You saw how she was set on goin' to that Chapter meetin', didn't you? +You saw that?" + +"Yes, but what of it?" + +"What of it? What OF it? Did she ever use to want to go to such things? +Down in Trumet did she ever want to go? I bet she didn't! But now she +does. And she's goin' to join the thing--join it, herself! As if one +loon--I mean as if one Chapter member in the family wasn't enough. I +thought when Gertie come home she'd probably keep her ma from goin' off +the course altogether. I thought, with her level head, she'd swing us +back into the channel again. But she didn't--she didn't. John, Gertie's +got the Chapter disease worse than her ma ever had it, I do believe. +You've got to talk to her, John, that's what you've got to do--talk to +her." + +John laughed. He did not take the situation very seriously. If Gertrude +wished to become interested in the Chapter, he was willing she should. +She probably had a good reason for it. Her insisting upon attending a +meeting on the very evening of his arrival was odd--it did not seem like +her--but she doubtless had a good reason for that, too. + +"Why don't you talk to her yourself, Captain?" he asked. + +"Me! Me talk to her! I have, and what good has it done? She won't listen +to me any more. I don't mean she ain't kind to me and lovin' and all +that--she wouldn't be Gertie if she wasn't that--but when it comes to +Chapter business she's all on her ma's side." + +"Why not talk to her mother, then?" + +Daniel straightened in his chair. "To Serena!" he repeated. "Talk +against Chapter to Serena! John, you don't know what you're sayin'. +One time--just one--I did talk that way. I biled over and I damned that +Chapter and the gang in it, cussed 'em in good plain United States. But +I'll never do it again. Once was enough." + +He was so very serious that his companion fore-bore to laugh. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Why! John, you ain't married or you wouldn't ask that. I'm a peaceable +body and I like peace in the house. More'n that, I hate to go 'round +feelin' like a sneak thief. That one damn made me miserable for two +days. I never swore to Serena afore and I never will again. She was all +cut up over it and in a way she was right. No, swearin' aboard ship is +one thing--I've had mates that couldn't navigate without it--but ashore +in your own house, to the women folks you care for, it don't go. I can't +talk to Serena about that Chapter--not even if I'm left alone ALL the +time, same as I'm left to-night." + +John nodded. He thought that, at last, he had reached the milk in the +cocoanut. Captain Dan, with his love for home and his hatred of lodges +and societies, had refused to be interested in his wife's pet hobby, and +felt himself neglected and forsaken. He had brooded upon it, and this +outburst and the letter he had written were the consequences. + +"Oh, well," he said. "I shouldn't worry. The Chapter here is a large one +and Mrs. Dott is interested in it. The interest will wear off when it +gets to be an old story." + +"Wear off! With Gertie goin' it harder than her mother ever thought of?" + +"Oh, Gertie doesn't mean it." + +"She DON'T! She don't! Perhaps you don't think she means it when she +goes to every 'tea' and 'recital' and 'at home' and crazy dido from here +to Beersheba and back. Is THAT goin' to wear off? Chasin' around with +Cousin Percy and that Holway and land knows who?" + +"What? Captain Dott, you're making mountains out of mole hills. Gertie +isn't that kind." + +"That's what I said. That's what I used to think. It's this Scarford +that's doin' it. It's this Scarford and the society crowd we've got in +with. Annette Black--Barney Phelps's wife--is in society, and so's the +Lake woman and that Canby piano pounder and that Dusante--my Godfreys! +you ought to have seen her, John! She was the brazen thing. Dancin' +around! And all hands sittin' lookin' at her as if she was a Sunday +School. Everybody! Serena and Gertie and that Holway man and all. And +Gertie up and says she might like to dance that way. She! And Cousin +Percy laughin' because she said it." + +"Hold on! Wait a minute, Captain. I never saw you so excited. What about +this Cousin Percy of yours? He's living here with you, I know that; but +what sort of a chap is he? And Holway--who is Holway?" + +Daniel went on to explain who Holway was. Also he spoke of Mr. +Hungerford and his ways and his intimacy with the family, particularly +Gertrude. For weeks the captain had been wanting to talk to someone +about these things and, now that he had that opportunity, he made the +most of it. He spoke of his own loneliness, and of Serena's infatuation +for society, of Gertrude's coming and the great change in her, of the +gay life in Scarford, and of his daughter's apparent love for it. He +gave his opinion of Hungerford and of Holway, the latter's friend. When +John asked questions which implied a belief that the situation was not +really as bad as the narrator thought it, Captain Dan, growing warmer +and more anxious to justify himself, proceeded to make his statements +stronger. He quoted instances to prove their truth. Serena was crazy on +the subjects of Chapter and Chapter politics and fashion and money and +society, and Gertrude was getting to be even worse. It wasn't any use to +talk to her. He had tried. He had told her she was engaged and ought to +be more careful. He wasn't the only one who thought so. Barney Black had +said the same thing. He quoted from Mr. Black's conversation. + +John Doane listened, at first with the smile of the disbeliever, then +with more and more uneasiness. He trusted Gertrude, he believed in +her, she was not a flirt, but if these stories were true--if they were +true--he could not understand. He asked more questions and the answers +were as non-understandable. Altogether, Captain Dan, with the best +intentions in the world, and with the happiness of his daughter and John +uppermost in his mind, succeeded in laying a mine which might wreck that +happiness altogether. + +At last something--perhaps the expression on his visitor's face--caused +him to feel that he might have said too much. He hastened to rectify the +mistake. + +"Of course you mustn't think Gertie ain't all right, far's you're +concerned, John," he said. "She is--I--I'm dead sure she is. But, you +see--you see--You do see, don't you, John?" + +Mr. Doane did not answer. He seemed to be thinking hard. + +"You see, John, don't you?" repeated Captain Dan. + +"Yes, I suppose I do." + +"And you know Gertie's all right--at heart, I mean? You mustn't be +jealous, nor anything of that kind." + +John laughed. "Don't talk nonsense," he said curtly. + +"No, I won't. But--er--what are you thinkin' about?" + +"Nothing. Humph! I can't understand--" + +"Neither could I. That's why I wrote you. You see why I wrote you, don't +you, John?" + +"Yes--yes, I see why you wrote me; but--but I can't see why she didn't. +She hasn't written me a word of all this." + +And then the captain, in his anxiety to explain, made another indiscreet +remark. + +"Well," he observed, "I suppose likely she was afraid you might +think that, now she had money--more money than she ever had before, I +mean--and was in a different, a higher-toned crowd than she had ever +been, that--that--well, that she was likin' that crowd better than the +old one. She might have thought that, you know, mightn't she?" + +Mr. Doane did not answer. Daniel had made a pretty thorough mess of it. + +"Of course," went on the captain, "as far as Cousin Percy is +concerned--" + +John stirred uneasily. "Cousin Percy be hanged!" he snapped. "That's +enough of this foolishness. Let's change the subject. How is Nate Bangs +getting on with the store at home?" + +The Metropolitan Store at Trumet was the one thoroughly satisfactory +spot on the checkered map of Daniel Dott's existence at the present +time. Nathaniel Bangs was making a success of that store. He reported +each week and the reports showed increasing business and a profit, small +as yet, but a profit nevertheless. + +So the captain was only too glad to speak of the store and did so. John +appeared to listen, but his answers and comments were absent-minded. He +accepted a fresh cigar, at his host's invitation, but he permitted it to +go out. + +At half-past ten the doorbell rang. Daniel sprang to his feet. + +"Here they are!" he declared. "Gertie come home early, just as she said +she would. That's 'cause she wanted to see you, John. Hi!" shouting +at Mr. Hapgood, who had long since given up the search for the missing +pocketbook and had been dozing upstairs, "Hi! you needn't mind. Go +aloft again! Go below! Go somewhere! We don't need you. I'll let 'em in, +myself." + +The butler, looking surprised, obeyed orders and went--somewhere. The +captain flung open the door. + +"Well!" he hailed. "Here you are! And pretty early for Chapter night, +too. We're waitin' for you, John and I. Shall I pay the cab man?" + +Serena, the first to enter, answered. + +"No," she said, "he is already paid." + +"That so? Did you pay him, Serena? Thought that was my job usually. +I--" Then, in a tone go entirely different that John Doane, in the +drawing-room, noticed the change, he added, "Oh! oh! I, see." + +"Come in," went on Serena. "Come right in, Cousin Percy." + +She entered the drawing-room, followed by Gertrude and--Mr. Percy +Hungerford. Captain Dan, remaining to close the door, came last. + +"John," said Serena proudly, "we want you to meet our cousin, Mr. +Hungerford. Percy, this is John." + +John and Hungerford exchanged looks. The latter gentleman extended a +gloved hand. "Charmed," he observed. + +John expressed pleasure at the meeting. The pair shook hands. + +"So--so Cousin Percy came home with you, did he?" inquired Daniel. "That +was kind of unexpected, wasn't it?" + +Mr. Hungerford himself answered. + +"Why," he declared, "not altogether, on my part I hoped for the +pleasure. It seemed rather rough for Miss Dott and her mother to come +alone, and so I hung about until the affair was over." + +"He had a carriage all ready for us," declared Serena. "It was so +thoughtful of him." + +"Not at all. Great pleasure, really." + +Gertrude made the next remark. + +"We did not need a carriage," she said. "Or, if we did, we could easily +have gotten one. Cousin Percy need not have troubled." + +"John offered to come for you," said Daniel. "So did I. We'd have both +come, but you wouldn't have us. Wouldn't accept our invitation, would +they, John? Gave us to understand they didn't like our company." + +"Cousin Percy did not wait for an invitation," explained Serena. "He +just came. He is so thoughtful." + +Gertrude looked annoyed. She had been regarding Mr. Doane. + +"Mother," she said sharply, "don't be silly. We did not ask for an +escort and we didn't need one. The whole thing was quite unnecessary and +unexpected. Come, Mother, do take off your things. Oh, I'm so glad to +get home." + +The ladies retired to remove their wraps. John made a move to go to +their assistance, but Mr. Hungerford, attentive as usual, got ahead of +him. + +"Well, Daddy dear," said Gertrude, as they re-entered, "what have you +and John been doing while we were away? I suppose you've had a long +talk?" + +Daniel colored. He looked at Mr. Doane, who, in spite of himself, +colored also, and was tremendously annoyed because he did so. + +"Yes," said the captain hastily. "Yes, we talked. We talked, didn't we, +John?" + +"We did," affirmed John. + +"I'm sure you did. And what about?" + +"Oh--oh, about everything. How did the Chapter doin's go off? You're a +member now, I suppose, Gertie?" + +"Yes," was the brief reply, "I am a member." + +"Um-hm! Well, I hope you're satisfied--I mean I hope you'll like it. +Didn't make a speech, did you? Ha! ha!" + +Gertrude did not answer. Serena, to her husband's surprise, appeared +vexed. + +"But she did though, by Jove!" exclaimed Cousin Percy. "She did, and I'm +told it created a great sensation. Miss Canby told me about it as I +was waiting for you to come out, Gertrude. She said you gave them a +brand-new idea. Congratulations, Gertrude. Wish I might have heard it. +Something about the privileges of the Chapter being extended to the hoi +polloi, wasn't it?" + +The new member of Scarford Chapter looked more annoyed than ever. + +"I spoke of the Chapter's advantages being extended," she said, "that's +all." + +"And enough, too," cried her mother, impatiently. "Quite enough, I +should think. If I had known you were going to do that, I should have +stayed at home. It was that foolish Azuba who put the notion in your +head. You'll be proposing her name next, I suppose. The idea!" + +Daniel burst into a roar of laughter. + +"What do you think of that, John?" he cried. "Zuby Jane makin' speeches! +There's advancement for you, ain't it?" + +John smiled, but rather faintly. He had scarcely taken his eyes from +Cousin Percy's aristocratic presence. The latter gentleman turned to +him. + +"Well--er--Mr.--Mr. Doane," he observed carelessly, "how do you like +Scarford, as far as you've seen it?" + +John replied that he had seen very little of it. + +"You will find it a bit different from--er--what is it? Oh, yes, Trumet. +You'll find it a bit different from Trumet, I imagine." + +"No doubt. I can see that already." + +"But John doesn't come from Trumet," explained Serena; "that is, not +now. He is in business in Boston." + +Cousin Percy seemed surprised. He favored the visitor with another look. +"Indeed!" he drawled. He did not add "He doesn't look it," in words, but +his manner expressed just that. + +Daniel caught his wife's eye. "Well, Serena," he observed, with a +meaning wink, "I guess likely you're tired, ain't you? Time to go aloft +and turn in, I should say." + +Serena nodded. "Yes," she answered. "Gertrude, you and John will excuse +us, won't you? John, Captain Dott and I will see you in the morning. +Good-night! Good-night, Cousin Percy." + +"Good-night!" said Mr. Hungerford. + +"You'll excuse us, John, I'm sure," went on Serena. "Of course you and +Gertie will want to talk, and," with a slight pause and a glance at +Percy, "we will only be in the way. Come, Daniel." + +Captain Dan paused in the doorway. "Ain't you tired, too, Cousin Percy?" +he inquired. + +It was a fairly broad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it. + +"Oh, no," he replied; "not at all. Good-night, Captain." + +He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife +upstairs. + +The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to +Hungerford and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less +opportunity to say it. Each remark made by the young lady was answered +by Percy, and that gentleman talked almost incessantly. His remarks also +were of a semi-confidential nature, dealing with happenings at various +social affairs which Gertrude and he had attended, and hints at previous +conversations and understandings between them. John began to feel +himself an outsider. After a time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed +into silence. + +Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her entertaining +cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost sharply: + +"John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five +minutes." + +John said very little, even in reply to this accusation. + +"Haven't I?" he observed. "Well, what shall I say?" + +"You might say something, considering that you and I haven't seen each +other for so long." + +Mr. Hungerford rose. "I hope I haven't interfered," he announced. +"Didn't mean to intrude, I assure you. Beg pardon--er--Doane." + +John did not answer. Gertrude also rose. + +"Good-night, Cousin Percy," she said, with a gracious smile. "Thank you +so much for the carriage and your escort." + +"Quite welcome. Pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Gertrude. Oh, by the way, +I believe you and I are to go over that paper of your mother's tomorrow. +She asked my advice and said you would assist, I think. I shall look +forward to that assistance. Good-night, Doane. Glad to have met you, I'm +sure." + +He strolled out. Upon reaching his room he discovered that his cigar +case was empty. Hapgood not being on hand and, feeling the need of a +bedtime smoke, he tiptoed down the stairs and through the back hall into +the library. The room was dark, but sufficient light shone between the +closed curtains of the drawing-room to enable him to locate Captain +Dan's box. Silently and very slowly he refilled the case. + +John Doane and Gertrude, alone at last, looked at each other. The former +was very solemn. Gertrude, quite aware of the solemnity, but not +aware of its principal cause--her father's impolitic disclosure of his +apprehensions concerning herself--was nervous and a bit impatient. + +"Well, John," she asked, after a moment's wait, "aren't you going to say +anything to me even now?" + +John tried his best to smile. It was a poor attempt. + +"Why, yes," he said slowly, "I came all the way from Boston to see +you and talk to you, Gertie. There is no reason why I shouldn't +say--whatever there is to say, I suppose." + +Gertrude looked at him. The tone in which this speech was delivered, +and the speech itself--the first part of it, especially--amazed and +hurt her. Incidentally, her temper having been sorely tried already that +evening by Mr. Hungerford, it made her angry. + +"All the way from Boston," she repeated. "Well, I never knew you to +complain in that way before. I'm sorry to have caused you so much +trouble." + +"It wasn't a trouble, Gertie. You know I would go around the world for +you." + +"Then why speak of coming all the way from Boston? Whose fault was it, +pray? Did I ask you to come?" + +And now, John, who had been fighting his own temper for some time, grew +angry. + +"You did not," he declared. "But I judge it was time I did." + +"Indeed! Indeed! Why?" + +"Well--well, for various reasons. Of course, had I known my coming would +interfere with your--your precious Chapter affairs and--" + +"John, I had to go to that meeting. If you had written you were coming +I shouldn't have gone. I should have made other arrangements. But you +didn't write." + +"I wrote every day." + +"Yes, but you did not write you were coming here." + +"I didn't think it was necessary. You wrote every day, too, but you +didn't write--you didn't write--" + +"What?" + +"A good many things that--that I have learned since I came here." + +"Indeed! What things? How did you learn them?" + +"I--" John hesitated. To bring Captain Dan's name into the conversation +would be, he felt, disloyal. And it would surely mean trouble for the +captain. "I--I learned them with my own eyes," he declared. "I could +see. Gertie, I can't understand you." + +"And I don't understand you. I told you, at the only moment we have had +together, I told you then that I would explain about the Chapter. I said +that I must go or everything would be spoiled. You very nearly spoiled +it by coming as you did." + +Mr. Doane's expression changed. It had softened when she reminded him +of the whispered word in the drawing-room. The last sentence, however, +brought his frown back again. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Well--humph! that's easily remedied. I came in a +hurry and I can go the same way." + +"John! John, what do you mean? How can you speak so to me! Would you go +away now that--that--" + +"You wouldn't miss me so much, I should imagine. Cousin Percy will be +here, and you and he seem to be very confidential and friendly, to say +the least." + +Gertrude gasped. She was beginning to understand, or imagined that she +was. She laughed merrily. + +"John! Why, John!" she cried. "You're not jealous! YOU!" + +John looked rather foolish. "No-o," he admitted doubtfully, "I'm not +jealous. Of course I'm not, but--" + +"But what? Don't you trust me, John? Don't you?" + +"Of course I do. You know I do, but--See here, Gertie, you said you were +going to explain--to explain something or other. Do it, then. I think I +am entitled to an explanation." + +But Gertrude's merriment had vanished. Her eyes flashed. + +"I shall not explain," she said. "You don't trust me. I can see you +don't." + +"I do. I do, Gertie, really; but--but--" + +"But you don't. You think--you think--oh, I don't know WHAT you think! +No, I shall not explain, not now, at all events. Good-night!" + +She hastened from the room. John ran after her. + +"Gertie," he cried, "you're not going? You're not going to leave me in +this way, without a word? I do trust you. I only said--" + +"It wasn't what you said; it was the way you said it. I am going. I am +shocked--yes, and hurt, John. I shall not speak to you again to-night. +To-morrow perhaps, if you beg my pardon and I am really sure you do +trust me, I may tell you--what I was going to tell. But not now. I--I +didn't think you would treat me so." + +She put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried up the stairs. John, +standing irresolute on the lower step, hesitated, fighting down his own +pride and sense of injury. That moment of hesitation was freighted with +consequence. Then: + +"Gertie," he cried, hastening after her, "Gertie, wait! I do beg your +pardon. I'm sorry. I didn't mean--" + +But it was too late. Gertie's chamber door closed. John went slowly up +to his own room, the room to which the butler had carried his bag. A +few minutes after he had gone the curtains between the library and +drawing-room parted and Mr. Hungerford appeared. He was very cautious +as he, too, ascended the stairs. But his expression was a pleasant one; +there was no doubt that Cousin Percy was pleased about something. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Captain Dan stirred uneasily. In his dream he had navigated the +Bluebird, his old schooner, to a point somewhere between Hatteras and +Race Point light. It was night all at once, although it had been day +only a few minutes before, and Azuba, who, it seemed, was cook aboard +the Bluebird, was washing breakfast dishes in the skipper's stateroom. +She was making a good deal of noise about it, jingling pans and thumping +the foot of the berth with a stick of stove wood. The captain was about +to remonstrate with her when Serena suddenly appeared--her presence on +the schooner was a complete surprise--to ask him if he had not heard the +bell, and why didn't he come into the house, because dinner was ready. +Then Azuba stopped pounding the foot of the berth and began to thump him +instead. + +"Don't you hear the bell?" repeated Serena. "Wake up! Daniel! Daniel!" + +Daniel stirred and opened his eyes. The Bluebird had vanished, so had +Azuba, but the thumps and jingles were real enough. + +"Hey?" he mumbled, drowsily. "Stop poundin' me, won't you?" + +"Pounding you! I've been pounding and shaking you for goodness knows how +long. I began to think you were dead. Wake up! Don't you hear the bell?" + +Daniel, still but two-thirds awake, rolled over, raised himself on his +elbow and grunted, "Bell! What bell?" + +"The door bell. Someone's at the door. Don't you hear them?" + +Captain Dan slid out of bed. His bare feet struck the cold floor beneath +the open window and he was wide awake at last. The room was pitch dark, +so morning had not come, and yet someone WAS at the door, the front +door. The bell was ringing steadily and the ringer was varying the +performance by banging the door with his feet. The captain fumbled for +the button, found and pressed it, and the electric light blazed. + +"For mercy sakes!" he grumbled, glancing at his watch hanging beside the +head of the bed, "it's quarter past one. Who in time is turnin' us out +this time of night?" + +Serena, nervous and frightened--she, too, had been aroused from a sound +sleep--answered sharply. + +"I don't know," she snapped. "It's something important though, or they +wouldn't do it. Hurry up and find out, can't you? I never saw such a +man!" + +Her husband hastened to the closet, found his slippers and bathrobe--the +latter was a recent addition to his wardrobe, bought because his +wife had learned that B. Phelps Black possessed no less than three +bathrobes--and shuffled out into the hall. The bell had awakened other +members of the household. A light shone under the door of John Doane's +room, and from Gertrude's apartment his daughter's voice demanded to +know what was the matter. + +Daniel announced that he didn't know, but cal'lated to find out, and +shuffled down the stairs. The lights in the hall and drawing-room were +still burning, Gertrude and John having forgotten to extinguish them. +Captain Dan unlocked the front door and flung it open. A uniformed +messenger boy was standing on the steps. + +"Telegram for John Doane," announced the boy. "Any answer?" + +Daniel seized the proffered envelope. "How in time do I know whether +there's any answer or not?" he demanded pettishly. "I ain't read it yet, +have I? Think I've got second sight? Why in the nation didn't you +ring up on the telephone, instead of comin' here and routin' out the +neighborhood?" + +The boy grinned. "Against the rules," he said. "Can't send telegrams by +'phone unless we have special orders." + +"Well, I give you orders then. Next time you telephone. Hold on a minute +now. John! oh, John!" + +Mr. Doane, partially dressed, his coat collar turned up to hide the +absence of linen, was already at the head of the stairs, and descending. + +"Coming, Captain Dott," he said. "For me, is it?" + +"Yes. A telegram for you. What--good land, Gertie! you up, too?" + +Gertrude, in kimono and cap, was leaning over the rail. "What is it?" +she asked quickly. + +John announced, "A wire for me," he said. "I'm afraid--" He tore open +the envelope. "Yes, I thought so. Mr. Griffin is worse and they want me +at once. Every minute counts, they say. I must go--now. When is the next +train for Boston, Captain?" + +Daniel was very much flustered. "I don't know," he stammered. "There's +a time-table around on deck somewheres, but--you ain't goin' now, John? +To-night?" + +"Yes, I must." + +Gertrude hastened to find the time-table. John turned to the messenger. + +"Know anything about Boston trains?" he asked. + +"Yup. Two-twenty express through from New York. That's the next." + +John stepped to the drawing-room and looked at the clock. "I can get it, +I think," he announced. "I must. If I can get a cab--" + +"I'll 'phone for one. But--but, John, you hadn't ought to--" + +"Any answer?" demanded the messenger boy, intent on business. + +"Yes. Say that I am leaving on the two-twenty. On the two-twenty. Got +that, have you?" + +"Sure, Mike! Prepay or collect?" + +"I'll--I'll pay it, John." Captain Dan reached under his bathrobe. +"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I declare I forgot I didn't have on--All right, +John, I'll pay it. You go get ready." + +Mr. Doane was on his way to his room. Daniel hurried after him, +a difficult progress, for the slippers and bathrobe made hurrying +decidedly clumsy. He located his trousers and the loose change in their +pockets, explaining the situation to Serena as he did so. He and his +wife descended the stairs together. The captain paid the messenger and +hastened to telephone for the cab. + +When the vehicle arrived, John was ready. His farewells to Daniel and +Serena were hurried ones. + +"I'm awfully sorry I can't stop longer," he declared. "I really +shouldn't have come at all, under the circumstances. I--" + +He paused. Gertrude was standing by the door. She was very grave and her +eyes looked as if she had not slept. John went over to her; he, too, was +grave. + +"Gertie," he faltered, "Gertie--" + +Serena interrupted. "Daniel!" she said, "Daniel!" + +The captain looked at her. She frowned and motioned with her head. The +light of understanding dawned in her husband's eyes. + +"Hey? Oh, yes!" he cried hastily. "Come into the front room, Serena, +just a minute. I want to speak to you." + +They entered the drawing-room together. Gertrude and John were alone. +For a moment neither spoke. Then the young man, bending forward, +whispered: "Gertie," he asked anxiously, "aren't you--haven't you +anything to say to me?" + +"I thought, perhaps, you had something to say to me, John." + +"I have. Gertie, I--" + +There was a sound from above. Cousin Percy Hungerford, fully dressed and +debonnair as always, was descending the stairs. + +"What's the row?" he drawled. "I heard the racket and decided the house +must be on fire. What's up?" + +Whatever else was "up" it was quite plain John was sorry that Mr. +Hungerford was up because of it. His tone was decidedly chilly as he +answered. + +"A wire for me," he said shortly. "I'm called to Boston at once." + +"Really! How extraordinary! It wasn't a fire then, merely a false alarm. +Sorry to have you go, Doane, I'm sure." + +He spoke as if he were the host whose gracious pleasure it had been to +entertain the guest during the latter's stay. John resented the tone. + +"Thanks," he said crisply. "Gertie, I--I hope--" + +He hesitated. It was not easy to speak in the presence of a third +person, particularly this person. Cousin Percy did not hesitate. + +"Gertie," he observed, "your--er--friend is leaving us at the wrong +time, isn't he? There's so much going on this coming week. Really, +Doane, you're fortunate, in a sense. Miss Dott and I are finding the +social whirl a bit tiresome; you will escape that, at least." + +Captain Dan appeared at the entrance to the drawing-room. + +"I say, Hungerford! Percy!" he hailed impatiently. + +Mr. Hungerford did not seem to hear him. He was regarding Miss Dott with +anxious concern. + +"Really, Gertrude," he said, "I shouldn't stand by that open door, if +I were you. You have a slight cold and for--all our sakes--you must be +careful. Step inside, I beg of you." + +His begging was so tender, so solicitous, so intimate. John Doane's +fists clenched. + +"Hi!" It was the cabman calling from the street. "Hi! we've only got +twelve minutes to catch that train." + +John turned, involuntarily, toward the door. Gertrude, startled by the +cabman's voice and aware of the need of haste, stepped to one side. +Cousin Percy chose to put his own interpretation upon her movement. + +"Thank you, Gertrude," he said feelingly. "That's better; you will be +out of the draft there. Thank you." + +John Doane, who was still hesitating, hesitated no longer. He seized his +bag. + +"Good-by, all," he said, in a choked voice. "Good-by, Captain Dott." + +He strode through the doorway. Gertrude, for a moment, remained where +she was. Then she followed him. + +"John!" she cried, "John!" + +John, half way down the steps, halted, turned, and looked up at her. + +"Good-by, Gertie," he said. + +"But, John, are you--aren't you--" + +She stretched out her hands. Mr. Hungerford, pushing by the captain and +Serena, stepped in front of her. + +"Here, you!" he shouted, addressing the cabman; "what are you thinking +about? Why don't you take the gentleman's bag?" + +The driver sprang to get the bag, incidentally he seized his prospective +passenger by the arm. + +"Come on!" he shouted. "Come on! We'll miss the train. Ten to one we've +missed it, anyhow." + +"Oh, DO hurry, John!" cried Serena, anxiously. "You WILL miss it. You +MUST go!" + +And Mr. Doane went. The cab rattled away up the street, the old horse +galloping, the driver shouting, and the whip cracking. Daniel drew a +long breath. + +"Well!" he said slowly, "he's gone. Yes, sir, he's gone, ain't he." + +Serena turned on him. + +"Yes, he's gone," she observed sarcastically, "but he isn't going very +fast. Why in the world didn't you order an electric cab instead of that +Noah's Ark? Half the neighbors have been waked up and they'll see it. +How many times must I tell you? You NEVER learn!" + +"Well, now, Serena--" + +"Don't talk to me! Don't! My nerves are all of a twitter. I--I--oh, do +let me go to bed! Gertie--why, Gertie, where are you going?" + +Gertrude was on her way to the stairs. She did not appear to hear her +mother's question. + +"Gertie!" cried Serena again. + +There was no answer. The young lady hurried up the stairs and they heard +her chamber door close. Cousin Percy shrugged his shoulders. + +"Too bad our friend was called away so suddenly," he observed. "Very +much of a surprise, wasn't it? Too bad." + +No one replied, not even Serena, who was not wont to ignore the comments +of her aristocratic relative. Her next remark was in the nature of an +order and was addressed to her husband. + +"Come! Come! Come!" she said fretfully. "Do come to bed!" + +Daniel, pausing only to extinguish the lights, obeyed. Mr. Hungerford, +with another shrug and a covert smile, preceded him up the stairs. As +the captain was about to enter his bedroom, a voice, which sounded as if +the speaker was half asleep, called from the third floor. + +"Is there anything I can do, sir?" asked Hapgood. "I 'ave just been +aroused, sir." + +Daniel turned. Here was a heaven-sent vent for his feelings. + +"Do!" he repeated. "Anything you can do? Yes, there is. Shut your door +and turn in." + +"But, sir--" + +"And shut your head along with it!" + +There were some inmates of the Dott mansion who, probably, slept +peacefully the remainder of that night, or morning. Cousin Percy +doubtless did, also Mr. Hapgood. Azuba, sleeping at the rear of the +house, had not been awakened at all. But neither Captain Dan or Serena +slept. Mrs. Dott's nerves kept her awake, and the combination prevented +Daniel from napping. Nerves were a new acquisition of Serena's; at least +she had never been conscious of them until recently. Now, however, they +were becoming more and more in evidence. She was fretful and impatient +of trifles, and the least contradiction or upset of her plans was likely +to bring on fits of hysterical weeping. It was so in this case. Daniel, +trotting for smelling salts and extra pillows and the hot water bottle, +was not too calm himself. His plans, the plans founded upon John Doane's +remaining in Scarford for a time, had been decidedly upset. He pleaded +with his wife. + +"But I don't see what ails you, Serena," he declared. "John's gone, +that's true enough, but you didn't know he was comin'. He was here, a +little while, and that's some gain, ain't it? I don't see--" + +"See! You wouldn't see if your eyes were spyglasses. Oh, dear! why +does everything have to go wrong with me? I thought when John came that +Gertie--" + +"Yes. That Gertie what?" + +"Oh, nothing, nothing! Oh, my poor head! It aches so and the back of it +feels so queer. Where are the pillows? Can't you get me another pillow?" + +"Sure I can! You've got three already, but I can fetch another. It's all +this society business that's breakin' you down, Serena. That everlastin' +Chapter--" + +He was sorry as soon as he said it, but said it had been. He spent the +next hour in explaining that he did not mean it. + +Serena was not on hand at breakfast time. Neither was Gertrude. That +young lady came into the library at ten o'clock, looking pale and worn +and with dark circles under her eyes. She had a thick envelope in her +hand. + +"Daddy," she said, "will you post this for me?" + +Her father looked up from the pile of papers on the writing table before +him. He, too, appeared somewhat worried. + +"Sartin," he announced promptly. "I've got a stack of stuff for the +postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena usually +attends to the house bills, but she's kind of under the weather this +morning. Say, Gertie," gravely, "it costs a sight to run this place, did +you know it?" + +"I suppose it does." + +"You bet it does! Why, I never realized--But there, I suppose likely +these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. Good land! if +they ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask Serena about 'em by and +by, when she's better. Give me your letter, Gertie, I'll mail it." + +"You won't forget?" + +"Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em to +the postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? You're pretty +prompt in your writin', ain't you? But that's natural; I remember when +I used to write your mother twice a day. It's a wonder she stood it and +kept her health, ain't it. Ha! ha!" + +He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. Gertrude +left the room. + +Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of envelopes +on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford entered, seeking the +cigar box. + +"Good-morning," he observed, cheerfully. + +Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy +smiled. A querulous voice called from the second floor. + +"Daniel!" called Serena. "Daniel, where are you? Why don't you come up? +I am all alone." + +The captain sprang to his feet, "Comin'! Serena!" he shouted. "Comin'!" + +He hurried out. Mr. Hungerford, left alone, helped himself to a cigar +and strolled about the room. The pile of letters on the table caught his +attention. Idly he turned the envelopes over, examining the addresses. +All at once his interest became less casual; one of the written names +had caught his attention. + +Five minutes later the postman rang the doorbell. Captain Dan ran +downstairs, entered the library, seized the letters from the table and +hastened to hand them to the carrier. + +"Daddy!" called Gertrude from above, "did you post my letter?" + +"Sure!" was the prompt answer. "Just gave it to the mail man. It's on +the road now." + +Serena's "nerves" were in much better condition the following day, +and her spirits likewise. Gertrude, however, was still grave and +absent-minded and non-communicative. Toward Mr. Hungerford in particular +she was cool and distant, answering his chatty remarks and solicitous +inquiries concerning her health with monosyllables, and, on several +occasions, leaving the room when he entered it. This state of affairs +was even more marked on the second day after Mr. Doane's abrupt +departure, and still more so on the third. She seemed nervously +expectant when the postman brought the mail, and depressed when +each consignment contained no letter for her. On the fourth day this +depression was so marked that her father asked the cause. + +"What ails you, Gertie?" he inquired. "You look as if you just come from +a funeral. What's wrong?" + +Gertrude, who was standing by the window, looking out, answered without +turning her head. + +"Nothing," she said shortly. + +"Well, I'm glad of that. I thought you was troubled in your mind about +somethin'. Ain't frettin' about John, are you?" + +His daughter looked at him now, and the look was a searching one. + +"About--Why should I fret about him, pray?" she asked slowly. + +"I don't know. I thought maybe his goin' away so sudden was a sort +of disappointment to you. 'Twas to the rest of us. Hey? Did you say +somethin'?" + +"No." + +"Oh, I thought you did. Well, you mustn't be disappointed, Gertie. You +see, business is business. John did what he thought was right and--" + +"Daddy, do be still. I do not intend to trouble myself about--him. Don't +talk to me, please. I don't feel like talking." + +Daniel talked no more, at that time, but he wondered, and determined to +ask Serena her opinion when the opportunity came. + +It did not come immediately. A new development in Chapter politics was +occupying Mrs. Dott's mind, a development so wonderful and so glorious +in its promise that that lady could think or speak of little else. +Mrs. Lake's term as president of Scarford Chapter was nearing its end. +Annette Black, the vice-president, would have been, in the regular +course of events, Mrs. Lake's successor to the high office. But Mrs. +Lake and Annette, bosom friends for years, had had a falling out. At +first merely a disagreement, it had been aggravated and developed into +a bitter quarrel. The two ladies did not speak to each other. Annette +announced her candidacy in meeting, and the very next day Mrs. Lake came +to Serena with an amazing proposition. + +The proposition was this: Mrs. Lake, it seemed, wished to become +secretary of the National Legion. In order to do this--or to become even +a prominent candidate--it was necessary for her to have the support of +the officers of her own Chapter. If Mrs. Black was elected president she +most decidedly would not have this support. + +"That woman is a cat," she declared, "a spiteful underhanded cat. After +all I have done for her! Why, she never would have been vice-president +if it had not been for me! And just because she heard that I said +something--something about her that was perfectly true, even if I did +not say it--she broke out in committee and said things to me that--that +I never shall forget, never! She shan't be president. I have as many +friends as she has and I'll see to that. Now, my dear Mrs. Dott, I am +counting on you--and your daughter, of course--as among those friends. +We must select some woman for the presidency who will command the +respect and get the votes of all disinterested members. Miss Canby wants +the office, but she is too closely identified with me to be perfectly +safe. But our party--I and my friends, I mean--have been considering +the matter and we have decided that a dark horse--that is what the +politicians call it--a dark horse is bound to win. We must get the right +kind of dark horse. And we think we have it--him--her, I mean. YOU shall +be our candidate. YOU shall be president of Scarford Chapter." + +Serena gasped. + +"Me?" she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured +correctness of speech. "Me? President?" + +"Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are known to +be rich--I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. We can elect +you and we will. Isn't it splendid? I'm SO proud to be the one to bring +you the news!" + +There was one strong qualification possessed by Mrs. Dott which the +bearer of good news omitted to mention. Serena was supposed to be +Annette Black's most devoted friend. Announcement of her candidacy would +have the effect of splitting the Black party in twain. Mrs. Lake and her +followers were very much aware of this, although their spokeswoman said +nothing about it. + +"You'll accept, of course," gushed Mrs. Lake. "Of course you will. I +shall be so proud to vote and work for you." + +Serena hesitated. The honor of being president of her beloved Chapter +was a dazzling prospect. And yet--and yet-- + +"You will, won't you?" begged the caller. + +"No," said Serena. "No, Mrs. Lake, I can't. I could not run against +Annette Black. She is my best and dearest friend. If it were not for her +I should not have come to Scarford at all. It would be treachery of the +meanest kind. No, Mrs. Lake, I am not that kind of a friend. No." + +"But--" + +"Please don't speak of it again. I am ashamed even to hear you. Let's +talk of something else." + +But Mrs. Lake did not want to talk of anything else. She urged and +argued and pleaded in vain. Then she began to lose her temper. The +parting was not cordial. + +And then came Mrs. Black, herself. She, somehow or other, had learned of +the offer to be made Serena. When she found that the latter had refused +that offer because of loyalty to her, she fairly bubbled over. + +"You dear!" she cried, embracing her hostess. "You dear, splendid thing! +It was what I expected; I knew you'd do it; but I'm SO happy and SO +grateful. I never shall forget it--never. And whenever I can prove my +loyalty and devotion to you, be sure I shall do it." + +Serena was touched and gratified, but there was just a shade of +disappointment in her tone as she answered. + +"I know you will," she said. "Of course, I had rather be president of +Scarford Chapter than anything else in the world, but--" + +And then Annette had an idea. She clasped her hands. + +"You shall be," she cried. "You shall be. Not this term, but the +next--the very next. This term I shall be president, and you--YOU shall +be vice-president. With you as our candidate we can beat that Canby +creature to death. Oh, lovely! It is an inspiration." + +And on that basis it was settled. The opposing tickets were Black and +Dott against Canby and a lady by the name of Saunderson, another of Mrs. +Lake's "dear friends." The Chapter was racked from end to end. Politics +became the daily food of its members. + +For Serena it was almost the only food. She was too busy to eat, +except at odd times and hurriedly, and she slept less than ever. Her +nervousness increased and she lost weight. Daniel was worried concerning +her health and would have mentioned his worriment to Gertrude had not +that young lady's mental state and behavior worried him almost as much. + +Gertrude, for the first week after John Doane's departure, was depressed +and silent and solemn. Once, her father found her in her room, crying +and when he anxiously asked the reason she bade him go away and leave +her, so sharply and in a tone so unlike her, that he went without +further protestation. He did, however, go to Serena for advice. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Serena impatiently. "She misses John, I +suppose. She thought he was going to stay and he didn't, and she was +disappointed. Don't bother me! Don't! I've checked this voting list +over three times already and it has come out different each time. I'm +so tired and headachy and nervous I think I shall die. Sometimes I don't +care if I do. Go away." + +"But, Serena, there's--there's somethin' queer about Gertie and John. +I don't believe she's heard from him since he left. I don't believe she +has." + +"Then, why doesn't she write and find out what is the matter? Perhaps +he's sick." + +"Maybe so, but perhaps she don't want to write. Perhaps she's waitin' +for him to do it." + +"He can't write if he's sick, can he? Why don't she telegraph him?" + +"That would be just the same, the way she may look at it." + +"Then wire him yourself, why don't you? Oh, please go away--PLEASE. +I'll speak to her, Daniel, when I get time; I was going to. But just now +I--oh, my POOR head!" + +Daniel made up his mind to telegraph Doane that very afternoon, but he +did not. A happening in the household prevented him. Mr. Hapgood was +summarily discharged. + +Azuba was responsible for the affair. Serena was out--"committeeing" as +usual--Gertrude was with her. Mr. Hungerford, also, was absent. Captain +Dan, in the library, dolefully musing in an arm chair, heard a violent +altercation in the kitchen. As it did not cease, but became more +violent, he hastened to the scene. + +Azuba was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her back against the +table, facing the butler. Mr. Hapgood's face was red, his fists were +clenched, and he was shaking one of them under the housekeeper's nose. + +"Give it to me!" he ordered. "'And it over now, or I'll bash you good +and 'ard." + +Azuba merely smiled. "You'll bash nobody," she declared. "You're a +thief, that's what you are--a low-down thief. I've always cal'lated you +was one, ever since I laid eyes on you; now I know it. Don't you dare +shake your fist at me. If my husband was here he'd--" + +Hapgood interrupted, savagely consigning the Ginns, both male and +female, to a much hotter place than the kitchen. Captain Dan strode into +the room. + +"Here!" he said sharply. "What's all this? You," addressing Hapgood, +"what, do you mean by shakin' your fist at a woman?" + +Mr. Hapgood's bluster collapsed, like a punctured toy balloon. He +cringed instead. + +"W'y, sir," he pleaded, "it wasn't anything. I lost my temper a bit, +sir, that's all. She"--with a malignant snarl at Azuba--"she's got a +letter of mine. She stole it and won't give it up. I was angry, sir, +same as any man would 'ave been, and I forgot myself. Make 'er 'and over +my letter, sir." + +The captain turned to the defiant Mrs. Ginn. + +"Have you got a letter of his, Zuba?" he demanded. + +Azuba laughed. "I have," she declared, "and I'm glad of it. I've been +waiting to get somethin' like it for a long spell. Stealin'! HE accuse +anybody of stealin'! Here, Daniel Dott, you read that letter. Read it +and see who's been doin' the stealin' around here." + +She extended the letter at arm's length. The butler made a snatch at it, +but Captain Dan was too quick. He unfolded the crumpled sheet of paper. +It bore the printed name and address of one of Scarford's newer and more +recently established grocers and provision dealers, and read as follows: + + +EDWARD H. HAPGOOD, + +SIR:--Our order clerk informs us that you expect a higher percentage of +commission on goods ordered by your household. We do not feel that we +should pay this. While we, being a new house, were willing, in order +to obtain your business, to allow a fair rate of commission to you for +putting it in our way, and while, during the past three months, we have +paid such commission, we do not feel-- + + +Daniel tossed the note on the floor. He marched to the door leading to +the back yard and threw it open. Then he turned to the butler. + +"See that door?" he inquired, pointing toward it. "Use it." + +Hapgood did not seem to comprehend. + +"Wh-what, sir?" he faltered. + +"Use that door. Get out! Out of this house, and don't you dare show your +nose inside it again. Here!" stepping to the rack behind the open door. +"These are your--duds--aren't they? Take 'em and get out. Quick!" + +He threw an overcoat and hat at the astonished man-servant, who caught +them mechanically. + +"Get!" repeated the captain. + +Hapgood apparently understood at last. His usual expression of polite +humility vanished and he glowered malevolently. + +"So I'm fired, am I?" he demanded. "Fired, without no notice or nothin'. +'Ow about my two weeks' wages? 'Ow about square treatment? 'Ow about my +things upstairs? I've got rights, I 'ave, and you'll find it out. Blame +your eyes, I--" + +He darted through the doorway just in time. Captain Dan was on the +threshold. + +"You can send for your things upstairs," said the captain. "They'll be +ready--either up there or on the sidewalk. Now, my--hum--thief," with +deliberate and dangerous calmness, "I'm comin' out into that yard. If I +was you I'd be somewhere else when I get there. That's my advice." + +The advice was taken. Mr. Hapgood was in the street by the time his +employer reached the gate. Bolting that gate, Daniel walked back to the +kitchen. + +"Thank you, Zuba," he said quietly. "You've only confirmed what I +suspected before, but thank you, just the same." + +Azuba was regarding him with a surprise in which respect was strongly +mingled. + +"You're welcome," she said drily. "It's good riddance to bad rubbish, +that's what I call it. But," her surprise getting the better of her +judgment, "I must say I ain't seen you behave--I mean--" + +She stopped, the judgment returning. But Captain Dan read her thoughts +and answered them. + +"He's a man," he said shortly, "or an apology for one. I know how to +deal with a MAN--his kind, anyway." + +Azuba nodded. "I should say you did," she observed. "Well, if you'd like +to hear the whole yarn, how I come to suspect him and all, I can tell +you. You see--" + +But Daniel would not listen. "I don't want to hear it," he said. "Tell +Serena, if you want to, when she comes home. I've got too much else on +my mind to bother with swabs like him. If he should try to come back +again you can call me, otherwise not. I ain't interested." + +And yet, if he could have seen and heard his ex-butler just at that +moment, he might have been interested. Hapgood, on the next corner, out +of sight from the Dott home, had met and waylaid Mr. Percy Hungerford. +To the latter gentleman he was telling the story of his discharge. +Cousin Percy seemed disturbed and angry. + +"It's your own fault," he declared. "You ought to have been more +careful." + +"Careful! 'Ow should I know the fools was going to write a letter? +I told 'em not to. And 'ow did I know the old woman--blast 'er--was +watchin' me all the time? And now I've lost my job, and a good soft job, +too. You've got to get it back for me, Mr. 'Ungerford; you've got to +'elp me, sir." + +"I'll help you all I can, of course, but I doubt if it will do any good. +I can't stand talking with you here. Drop me a line at the club, telling +me where you are, and I'll let you know what turns up. Oh, say, have any +more letters come for--you know who?" + +"No, that was the only one, sir. But a telegram came this morning." + +Mr. Hungerford started. "A telegram?" he repeated. "For her?" + +"Yes, sir. And from 'im, it was, too." + +"Did she get it?" + +Mr. Hapgood winked. "It was 'phoned up from the telegraph office, sir," +he said, "and I answered the 'phone. 'Ere's the copy I made, sir." + +He extracted a slip of paper from his pocket. Cousin Percy snatched the +slip and read the penciled words. Hapgood smiled. + +"Looks good, don't it, sir," he observed. "'Frisco's a long way off." + +Hungerford did not answer. He tore the paper into small pieces and +tossed them away. + +"Well," he said, after a moment, "good by and good luck. Let me know +where you are and meanwhile I'll see what can be done for you. Good by." + +He was moving off, but his companion stepped after him. + +"Just a minute, sir," he said. "Could you 'elp me out a bit, in the +money way? I'm flat broke; the old 'ayseed chucked me without a penny; +'e did, so 'elp me." + +Cousin Percy looked distinctly annoyed. + +"I'm pretty nearly broke myself," he declared, impatiently. + +"Is that so, sir, I'm sorry, but I think you'll 'ave to 'elp me a bit. I +think--I think you'd better, Mr. 'Ungerford, sir." + +Hungerford looked at him. The look was returned. Then the young +gentleman extracted a somewhat attenuated roll of bills from his pocket, +peeled off two and handed them to his companion. + +"There you are," he replied. "That's all and more than I can spare, just +now. Good by." + +"Good by, sir--for now. And thank you kindly." + +Captain Dan, for all his prompt handling of the thieving butler and his +professed ability to deal with men--Mr. Hapgood's kind of man--awaited +the return of his wife and daughter with considerable uneasiness. +Hapgood, in his capacity as trained, capable, aristocratic servant, had +been a favorite of Serena's. The captain dreaded telling his wife what, +in the heat of his anger, he had done. But his dread was needless. +Serena's mind was too much occupied with politics and political ambition +to dwell upon less important matters. + +"I suppose it is all right," she said. "If he was a thief he should be +discharged, of course. No doubt you did right, Daniel, but we shall miss +him dreadfully. I don't know where we can get another butler like him." + +Daniel gasped. "Good land of love!" he cried; "we don't WANT another +like him, do we! I should hope we didn't." + +"I don't mean another thief. Oh, dear me! Why do you pick me up in that +way? One would think you took a delight in worrying me all you could. +Get me a cup of tea. I want it right away. My nerves are all unstrung. +Gertie--" + +But Gertie had gone to her room; she spent the greater part of her time +there now. Her mother sighed. + +"She's gone," she declared. "Just when I need her most, of course. +I can't see what has got into her for the last few days. She was so +interested in the Chapter. Even more than I, I began to think. And yet, +at the committee meeting this afternoon--the most important meeting +we've had; when we were counting the votes which we can be sure of and +those that are doubtful, she scarcely said a word. Just sat there and +moped. I don't know what is the matter with her." + +Daniel nodded. "I think I do," he said. "It's John. Somethin's the +matter between her and John. If he had only stayed here! If he would +only come back!" + +"Then for mercy sakes get him back! Telegraph him. You said you were +going to." + +Captain Dan rose. "I will," he declared. "I'll do it right now, this +minute. Not till I see you to your tea, Serena," he added, hastily. +"I'll tell Zuba about that first, of course." + +He sent the telegram within the hour. It was an inquiry concerning Mr. +Doane's whereabouts, his employer's health, how he was getting on, +and when he--John--was to return to Scarford. The answer arrived, via +telephone, about eight that evening. It was a surprising answer. + +"Doane gone to San Francisco on business of the firm," it said. "Left at +midnight yesterday." + +It was signed by the senior partner. Serena had gone out, of course; she +was scarcely ever in now, but Gertrude, having finished dinner, was in +her room as usual. Her father hurried up the stairs. + +"Gertie," he cried, entering without knocking, "Gertie, what do you +suppose I've just found out? It's the most astonishing news. John is--he +has--Why, you'd never guess!" + +Gertrude, who was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, showed her +first sign of interest. At the mention of the name she turned quickly. + +"What?" she cried, in a startled voice. "What? Is it--is it bad news? He +isn't--isn't--" + +"No, no! No, no! He's all right. Don't look like that, you scare me. +John's all right; that is, I suppose he is. But he--Here! read it +yourself." + +Gertrude took the paper upon which he had written the message. She +read the latter through; read it and reread it. Then she turned to her +father. + +"But I can't understand," she faltered. "I can't--I can't understand. He +didn't send this himself. He has gone to San Francisco; but--but this is +signed by someone else. What does it mean?" + +Daniel was frightened. It was time to explain, and yet, considering his +daughter's look and manner, he was afraid to explain. + +"You see," he stammered, "well, you see, Gertie, that's an answer, that +is. John didn't send it, he'd gone. But, I presume likely they thought +my telegram ought to be answered, so--" + +Gertrude interrupted. "Your telegram?" she repeated. "YOUR telegram? +What telegram?" + +"Why, the telegram I sent to John. I knew you hadn't heard from him, and +I thought probably--" + +"Wait--wait a minute. Did YOU send a telegram to--to him?" + +"Yes; sure I did. I--" + +"What did you say?" + +"I said--why, I said that you--we, I mean--was wonderin' about him +and--and missin' him and when was he comin' back here. That's about what +I said. I wrote it in a hurry and I don't remember exactly. That's about +it, anyhow. Why, what's the matter?" + +Gertrude had risen. + +"You said that!" she cried. "You--without a word to me--said--you begged +him to come back! Begged him! on your knees! to--to--" + +"No, no! I never got on my knees. What would I do a fool thing like that +for, when I was sendin' a telegram? I just asked--" + +"You just asked! You said that I--_I_--And this was your answer! THIS!" + +She dashed the message to the floor, covered her face with her hands +and threw herself upon the bed. Daniel, aghast and alarmed, would have +raised her but she pushed him away. + +"Oh!" she cried. "The shame of it! Don't touch me! Please don't touch +me!" + +"But, Gertie--what on earth?" + +"Don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Just go away, Daddy. Go and +leave me. I mustn't talk to you now. If I do, I shall say--Please go. I +want to be alone." + +Daniel went. That he had made another blunder was plain enough, but just +now he was too hurt and indignant to care a great deal. + +"All right," he said shortly; "I'm goin'. You needn't worry about that. +That's about all the orders I get nowadays--to go away. I ought to be +used to it, by this time. I'm a fool, that's what I am, an old worn-out, +useless fool." + +He slammed the door and descended the stairs. He had been in his +accustomed refuge, the library, for perhaps twenty minutes, when the +bell rang. He waited for Hapgood to answer the ring and then, suddenly +remembering that the butler had departed, answered it himself. + +Mr. Monty Holway smiled greeting from the steps. + +"Good evening, Captain Dott," he said. "Is Miss Dott in?" + +Daniel hesitated. "Yes," he said, "she's in, but--" + +"May I see her? Will you be good enough to give her my card?" + +The captain took the card. + +"Ye-es," he said, "I'll give it to her, but--but--Well, you see, she +ain't feelin' very well this evenin' and I don't know as she'll want to +see anybody." + +Gertrude herself called from the head of the stairs. + +"Who is it, Daddy?" she asked. "Someone for me?" + +"It's--er--Mr. Holway." + +"Oh, is it!" The tone was one of delighted surprise. "Ask him to come +in, Daddy. I'll be right down." + +She came almost immediately. She greeted the caller with outstretched +hand. + +"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Holway," she said. "I was lonely. It was +nice of you to come." + +She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent +than ever, but the eyes themselves were shining brightly. She was gay +and, for her, extremely vivacious. Mr. Holway looked gratified and +happy. Captain Dan looked astonished and bewildered. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The bewilderment and astonishment remained with the captain for some +time, just as his daughter's apparent light heartedness remained with +her. Holway's call was longer than usual, lasting until Serena, escorted +by Mr. Hungerford, returned from Mrs. Black's, where they had been +discussing the all-important election. Hungerford and his friend greeted +each other with a marked lack of warmth; in fact, they scarcely spoke. +Serena was too tired to talk, but Gertrude talked enough for all. She +chatted and laughed with almost feverish gaiety until the caller, after +many false starts and with evident reluctance, finally tore himself +away. Then her manner changed, she was silent and thoughtful and, soon +afterward, said goodnight and went up to her room. + +Captain Dan forebore to trouble his wife with the news of the telegram +announcing John Doane's departure for the West, and the reception of +that news by Gertrude. After hearing Serena's complaints of her "nerves" +and weariness, he decided that there was trouble sufficient for that +night. But the next morning he spoke of it. Serena was surprised, of +course, and worried likewise. + +"You're right, Daniel," she said, "I am afraid you're right. She and +John must have had some disagreement. I suppose it is only a lover's +quarrel--young engaged people are always having foolish quarrels--and +they always get over them and make up again. But, oh, dear! why did they +quarrel just now? Haven't I got enough on my mind without fretting about +them? Well, I'll talk to Gertie this very forenoon." + +She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting anxiously +to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook her head. + +"I can't make Gertie out," she declared pettishly. "She acts so queer. +Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all right, and why +should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so different, somehow. She was +willing enough to discuss my chances for the vice-presidency. She asked +twenty questions about that and declares she is going to help me. And +yesterday, when I wanted her to help, she didn't take any interest. I +never saw such a change. And she is so--so fidgety and--and nervous and +high-spirited and silly. She laughed at nothing and kept jumping up and +walking about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME jumpy just +to look at her." + +Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan to +feel "jumpy" more than once. Her determination to help her mother in the +campaign she put into immediate practice. She called Cousin Percy into +council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter members, and the pair spent +hours checking that list together. Then Gertrude announced that she was +going to make some calls. She made them and returned, exultant. + +"I think I have made two converts this afternoon," she said. "I am +almost sure they will vote for you, Mother. You and I must go to +Mrs. Black's to-night and talk it over with her. We MUST; it is very +important." + +Serena, who had hoped for an early bedtime, expressed weariness, and +protested, but her protests were overruled. They went to the Blacks' and +Captain Dan and Mr. Hungerford went, also. Annette was delighted to see +them. Mr. Black succeeded in repressing his joy. + +"For the Lord's sake, Dan!" he exclaimed, when, he and the captain were +alone, "isn't there EVER going to be any let-up to this tom-foolery? Are +these women of ours going stark crazy?" + +Daniel gloomily replied that he didn't know. + +"You're worse off than I am," continued B. Phelps. "There's two lunatics +in your family and only one in mine. Your daughter's just as bad as her +mother, every bit--worse, if anything. But, it seems to agree with HER. +I never saw her so lively or so pretty either. Humph! your pet cousin +there is badly gone, or I'm no judge. Well, you remember what I told you +about him." + +Daniel nodded. He was too depressed for words. + +"All right, it's your funeral, not mine. But, say! there's one ray of +hope. The whole crowd may be licked to death in this election. If they +are, my wife says she'll resign from the Chapter and never speak to one +of the bunch again. It sounds too good to be true, but it may be. It's +enough to make a fellow hop in and do some political work himself--for +the other side. What?" + +The political work continued, mornings and afternoons, evenings and far +into the nights. Serena was in it, Gertrude was in it, and Cousin +Percy and Mr. Holway were in it because she was. Monty's calls were of +frequent occurrence. Mr. Hungerford and his erstwhile chum did not speak +to each other at all now. But at receptions and teas and dances and +musicals and committee meetings one or the other was on hand at Miss +Dott's elbow. And Gertrude was very gracious to them both; not more to +one than the other, but exceptionally kind and agreeable to each. + +The social affairs were of almost as frequent occurrence as the +political meetings. Gertrude accepted all invitations and urged her +mother to accept. + +"You must, Mother," she declared. "Now is the time when you can't afford +to offend or neglect anyone. You may need their votes and influence." + +"But, Gertie," pleaded poor, tired Serena, "I can't go everywhere." + +"You must. If this vice-presidency is worth all the world to you, as you +say it is, you must sacrifice everything else to get it." + +"But, I can't! I'm almost worn out. I--I--oh, sometimes I feel almost +willing to give it all up and go back to--to--almost anywhere, even +Trumet, if I could rest there." + +"You don't mean that, Mother." + +"No; no, of course I don't." + +"Because if you do, why--well, that is different. If you WANT to go back +to dead and alive old Trumet--" + +"I don't. I--I wouldn't for anything. I shouldn't think you, of all +people, would hint at such a thing. You! When I have climbed so high +already; when our social position has become what it is. You! talking of +going back to Trumet." + +"I'm not. You mentioned it; I didn't. I'm having a beautiful time. I +just love our social position. The Blacks and the Kellys and--er--that +Miss Dusante! Oh, I adore them. I wouldn't leave such cultured people +for anything. And you enjoy it so, Mother. You look so happy." + +Was there a trace of sarcasm in this outburst? Serena was, for the +moment, suspicious. She tried her hardest to look very happy indeed. + +"I am happy, of course," she declared. + +"I know it. And we want to keep on being happy, don't we. So we must not +decline anyone's invitation. We must go, go, go, all the time." + +"But some of the invitations are from people I scarcely know at all. And +some I don't like." + +"That makes no difference. They may be of value to you in your campaign, +or socially, or somehow. Don't you see, Mother? In politics or society +one wishes to advance, to climb higher all the time. And to do that +one must use one's acquaintances as rounds in the ladder. Use them; get +something from them; pretend to love them, no matter whether you really +hate them or not. They may hate you, but they want to use you. That's +part of the game, Mother." + +This was worldly advice to be given by a young lady scarcely out of +college. And it sounded so unlike Gertrude. But, then, Gertrude had +changed, was changing more and more daily. + +"We don't entertain enough," went on the adviser. "We should be +giving some affair or other at least once a week. Invite everybody you +know--everyone but the Lake crowd, of course. I'll make out a list of +eligibles to-day and we'll give an 'At Home' next week." + +"But, Gertie--the expense. It costs so dreadfully. We're not rich; that +is, not very rich." + +"No matter. Everyone thinks we are. If they didn't, most of them would +cut us dead to-morrow. We must pretend to be very rich. I'll make out +the list. Mr. Holway will help me. He is coming to call this evening." + +Serena looked more troubled than ever. + +"Gertie," she said earnestly, "I think I ought--yes, I am going to warn +you against that Mr. Holway. I don't like your having him call or being +seen in his company." + +"You don't! I am surprised. I'm sure he is very polite and agreeable. He +belongs to the best club and he dresses well, and as to society--why, he +is in the very heart of it; our kind of society, I mean." + +"I know, I know. But--well, Cousin Percy doesn't speak well of him. He +says he is a very fast young man." + +Gertrude bit her lip. "Did Percy say that!" she exclaimed. "How odd! +Why, Monty--I mean Mr. Holway--said almost the same thing about him. And +I KNOW you like Cousin Percy, Mother." + +Mrs. Dott scarcely knew how to answer. As a matter of fact she did not +like their aristocratic relative quite as well as she had at +first. There were certain things about him, little mannerisms and +condescensions, which jarred upon her. He was so very, very much at home +in the family now; in fact, he seemed to take his permanent membership +in that family for granted. He had ceased to refer to himself as being +on a vacation, and, as for his "literary work," he appeared to have +forgotten that altogether. + +But these were not the real reasons for Serena's growing dislike and +uneasiness. She hinted at the real reason in her next remark. + +"I don't think," she said, "I don't think, Gertie, that you and he +should be so much together. You are engaged to be married, you know, and +John--" + +Gertrude interrupted. She ignored the mention of Mr. Doane's name. + +"Oh, Cousin Percy is all right," she said lightly. "He's good company. +Of course he may be something of a sport, but that is to be expected. +The trouble with you and me, Mother, is that we are too old-fashioned; +we are not sporty enough." + +"GERTIE!" Serena's horror was beyond words. + +Gertrude laughed. "But that can be mended," she went on. "Mother, you +should learn to drink cocktails and tango. I think I shall. Everybody's +doing it, doing it, doing it!" + +Humming this spirited ditty, which the street pianos had rendered +popular, and smiling over her shoulder at her mother, she "one-stepped" +from the room. Serena put both hands to her head. Her "nerves" were more +troublesome than ever the remainder of that day. + +There were enough troubles to rack even a healthy set of nerves. The +domestic situation was decidedly complicated. No successor to the +departed Hapgood had, as yet, been selected. Mr. Hungerford was +partially responsible for this. At first, when told of the butler's +misbehavior and its consequences, he had expressed sorrow, but had +advised forgiveness and the reinstallation of the discharged one. +The crime was, after all, not so very serious. Most butlers exacted +commissions from tradespeople, so he had been told. Of course it was all +wrong, a pernicious system and all that, but they did do it. And many +employers winked at the system. Hapgood was an exceptional fellow, +really quite exceptional. Aunt Lavinia had treated him as one of the +family, almost. Captain Dan, to whom these statements were made, was +stubbornly indignant. He wouldn't wink at a thief, and he wouldn't fire +him and then hire him over again, either. If "that everlastin' sneak +showed his white-washed face on the premises again, he'd have that face +damaged." All the captain hoped for was a chance to inflict the damage. + +So Cousin Percy, finding Daniel obdurate, tried his influence upon +Serena, whom he regarded, and justly, as the real head of the house. But +Serena, too, refused to consider Mr. Hapgood's re-employment. She had +talked with Azuba, and Azuba had declared that she should leave in "just +about two-thirds of a jiffy" if the butler came back. "When he comes +into my kitchen," she said, "I get out. I should hate to quit the folks +I'd worked for the biggest part of my life, but there's some things I +won't stand. He's one of 'em. Don't talk to me about HIM!" + +Mr. Hapgood was not re-engaged nor forgiven, and Hungerford kindly +volunteered to find a competent successor. He would make some inquiries +among his friends, the right sort of people, he said, and his manner +indicated that the said people were accustomed to employing butlers in +droves. + +Azuba, therefore, was left with all the domestic cares upon her hands. +These hands were quite competent, had they been disengaged, but just +now they were full. Azuba was "advancing," just as she had proclaimed +to Captain Dan that she intended to do. She read "The Voice" and +kindred literature a great deal, and quoted from her readings at every +opportunity. Denied admittance to the Chapter, in spite of Gertrude's +efforts in her behalf--Gertrude had warmly advocated the formation of +a Servants' Branch--she had made search on her own hook and suddenly +announced that she had found what she was looking for. This, so she +affirmed, was an organization called "The Free Laborers' Band," and it +met in a hall somewhere or other, though no one but its members seemed +to know just where that hall was. Serena made inquiries, but neither +servants nor mistresses had ever heard of the "Band." Gertrude, when she +heard of it, at first seemed to be much amused, and laughed heartily. +Then she became very grave and declared it a splendid thing and that she +was delighted because Azuba had found her opportunity. She was entitled +to that opportunity, as was every free woman, and certainly neither +Gertrude or her mother, being "free women" themselves, must offer +objection or permit mere household drudgery to interfere. + +So Azuba "advanced" and preached and went out at night and occasionally +during the day. Gertrude and Serena went out all the time, when they +were not entertaining themselves. Life became a never-ending round +of politics and society functions, followed by, on Mrs. Dott's part, +sleepless nights and "nerves" and fretful worriment concerning Gertrude. +Gertrude did not appear to worry. She grew gayer and more gay, more +careless in her manner and more slangy in her speech. Mr. Holway +continued to call and Cousin Percy to dance solicitous attendance. John +Doane's name was never mentioned in his fiancee's presence. She would +not speak, or permit others to speak, of him. + +And then Mr. Holway ceased to call. His final call was a lengthy +one, and he and Gertrude were alone during the latter part of it. The +following day Daniel met him on the street and was barely recognized. +The captain was not greatly troubled at the slight--he did not care +greatly for the lively Monty--but he was surprised. When he mentioned +the meeting to his daughter the young lady smiled, but offered no +explanation. Her father did not press the point. As Holway came no +more and it became apparent that he was not coming, the captain was +satisfied. + +Gertrude's strange behavior alarmed and troubled him, but his wife's ill +health and her worn, weary expression alarmed him more. He was actually +frightened concerning her. + +"Oh, Serena," he begged, "what makes you do it? It isn't worth it. +You're killin' yourself. Let's give it up and go somewhere and rest. The +Queen of Sheba's job ain't worth it, let alone just bein' vice-president +of Scarford Chapter." + +But Serena shook her head. "I can't give it up, Daniel," she declared +hysterically. "I--I think I would if I could. I really do. Sometimes I +feel as if I would give up everything just to be at peace and happy and +contented again." + +"You bet!" with enthusiasm. "So would I. And we were contented at +Trumet, wasn't we? That is, I was; and you was enough sight better +contented than you are now." + +"I know, I know. But I can't give it up, Daniel. Don't you see? I can't! +I mustn't think of myself at all. See how loyally Annette and the rest +have stood by me. Their splendid loyalty is the one thing that makes it +worth while. I must keep up and fight on for their sakes. I must be as +true to them as they are to me. Would they desert me for anything? No! +And I shan't desert them. I am going to be elected. I know it. After +that, after the election is over, I may--I might, perhaps--" + +"You might go somewhere with me and have a good, comfortable time. All +right, we will. And Gertie can go, too." + +The mention of her daughter's name seemed to be more disturbing than all +the rest. Serena burst into tears. + +"She wouldn't go, Daniel!" she cried. "You know she wouldn't. She--she +is going crazy, I do believe. She is wild about society and bridge--she +told me only yesterday she wasn't sure that playing for money was wrong. +All my friends and her friends did it and why shouldn't we? And she +dances all these dreadful new dances and uses slang and--and--oh, she +is--I don't know WHAT she will be if this keeps on. Why does she do it? +WHO is responsible?" + +Daniel did not answer. He had a feeling that he could, without moving +from his chair, lay a hand upon the person chiefly responsible, but he +kept that feeling to himself. + +"She'd go, if we wanted her to," he affirmed stoutly. + +"No, she wouldn't." + +"By time! she would. You and I would make her. I couldn't do it alone, +I know that, but if you'll say the word and stand by me she'll go, if +I have to--to give her ether and take her while she's asleep. Say the +word, that's all I want you to do." + +Serena did not say the word, not then. She continued to moan and wring +her hands. + +"She's all wrong, Daniel!" she cried. "She does wrong things. She +is with--with Cousin Percy too much. He and she are getting to be +altogether too friendly. She has dropped John for good, I'm afraid. Oh, +suppose she should--" + +The captain's anger burst forth at this expression of his own secret +dread. + +"Suppose she should marry that Hungerford, you mean!" he cried. "She +won't! She won't! She's too sensible, anyway; but, if she should, I--I'd +rather see her dead. Yes, sir, dead!" + +"So had I. But Cousin Percy--" + +"D--n Cousin Percy!" + +For once his profanity met with no rebuke. Serena did not appear to +notice it. + +"He is not the right sort of man for her," she declared. "He is polite +and aristocratic and he has helped us in society; but he is dissipated +and fast, I'm sure of it. He has been out a great deal lately and comes +home late, and I have heard him come up the stairs as if--as if--Oh, WHY +did you insist on his staying here, living here with us?" + +"Why did _I_--Humph! Well, that's all right. That's all right, Serena. +You back me up in that, too, and he'll go out a sight quicker than +he came in. I'll see that he does. He'll fly. I can handle MEN even +yet--though I don't seem to be good for much else." + +But Mrs. Dott wouldn't hear of it. They couldn't PUT him out, she +declared; think of the scandal! No, no, no! The interview ended by +the captain's dismissal and Serena's getting ready for that evening's +committee meeting. + +It developed that Azuba's "Band" met on that same evening. Gertrude +and her mother had gone--they were to dine with the committee at +Annette's--and when Daniel, at seven o'clock, shouted for his dinner, no +dinner was ready. + +"I can't stop to fuss with dinner," said Azuba firmly. "I've got to get +ready for my Band meetin'. All the afternoon I've been fussin' with my +speech--I'm goin' to speak to-night--and now it's time for me to change +my clothes. I'm sorry, Cap'n Dott; I never neglected you afore; but this +time I've got to. There's plenty to eat in the ice-chest and you must +wait on yourself. No use to talk! I ain't got time to listen." + +Captain Dan was furious. This was a trifle too much. + +"You get that dinner!" he roared. "Get it, or you'll never get another +meal in this house!" + +"Won't I? Why not? Mrs. Dott said I might go to this meetin'. She'll +understand." + +"By time, Zuba Ginn, I'll discharge you! I will! I don't care if you +have been with us since Methusalem's time. You old foolhead! At your +age--" + +"I'm no older than your wife, Dan'l Dott. And you can't discharge me, +neither. I wouldn't go. I'm no Hapgood. I've got rights and I'll stand +up for 'em. You ain't the boss, I guess. If Serena discharges me, all +right; but she won't. There! don't talk to ME. I've got other fish to +fry." + +She marched up the back stairs. Daniel sprang after her, but she closed +the door in his face. For a moment he hesitated. Then he turned back +and, re-entering the kitchen, began to pace up and down, his hands in +his pockets. + +He strode from the sink to the back door, wheeled and strode back +again. There was an odd expression on his face. He frowned, muttered to +himself, whistled, smiled, and once broke into a short laugh. But, as he +continued the pacing, gradually the frown and smile disappeared and his +expression became one of grim determination. His lips closed, his eyes +puckered, and his stride lengthened. His heels struck the oilcloth with +sharp, quick thumps. If one of his former shipmates, a foremast hand +on the schooner Bluebird, could have seen him then, that foremast hand +would have interpreted his behavior as a forerunner of trouble. He +would have known that the "old man" was making up his mind to a definite +course of action and that, having made it up, he would keep to that +course so long as he could see or breathe. + +And that interpretation would have been correct. Captain Dan was +desperate. He had made up his mind to fight, to "put his foot down" at +last. Serena's ill health, Gertrude's conduct, the aggravating insolence +of Cousin Percy, all these had helped to spur him to this pitch. And +now came Azuba's open rebellion and her declaration that his command +amounted to nothing, that he was not the "boss." It was true, that was +the humiliating fact which stung. He was not the boss; he was not even +cabin boy, and he knew it. But, to be openly told so, and by his cook, +was a little too much. The worm will turn--at least we are told that it +will--and Daniel Dott was turning. + +He jerked his hands from his pockets and opened his mouth. + +"Azuba!" he roared. "You, Zuba, come here!" + +Azuba did not answer. She was in her room at the top of the house and, +of course, did not hear the shout. Before the captain could repeat it +someone knocked at the back door. + +The knock was no hesitating, irresolute tap. It was an emphatic, solid +thump. Daniel heard it, but, in his present state of mind, was in no +mood to heed. + +"Zuba!" he repeated. "Zuba Ginn, are you comin' here or shall I come +after you? ZUBA!" + +The back door was merely latched, not locked. Now it was thrown open, a +heavy step sounded in the entry and a voice, a man's voice, said, in +a shout almost as loud as the captain's, "Yes, Zuba; that's what I was +cal'latin' to say, myself. Who--why, hello, Cap'n Dan! How are you?" + +Daniel turned. A man had entered the kitchen, a big man, wearing a cloth +cap, and carrying in one hand a lumpy oilcloth valise. He tossed the +valise to the floor, grinned, and extended a hand. + +"Well, Cap'n Dan," he observed, "you look as natural as life. _I_ must +have changed, I cal'late. Don't you know me?" + +The captain's eyes were opening wider and wider. "Labe!" he exclaimed; +"Laban Ginn! Where in the world did you come from?" + +The person who had so unceremoniously entered the kitchen was Azuba's +husband, mate of the tramp steamer. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +"For the land sakes! Laban Ginn!" repeated Daniel. + +Mr. Ginn grinned cheerfully. He was six feet tall, or thereabouts, and +more than half as wide. His hair and beard were grayish red and his face +reddish brown. He was dressed in the regulation "shore togs" of a deep +sea sailor, blue double-breasted jacket, blue trousers and waistcoat, +white "biled" shirt, low collar--celluloid, by the look--and a "made" +bow tie which hung from the button by a worn loop of elastic. His hands +were as red as his face and of a size proportionate to the rest of him. +He seized the captain's hand in one of his, crushed it to a pulp, and +returned the remains to the chief mourner. + +"Well, say," he cried, his grin widening, "that feels natural, don't it? +Last time you and me shook hands was over three years ago. How are you? +Blessed if it ain't good to see you again." + +Captain Dan was slowly regaining his equilibrium. + +"Same to you, Labe," he returned heartily. "But--but, by Godfreys, +you're the last person I expected to see just now." + +"Yep, I shouldn't wonder." + +"Sit down, sit down. Humph! Does Azuba know you're comin'?" + +"No, not yet." + +"Well, sit down and I'll call her. She's here with us, of course." + +"Sartin she is. Where else would she be? I knew she was here; heard you +hailin' her just as I made port at the back door. Set down?" He threw +himself into a chair, which groaned under the pressure. "Sure, I'll set +down! Feels kind of good to drop anchor when you've been cruisin's long +as I have. No, Zuby don't know I'm comin'. Last time I wrote her +was from Mauritius. I've been to clink and gone since. She WILL be +surprised, won't she? Ho! ho! Did I leave the hatch open? Here, let me +shut it." + +But Daniel himself shut the "hatch," that is to say, the back door. He +was on his way to the stairs, but Mr. Ginn detained him. + +"Hold on a shake, Cap'n," he said. "I ain't hardly seen you yet. Let's +have a look at you." Crossing his legs--his feet were like miniature +trunks--he added, "How are you, anyway?" + +Daniel replied that he was fair to middling. + +"Sit still and make yourself comfortable, Labe," he went on. "I'll tell +Zuba you're here." + +"What's your hurry? Give me a chance to catch my breath. I lugged that +dunnage bag," indicating the valise, "from the depot up here, and I feel +as if I'd strained every plank in my hull. Ought to go into dry dock and +refit, I had. I landed in Philadelphy a week ago," he continued. "Quit +the old steamer for good, I have. Me and the skipper had some words and +I told him where he could go. Ho! ho! I don't know whether he went or +not; anyhow, I started for Trumet. Got there and found you'd come into +money and had moved to Scarford and was livin' with the big-bugs. Some +house you've got here, ain't it! Soon's I see it I headed for the back +door. 'A first cabin companion like that's no place for me,' I says. Ho! +ho! Besides, I cal'lated to find Zuby Jane out in the fo'castle here. +Didn't expect to locate you, though, in this end of the ship. How's it +seem to be rich? Ain't got fat on it, have you." + +Daniel, amused in spite of his recent ill temper, shook his head. + +"Not yet," he answered. "So you've been ashore a week and your wife +doesn't know it? Why didn't you write to her from Philadelphia?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Zuby and me's got an understandin' about that, and +other things. There's nothin' like havin' a clear understandin' to make +married folks get along together. We write letters, of course, but we +don't write very often. I'm li'ble to be 'most anywheres on the face of +the earth, and it makes me fidgety to think there's letters chasin' me +round and I ain't gettin' 'em. I say to Zuby, 'Long's you don't hear +from me you'll know I'm all right, and long's I don't hear from you I'll +know the same. We'll write when we feel like it. I'll come home as often +as I can, and when I come I'll fetch you my share of the wages.' That's +our understandin' and it's a good one. We ain't had a fight since we was +spliced; or, if we have, I always stop it right off--stop her part, I +mean. Where IS the old gal, anyhow?" + +"She's up in her room, I presume likely." + +"Oh, is she? Well, she'll be down in a jiffy. If she ain't I'll go up +and give her a surprise." + +"I'll call her, if you give me a chance." + +"No, no, you needn't. No 'special hurry. She's waited for three years; +cal'late ten minutes more won't hurt neither of us. Had your supper +yet?" + +Daniel smiled grimly. "Not yet," he replied. + +"Then she'll be down to get it, of course. I shan't stop her; I'm empty +as a rum bottle four days out of port. You folks eat late, don't you?" + +"Sometimes." + +"I should think so. What's Zuby doin' up in her room this time of +night?" + +"She said she was goin' to change her clothes." + +"Oh, yes, yes; I see. Well, 'twon't take her long. If I went up I'd +only hold her back, and I want my supper. Let's have a smoke, Dan, while +we're waitin'." + +He patted one pocket after the other and finally located a chunky, +battered pipe, which he proceeded to fill with shavings from a black +plug. Daniel watched him. A new idea was dawning in his mind, an idea +which seemed to afford him some pleasurable anticipation. Mr. Ginn +looked up from his tobacco shaving. + +"Now, tell me about all this money of yours," he commanded. "I didn't +hear nothin' else at Trumet; that and your wife's gettin' to be +commodore of some woman's lodge or other was all they talked about. +Hey? Why, where's your pipe? Ain't you goin' to smoke? I've got plenty +terbacker." + +Daniel looked dubious. "I guess not, Labe," he said. "Zuba--well, the +fact is, Zuba doesn't like people to smoke in her kitchen." + +Laban's face expressed astonishment. "She don't!" he cried. "She don't? +How long since?" + +"Oh, almost ever since she came here. It is one of her new ways." + +"'Tis, hey? Well, I like the old ones better, myself. Never you mind her +ways; trot out your pipe and light up. I--" + +He was interrupted by his companion, who made a flying jump toward the +stove. The teakettle was boiling over. + +"Let it bile," commented Mr. Ginn. "'Tain't your funeral, is it? You +ain't supposed to boss the galley. That's the cook's business, not the +skipper's." + +But Daniel carefully removed the kettle to a place of safety. + +"It's my business to-night," he said. "I'm gettin' my own supper." + +Mr. Ginn straightened in his chair. "You be?" he exclaimed. "You BE? +What for? Ain't there no women folks in the house? Ain't Zuby--why, you +said--" + +"I know I said, but what I say don't seem to amount to much. You see, +Labe, your wife has got some of what MY wife calls advanced ideas. +She belongs to some kind of a lodge herself, and this is their meetin' +night. Just before you came Zuba made proclamations that I could cook +my own supper. She said she couldn't stop to do it; she'd be late to the +meetin' if she did." + +Laban's mouth opened. The pipe fell from it, scattering sparks like a +Roman candle, and bounced upon the spotless floor of the kitchen. Daniel +would have picked it up, but his visitor intervened. He put one mammoth +foot upon the sparks and, leaning forward, demanded instant attention. + +"For thunder sakes, Dan Dott!" he cried. "Never mind that pipe; let it +alone. For thunder sakes, tell me what you're talkin' about? Zuby--Zuby +Jane Ginn racin' to lodges and tellin' you--YOU--to cook your own meals! +Go on! You're loony." + +"Maybe I am, Labe, but it's so." + +"It's so? And you let it be so? I don't believe it. What do you mean? +How long has it been so?" + +Captain Dan proceeded to tell of his housekeeper's conversion to +progress and advancement. He did not suppress any of the details; in +fact, he magnified them just a bit. + +"She's a free woman, so she says, Labe," he said, in conclusion. "And a +free woman has a right to be free." + +"Is that so! That's what she says, hey? And you let her say it? Why, +you--you--" He hesitated, hovering between candid expression and the +respect due an ex-skipper of a three-master. "Wh-what do you have such +goin's on in your house for?" he demanded. "What makes you let the +gang afore the mast run over you this way? Why don't you--who's that +upstairs; your wife?" + +"No, my wife is out. I shouldn't wonder if that was Zuba. She's on her +way to the door, probably." + +"She is, hey? Call her down here. Sing out to her to come down. Hi!" as +the captain stepped to the stairs, "don't say nothin' about me." + +Daniel, suppressing a grin, shouted up the stairs. + +"Zuba!" he called. "Zuba, come down here a minute." + +Azuba answered, but in no complacent tone. "Don't bother me, Cap'n +Dott," she protested. "I'm late as 'tis." + +"Just a minute, Zuba, that's all. One minute, please." + +Mr. Ginn snorted at the "please." They heard the housekeeper descending. +At the bottom step she sniffed loudly. + +"I do believe it's tobacco smoke!" she exclaimed. "Cap'n Dott, have you +been smokin' in my kitchen?" + +She entered the room, waving an indignant arm. She was dressed in her +Sunday best, bonnet and all. + +"What!" she began, and then, suddenly aware that her employer was not +alone, turned to stare at his companion. "Why!" she exclaimed; "who--oh, +my soul! LABAN!" + +"Hello, Zuby!" roared her husband, rising to greet her. "How be you, old +gal?" + +Before she could speak or move he seized her in his arms, squeezed her +to him, and pressed a kiss like the report of a fire-cracker upon her +cheek. "How be you, Zuby?" he repeated. + +"Oh, Labe!" gasped Azuba. "Labe!" + +"I'm Labe, all right. No doubt about that.... Well, why don't you say +somethin'? Ain't you glad to see me?" + +Azuba looked as if she did not know whether she was glad or not; in +fact, as if she knew or realized any little of anything. + +"Labe!" she said again. "Laban Ginn! When--WHERE did you come from?" + +"Oh, from all 'round. Trumet was my last port and I made that by way of +Malagy and Philadelphy. But I'm here, anyhow, and that's somethin'. My! +it's good to see you. You look as natural as life. Set down and let's +look at you." + +The housekeeper sat down; she appeared glad of the opportunity. Her +husband faced her, grinning broadly. + +"Just as handsome as ever; hey, old lady," he observed. "And look at +the duds! Say, you're rigged up fine, from truck to keelson, ain't you, +Zuby! Never seen you rigged finer. A body would think she knew I was +comin', wouldn't they, Cap'n Dan?" + +Daniel did not answer, although he seemed much interested in the +situation. + +Azuba drew a hand across her forehead. + +"I DIDN'T know it," she declared emphatically. "Indeed, I didn't! Why +didn't you write me, Laban Ginn?" + +"Write! Write nothin'! I wanted to surprise you. But there, there! Don't +set around in that rig any longer. Makes me feel as if you'd come to +call on the parson. Take off your coat and bonnet and let's be sociable. +And while we're talkin' you turn to and get supper. I'm pretty nigh +starved to death. So's the cap'n; he said so." + +Mrs. Ginn looked at Captain Dan. There was a twinkle in his eye. Azuba +noticed that twinkle. + +"Laban," she stammered, "I--I--I CAN'T stay here and get supper +to-night. I can't." + +Laban was tremendously surprised--at least he pretended to be. + +"Can't!" he repeated. "Can't stay here, when I've just got home?" + +"No, I can't. If I had known you was comin' 'twould have been different. +But I didn't know it." + +"What difference does that make? Zuby, don't make me laugh; I'm too +hungry for jokin'. Take off your bonnet, now; take it off." + +"I mustn't, really, Labe. It's lodge night and they expect me. I--" + +"Take off your bonnet!" + +"I can't! ... Well, I will, for just a minute." The last sentence was +added in a great hurry, for her husband showed signs of preparing to +remove the headgear with his own hands. She placed the bonnet on the +table and fidgeted in her chair, glancing first at her employer and then +at the clock. Captain Dan was smiling broadly. + +"That's fine!" exclaimed Mr. Ginn. "Now you look like home folks. Now +she'll get us some supper, won't she, Cap'n?" + +Again Daniel did not answer, but his smile, as Azuba interpreted it, was +provokingly triumphant. Her lips closed tightly. + +"I can't get any supper to-night, Laban," she declared firmly. "I just +can't. I'm awful sorry, bein' as you've just got home, but you'll have +to forgive me. I'll explain when you and me are alone." + +"Explain? Explain what?" + +"Why--why--" with another look, almost vindictive, at the grinning +captain, "what my reason is. But I can't tell you now--I can't." + +"That's all right. I don't care about explainin's. You can explain any +old time; just now, me and the cap'n want our supper." + +"I shan't get your supper. I told Cap'n Dott I couldn't before I went +upstairs. I'm goin' out." + +"No, no, you ain't. Quit your foolin', old lady. I'm gettin' emptier +every minute. So are you, ain't you, Cap'n?" + +Daniel hesitated, looked at his housekeeper's face, and burst into a +roar of laughter. That laugh decided the question. Azuba rose. + +"Don't talk to me," she snapped. "I'm sorry, but it serves you right, +Laban, for comin' home without sendin' me word; and just at the wrong +time, too. Give me that bonnet." + +She reached for the bonnet, but her husband reached it first. "'Tain't +much of a bonnet, anyhow, Zuby," he said. "Now I look at it closer I +don't think it's becomin' to your style of complexion. Some day I'll buy +you another." + +"Give me that bonnet, Laban Ginn!" + +"I don't like to see that bonnet around, Zuby. Let's get it out of sight +quick." + +His wife sprang at the bonnet, but he barred her off with an arm like a +fence-rail, removed a lid from the stove, put the unbecoming article +in on the red-hot coals, and replaced the lid. "There!" he said, "that +helps the scenery, don't it? Now let's have supper." + +Captain Dan laughed again. For an instant Azuba stared, white-faced, at +the cremation of the bonnet. Then she darted to the door. "I'll go now," +she cried, "if I have to go bareheaded! I'll show you! Let go of me!" + +Mr. Ginn had thrown an arm about her waist. She pulled his hair and gave +him some vigorous slaps on the cheek, but he smiled on. "You want to get +supper, Zuby," he coaxed. "I know you do. You just think it over now. +It's too noisy out here to do much thinkin'. Where's a nice quiet place? +Oh! this'll be first rate." + +He bore her, kicking like a jumping-jack, across the kitchen to the +closet where the pans and cooking utensils were kept. "Think it over in +there, Zuby," he said calmly, shutting the door and planting himself in +a chair against it. "That's a fine place to think. Now, Cap'n, you and +me can have our smoke, while she's thinkin' what to give us to eat; +hey?" + +Judging by the thumps and kicks and screams inside the closet the +housekeeper's thoughts were otherwise engaged. + +"You let me out, Labe Ginn!" she screamed. "Cap'n Dott, you make him let +me out!" + +Daniel, weary from laughing, could only gasp. + +"I can't, Zuba!" he answered, choking. "I can't! It ain't my affair. I +couldn't interfere between husband and wife. You're a free woman, Zuba, +you know. You ought to be advanced enough by this time to fight your own +battles." + +"That's right, Zuba," counseled Mr. Ginn. "Fight 'em out in there. You +can be just as free in there as you want to. Have some of my terbacker, +Cap'n?" + +Captain Dan declined. The prisoner continued to thump and kick and +threaten. Her jailer refilled and lighted his pipe. + +"Thought over that bill of fare, Zuby?" he shouted, after a time. + +More thumps and threats; tears as well. Daniel began to feel pity +instead of triumph. + +"Hadn't you better, Labe," he began. Mr. Ginn waved him to silence. + +"How about supper, Zuby?" he called. "Oh, all right, all right. I don't +know as I'm as hungry as I was, anyway. Appetite's kind of passin' off, +I cal'late. You stay in there and think till mornin', and we'll have it +for breakfast." + +Silence--actual silence--for a moment. Then Azuba asked, in a +half-smothered but much humbler voice, "Oh, Labe! WON'T you let me out?" + +"Sure thing--if you've thought up that supper for me and Cap'n Dan'l." + +"But I did so want--oh, if I could only tell you! It was SO necessary +for me to go to that meetin'. You've spiled everything, and just as +'twas goin' so nice. What Gertie'll say I don't know." + +Daniel developed a new interest. + +"Gertie?" he repeated. "Hush, Labe! wait a minute. What's Gertie got to +do with it?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Oh, Labe, PLEASE." + +"Well, I tell you, Zuby: it's close to nine now, and that's too late for +you to be cruisin' out to meetin's. Sorry you have to miss the speeches +and things, but--Say, I tell you what I'll do. If it's a sermon you want +I'll preach you one, myself. Make it up while you're settin' the table. +Ready to come out and be good? That's right. Now, I bet you she's +thought up somethin' that'll make our mouths water, Cap'n." + +The crestfallen housekeeper emerged, blinking, from her thinking +place. She removed her coat and, without even a glance at her employer, +proceeded to adjust the dampers of the stove. Captain Dan rose from his +chair. + +"I'm afraid I can't stop to have supper with you, Labe," he said. "I've +got an--an errand to do outside, myself. I'll eat at a restaurant or +somewhere. You'll stay here to-night, of course. I'll see you in the +mornin'. Good-night! Good-night, Zuby!" + +Azuba did not reply. Laban shouted protests. What was the sense of going +just when supper was being made ready at last? Daniel, however, did +not stay to listen. He climbed the back stairs to the hall, put on his +overcoat and hat and went out. He had been too tender-hearted to remain +in the kitchen and gloat, or appear to gloat, over a "free woman's" +humiliation. Nevertheless, he astonished the waiter at the restaurant +where he ate dinner by bursting into laughter at intervals, and with +no obvious cause. The waiter suspected that the old gentleman from the +country had been drinking, and the size of the tip he received helped to +confirm his suspicion. + +His dinner eaten, Captain Dan walked slowly home. Unlocking the front +door with his latchkey he tiptoed through the hall and listened at the +head of the back stairs. There was a steady murmur of voices in the +kitchen. He heard a bass grumble from Mr. Ginn and Azuba's shrill reply. +Then the pair burst into a laugh. Evidently some sort of understanding +on a peaceful basis had been reached. Still chuckling, the captain went +up to his bedroom, removed his outer garments and his shoes, put on his +bathrobe and slippers, and settled himself, with the evening paper, to +await his wife's return. He resolved to be awake when she did return; +he had news for her. Filled with this resolution, he read for +three-quarters of an hour steadily, then at intervals between naps, and +at last dropped into a sound sleep, the paper in his lap. + +Gertrude and Serena came home at a surprisingly early hour. Not that the +committee meeting was over; it was not. In fact, the elaborate dinner +spread before her supporters by the grateful Mrs. Black had scarcely +reached its last course when Gertrude suddenly rose from the table and +hastened to her mother's side. She had been watching the latter with +increasing anxiety all the evening. + +"What is it, Mother?" she asked. "What is it?" + +Serena, sitting with her elbow on the table, her hand to her forehead, +and her untasted ice before her, looked up in a bewildered way. + +"What--why, what do you mean, Gertie?" she stammered. "What--I don't +think I understood you." + +"What is the matter, Mother?" repeated Gertrude. "Don't you feel well?" + +Still Mrs. Dott did not seem to understand. She tried to smile, but the +vague uncertainty of the smile caused even Annette, who had been deep in +discussion of a plan for securing the vote of a still doubtful member, +to cease speaking and regard her guest with surprise. + +"What is it, Mother?" urged Gertrude. "You look so strange. Are you +ill?" + +Serena gazed at her for a moment, rose, stood looking about in the same +hesitating, uncertain manner, and then, throwing her arms about her +daughter's neck, burst into hysterical sobs. + +The alarmed guests clustered about them, asking questions, exclaiming, +and offering suggestions. + +"What IS it?" demanded Annette. "My DEAR! What IS it?" + +Serena, still clinging to Gertrude, continued to sob. + +"I--I don't know," she moaned. "I--I feel so strange. I'm--I'm tired, +I guess. I'm--I'm worn out. I--oh, Gertie, take me home. Take me +home--please." + +"Yes, yes, Mother, dear. We will go home at once. Come." + +She led her into the next room. Annette, hastening with a glass of wine +and the smelling salts, caught the young lady's arm. + +"She isn't going to be ill, seriously sick, is she?" she demanded. "You +don't think she is. It would be dreadful if she was." + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"I don't know," she answered. "I certainly hope not. Will you call a +carriage, Mrs. Black?" + +"Yes, yes, I'll call one right away. Oh, I hope she isn't going to be +sick. It would be dreadful--just now. The election is only two weeks +off, and without her I--we should be almost certain to lose. I know we +should. Oh, Serena, DEAR! you WON'T be sick, will you? for my sake!" + +It did not seem to occur to the agitated Annette that her friend might +not care to be ill, for her own sake. But it was evident that Gertrude +was thinking just that. The young lady's tone was sharp and decidedly +cold. + +"She is tired out," she said. "She has worn herself out working for +her--for her friends, Mrs. Black. Will you call the carriage?" + +"Yes, yes. They are calling it now. I'm so sorry the chauffeur--or--or +Phelps--is out. If he--if they were not you could use our car. But, oh, +Serena--" + +Serena looked up. She was calmer now, she had heard, and loyally she +answered. + +"Don't worry, Annette," she said. "I am not going to be sick. I won't. +You can depend on me. Oh, Gertie, I'm SO tired! My poor head!" + +The carriage came and she and Gertrude were driven home. Annette did not +offer to accompany them. It was such an important meeting and there were +so many things to talk about, she explained. She would call the very +next day. Serena thanked her; Gertrude said nothing. + +Serena seemed better on the way home. When they reached the house she +announced bravely that she was all right again; all she needed was a +night's rest, that was all. Gertrude insisted on accompanying her to +her room. They found Daniel asleep in the chair, and to him his daughter +explained the situation. The captain was too greatly disturbed to think +of his "news," the news of Mr. Ginn's arrival and Azuba's subjection. + +"You get right into bed, Serena," he ordered. "Gertie, you call the +doctor." + +But his wife would not hear of the doctor. "Nonsense!" she declared. "I +don't need any doctor. I want to go to bed. I'm tired--tired. I won't +see the doctor or anybody else. Go, Gertie, please go. Your father will +be with me. Please go! I am all right now." + +Gertrude went, but she whispered to the captain that she would wait in +the library and, if they needed her, he was to be sure and call. + +In the library she took a book--one of Aunt Lavinia's legacies--from the +shelf and tried to read, but that was impossible. She could not read, +she could only think, and thinking was most unpleasant. Her conscience +was troubling her. Had she been wrong? Had she gone too far? She had +meant well, her plan had seemed the only solution of the family problem, +but perhaps she had made a mistake. She loved her mother devotedly. Oh, +if anything serious should happen--if, because of her, her mother should +be ill--if--if she should. She could not think of it. She would never +forgive herself, never. It had been all wrong from the beginning, and +she had been wicked and foolish. It had cost her so much already; her +own life's happiness. And yet--and yet, she had meant to do right. But +now, after that misunderstanding and consequent sacrifice, if her mother +should-- + +She broke down and was very, very miserable. + +Someone was at the front door, fumbling with a latchkey. Gertrude +hurriedly sprang from her chair, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief +and was on her way to the hall when the door opened. The hall was dark; +she had turned off the light when she came downstairs; and for a moment +she could not see who it was that had entered. She, however, was in the +full glow from the electrolier in the library and Mr. Hungerford saw +her. + +"Ah, Gertrude," he said cheerfully. "Is that you? Don't go. Don't go." + +He was at the doorway before she could reach it. He had been dining out +with some masculine friends--"old college chums," he had explained when +announcing the situation--and was in evening dress. + +"Don't go," he repeated. "What's the hurry? Wait a minute and I'll join +you." + +He removed his overcoat and silk hat and tossed them carelessly upon the +hall table. The hat fell to the floor, but he did not heed it. Then he +entered the library. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Alone? Burning the midnight oil and all that sort +of thing. Where is old--er--where's your father?" + +Gertrude replied that her father had retired. She was about to do so, +she added. It was untrue, but she was not in the mood for a conversation +with anyone, least of all with Cousin Percy. + +Cousin Percy, however, appeared decidedly conversational. His face was a +trifle flushed and he smiled more than seemed necessary. + +"Well," he observed, "this is an unexpected pleasure. Didn't expect to +find anyone up at this hour." + +Gertrude curtly remarked that it was not late. + +"I didn't mean up, I meant in. Did I say 'up'? Most extraordinary. I +thought you and Mrs. Dott were playing the political game this evening. +Expected to find you out and old--the respected captain, I mean--in the +arms of--what's his name?--Morpheus. That's all right, though; that's +all right. So much the better. We can talk--you and I." + +"I don't feel like talking. You must excuse me." + +"What? Don't feel like talking? Cruel! Why not? It isn't late; you said +so yourself." + +"I know but--really, you must excuse me." + +She was moving toward the door, but again he stepped in her way. + +"Now, Gertie," he said. Then he broke into a laugh. "Called you Gertie, +didn't I?" he said. "Beg pardon. Quite unintentional. It slipped out +before I thought. But you don't mind, do you? It's a pretty name. Just a +little bit less formal than Gertrude, eh? Don't you think so--Gertie?" + +Gertrude hesitated. She was humiliated and angry, but she did not wish +a scene. Her parents might hear and her mother must on no account be +disturbed. + +"Perhaps it is," she answered. + +"Then you don't mind?" + +"No. Now, Percy, you must excuse me. Goodnight!" + +"Wait! Wait! Gertie, I have something to say to you. Been wanting to say +it for a long time, but haven't had the opportunity. You have kept out +of my way. Ha! ha! you know you have. Perhaps you guessed I wanted to +say it. Was that it? Ha! ha! was it now? Confess; was it?" + +Gertrude did not answer. She moved toward the door. Mr. Hungerford +laughingly blocked the passage. + +"No, no!" he cried. "No, no! Mustn't run away. I am going to say it, and +you must hear me. Come, don't be cross." + +"Mr. Hungerford, will you stand aside? I can not talk with you to-night, +or listen. I am going to my room." + +The tone in which this was uttered should have been a warning, but +Cousin Percy was in no condition to recognize warnings, or to heed them +if he had. His smile grew more tender and his tone more intimate. + +"Not yet," he smiled; "not just yet. I can't permit it. Gertie, I--" + +"If you don't stand aside I shall call my father." + +"What? Call the old gentleman? No, you don't mean it. Of course you +don't. You wouldn't be so unreasonable. Come, come! we're friends at +least. We understand each other, don't we?" + +"I understand YOU, thoroughly." + +"Of course you do," with a triumphant leer. "And you know what I am +going to say. Ah ha! I was sure you did. And you've confessed. Gertie, +my dearest girl, I--What! Going? Not until you pay toll. I'm keeper of +the gate and you must pay before you pass, you know. If you won't listen +you must pay. Ha! ha!" + +He held out his hands. Gertrude shrank back. She was not afraid of him, +but she did fear a scene. She had threatened to call her father, but she +could not do that. If she did her mother would be frightened. She moved +away, to the other side of the library table. + +Cousin Percy interpreted her retreat as a sign of surrender. He followed +her, laughing. + +"Come!" he insisted. "I knew you didn't mean it. Come, my dear! Just +one. I--" + +He tripped over the captain's favorite footstool and fell to his knees. +With a sudden movement Gertrude jerked the cord of the electrolier on +the table. The lights went out. She dodged around the table, through the +doorway, into the hall, and up the stairs. Mr. Hungerford, pawing in the +darkness at the offending footstool, swore. Then he laughed. + +"Good!" he exclaimed. "Very good, but not good enough. You can't escape +that way. I shall find you. Where are you hiding? Eh! Ah, there you +are!" + +He had scrambled to his feet and hurried to the doorway. There were the +sounds of footsteps and the rustle of skirts at the other end of the +hall. + +"There you are!" he cried. "I've caught you. Now you must pay--twice." + +He put his arm about a feminine waist and imprinted a kiss upon a +feminine cheek. Then his own cheek received a slap which made his head +ring, and the hall echoed with a shrill scream. + +"Labe!" shrieked Azuba. "Oh, Labe! Help! Come quick!" + +Mr. Ginn came up the back stairs three steps at a time. + +"What is it? What's the matter, Zuby?" he demanded. + +"A man! A man! He--he--" + +"Where is he? What's he doin'?" + +"He--there he is. Hear him? There!" + +Mr. Hungerford, paralyzed with astonishment and dizzy from the slap, had +moved, injudiciously. Laban heard him. + +"Hey?" he bellowed. "Ah! I've got him. Stand still, dum you! I've got +him, Zuby. Who is he? What did he do?" + +"I--I don't know who he is," panted the frightened housekeeper. "He--he +kissed me." + +"KISSED you! YOU? Why--" + +"It's a mistake!" cried Cousin Percy, frantically struggling in the +grasp of his captor. "I--Stop! Stop! Help! Help!" + +The hall became a pandemonium of thumps, struggles, cries for help, +and pleas for mercy. Azuba added her shrieks to the tumult. From above +Captain Dan shouted and Serena screamed. Then the chandelier blazed. +Gertrude had pressed the button at the top of the stairs. + +"Let him be!" ordered the young lady, rushing to the rescue. "Don't! +don't! Azuba, stop him!" + +"Labe! stop! stop!" pleaded the housekeeper. "You--My soul! it's Mr. +Hungerford." + +It was what there was left of Mr. Hungerford. Mr. Ginn extended the +disheveled, whimpering remnant at arm's length and regarded it. + +"Humph!" he grunted. "You know him, do you?" + +"Know him! Of course I do. But--but I must say--" + +Captain Dan came tearing down the stairs, his bathrobe fluttering and +a slipper missing. In one hand he held a pair of scissors, the only +offensive weapon which he had found available at the moment. + +"What in blazes?" he demanded. "Burglars, is it?" + +Gertrude answered. "No, Daddy," she said gravely. "It's no one but +Cousin Percy. And--and Mr. Ginn. Why, Mr. Ginn, is--is it you?" + +Laban nodded. "It's me, all right," he observed grimly. "Who the devil +is this? That's what I want to know." + +Daniel turned to the captive. + +"Why--why, Percy!" he gasped. "What--what's happened to you? Let go of +him, Labe Ginn! Percy Hungerford, what--what's all this?" + +Mr. Hungerford, suddenly freed from the grasp upon his torn shirt +collar, staggered against the wall. + +"It's--it's a mistake," he panted. "I--I--this--this blackguard +assaulted me. I--I--" + +"Assaulted you! I should say he had. Labe Ginn, what did you assault him +for?" + +Mr. Ginn glared at his victim. + +"Blackguard, am I?" he growled. "Humph! Well, if he starts to callin' me +names, I'll--" + +"Belay! Answer me! What have you been doin' to him? Look at him! What do +you mean by assaultin' him that way?" + +"What do I mean? When a man comes home from sea and finds another man +kissin' his wife, what would he be likely to mean?" + +Daniel could not answer. He looked about him in absolute bewilderment. +Gertrude choked and turned away. + +"Kissin'!" repeated Captain Dan. "Kissin' your wife? Kissin' ZUBA! +I--I--am I crazy, or are you, or--or is he?" + +Apparently he judged the last surmise to be the most likely. Cousin +Percy, frantic with rage and humiliation, tried to protest. + +"It's a lie!" he cried. "It's a lie!" + +The captain turned to his housekeeper. + +"Zuba," he demanded, "what sort of lunatic business is this? Do you +know?" + +Azuba straightened. + +"I don't know much," she announced sharply. "All I know is that I come +upstairs in the dark and he grabbed me and--and said somethin' about my +payin' him--and then he--he--done the other thing. That's all I +know, and it's enough. Don't talk to ME! I never was so surprised and +mortified in MY life." + +"But--but what's it mean? Can't anybody tell me, for the Lord sakes?" + +Gertrude stepped forward. "I think I understand," she said. "Our cousin +made a mistake, that's all. I will explain at another time, Daddy. +If--if you will all go away, he and I will have an interview. I think I +can settle it better than anyone else. Go, please. I'm sure Mother needs +you." + +The mention of his wife caused her father to forget everything else, +even his overwhelming curiosity. + +"My soul!" he cried. "She heard this; and--and I left her all alone." + +He bolted up the stairs. Gertrude's next remark was addressed to the +housekeeper. + +"Azuba," she said, "would you and your husband mind leaving us? Perhaps +you'd better not go to bed. I--I may need Mr. Ginn later on; perhaps I +may. But if you and he were to go down to the kitchen and wait just a +few moments I should be so much obliged. Will you?" + +Azuba hesitated. + +"Leave you?" she repeated. "With--with him?" + +"Yes. I have something to say to him. Something important." + +She and Azuba exchanged looks. The latter nodded. + +"All right," she said decisively; "course we'll go. Come, Labe." + +But Laban seemed loath to move. + +"I ain't got through with him yet," he observed. "I'd only begun." + +"You come with me. Have you forgot all I told you so soon? Come!" + +"Hey? No; no, I ain't forgot. Is this part of it?" + +"Part of it's part of it; the rest ain't. You come, 'fore you do any +more spilin'. Come, now." + +Mr. Ginn went. At the head of the back stairs he paused. + +"You'll sing out if you need me?" he asked. "You will, won't you? You'll +only have to sing once." + +He tramped heavily down. Gertrude walked over to the victim of the +"mistake" and its consequences. + +"I think," she said coldly, "that you had better go." + +"Go?" Mr. Hungerford looked at her. "Go?" he repeated. + +"Yes. I give you this opportunity. There will not be another. Go to your +room, change your clothes, pack your trunk, and go--now, to-night." + +"What do you mean? That I am to go--and not come back?" + +"Yes." + +"But, Gertrude--Gertie--" + +"Don't call me that. Don't DARE to speak to me in that tone. Go--now." + +"But, Ger--Miss Dott, I--I--don't you see it was all a mistake? I--" + +"Stop! I am trying very hard to keep my temper. We have had scenes +enough to-night. My mother is ill and she must not be disturbed again. +If you do not go to your room and pack and leave at once, I shall call +Mr. Ginn and have you put out, just as you are. I am giving you that +opportunity. You had better avail yourself of it. I mean what I say." + +She looked as if she did. Cousin Percy evidently thought so. His +humbleness disappeared. + +"So?" he snarled angrily. "So that's it, eh? What do you think I am?" + +Gertrude's eyes flashed. She bit her lip. When she spoke it was with +deliberate distinctness. Every word was as sharp and cold as an icicle. + +"Do you wish to know what I think you are?" she asked. "What I thought +at the very beginning you were, and what I have been taking pains to +make sure of ever since I came to this house? Very well, I'll tell you." + +She told him, slowly, calmly, and with biting exactness. His face was +flushed when she began; when she finished it was white. + +"That is what you are," she said. "I do not merely think so. I have +studied you carefully; I have stooped to associate with you in order +to study you; I have studied you through your friends; I KNOW what you +are." + +His anger and mortification were choking him. + +"You--you--" he snarled. "So that is it, is it? You have been using me +as a good thing. As a--as a--" + +"As you have used my father and mother and their simple-minded goodness +and generosity. Yes, I have." + +"You have been making a fool of me! And Holway--confound him--" + +"Mr. Holway was useful. He helped. And he, too, understands, now." + +"By--by gad--I--I won't go. I'll--" + +Gertrude walked to the rear of the hall. + +"Mr. Ginn!" she called, "will you come, please?" + +Laban came. He looked happy and expectant. + +"Here I be," he observed eagerly. + +"Mr. Ginn," said Gertrude, "this--gentleman--is going to his room for +a few minutes. He is preparing to leave us. If he doesn't come down and +leave this house in a reasonable time will you kindly assist him? He +will, no doubt, send for his trunks to-morrow. But he must go to-night. +He must. Do you understand, Mr. Ginn?" + +Laban grinned. "I cal'late I do," he said. "Zuba's been tellin' me some. +He'll go." + +"Thank you. Good-night!" + +She ascended the stairs. The first mate looked at his watch. + +"Fifteen minutes is enough to pack any trunk," he observed. "I'll give +you that much. Now, them, tumble up. Lively!" + +At the door of her parents' room Gertrude rapped softly. Captain Dan +opened it and showed a pallid, agitated face. + +"She's mighty sick, Gertie," he declared. "I wish you'd telephone for +the doctor." + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The doctor came, stayed for some time and, after administering a +sleeping draught and ordering absolute quiet for his patient, departed, +saying that he would come again in the morning. He did so and, before +leaving, took Captain Dan and Gertrude into his confidence. + +"It is a complete collapse," he said gravely. "Mrs. Dott is worn out, +physically and mentally. She must be kept quiet, she must not worry +about anything, she must remain in bed, and she must see no one. If +she does this, if she rests--really rests--we may fight off nervous +prostration. If she does not--anything may happen. With your permission +I shall send a nurse." + +The permission was given, of course, and the nurse came. She was a +quiet, pleasant, capable person, and Daniel and Gertrude liked her. +She took charge of the sick room. Azuba--the common sense, adequate, +domestic Azuba of old, not the rampant "free woman" of recent days--was +in charge of the kitchen. Her husband remained, at Daniel's earnest +request, but he spent his time below stairs. + +"Sartin sure I won't be in the way, Cap'n, be you?" he asked earnestly. +"I can go somewheres else just as well as not, to some boardin' house or +somewheres. Zuby Jane won't mind; we can see each other every day." + +"Not a mite of it, Labe," replied Daniel earnestly. "There's plenty of +room and you can stay here along with your wife just as well as not. I'd +like to have you. Maybe--" with a suggestive wink, "maybe you can kind +of--well, kind of keep things runnin' smooth--in the galley. You know +what I mean." + +Laban grinned. "Cal'late you won't have no more trouble that way, +Cap'n," he observed. "I guess that's over. Zuby and I understand each +other better'n we did. I THOUGHT she was mighty--" + +"Mighty what?" Mr. Ginn had broken off his sentence in the middle. + +"Oh, nothin'. It's all right, Cap'n Dott. Don't you worry about Zuby and +me. We'll boss this end of the craft; you 'tend to the rest of it. Say, +that Hungerford swab ain't come back, has he?" + +"No. No, he hasn't. He's gone for good, it looks like. Sent for his +trunk and gone. That's queer, too. No, he hasn't come back." + +Laban seemed disappointed. "Well, all right," he said. "If he should +come, just send for me. I'd just as soon talk to him as not--rather, if +anything." + +The captain shook his head in a puzzled way. + +"That business of--of him and Zuba was the strangest thing," he +declared. "I can't make head nor tail of it, and Gertie won't talk about +it at all. He said 'twas a mistake, and of course it must have been. +Either that or he'd gone crazy. No sane man would--" + +"What's that?" It was Mr. Ginn's turn to question, and Daniel's to look +foolish. "What's that no sane man would do?" demanded Laban sharply. + +"Why--why, go away and leave us without sayin' good-by," explained the +captain, with surprising presence of mind. "Er--well, so long, Laban. +Make yourself at home. I've got to see how Serena is." + +He hurried up the back stairs. Mr. Ginn, who seemed a trifle suspicious, +called after him, but the call was unheeded. + +At the door of his wife's room--his room no longer--Captain Dan rapped +softly. The nurse opened the door. + +"How is she?" he whispered. + +"She is asleep now," whispered the nurse in reply. "You must not come +in." + +"I wasn't goin' to. But--but--has she been askin' for me?" + +"Yes. I told her you were out. If she wakes and asks for you I will +call. You may see her then for a minute or two. She is easier when you +are with her--or near by." + +This was true. The one person Serena wished to see most of all was her +husband. She asked for Gertrude, of course, but it was Daniel for whom +she asked continually. If he were near her she seemed almost happy and +contented. It was when he sat beside the bed that she ceased tossing +upon the pillow and lay quiet, looking at him. + +"You are a good man, Daniel," she whispered, on one of these occasions. +"A dear, good, unselfish man." + +"No, no, I ain't any such thing," protested the captain hastily. + +"But you are. And--and WHAT should I do without you now?" + +"Sh-sh! I'm not much help. Land knows I wish I was more." + +"You ARE the help; all the help I have. Gertie--Daniel, you will keep an +eye on Gertie, won't you. You won't let her do anything foolish." + +"Who? Gertie? She won't do foolish things. She ain't that kind." + +"I know, but she has changed so. It worries me. Percy--" + +"Now don't you worry about Percy. He isn't here now." + +"Not here? Where is he?" + +"I don't know. He's gone away--for a spell, anyhow. Maybe that vacation +he used to talk about is over. I guess that's it." + +Serena was too weak to ask further questions, even concerning so +surprising a matter as Cousin Percy's sudden departure. But she did make +one further plea. + +"Daniel," she begged, "if Annette calls about the Chapter you tell +her--" + +"I've told her. She understands. She says it's all right." + +"Does she? I'm so glad. Oh, Daniel, you'll have to take charge of +everything now. I can't, and Gertrude--you must do it, yourself, Daniel. +You MUST. Of Azuba and Gertie and everything. I rely on you. You WILL, +won't you, Daniel?" + +"Sure I will. I'm skipper now, Serena. You ought to see how the hands +jump when I give an order." + +It was true, too; the hands did "jump" at the captain's orders. He +was skipper, for the time being. His wife's illness, Mr. Hungerford's +absence, Gertrude's meekness--she was a silent and conscience-stricken +young lady--all combined to strengthen Daniel's resolution, and he was, +for the first time in years, the actual head of the household. He took +active charge of the bills and financial affairs, he commanded Azuba to +do this and that, he saw the callers who came and he sent them to the +rightabout in a hurry. + +His statement concerning Mrs. Black was not the literal truth. Annette +had called, that was true; she had called the very next morning after +her chief aide was stricken. But she had not declared that everything +was "all right"; far from it. + +"But can't I see her, Captain Dott?" she begged. "I MUST see her for +just a minute." + +"Sorry, ma'am, but you can't do it. Doctor's orders. She mustn't be +disturbed." + +"But I've got to see her. I must talk with her." + +"I know, but I'm afraid you can't. You can talk to me, if that will do +any good." + +"It won't. Of course it won't. Where is Gertrude? Let me talk to her." + +Daniel climbed the stairs to his daughter's room. He found her sitting +at her desk; she had been writing "regrets" in answer to various +invitations. She turned a careworn face in his direction. + +"What is it, Daddy?" she asked. "Mother is not worse, is she?" + +"No, no; she's better, if anything. But that--er--Annette Black has come +and, long as she can't see Serena, she wants to talk to you." + +"About her precious politics, I suppose." + +"Your supposin' is as nigh right as anything mortal can be, Gertie. +That's what she wants." + +"I can't see her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear the word +politics. I--" + +"That's enough, that's enough. I'll 'tend to HER. You stay right here." + +He descended to the drawing-room, where Annette was fidgeting on the +edge of a chair, and announced calmly that Gertrude was not at home. + +The caller's agitation got the better of her temper. + +"Nonsense!" she snapped. "I don't believe it. How do you know she +isn't?" + +"Because she said so. Lovely mornin' for a walk, isn't it?" + +Mrs. Black rose and stalked to the threshold. But there she turned once +more. + +"If your wife knew," she cried hysterically, "how I, her best friend, +was treated in her house, she--she--" + +Daniel stepped forward. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Black," he said. "Maybe +I have been pretty plain spoken. I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelin's. +But, you see, we're all upset here. I'm upset, and Gertie's as much so +as the rest. She can't talk to you, or anybody else, now. I'm willin' to +try, but you say my talkin' won't do any good." + +"Of course it won't. Oh, don't you SEE? I'm sorry Serena is not well, +but this is IMPORTANT." + +"I know, but so's her health, 'cordin' to my thinkin'." + +"If I might see her just a moment. It is so provoking. Just at this +critical time! Doesn't my--her election mean ANYTHING to you? Don't you +care about the cause?" + +The captain shook his head. "All I'm carin' for is my wife, just now," +he said. "She's all I can think about. If some of us had thought more +about her, maybe--" He stopped, cleared his throat, and added: "I know +you'll understand and forgive us, when you think it over. I'll tell her +you called. Good-mornin'." + +If he supposed this was the end, he was mistaken. Annette was not so +easily whipped or discouraged. She called again that afternoon, and +again the next day. Each morning for a week she came, and, between +times, other adherents of the Black-Dott party called. They all asked +concerning the invalid, but their interest plainly centered upon her +part in the campaign. Would she be well enough to take part in the +election, that was the question. They sent flowers and notes. The +flowers reached the lady for whom they were intended; the notes did +not. And, after the first week, the calls became fewer. Annette and her +followers had, apparently, given up hope of aid and advice from their +candidate for vice-president. At any rate they ceased to trouble the +captain and his daughter. + +"It's all the better, Daddy, dear," said Gertrude. "Mother will have a +chance to rest and improve now." + +And Serena did improve, slowly at first, then with gratifying rapidity. +She began to sit up for a portion of each day and to sleep through +the greater part of each night. At the end of the tenth day the doctor +announced that the nurse's services were no longer necessary. + +"She will be all right now," he said, referring to his patient. "But +she must continue to have absolute rest and she must not be worried or +permitted to worry. If you and she could go somewhere, Captain Dott, to +some quiet place in the country, and stay there for six months, I think +it would help her more than anything. Can you do it?" + +"_I_ can do it, Doctor," replied Daniel eagerly. "I'd like to do it. +I'll go anywhere, if it will help her." + +"Good! Then I will advise it and you and Miss Dott must back my advice. +Will you?" + +"I will, and so'll Gertie, I'm sure. You speak to her, Doctor. We'll do +the backin' up." + +So the doctor made the suggestion. Serena received it quietly, but, +when her husband came to do his share of the "backing up," she shook her +head. + +"I'd like to, Daniel," she said. "I'd like to, but I can't." + +"You can't? Course you can! Now let's think where we'll go. Niagara +Falls, hey? You always wanted to go to the Falls." + +"No, Daniel." + +"No? Well, then, how about Washin'ton? We'll see the President, and the +monument, and the Smithsonian Museum, and Congress--we'll see ALL the +curiosities and relics. We'll go to--" + +"Don't, Daniel. It makes me tired out just to hear about them. I +couldn't stand all that." + +"Course you couldn't! What a foolhead I am! The doctor said you needed +rest and quiet, and Washin'ton is about as quiet as the Ostable Cattle +Show. Well, what do you say to the White Mountains?" + +"In winter? No, Daniel, if I went anywhere I should like to go to--to--" + +"Where, Serena? Just name it and I'll buy the tickets." + +"Daniel, I'd rather go to Trumet than anywhere else." + +Captain Dan could scarcely believe it. + +"WHAT!" he cried. "Trumet? You want to go to Trumet, Serena? YOU?" + +"Yes. I've been wanting to go for some time. I never told you; I +wouldn't even admit it to myself; but I've thought about it a great +deal. I was getting so tired, so sick of all the going about and the +dressing up and the talking, talking all the time. I longed to be +somewhere where there was nothing going on and where you and I could be +together as we used to be. And, oh, Daniel--" + +"Yes, Serena? Yes?" + +"Oh, Daniel, since I've been really sick, since I've been getting better +and could think at all, I've been thinking more and more about our old +house at Trumet, and how nice and comfortable we were there, and what +pleasant evenings you and I used to have together. It was home, Daniel, +really and truly home, and this place never has been, has it?" + +"You bet it hasn't! It's been--well, never mind, but it wasn't home. +Lordy, but I'm glad to hear you talk this way, Serena! _I_ haven't +thought anything else since we first landed, but I never imagined you +did." + +"I didn't, at first. It has been only lately since I began to feel so +tired and my head troubled me so. Daniel, I'm not sure that our coming +here wasn't a mistake." + +The captain was perfectly sure. He sprang to his feet. + +"That's all right, Serena," he cried. "If it was a mistake it's one that +can be straightened out in two shakes of slack jib sheet. You stay here +and rest easy. I'll be back in a few minutes." + +"Where are you going?" + +"I'm going to make arrangements for our trip to Trumet. 'Twon't take me +long." + +"Daniel, stop! Sit down. I didn't say I was going. I said I should like +to go." + +"That's the same thing. Now, Serena, I know what's frettin' you. You're +thinkin' what'll become of this house and all the fine things in it. +They'll be all right. We could rent this house in no time, I know it. I +ain't sure but what we could sell it if we wanted to. That real estate +fellow, the one Barney--B. Phelps, I mean--introduced me to down street +one time, met me t'other day and told me if I ever thought of sellin' +this place to let him know. Said he had a customer, or thought he had, +that knew the house well and always liked it. He believed that feller +would buy, if the price was right. Course I didn't pay much attention +then; I judged you wouldn't think of sellin', but--" + +"Stop! stop, Daniel! You are so excited it makes me nervous again to +hear you. I wasn't thinking of the house at all. The way I feel now I +had as soon sell it as not. But that isn't it. I can't leave Scarford. I +can't!" + +Daniel's enthusiasm faded. There was determination in his wife's tone. +He sat down again. + +"Oh!" he observed wistfully, "you can't? You're sure you can't, Serena? +You know what the doctor said. Why can't you go?" + +"Because I can't. It is impossible. I couldn't leave the Chapter. Don't +you SEE, Daniel? I am a candidate for vice-president. My friends--the +truest, most loyal friends a woman ever had--are depending upon me. I +couldn't desert them. I told you that before. Would they desert me?" + +"I suppose likely they wouldn't," reluctantly. + +"You know they wouldn't. No personal considerations, no selfish reasons, +NOTHING could make them do it. But I've said this all before, Daniel. +You must see why I have to stay. I'd like to go, I'd love to, but I +can't. Let's talk of something else." + +Captain Dan sighed. "I presume likely you're right, Serena," he +admitted. "It would seem like a mean trick, the way you put it. But +after the election? You said, when we was talkin' before, that after you +was elected maybe you would go with Gertie and me somewhere. And we'll +go to Trumet, that's where we'll go." + +"All right, Daniel, dear, we'll see. And don't worry about me. I am +almost well again and I am going to be completely well. Now won't you +ask Gertie to come in and talk with me? I am beginning to think about +the election. Gertrude must go. We need her vote and her influence. +Has she been helping Annette? I hope she has. Send her to me, Daniel, +please." + +So the captain, his hopes somewhat dashed, but finding comfort in his +wife's new longing to visit the one spot on earth which spelled home to +him, left the room to carry Serena's message to their daughter. + +He was busy at the desk in the library when, several hours later, +Gertrude entered. She was wearing her hat and coat and, coming into the +library, stood beside him. He looked up. His expression surprised and +alarmed her. + +"Why, what's the matter, Daddy?" she asked anxiously. "You look as if +something dreadful had happened. What is it?" + +Her father put down his pen. A sheet of paper, covered with figures, +was on the desk before him; so, also, was the family checkbook which had +been, until the illness of Mrs. Dott, in that lady's sole charge. + +"Matter?" he repeated. "Matter? Humph! Do I look as if somethin' was the +matter? Where have you been?" + +"I have been out. Mother was so anxious about the election that I +promised her I would see Mrs. Black and some of the others this very +day. I have been calling on them." + +"Have, hey? Well, what's the prospect? The cause of right and Black, and +justice and Dott is goin' to prevail, I presume likely, isn't it?" + +"I don't know. I couldn't find out anything. Mrs. Black was not in, at +least that is what the maid said; but I am almost sure she was in. I +think I saw her peeping between the curtains as I went down the steps." + +"That so? Perhaps she was dosin' you with the same medicine I handed her +when she called that first day after Serena was taken down." + +"I thought of that. But I called on three other leaders of Mother's +party--" + +"Yours and your mother's, you mean?" + +"Yes, of course. I called on three of our leaders. Two of them were +in and I talked with them. I could learn nothing from either about the +election. They would not discuss it, except to say that everything would +be all right. They behaved so oddly and were so embarrassed. It was +perfectly obvious that they wanted to get rid of me. I can't understand +it." + +"There's lots of things we can't understand in this world. Don't fret +your mother about it." + +"I shan't, of course. But what is troubling you, Daddy? Something, I +know." + +"Look that way, do I? My looks don't belie me, then. See here, Gertie, +I'm stumped. I've been goin' over back bills and the bankbook and the +checkbook and--and--well, I'm on my beam ends, that's where I am." + +"Why? Don't the books balance?" + +"They balance all right. That's what's kicked me over. If they're +true--course they can't be, but IF they are--we've spent close to five +thousand dollars since we made this town." + +"Indeed! Well?" + +"WELL! Five thousand dollars! I'm sayin' five THOUSAND; do you +understand?" + +"I understand. I'm not surprised. Living as we do, and moving in the--in +the best society as we have, the expense is large, naturally. You must +expect that." + +"Expect! Gertie Baker Dott, STOP talkin' that way! Our income, not +countin' what the store at Trumet is fetchin' in, ain't over six +thousand at the outside. Six thousand a YEAR, that is. And we've got rid +of five thousand in a few months! We've got a thousand or so to live the +rest of this year on. One thousand--" + +"Hush, Daddy! Don't shout and wave your arms. We shall have to use a +part of the principal, I presume." + +"Part of the prin--Oh, my soul and body! Use part of it this year, and +some more next year, and some more the next, and--and--Do you know where +we'll be ten year from now? In the poorhouse, that's where." + +"Oh, I hope not as bad as that. And, besides, think what a beautiful +time we shall have during those ten years. Just as beautiful as we have +had so far; better, no doubt, for we have really only begun." + +"Ger-tie DOTT!" + +"Just think of it, Daddy. We have only begun." + +"I--I won't think of it! I'll stop it, that's what I'll do!" + +Gertrude smilingly shook her head. + +"Oh, no, you won't, Daddy," she said. "You never stop anything." + +She turned to go. Captain Dan sat, speechless in his chair, staring +at the bills, the figures, the checkbook, and the prospect of the +poorhouse. Then he felt her hand upon his shoulder. + +"Never mind, Daddy, dear," she said softly. "I wouldn't worry any more, +if I were you. I think--I am beginning to hope that YOUR worries are +almost over." + +She kissed him and hurried out before he could collect his senses +sufficiently to ask what she meant. He did ask her at their next +meeting, but she only smiled and would not tell him. + +The next morning Serena's first remark was concerning the election, +which was to take place that evening. All that day she spoke of little +else, and when the evening came she insisted upon Gertrude's leaving for +the hall immediately after dinner. Laban went with her as escort, Mr. +Hungerford's former enviable duty, and one which that gentleman had +appeared to enjoy more than did its present occupant, who grumbled at +missing his "after supper" smoke. Laban returned early. Gertrude did +not. + +It was after ten when the young lady appeared. She was very grave when +her father met her in the hall. + +"How is Mother?" she asked. "Asleep, I hope." + +Daniel nodded. "Yes," he said, "she's asleep, for a wonder. She vowed +and declared she was goin' to stay awake until you came, but I read out +loud to her and she dropped off while I was doin' it." + +"Then don't wake her, for the world. Tell her I have returned, that I am +tired and have gone to bed, and will give her the news in the morning." + +"That won't do. She'll want to know to-night. What is the news? Can't +you leave some message? She won't rest if you don't." + +Gertrude pondered. "Tell her," she began slowly, "tell her Mrs. Black is +elected. That is all to-night. Perhaps she will take--other things for +granted." + +But when morning, very early morning, came, Captain Dan summoned his +daughter from her room. + +"She's wide awake, Gertie," he said, "and she wants to know it all. +You'd better come and tell her." + +But Gertrude had been thinking. "I think you had better tell her first, +Daddy," she said. "I think it may be wiser for you to tell her. Things +were said and done at that election which she must not know. They were +so mean, so contemptible that she ought never to know. If I am not there +she cannot ask about them. I will tell you the result and how it came +about and you can tell her. Perhaps that will be sufficient. I hope it +may be. Listen, Daddy." + +Daniel listened. "My soul and body!" he exclaimed, when the tale was +ended. "My Godfreys! and those were the folks she figgered were her +friends!" + +"Yes." + +"And Annette Black--" + +"She was the moving spirit in the whole of it, I'm certain." + +"My Godfreys! And she--and she--well, I guess maybe Serena'll be willin' +to go back to Trumet NOW. She wanted to go before; 'twas only loyalty to +that gang that kept her from goin'. She's sick of society, and sick of +politics, and sick of Scarford. She said she'd give anything to go back +to the old house and be comfortable same as we used to be; she said--" + +"Daddy!" Gertrude seized his arm. She was strangely excited. "Did +she--did Mother really say that?" she demanded eagerly. + +"Sure, she said it! Twice she told me so." + +"And she meant it?" + +"She acted as if she did. Course we both realized 'twould be hard for +you, Gertie, but--" + +"Go! Go and tell her about the election. Quick! quick!" She fairly +pushed him from her. "Don't wait," she urged, "go." + +Daniel was on his way when she called him back. + +"I almost forgot, Daddy, dear," she said repentantly. "I was so gl--I +mean--well, never mind. What I want to say is that if you think the news +will be too great a shock, if you think she is not strong enough to hear +it now--" + +Her father interrupted. "She's stronger than I've seen her for a +fortnight," he declared. "And one thing's sure, she won't rest till she +does hear it. I shall tell her, and get it over." + +"Then be as gentle as you can, won't you?" + +"I'll try. But, Gertie, what did you mean by sayin' you was so--so glad? +That was what you was goin' to say, wasn't you? I don't see as there's +much to be glad about." + +"Don't you? Well, perhaps.... Run along, Daddy, run along." + +She closed the door of her room. Daniel, much perplexed, departed on his +unpleasant errand. + +His wife was eagerly awaiting him. + +"Where's Gertie?" she demanded. "Isn't she coming?" + +"She'll come by and by, Serena. She isn't quite dressed yet." + +"What difference does that make? Why doesn't she come, herself? Didn't +you tell her I was dying to hear about the election? She must know I +am." + +"She does; she knows that, Serena. But she thought--she thought I'd +better tell you first, myself." + +Serena leaned forward to look at him. His expression alarmed her. + +"Why don't you tell, then?" she asked. "Is it--oh, Daniel, it isn't bad +news, is it?" + +"It ain't very good, Serena." + +"You don't mean--why, you said that Annette was elected; you said so +last night." + +"Yes--yes, she was elected, Serena; but--" + +"But--but _I_ wasn't. Is that what you mean, Daniel?" + +"Well now, Serena--" + +"I wasn't. Yes, it is true, I can see it in your face. I was defeated. +Oh--oh, Daniel!" + +Captain Dan put his arm about her. + +"There! there! Serena," he said chokingly, "don't cry, don't. Don't +feel too bad about it. Politics is politics, inside Chapters and out, +I guess. I'm as much disappointed as you are, for your sake, but--but +don't care too much, will you? Don't make yourself sick again. Don't cry +no more than you can help." + +Serena raised her head from his shoulder. + +"I'm not crying," she said. "Really I'm not, Daniel. It is a relief to +me, in a way." + +"A RELIEF?" + +"Yes. If it had happened a month ago I should have felt it terribly. I +was crazy for office then. But lately I have dreaded it so. If I were +vice-president I should have so much care, so much responsibility. Now, +I shan't. The honor would have been great, I appreciate that. But, for +the rest of it, I don't really care." + +"Don't CARE! My soul and body!" + +"No, I don't. And now," bravely, "tell me all about it. I don't quite +see how Annette could win if I did not; but Miss Canby is popular, she +has a great many friends. I hope," wistfully, "I hope I got a good vote. +Did I, Daniel?" + +Daniel's indignation burst forth. + +"You didn't get any votes, Serena," he cried angrily. + +"What? What? No votes? Why--" + +"Not a blessed one. They put up a low-down political trick on you, +Serena. They left you out to save themselves. They took advantage of +your bein' sick to--to--Here, I'll tell you just what they did." + +What they had done was this: Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, heads of the +opposing factions, each realizing how close the vote was likely to be, +had, with their lieutenants--Mrs. Dott excepted--gotten together five +days before the election and arranged a compromise, a trade. By this +arrangement, Annette was to receive the Lake party's support +for president; Miss Canby was to be given the Black support for +vice-president; and the united support of both factions was to be +behind Mrs. Lake in her struggle for office in the National body. This +arrangement was carried through. Serena, not being on hand to protect +her own interest, had been sacrificed, her name had not even been +brought before the members to be voted upon. + +Captain Dan told of this precious scheme, just as it had been told him +by his daughter. At first his wife interrupted with exclamations and +questions; then she listened in silence. + +"That's what they did," cried the captain angrily. "Chucked you into the +scrap heap to save themselves. And you sick abed! This was the gang you +worked yourself pretty nigh to death for. These were the FRIENDS you +thought you had. And Annette Black was the worst of all. 'Twas her idea +in the first place. Why, Serena--" + +But Serena could hear no more. She threw her arms about her husband's +neck and the tears, which she had so bravely repressed at the tidings of +her own disappointment, burst forth. + +"Oh--oh, Daniel," she sobbed, "take me away from here. I hate this +place; I hate Scarford and all the dreadful people in it! Take me to +Trumet, Daniel. Take me home! Take me home!" + +Half an hour later Captain Dan shouted his daughter's name over the +balusters. + +"Gertie!" he called; "Gertie! come up here, will you?" + +Gertrude came. She entered the room hastily. She had feared to find +her mother prostrate, suffering from a new attack of "nerves." She was +prepared to obey her father's order to 'phone for the doctor. + +But Serena did not, apparently, need a doctor. She was not prostrate, +and, although she was nervous, it was rather the nervousness of +expectancy, coupled with determination. + +"Gertie," said the captain, "I've got some news for you. Your mother +and I have made up our minds to go back to Trumet, and we want you to go +along with us." + +The young lady did not answer at once. She looked first at Serena and +then at Daniel. The troubled expression left her face and was succeeded +by another, an odd one. When she spoke it was in a tone of great +surprise. + +"To Trumet?" she repeated. "Go back to Trumet? Not to live there?" + +Captain Dan hesitated, but his wife did not. + +"Yes," she said decidedly, "to live. For the present, anyhow. At least +we shan't live here any longer." + +"Not live here? Not live in Scarford, Mother! Why, what do you mean?" + +Her father answered. "She means what she says, I presume likely," he +observed impatiently. "Think she's talkin' for the fun of it? This ain't +April Fool Day." + +"But she can't mean it. She can't! Give up the Chapter, and all our +friends--" + +"Friends! They're a healthy lot of friends, they are!" + +"Hush, Daddy; I'm not talking to you. Do you realize what you are +saying, Mother? Give up the Chapter, and all your ambitions there? Give +up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake and Miss Canby--" + +"And that twist and squirm, antique Greece disgrace of a Dusante +woman--don't forget her. Gertie, you stop now. Your ma knows--" + +"Daddy, be still. Be still, I say! Mother, are you willing to give them +up? And all our society! You say yourself--I've heard you often--that +there is no society in Trumet. Give up our bridge lessons, and our +dancing, and our teas, and--" + +"For the land sakes! What is this; a catalogue you're givin' us? Stop +it! Serena, you tell her to stop." + +But Gertrude would not stop. She ignored her father utterly. + +"Think what it would mean," she protested. "Think of your social +position, Mother, the position we have worked so hard to attain." + +Serena shook her head. "I don't care," she said firmly. "Our social +position was good enough in Trumet." + +"WHAT! Why, Mother! how often I have heard you say--" + +"Never mind what I said. I have said a lot of foolish things, and done a +lot, too. But I'm through. I'm sick and disgusted with it all. I'm going +to be simple and comfortable and happy--yes, happy. Oh, Gertie, DON'T +talk to me about society! There isn't a real, sincere person in it, not +in the set we have been in. I hate Scarford and I hate society." + +"Mother! how can you! And opportunity and advancement--" + +"I hate them, too." + +Gertrude gasped. "Why, Mother!" she exclaimed. "And it was you who first +showed me the way. Who showed me how common and dull and unambitious +I had been all my life? Think what leaving here would mean to me. What +would Miss Dusante think? I had almost arranged to take dancing lessons +of her. Think of Mr. Holway. Is there a young man like him in Trumet? +Think of Cousin Percy!" + +That was quite enough. Serena rose, her eyes flashing. + +"Stop!" she cried. "Stop this minute! Gertrude Dott, your father and I +are going back to Trumet and you are going with us." + +"Oh, no, I'm not. Why, Cousin Percy--" + +"Don't you dare mention his name to me." + +"Why not? He is very gentlemanly and very aristocratic. You told me +that when I first came, Mother. You were always talking about him and +praising him then. And I'm sure he moves in the highest circles; he says +he does, himself." + +"He is a good-for-nothing loafer. He has sponged upon your father--" + +"You have often spoken of him as an honor to the family." + +"A good-for-nothing, dissipated, fast--" + +"Oh, a little dissipation is expected in society, isn't it?" + +"I should think you would be ashamed!" + +"Why? I haven't done a thing that you haven't done, Mother. That is, +nothing which your friends don't do every day. They are ever so much +more advanced than I am. I have only begun. No, indeed, I am not going +back to plain, common, everyday old Trumet. I shall stay here and +progress. You and your friends have shown me what is expected of a girl +in my position and I shall take advantage of my opportunities. Why, Mrs. +Black says that, if I play my cards well, I may catch a millionaire, +perhaps a foreign nobleman. How would you like to be mother-in-law to +a--well, to a count, for instance?" + +Mrs. Dott did not answer this question. Instead she turned to her +husband. + +"Daniel," she cried, "are you going to stand this? Are you that girl's +father, or aren't you? Are you going to make her mind, or not?" + +Daniel would have spoken, but his daughter got ahead of him. + +"Oh, Father doesn't count," she observed lightly. "No one minds what he +says. He didn't want to move to Scarford at all. No one minds him." + +Serena stamped her foot. "Daniel Dott," she cried, "do you hear that? I +call upon you, as the head of this family, to tell that girl what she's +got to do, and make her do it." + +Captain Dan stepped forward. Gertrude merely laughed. That laugh settled +the question. + +"Gertie," ordered the captain, his voice, the old quarter-deck voice +which had been law aboard the Bluebird, "you march your boots to your +room and pack up. We're goin' to Trumet and you're goin' along with us. +March! or, by the everlastin', I'll carry you there and lock you in! You +speak another word and I'll do it, anyway. Serena, I'll 'tend to her. +You're tired out; lie down and rest." + +"But, Daniel--" + +"Lie down and rest. I'm runnin' this craft. Well," wheeling upon his +daughter, "are you goin'? Or shall I carry you?" + +Gertrude looked at him and then at her mother. Her lips twitched. + +"I'll go, Daddy," she said meekly, and went. + +When Captain Dan descended to the lower floor he found Mr. Ginn in the +library. + +"Hello!" hailed the latter, "you look kind of set-up and sassy, seems to +me. YOU ain't had nothin' to drink, have you?" + +"Drink? What do you mean by that? Has anybody around here had anything +to drink?" + +"I don't know. Some of 'em act as if they had. When I came into the +kitchen a spell ago I found my wife and Gertie dancin' like a couple of +loons." + +"Dancin'?" + +"Yes, sir, holdin' hands and hoppin' around like sand fleas in a clam +bake. I asked 'em what set 'em goin' and they wouldn't tell me. I +couldn't think of anything but liquor that would start Zuby Jane +dancin'. I don't know's that would--I never tried it on her--but 'twas +the only likely guess I could make." + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Captain Dan was seated in his old chair, at his old desk, behind the +counter of the Metropolitan Store. His pipe, the worn, charred briar +that he had left in the drawer of that very desk when he started for the +railway station and Scarford, was in his mouth. Over the counter, beyond +the showcases and the tables with their piles of oilskins, mittens, +sou'westers, and sweaters, through the panes of the big front windows, +he could see the road, the main street of Trumet. The road was muddy, +and the mud had frozen. Beyond the road, between the shops and houses on +the opposite side, he saw the bare brown hills, the pond where the city +people found waterlilies in the summer--the pond was now a glare of +ice--the sand dunes, the beach, the closed and shuttered hotel and +cottages, and, beyond these, the cold gray and white of the wintry sea +rolling beneath a gloomy sky. To the average person the view would have +been desolation itself. To Captain Dan it was a section of Paradise. It +was the picture which had been in his mind for months. And here it was +in reality, unchanged, unspoiled, a part of home, his home. And he, at +last, was at home again. + +They had been in Trumet a week, the captain and Serena and Gertrude. +Azuba had been there two days longer, having been sent on ahead of the +family to open the house and get it ready. Laban remained behind as +caretaker of the Scarford mansion. His term of service in that capacity +was not likely to be a long one, for the real estate dealer was in +active negotiation with his client, and the dealer's latest report +stated that the said client was considering hiring the house, furnished, +for a few months and, in the event of his liking it as well as he +expected, would then, in all probability, buy. + +Laban's remaining as caretaker was his own suggestion. + +"Me and the old gal--Zuby Jane, I mean--have talked it over," he +explained, "and it seems like the best thing to do. You've got to have +somebody here, Cap'n Dott, you've got to pay somebody, and it might as +well be me. I'm out of a job just now, anyway. As for me and my wife +bein' separated--well, we're different from most married folks that way; +it seems the natural thing for us to BE separated. We're used to it, +as you might say. I don't know as we'd get along so well together if we +wasn't separated. There's nothin' like separation to keep husband and +wife happy along with one another. I've been with Zuby for most three +weeks steady now; that's the longest stretch we've had in a good many +years. We ain't quarreled once, neither." + +He seemed to consider the fact remarkable. Captain Dott grinned. + +"I suppose that shuttin' her up in the dish closet wasn't what you'd +call a quarrel, hey?" he observed. + +Mr. Ginn was momentarily embarrassed. + +"Oh, that!" he exclaimed. "Humph! I forgot that, for the minute. But +that wasn't a quarrel, rightly speakin'. 'Twas just a little difference +of opinion on account of my not understandin' her reason for bein' so +sot on havin' her own way. Soon's I understood 'twas all right. And you +see yourself how peaceable she's been ever since." + +So, after consultation with Azuba, the arrangement was perfected. Laban +was to receive ten dollars a week, from which sum he was to provide +his own meals. He was to sleep in the house, but the meals were to be +obtained elsewhere. Mrs. Dott would not consider his cooking in her +kitchen. + +Serena bore the fatigue of the journey well and the sight of her old +home, with the table set for supper, plants in the dining-room windows, +and all the little familiar touches which Azuba's thoughtfulness had +supplied, served to bring her the contentment and happiness she had been +longing for. Each day she gained in health and strength, and the rest +and freedom from care, together with the early hours--they retired at +nine-thirty each night--were doing wonders for her. Her husband was +delighted at the improvement. He was delighted with everything, the +familiar scenes, the smell of the salt marshes, and of the sea, the +clear, cold air, the meeting with friends and acquaintances, the +freedom from society--he had not even unpacked his dress suit, vowing to +Gertrude that it might stay buried till Judgment, he wouldn't resurrect +it--all these things delighted his soul. And now, on the Saturday +morning at the end of his first week at home, as he sat in his arm +chair behind the counter of the Metropolitan Store, looking at the view +through the windows and at the store itself, he was a happy man. There +was one flaw in his happiness, but that he had forgotten for the moment. + +He glanced about him, took a long pull at his pipe, and said aloud: +"Well, if I didn't know 'twas the same place, I wouldn't have known it. +I never saw such a change in my life." + +Nathaniel Bangs, standing by the front window, turned. + +"I don't see much difference," he said. "The old town looks about the +same to me." + +The captain smilingly shook his head. + +"'Tain't the town," he observed. "It's this store. Nate, you're a +wonder, that's what you are, a wonder." + +For, if the view had not changed, if it was the same upon which Daniel +Dott had looked for many winters, through the windows of that very +store, the store itself had changed materially. Mr. Bangs had wrought +the change and it was distinctly a change for the better. The stock, and +there was a surprising deal of it, was new and attractively displayed. +The contents of the showcases were varied and up-to-date. Neatly +lettered placards calling attention to special bargains hung in places +where they were most likely to be seen. There was a spruce, swept, and +garnished look to the establishment; as Azuba said when she first saw it +after her return, it looked as if it had had a shave and a hair cut. In +other words, the Metropolitan Store appeared wide awake and prosperous, +as if it was making money--which it was. + +It was not making a great deal, of course, as yet. This was the dullest +season of the year. But the Christmas trade had been good and, thanks +to Nathaniel's enterprise and effort, the scallop fishermen, the quahaug +rakers, and the members of the life-saving crews were once more buying +their outfits at the Metropolitan Store instead of patronizing Mr. +J. Cohen and The Emporium. Mr. Bangs was already selecting his summer +stock; and his plans for the disposal of that stock were definite and +business-like. + +"If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott," he had explained, "I'm going to +try putting on a horse and wagon this summer. There's no reason why we +shouldn't get the cottage trade down at the Neck, and all along shore. +Jim Bartlett, Sam's older brother, would like the job driving that +wagon. He's smart as a whip, Jim is, and he's willing to work on +commission. Let him start out twice a week with a load of hats and +oilskins and belts and children's shovels and pails--all the sort of +stuff the boarders and cottage folks buy and that they'd buy more of +if it was brought right to their doors--and he'll catch a heap of trade +that goes to Bayport or Wellmouth or The Emporium now. What he don't +carry he can take orders for and deliver next trip. If you don't say +no, Cap'n Dott, I'm going to try it. And I'll bet a month's wages it's a +go." + +Captain Dan had not said no. On the contrary he expressed enthusiastic +approval of his manager's plans and enterprise. Also, he had been +thinking of some adequate reward, some means of proving his gratitude +real. + +"You're a wonder, Nate," repeated Daniel. "I don't know how to get even +with you, but I've got an idea. I've talked it over with Serena already +and she's for it. I want to ask Gertie's opinion and if she says yes, +and she will, I'm almost sartin, I'll tell you what it is." + +"All right, Cap'n. Don't you worry yourself trying to 'get even,' as you +call it, with me. I've enjoyed being in charge here. I always said there +was money in a store in Trumet, if it was run as it should be. One year +more and I can show you a few things, I'll bet." + +"You've shown 'em already. Land of love! I should say you had." + +"Give me time and I'll show you more. We have only begun.... Why, what's +the matter? What made you look that way?" + +"Oh, nothin', nothin'. Only your sayin' we'd only begun reminded me +of--of other things. I don't suppose I'll ever hear 'only begun' without +shiverin'. Humph! there's some kind of beginnin's I hope I'll never hear +of again. Gertie been in this mornin', has she? She isn't in the house." + +"No, I saw her go down street a little while ago. Gone for her morning +walk, perhaps. How is Mrs. Dott to-day?" + +"Fine. Tip top. I ain't seen her so satisfied with life for two months +or more. She's gettin' better every minute." + +"That's good. Contented to be back in Trumet, is she?" + +"Seems to be. _I_ am; you can bet high on that." + +"And--er--Gertie, is she contented, too?" + +This question touched directly the one uncertainty, the one +uncomfortable doubt in the captain's mind. He looked keenly at the +questioner. + +"What makes you ask that?" he demanded. + +"Oh, nothing much. She seems changed, that's all. She used to be so full +of spirits, and so bright and lively. Now she is quiet and doesn't talk +much. Looks thinner, too, and as if something was troubling her. Perhaps +it is my imagination. When's John Doane coming down? 'Most time for him +to be spending a Sunday with you, ain't it? Engaged folks don't usually +stay apart more than a week, especially when the one is as near the +other as Boston is to Trumet." + +Daniel knocked the ashes from his pipe into the wastebasket. + +"Oh, oh, John'll be along pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder," he said +hastily. "He--he's pretty busy these days, I suppose." + +"Nice thing his bein' taken into the firm, after Mr. Griffin died, +wasn't it. Well, he's a pretty smart fellow, John is, and he deserves to +get ahead. Did he tell you the particulars about it?" + +"No. No, not all of 'em. Is that a customer in the other room?" + +Mr. Bangs hurried away to attend to the customer. The captain seized the +opportunity to make a timely exit. He went into the house, remained +a while with his wife, and then returned. Nathaniel had gone on an +order-taking trip and Sam Bartlett, the boy, was in charge. Just as +Daniel entered the store from the side door Gertrude came in at the +front. + +"Hello, Daddy," she said. "All alone?" + +"Not quite, but I'd just as soon be. Sam, go into the other room; I'll +hail you if I need you. Gertie, come here. I want to have a talk with +you." + +Gertrude came. She took her old position, perching upon the arm of her +father's chair, with her own arm about his neck. + +"Gertie," began the captain, "what would you think of my makin' Nate +Bangs a partner in this concern?" + +Gertrude uttered an exclamation of delight. + +"Splendid!" she cried. "Just what I wanted you to do. I thought of it, +but I said nothing because I wanted you to say it first. It will be just +the right thing." + +"Ye-es, so it seemed to me. All that's good here in this store is due +to Nathaniel. He's made a real, live business out of a remains that was +about ready for the undertaker. I ought to give him the whole craft, +but--but I hate to." + +"You could. You could sell out to him and still have sufficient income +to live upon in comfort here in Trumet. You might sell out, retire, and +be a gentleman of leisure, one of the town's rich men. You could do that +perfectly well." + +Daniel grunted in disgust. + +"Don't talk that way," he repeated. "I've had enough gentleman of +leisure foolishness to last me through. What do you think I am; a +second-hand copy of Cousin Percy, without the gilt edges? _I_ might be +kissin' Zuba by mistake if I did that." + +The story of that eventful evening and the "mistake" had been told him +by his daughter since the return home. Gertrude smiled. + +"I guess not," she declared. "You are not in the habit of 'dining +out'--in Trumet, at any rate. Have you told Mother?" + +"Yes, I told her. I don't think she was much surprised. She'd guessed as +much before, so I gathered from what she said." + +"No doubt; the explanation was obvious enough. Well, Daddy, I did not +expect you would be contented to retire and do nothing. That is not your +conception of happiness. But, if you do take Mr. Bangs into partnership, +let him manage the entire business. You can be in the store as much as +you wish, and be interested in it, so long as you don't interfere. And +you and Mother can be together and take little trips together once in a +while. You mustn't stay in Trumet ALL the time; if you do you will grow +discontented again." + +"No, no, I shan't. Serena may, perhaps, but I shan't." + +"Yes, you will. You both have seen a little of outside life now, and it +isn't all bad, though you may think so just at this time. You +mustn't settle down and grow narrow like some of the people here in +Trumet--Abigail Mayo, for instance." + +"Humph! I'd have to swallow a self-windin' talkin' machine before I +could get to be like Abigail Mayo. But you may be right, Gertie; perhaps +you are. See here, though, how about you, yourself? You've seen a heap +more of what you call outside life than your ma and I have. How are YOU +goin' to keep contented here in Trumet?" + +"Oh, I shall be contented. Don't worry about me." + +"But I do worry, and your mother is beginnin' to worry, too. There's +somethin' troublin' you; both of us see that plain enough. See here, +Gertie, you ain't--you ain't feelin' bad about--about leavin' that +Cousin Percy, are you?" + +The young lady's cheeks reddened, but with indignation, not +embarrassment. + +"DADDY!" she protested sharply. "Daddy, how can you! Cousin Percy!" + +"Well, you know--" + +"I hate him. I've told you so. Or I should, if he was worth hating; as +it is I despise him thoroughly." + +"That's good! That's one load off my mind. But, you see, Gertie--well, +when your mother and I first told you we'd made up our minds to come +back here, you--you stood up for him, and said he was aristocratic +and--and I don't know what all. That's what you said; and 'twas after +the Zuba business, too." + +Gertrude regarded him wonderingly. "Said!" she repeated. "I said and +did all sorts of things. Daddy--Daddy, DEAR, is it possible you don't +understand yet that it was all make-believe?" + +"All make-believe? What; your likin' Cousin Percy?" + +"Yes, that and Mr. Holway and everything else--the whole of it. Haven't +you guessed it yet? It was all a sham; don't you see? When I came back +from college and found out exactly how things were going, I realized at +once that something must be done. You were miserable and neglected, +and Mother was under the influence of Mrs. Black and that empty-headed, +ridiculous Chapter and would-be society crowd of hers. I tried at first +to reason with her, but that was useless. She was too far gone for +reason. So I thought and thought until I had a plan. I believed if I +could show her, by my own example, how silly and ridiculous the kind +of people she associated with were, if I pretended to be as bad as the +worst of them, she would begin by seeing how ridiculous _I_ was, and be +frightened into realizing her own position. At any rate, she would be +forced into giving it all up to save me. Of course I didn't expect her +to be taken ill. When THAT happened I was SO conscience-stricken. I +thought I never should forgive myself. But it has turned out so well, +that even that is--" + +"Gertie! Gertie Dott! stop where you are. Do you mean to tell me that +all your--your advancin' and dancin' and bridgin' and tea-in' and +Chapterin' was just--" + +"Just make-believe, that's all. I hated it as much as you did; as much +as Mother does now." + +"My SOUL! but--but it can't be! Cousin Percy--" + +"Oh, do forget Cousin Percy! I was sure he was exactly what he was and +that he was using you and Mother as conveniences for providing him with +a home and luxuries which he was too worthless to work for. I was sure +of it, morally sure, but I made up my mind to find out. So I cultivated +him, and I cultivated his particular friends, and I did find out. I +pretended to like him--" + +"Hold on! for mercy sakes, hold on! YOU pretended, but--but HE didn't. +If ever a feller was gone on a young woman he was, towards the last of +it. Why, he--" + +"Hush! hush! Don't speak of it. It makes me disgusted with myself even +to think of him. If he was--was as you say, it is all the better. It +serves him right. And I think that it was with my--with your money, +Daddy, much more than your daughter, he was infatuated. I had the +satisfaction of telling him my opinion of him and his conduct before he +left." + +"Ho! you did, hey? Humph! I wish I might have heard it. But, Gertie," +his incredulity not entirely crushed, "it wasn't ALL make-believe; all +of it couldn't have been. Even Zuba, she got the advancin' craziness. +She joined a--a 'Band,' or somethin'." + +"No, she didn't. She pretended to, but she didn't. There wasn't any such +'Band.' She was helping me to cure Mother, that's all. It was all part +of the plan. Her husband understands now, although," with a laugh, "he +didn't when he first came." + +Daniel drew his hand across his forehead. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "WELL! and I--and I--" + +"I treated you dreadfully, didn't I? Scolded you, and told you to go +away, and--and everything. I COULDN'T tell you the truth, because you +cannot keep a secret, but I was sorry, so sorry for you, even when you +were most provoking. You WOULD interfere, you know. Two or three times +you almost spoiled it all." + +"Did I? I shouldn't wonder. And--and to think I never suspicioned a bit +of it!" + +"I don't see why you didn't. It was so plain. I'm sure Mother +suspects--now." + +"Probably she does. If I wasn't what I've called myself so much lately, +an old fool, I'd have suspected, too. I AM an old fool." + +"No, you're not. You are YOU, and that is why I love you--why, everyone +who knows you loves you. I wouldn't have you changed one iota. You are +the dearest, best father in the world. And you are going to be happy +now, aren't you?" + +"I--I don't know. I ought to be, I suppose. I guess I shall be--if I +ever get over thinkin' what a foolhead I was. So Zuba was part of it +all, hey? And John, too? He was in it, I presume likely." + +Gertrude's expression changed; so did her tone. + +"We won't talk about John, Daddy," she said. "Please don't." + +"Why not? I want to talk about him. In a way--yes, sir! in a way I ain't +sure that--that I didn't have a hand in spoilin' that, too. Considerin' +what you've just told me, I wouldn't wonder if I did." + +His daughter had risen to go. Now she turned back. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. "What do you mean? Spoiling--what?" + +"Why--why, you and John, you know. Whatever happened between you and +him happened that night when he come to Scarford. And he wouldn't have +come--not then--if I hadn't written for him." + +Gertrude was speechless. Her father went on. + +"Long's we're confessin'," he said, "we might as well make a clean job +of it. I wrote him, all on my own hook. You see, Gertie, 'twas on your +account mainly. I was gettin' pretty desperate about you. Instead of +straightenin' out your ma's course you were followin' in her wake, +runnin' ahead of her, if anything. It looked as if you'd have her hull +down and out of the race, if you kept on. _I_ couldn't hold you back, +and, bein' desperate, as I say, I wrote John to come and see if he +could. And I told him to come quick.... Hey? What did you say?" + +The young lady had said nothing; she had been listening, however, and +now she seemed to have found an answer to a puzzle. + +"So that was why he came?" she said, in a low tone, as if thinking +aloud. "That was why. But--but without a word to me." + +"Oh, I 'specially wrote him not to tell you he was comin'. I didn't want +you to know. I wanted to have a talk with him first and tell him just +how matters stood. After you'd gone to Chapter meetin' that night--I +always thought 'twas queer, your bein' so determined to go, but I see +why now; 'twas part of your plan, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, yes, of course. Go on." + +"Well, I judge John thought 'twas funny, too--but never mind. After +you'd gone, he and I had our talk. I told him everything. He was kind +of troubled; I could see that; but he stood up for you through thick and +thin. He only laughed when I told him--told him some things, those that +worried me most." + +Gertrude noticed his hesitation. + +"What were those things?" she asked. + +"Oh, nothin'. They seem so foolish now; but at that time--" + +"Daddy, did you tell him of my--my supposed friendship for Mr. +Hungerford?" + +Daniel reluctantly nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "I told him some. Maybe I +told him more than was absolutely true. Perhaps I exaggerated a little. +But he was so stubborn in not believin', that.... Hey? By Godfreys!" as +the thought struck him for the first time, "THAT wasn't what ailed John, +was it? He wasn't JEALOUS of that consarned Percy?" + +Gertrude did not answer. + +"It couldn't be," continued Daniel. "He's got more sense than that. +Besides, you told him, when you and he were alone together, why you was +actin' so, didn't you? Or did he know it beforehand? I presume likely he +did. Your mother and I seem to have been the only animals left outside +the show tent." + +Again there was no answer. When the young lady spoke it was to ask +another question. + +"Daddy," she said, not looking at him, but folding and unfolding a bit +of paper on the counter, "are you SURE you mailed that letter I gave you +the morning after--after he went away?" + +"What? That letter to John that you gave me to mail? I'm sure as I can +be of anything. I put it right in amongst the bills and checks I had +ready, and when the postman came I gave 'em all to him with my own +hands. Yes, it was mailed all right." + +"And no letters--letters for me--came afterwards, which I didn't +receive? You didn't put one in your pocket and forget it?" + +"No. I'm sure of that. Why, your mother's cleaned out all my pockets a +dozen times since. She says I use my clothes for wastebaskets, and she +has to empty 'em pretty nigh as often. No, I didn't forget any letter +for you, Gertie. But why? What made you think I might have?" + +"Oh, nothing; nothing, Daddy." Then, throwing down the bit of paper and +moving toward the door, "I must go in and see Mother. I have scarcely +seen her all the morning." + +"But hold on, Gertie! Don't go. I haven't found out what--Stop! Gertie, +look at me! Why don't you look at me?" + +She would not look and she would not stop. The door closed behind her. +Captain Dan threw himself back in the chair. When Mr. Bangs, returning +from his trip after orders, entered the store he found his employer just +where he had left him. Now, however, the expression of high, good humor +was no longer upon the captain's face. + +"Well, Cap'n," hailed Nathaniel cheerfully. "Still on deck, I see. What +are you doing; exercising your mind?" + +"Humph! What little mind I'VE got has been exercised too blessed much. +It needs rest more'n anything, but it don't seem likely to get a great +deal. Nate, this world reminds me of a worn-out schooner, it's as full +of troubles as that is full of leaks; and you no sooner get one patched +up than another breaks out in a new place. Ah hum! ... What you got +there? The mail, is it? Anything for me?" + +There was one letter bearing the captain's name. Nathaniel handed it +to the owner of that name and the latter inspected the envelope and the +postmark. + +"From Labe Ginn," he observed. "Nobody else in Scarford that I know +would spell Daniel with two 'l's and no 'i.' What's troublin' Laban? +Somethin' about the house, I presume likely." + +He leisurely tore open the envelope. The letter was a lengthy one, +scrawled upon a half dozen sheets of cheap note paper. The handwriting +was almost as unique as the spelling, which is saying considerable. + +"From Laban, is it?" asked Mr. Bangs casually. + +"Yup, it's from Labe." + +"There was another from him, then. At any rate there was one addressed +in the same hen-tracks to Azuba. I met her as I was coming out of the +post-office and gave it to her; she was on her way to the grocery store, +she said." + +Daniel nodded, but made no comment. He was doing his best to decipher +Mr. Ginn's hieroglyphics. Occasionally he chuckled. + +Laban began by saying that he expected his term as caretaker of the +Scarford property to be of short duration. He had dropped in at the real +estate office and had there been told that arrangements for the leasing +of the mansion, furniture, and all, were practically completed. The new +tenant would move in within a fortnight, he was almost sure. Mr. +Ginn, personally, would be glad of it, for it was "lonesomer than a +meeting-house on a week day." + +"I spend the heft of my daytimes out in the Back yard," he wrote. "I've +lokated a bordin house handy by, but the Grub thare is tuffer than the +mug on a Whailer two year out. I don't offen meet anybody I know, but +tother day I met barney Black. He asked about you and your fokes and I +told him. He was prety down on his Luck I thort and acted Blue. His +wife is hed neck and heles in Chapter goins on. I see her name in the +Newspaper about evry day. + +"He said give you his Regards and tell you you was a dam lukky Man." + +Captain Dan's chuckle developed into a hearty laugh. He sympathized with +and understood the feelings of B. Phelps. + +"He has sold his summer Plase at Trumet," the letter went on. "Mrs. +Black don't want to come thare no more. He wuddent say why but I +shuddent wonder if it was becos she ain't hankering to mete your Wife +after the way she treted her. He has sold the Plase to some fokes name +of Fenholtz. I know thats the rite name becos I made him spel it for me. +Do you know them?" + +Daniel uttered an exclamation of delight and struck his thigh a +resounding slap. + +"What's up?" asked Nathaniel. "Got some good news?" + +"You bet! Mighty good! Some people I knew and liked in Scarford have +bought the Black cottage here in Trumet. I rather guess I am responsible +in a way; I preached Cape Cod to 'em pretty steady. The Fenholtzes! +Well, well!" + +"What I realy wrote you for," continued Mr. Ginn, at the top of page +four, "was to tell you that I had a feller come to see me Yesterday. It +was that forriner Hapgood who used to work for you. He looked prety run +to seed. He haddent got anny Job since he left you, he sed, and he +was flat Broke. I gave him a Square meel or what they call one at the +bordin' house and he and me had a long talk. He told me a lot of things +but manely all he wanted to talk about was that Swab of a Coussin of +yours, that Hungerford. Hapgood was down on him like a Gull on a sand +ele. He sed Hungerford was a mene sneak and had treted him bad. He told +me a Lot about how Hungerford worked you fokes for sukkers and how he +helped. Seems him and Hungerford was old shipmates and chums and had +worked your ant Laviny the same way. Hungerford used to pay him, but now +that he is flat Broke and can't help no more, he won't give him a cent. +Hapgood says if you knew what he knows you'd be intterested. He says +Hungerford pade him to get a hold of Tellygrams and letters that he +thort you had better not see. He had one Coppy of a tellygram that he +says come to him over the Tellyfone 3 days after John Doane left your +house. I lent him a cupple of dollars and he gave me the Coppy. It is +from John to Gertie, but she never got it becos Hapgood never told her. +I send it in this letter." + +Captain Dan, who had read the latter part of this long paragraph with +increasing excitement, now stopped his reading and began a hurried +search for the "Coppy." He found it, on a separate sheet. It was written +in pencil in Hapgood's neat, exact handwriting and was, compared to Mr. +Ginn's labored scrawl, very easy to read. And this was what the captain +read: + + +"MISS GERTRUDE DOTT, + +"No. -- Blank Avenue, +"Scarford, Mass. + +"Why haven't you written? Did you receive my letters? The firm are +sending me on urgent business to San Francisco. I leave to-night. If you +write me there I shall know all is well and you have not changed. If not +I shall know the other thing. I shall hope for a letter. San Francisco +address is--" + + +Then followed the address and the signature, "John Doane." + +The "Coppy" dropped in Daniel's lap. He closed his eyes. Nate Bangs, +glancing at him, judged that he was falling asleep, but Mr. Bangs's +usually acute judgment was, in this instance, entirely wrong. So far +from sleeping, the captain was just beginning to wake up. + +"Why haven't you written?" That meant that John had never received the +letter which Gertrude wrote, the letter which she had given him--her +father--to post. Why had it not been received? It had been posted. He +gave it to the carrier with his own hands. + +Before the captain's closed eyes that scene in the library passed in +review. He was at his desk, Gertrude entered and handed him the letter. +He commented upon its address and placed it with the others, the +envelopes containing bills and checks, upon the table. Then the postman +came and-- + +No--wait. The postman had not come immediately. Serena had called and +he, Daniel, had gone up to her room in answer to the call. But he had +come down when the postman rang and.... Wait again! There had been +someone in the library when he was called away. He dimly remembered.... +What? ... Why, yes! Cousin Percy had come in and-- + +Daniel leaped to his feet. His chair slid back on its castors and struck +the safe behind him. Mr. Bangs looked up. + +"Why, what's the matter?" he cried, in alarm. "Is--Where are you going?" + +Captain Dan did not answer. He was running, actually running, toward +the door. Bareheaded he dashed across the yard. His foot was on the +threshold of the back porch of the house, when he stopped short. For a +moment he stood still; then he turned and ran back to the store again. + +Nathaniel, who had followed him to the side entrance of The +Metropolitan, met him there. + +"For mercy sakes, Cap'n Dott!" he began. "What IS it?" + +Daniel did not answer. He pushed past his perturbed manager and, rushing +to the closet in which the telephone instrument hung, closed the door +behind him. He jerked the receiver from the hook, placed it at his ear, +and shouted into the transmitter. + +"Hello! Hello there, Central!" he bellowed. "I want a long distance +call. I want to talk to Saunders, Griffin and Company, Pearl Street, +Boston.... Hey? ... Yes, I want to talk to Mr. Doane.... NO, not Cone! +Doane--Doane--Mr. John Doane.... Hey? ... You'll call me? ... All right, +then; be as quick as you can, that's all." + +He hung up the receiver and, flinging the door open, dashed out into the +store again, and began pacing up and down. + +Nathaniel ventured one more question. + +"Of course it ain't any of my business, Cap'n Dott," he stammered, +"but--" + +Daniel waved his hand. + +"Sshh! shh!" he commanded. "It's all right. I'll tell you by and by. But +now I want to think. To think, by time!" + +Ten minutes later the telephone bell rang. + +"Hello! Here is your Boston call," announced Central. + +"All right! all right! Is this Saunders, Griffin and Company? ... Hey? +... Is Mr. Doane there?... What? I want to know! Is that you, John? +... This is Dott, speakin'.... Yes, Dan Dott.... No, no, of Trumet, +not Scarford.... Yes.... YES.... Here! you let me do the talkin'; you +listen." + + + +Captain Dan ate scarcely any luncheon that day. He seemed to have lost +his appetite. This was a good deal of a loss and his wife commented upon +it. + +"What does ail you, Daniel?" she asked anxiously. "Why don't you eat?" + +"Hey? Oh, I don't know, Serena. Don't feel hungry, somehow." + +"Well, it's the first time you haven't been hungry since you came back +to Trumet. I was beginning to think Azuba and I couldn't get enough for +you TO eat. And now, all at once, you're not hungry. What does ail you?" + +"Ail me? Nothin' ails me." + +"Don't you feel well?" + +"Never felt better in my life. Don't believe I ever felt quite so good." + +"You act awfully queer." + +"Do I? Don't you worry about me, Serena. My appetite'll be back all +right by dinner time. You want to lay in an extra stock for dinner. I'll +probably eat you out of house and home then. Better figure on as much as +if you was goin' to have company. Ain't that so, Zuba?" + +He winked at the housekeeper. His wife noticed the wink. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "There's something going on that I don't +know about. Are you and Azuba planning some sort of surprise?" + +"Surprise! What sort of surprise would Zuba and I plan? She's had one +surprise in the last six weeks and that ought to be enough. Laban's +droppin' in unexpected was surprise enough to keep you satisfied, wasn't +it, Zuba? I never saw anybody more surprised than you was that night in +the kitchen. Ho! ho!" + +Azuba smiled grimly. "A few more surprises like that," she observed, +"and I'll be surprised to death. Don't talk to ME about surprises." + +"_I_ wasn't talkin' about 'em, 'twas Serena that started it." + +Mrs. Dott was still suspicious. She turned to her daughter. + +"Gertie," she asked, "do YOU know what your father is acting so +ridiculous about? Is there a secret between you three?" + +Gertrude had been very quiet and grave during the meal. + +"No," she said. "There is no secret that I know of. Father is happy +because we are back here in his beloved Trumet, I suppose." + +"Humph! Well, his happiness hasn't interfered with his appetite before. +There's something else; I'm sure of it. Why, Gertie! aren't you going to +eat, either? You're not through luncheon!" + +The young lady had risen from the table. + +"You've eaten scarcely anything, Gertie," protested her mother. "I never +saw such people. Are YOU so happy that you can't eat. Sit down." + +Gertrude did not look happy. She did not sit down. Instead she hastily +declared that she was not hungry, and left the room. + +Serena stared after her. + +"Was she crying, Daniel?" she asked. "She looked as if she was just +going to. Ever since she came in from her walk she has been so downcast +and sad. She won't talk and she hasn't smiled once. Daniel, has she said +anything to you? Do you know what ails her?" + +The captain shook his head. + +"She and I had a little talk out in the store," he admitted. "I +shouldn't wonder if she was thinkin' about--about--" + +"About John, do you mean?" + +"Maybe so." + +"Did she talk with you about HIM? She won't let me mention his name. +Daniel, I feel SO bad about that. I'm afraid I was to blame, somehow. If +we hadn't gone to Scarford--if ... Daniel, I'm going to her." + +She rose. Her husband laid a hand on her arm. + +"Sit down, Serena," he urged. "Sit down." + +"But, Daniel, let me go. I must go to her. The poor girl! Perhaps I +can comfort her, though how, I don't know. John Doane!" with a burst of +indignation. "If I ever meet that young man I'll give him my opinion of +his--" + +"Sshh! shh! Serena! You sit down and finish your luncheon. Don't you +worry about Gertie. And you needn't worry about her appetite or mine. +I tell you what I'll do: If she and I don't have appetite enough for +dinner to-night--or breakfast to-morrow mornin', anyhow--I'll swallow +that platter whole. There! A sight like that ought to be worth waitin' +for. Cheer up, old lady, and possess your soul in patience. This craft +is just gettin' out of the doldrums. There's a fair wind and clear +weather comin' for the Dott frigate, or I'm no sailor. You just trust me +and wait. Yes, and let Gertie alone." + +He positively refused to explain what he meant by this optimistic +prophecy, or to permit his wife to go to their daughter. Gertrude went +out soon afterward--for another walk, she said--and Serena retired to +her room for the afternoon nap which the doctor had prescribed as +part of her rest cure. For a time she could not sleep, but lay there +wondering and speculating concerning her husband's strange words and his +equally strange attitude of confident and excited happiness. What did it +mean? There was some secret she was sure; some good news for Gertrude; +there must be. She, too, began to share the excitement and feel the +confidence. Daniel had asked her to trust him, and she did trust him. +He, and not she, had been right in judging Mrs. Black and Cousin Percy, +and Scarford, and all the rest. He had been right all through. She +had reason to trust him; he was always right. With this comforting +conclusion--one indication of the mental revolution which her Scarford +experience had brought about--she ceased wondering and dropped to sleep. + +Captain Dan and Azuba had a short conference in the kitchen. + +"Understand, do you, Zuba?" queried the captain. "A late dinner and +plenty of it." + +"I understand. Land sakes! I ain't altogether a numskull or a young-one, +even if I do have to be shut up in the closet to make me behave." + +"Ho! ho! I expect you could have knocked my head off for bein' in the +way just at that time." + +"Humph!" with a one-sided smile, "I could have knocked my own off for +not listenin' afore I come downstairs. If I'd heard Laban's voice I bet +you I wouldn't have come. All I needed was a chance to be alone with him +and explain what Gertie and I were up to." + +"Well, I'm glad you didn't have the chance. I wouldn't have missed that +show for somethin'. It beat all my goin' to sea, that did. How you did +holler!" + +He roared with laughter. Azuba watched him with growing impatience. + +"Got through actin' like a Bedlamite?" she inquired tartly, when he +stopped for breath. "If you have you can clear out and let me get to my +dish-washin'." + +"I'm through. Oh, by the way, what did Labe say in your letter? I've +told you what he wrote me, but I forgot that he wrote you, too." + +Mrs. Ginn looked troubled. "I don't know what to do with that man," she +declared. "I expect any minute to get word that he's been put in the +lock-up. If that house of yours ain't rented or sold pretty quick, so +he can get to sea again, he will be. Do you know what he's done to that +Hungerford critter?" + +"DONE to him! What do you mean? He hasn't seen him, has he?" + +"No, he ain't seen him, thank goodness, but Labe is so wrought up over +what that Hapgood thief told him, about your precious cousin stealin' +your telegrams and so on, that he and Hapgood have gone in cahoots to +play a trick on Mr. Percy. Labe says Hapgood told him that Percy was +keepin' company now with another woman there in Scarford, a young +woman with money, of course--he wouldn't chase any other kind. Well, +Hapgood--he's a healthy specimen for my husband to be in with, he +is--Hapgood knows a lot about Hungerford and his goin's on in the past, +and he's got a lot of the Percy man's old letters from other girls. +Don't ask ME how he got 'em; stole 'em, I suppose, same as he stole that +telegram from John. Anyhow, Labe and Hapgood have sent those letters to +the present young woman's pa." + +Daniel whistled. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "That's interestin'." + +"Ain't it, now! Laban says the old commodore--meanin' the pa, I +suppose--is a holy terror and sets more store by his daughter than +he does by his hopes of salvation, enough sight. Good reason, too, I +presume likely; he's toler'ble sure of the daughter. Well, anyhow, the +letters are gone and Labe says he's willin' to bet that Cousin Percy'll +be GOIN'--out of the window and out of Scarford--when papa gets after +him. Nice mess, ain't it!" + +Captain Dan whistled again. "Well, Zuba," he observed, "we can't help +it, as I see. What's done's done and chickens do come home to roost, +don't they?" + +"Humph! I wish my husband would come home and roost where I can keep my +eye on him. He says he's gettin' sick of bein' a land lubber. He'll be +aboard some ship and off again afore long, that's some comfort. The +only time I know that man is safe is when he's a thousand miles from dry +land." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Serena and Daniel were together in the parlor. It was past dinner time, +but Azuba, for some reason or other, had not gotten dinner ready. This +was unusual for, if there was one thing upon which the housekeeper +prided herself, it was in being "prompt at meal times." She was setting +the table now, however, and they could hear her rattling the knives and +forks and singing, actually singing. + +"Azuba is in good spirits, isn't she," observed Serena. "I haven't heard +her sing before for a long time. I suppose, like the rest of us, she has +been too troubled to sing." + +Captain Dan listened to the singing, shook his head, and remarked +whimsically, "There's some comfort to be got out of trouble, then. Say, +the 'Sweet By and By' would turn sour if it could hear her sing about +it, wouldn't it?" + +"Hush, Daniel, don't be irreverent. Why don't you light the lamp, or let +me light it? It's getting so dark I can hardly see you." + +"Never mind; let's sit in the dark a spell. Gertie comin' down pretty +soon, is she?" + +"Yes. She's changing her dress, because you asked her to. Why did you +ask her? Why should she dress up just for you and me?" + +"Oh, just a notion of mine. I like that red dress of hers, anyway; the +one with the fringe trimmin's along the upper riggin'." + +"That dress isn't red, it's pink." + +"I don't care. I thought 'twas about the color of my nose, and if that's +pink then I'm losin' my complexion." + +"Daniel!" with a laugh, "how you do talk and act to-day! At luncheon +you were as queer as could be and now you're worse. I never saw you so +fidgety and excited. What IS going to happen? Something, I know. You +wouldn't tell me this noon; will you tell me now?" + +"Pretty soon, Serena; pretty soon. Now let's talk about somethin' +interestin'; about ourselves, for instance. How do you like bein' back +here in Trumet? Ain't gettin' tired of it, are you? The old town doesn't +seem stupid; hey?" + +"No, indeed! Don't speak that way, Daniel." + +"Well, I just mentioned it, that's all. Soon as you do get tired and +want to see somethin' new, we'll take that cruise to Washin'ton or the +Falls or somewheres. Never mind the price. Way I feel now I'd go to +the moon if 'twould please you. Say the word and I'll hire the balloon +to-morrow--or Monday, anyway; no business done in Trumet on Sunday." + +Serena laughed again. "I shan't say it for a long while," she declared. +"I am having such a good time. The house seems so snug and homey. And +all our old friends and neighbors have been so kind. They seemed so +glad to see us when we came, as if they were real friends, not the +make-believe sort." + +"Not the Annette kind, you mean. That particular breed of cats is scarce +on the Cape--at least I hope it is." + +"So do I. I never want to see her again. I am so glad they have sold +their cottage here, and that the Fenholtzes have bought it--if they +have bought it, as you say you heard. You always liked the Fenholtzes, +Daniel. I did, too, or I should if Annette hadn't told me--" + +"I know, I know. Some day that woman will tell the truth by accident and +the Ladies of Honor crowd'll be mournin' a leadin' light that went out +sudden. But never mind her. The folks here HAVE been nice to us, haven't +they?" + +"Indeed they have! And so thoughtful! Why, Sophronia Smalley even came +to ask me if I wouldn't consider taking my old place as president of +Trumet Chapter. She is president now, but she declared she would resign +in a minute in my favor." + +For an instant Captain Dan's exuberant spirits were dashed. + +"She did!" he cried. "Well, if that woman ain't.... Humph! Are you +thinkin' of lettin' her resign, Serena?" + +"No." + +"I--I wouldn't stand in your way if you did, you know. I mustn't be +selfish. Trumet ain't Scarford, and if you want to--" + +"I don't, I don't. I may attend a meeting once in a while, later on, +but I never shall hold office again. I have had all the 'advancement' I +want." + +"Advancin' backwards, some folks would call what you're doin' now, +Serena, I cal'late. There! I've said 'cal'late' again. I haven't said it +before for a long time. This Cape sand has got into my grammar, I guess. +I must be careful." + +"You needn't be. Say 'cal'late' if you want to, I am not going to fret +you about your grammar any more, Daniel. I've got over that, too. I'd +rather have you, just as you are, than any other man in the world, +grammar or no grammar." + +"Whew! Hold on, old lady! If you talk that way I'll get so puffed up +I'll bust into smoke when you touch me, like a dry toadstool. I--Hello! +what was that? The train whistle, was it?" + +"Yes. Here is the night train in; it is almost mail time, and no dinner +yet. What IS the matter with Azuba? I'll speak to her." + +She was rising to go to the dining-room, but her husband detained her. + +"No, you wait; no, you mustn't," he said, hastily. "Sit right down, +Serena. Speakin' of dinners, this talk of ours is like that everlastin' +long meal that you and I went to at Barney Black's house just after we +landed in Scarford. You remember it took half an hour to get to anything +solid in that dinner, don't you? Yes, well, I'm just gettin' to the meat +of my talk. And I want Gertie to come in on that course. She is on her +way downstairs now; I hear her. Hi! Gertie! come in here, won't you!" + +Gertrude entered the room. + +"Where are you, Daddy?" she asked. + +"Here I am, over here by the window." + +"But why haven't you lighted the lamp? Why are you sitting here in the +dark?" + +Serena answered. "Goodness knows," she replied. "Your father would +insist on it. I think he is going crazy; he has acted that way ever +since lunch." + +The demented one chuckled. + +"You see, Gertie," he explained, "'twas on account of my bashfulness. +Your mother, she wanted to sit along with me and hold hands, so--. Oh, +all right; all right. You can show a glim now, Serena, if you want to. +I'll cover up my blushes." + +The maligned Mrs. Dott announced that she had a good mind to box his +ears. "That's what I should do to a child," she added, "and nobody could +act more childish than you have this afternoon." + +"Second childhood, Serena. Second childhood and dodderin' old age are +creepin' over me fast. There!" as the lamp blazed and the parlor was +illuminated, "now you can see for yourself. Do I dodder much?" + +Even Gertrude was obliged to laugh. + +"Daddy!" she cried; "you silly thing! I believe you ARE getting +childish." + +"Am I? All right, I'm willing to be, at the price. My! Gertie, you +look awfully pretty. Don't she look 'specially pretty to you to-night, +Serena?" + +Serena smiled. "That gown was always becoming," she said. + +"I know it was; that's why I wanted her to put it on. And she's fixed +her hair the way I like, too. My! my! if some folks I know could see you +now, Gertie, they'd.... Ahem! Well, never mind. She looks as if she was +expectin' company and had rigged up for it, doesn't she, Serena?" + +Gertrude paid little attention to this rather strained attempt at a +joke. She merely smiled and turned away. But her mother appeared to +suspect a hidden meaning in the words. She leaned forward and gazed at +her husband. + +"Daniel," she cried, sharply and with increasing excitement; "Daniel +Dott, what are you--" + +The captain waved her to silence. She would have spoken in spite of +it, but his second wave and shake of the head were so emphatic that she +hesitated. Before the moment of hesitation was at an end Captain Dan +himself began to speak. He spoke in a new tone now and more and more +rapidly. + +"Serena, don't interrupt me," he ordered. "Gertie, listen. I'm goin' to +tell you both a story. Once there was a couple of married folks that had +a daughter.... Hush, I tell you! Listen, both of you. I AIN'T crazy. If +ever I talked sense in my life I'm talkin' it now.... This couple, as +I say, had a daughter. This daughter was engaged to be married. The old +folks moved away from the place they had always lived and went somewhere +else. There they both commenced to make fools of themselves. The place +was all right enough, maybe, but they didn't belong in it. The daughter, +she came there and she saw how things were goin' and, says she: 'I'll +fix 'em. I'll cure 'em and save 'em, too, by showin' 'em an example, my +example. I'll--'" + +Gertrude broke in. + +"Daddy," she cried, with a warning glance at her mother, "be careful. +Don't be silly. What is the use--" + +"Hush! Hush and be still! Never mind what she did. All is, she showed +'em and she cured 'em and she saved 'em. But meanwhile her meddlesome +old father had got worried, not understandin' what was goin' on, and he +put his oar in. He wrote for the young chap she was engaged to to come +down and help cure HER. The father meant all right. He--" + +Again the young lady interrupted. + +"Mother," she said, "this is nonsense, the way father is telling it. +I meant to tell you, myself, by and by. I'm sure you have guessed it, +anyway, but--" + +"There's one part she hasn't guessed," shouted Captain Dan; "or that you +haven't guessed either, Gertie, God bless you. _I_ guessed it myself, +this very day, and I guessed it because I had a letter from Labe Ginn +up at Scarford that put me on the right track. Gertie, that letter you +wrote to John WASN'T mailed; the postman DIDN'T get it; John himself +never got it." + +"Daddy! Daddy, what--" + +"Wait! wait! How do I know? you were goin' to say. I know because I +know who did get it. Cousin Percy Hungerford--confound his miserable, +worthless hulk! HE got it; he stole it from my table, where it laid +along with my other letters, when I was out of the room. And--wait! that +isn't all. John DID write you, Gertie. He wrote you two or three times +and he telegraphed you once. And you didn't get either letters or +telegram because that Hapgood butler--Oh, if I had only known this when +I chased him out of the back yard! He'd have gone over the fence instead +of through the gate--he was helpin' our dear cousin and gettin' paid for +it, and HE stole 'em. There! that's the truth and.... My soul! I believe +I've scared the girl to death." + +He sprang forward. Serena, too, although she was almost as much +surprised and agitated as her daughter, hastened to the latter's side. + +But Gertrude, although white and shaken, was far from being "scared to +death." She was very much alive. + +"Are you sure, Daddy?" she cried. "Are you SURE? How do you know?" + +"I know because Labe wrote that Hapgood told him. That's how I know +about the telegram. And I know that's what happened to your letter +because John didn't get it." + +"How do you know he didn't get it? Please, Mother, don't worry about me. +I am all right. How do you know John didn't get my letter, Father?" + +"I know because.... Is that a wagon stoppin' at our gate, Serena?" + +"Never mind if it is. Answer Gertie's question. HOW do you know?" + +Steps sounded on the front porch. Captain Dan strode to the hall and +stood with one hand on the knob of the front door. + +"I know," he declared triumphantly, "because I telephoned John this very +day and he told me so. And now, by the everlastin', he'll tell you so +himself!" + +He flung the door wide. + +"Come in, John!" he shouted, in a roar which was heard even by deaf old +Ebenezer Simpkins, driver of the depot wagon, who was just piloting his +ancient steed from the Dott gate. "Come in, John!" roared Captain Dan. +"There she is, in there, waitin' for you." + +And Mr. Doane came, you may be sure. + +Serena and Daniel waited in the dining-room. They were obliged to wait +for some time. The captain's triumphant exuberance continued to bubble +over. He chuckled and laughed and crowed vaingloriously over his success +in keeping the secret ever since noon. + +"I was bound I wouldn't tell, Serena," he declared. "I was bound I +wouldn't. I told John over the 'phone; I said: 'I won't tell a soul +you're comin', John. We'll give 'em one surprise, won't we.' And, ho! +ho! he didn't believe I could keep it to myself; he said he didn't. But +I did, I did--though I felt all afternoon as if I had a bombshell under +my jacket." + +Serena laughed; she was as pleased as he. "You certainly exploded it +like a bombshell," she declared. "I didn't know at first but that you +really had gone crazy. And poor Gertie! you didn't prepare her at all. +You blurted it out all at once. The words fairly tumbled over each +other. I wonder she didn't faint." + +"She isn't the faintin' kind. Serena, we never can be grateful enough +to Gertie for what she's done for us. And she sacrificed her own +happiness--or thought she did--for you and me and didn't whimper or +complain once." + +"I know, Daniel, I know. And pretty soon now we must give her up to +someone else. That's the way of the world, though. WE'LL have to be +brave then, won't we." + +"So we will. But I'd rather give her to John than any other man on +earth. The thought that it was all off between them and that she was +grievin' over it was about the hardest thing of all." + +"So it was. Well, now we can be completely happy, every one of us." + +Azuba flounced in from the kitchen. "Ain't they come out of that parlor +YET?" she demanded. "I can't keep roast chicken waitin' forever, even +for engaged folks." + +But the "engaged folks" themselves appeared at that moment. As one of +those who, according to Mrs. Dott, were to be completely happy, Mr. +Doane looked his part. Gertrude, too, although her eyes were wet, was +smiling. + +John and the Dotts shook hands. Daniel turned to his daughter. + +"Well, Gertie," he asked, "are you ready to forgive me for what happened +on account of my sendin' that summons to John--that one up in Scarford, +I mean?" + +"I think so, Daddy." + +"I thought maybe you would be, considerin'," with a wink at Mr. Doane, +"the answer you got to my telephone to-day. But, see here, young lady, +I want to ask you somethin' and I expect a straight answer. Can I keep a +secret, or can't I?" + +"You can, Daddy, dear. You kept this one almost seven hours." + +"Eight! eight, by Godfreys! 'Twas a strain, but I kept it." + +"You managed it all beautifully, Daniel," declared Serena. "I am proud +of you." + +"We're all proud of you, Captain Dan," said John. + +The captain smiled happily. + +"Much obliged," he said, "but I ain't the one you ought to be proud +of. When it comes to real managin' I ain't knee-high to the ship's cat +alongside of Gertie there. She's the one who pulled this family through. +No sir-ee! if you've got any time to spare bein' proud of folks, don't +be proud of Cap'n Dan, but of Cap'n Dan's daughter. Sit down, all hands. +Here comes dinner--at last." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Cap'n Dan's Daughter, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 6718.txt or 6718.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/7/1/6718/ + +Produced by Don Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Cap'n Dan's Daughter + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6718] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on January 19, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by Don Lainson. + + + + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + + +by + + +JOSEPH C. LINCOLN + + +1914 + + + + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety Store at Trumet Centre was +open for business. Sam Bartlett, the boy whose duty it was to take +down the shutters, sweep out, dust, and wait upon early-bird +customers, had performed the first three of these tasks and gone +home for breakfast. The reason he had not performed the fourth-- +the waiting upon customers--was simple enough; there had been no +customers to wait upon. The Metropolitan Dry Goods and Variety +Store was open and ready for business--but, unfortunately, there +was no business. + +There should have been. This was August, the season of the year +when, if ever, Trumet shopkeepers should be beaming across their +counters at the city visitor, male or female, and telling him or +her, that "white duck hats are all the go this summer," or "there's +nothin' better than an oilskin coat for sailin' cruises or +picnics." Outing shirts and yachting caps, fancy stationery, post +cards, and chocolates should be changing hands at a great rate and +the showcase, containing the nicked blue plates and cracked +teapots, the battered candlesticks and tarnished pewters, "genuine +antiques," should be opened at frequent intervals for the +inspection of bargain-seeking mothers and their daughters. July +and August are the Cape Cod harvest months; if the single-entry +ledgers of Trumet's business men do not show good-sized profits +during that season they are not likely to do so the rest of the +year. + +Captain Daniel Dott, proprietor of the Metropolitan Store, bending +over his own ledger spread on the little desk by the window at the +rear of his establishment, was realizing this fact, realizing it +with a sinking heart and a sense of hopeless discouragement. The +summer was almost over; September was only three days off; in +another fortnight the hotels would be closed, the boarding houses +would be closing, and Trumet, deserted by its money spending +visitors, would be falling asleep, relapsing into its autumn and +winter hibernation. And the Dott ledger, instead of showing a +profit of a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars, as it had the +first summer after Daniel bought the business, showed but a meager +three hundred and fifty, over and above expenses. + +Through the window the sun was shining brightly. From the road in +front of the store--Trumet's "Main Street"--came the rattle of +wheels and the sound of laughter and conversation in youthful +voices. The sounds drew nearer. Someone shouted "Whoa!" Daniel +Dott, a ray of hope illuminating his soul at the prospect of a +customer, rose hurriedly from his seat by the desk and hastened out +into the shop. + +A big two-horsed vehicle, the "barge" from the Manonquit House, had +stopped before the door. It was filled with a gay crowd, youths +and maidens from the hotel, dressed in spotless flannels and +"blazers," all talking at once, and evidently carefree and happy. +Two of the masculine members of the party descended from the +"barge" and entered the store. Daniel, smiling his sweetest, +stepped forward to meet them. + +"Good mornin', good mornin'," he said. "A fine mornin', ain't it?" + +The greeting was acknowledged by both of the young fellows, and one +of them added that it was a fine morning, indeed. + +"Don't know as I ever saw a finer," observed Daniel. "Off on a +cruise somewhere, I presume likely; hey?" + +"Picnic down at the Point." + +"Well, you've got picnic weather, all right. Yes sir, you have!" + +Comment concerning the weather is the inevitable preliminary to all +commercial transactions in Trumet. Now, preliminaries being over, +Daniel waited hopefully for what was to follow. His hopes were +dashed. + +"Is--is Miss Dott about?" inquired one of the callers. + +"Miss Dott? Oh, Gertie! No, she ain't. She's gone down street +somewheres. Be back pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder." + +"Humph! Well, I'm afraid we can't wait. We hoped she might go +with us on the picnic. We--er--we wanted her very much." + +"That so? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid she couldn't go, even if she +was here. You see, it's her last day at home, and--we--her mother +and I--that is, I don't believe she'd want to leave us to-day." + +"No; no, of course not. Well, tell her we wish she might have +come, but we understand. Yes, yes," in answer to the calls from +the "barge," "we're coming. Well, good by, Captain Dott." + +"Er--good by. Er--er--don't want anything to take along, do you? +A nice box of candy, or--or anything?" + +"No, I think not. We stopped at the Emporium just now, and loaded +up with candy enough to last a week. Good morning." + +"How are you fixed for sun hats and things? I've got a nice line +of hats and--well, good by." + +"Good by." + +The "barge" moved off. Daniel, standing dejectedly in the door, +remembered his manners. + +"Hope you have a nice time," he shouted. Then he turned and moved +disconsolately back to the desk. He might have expected it. It +was thus in nine cases out of ten. The Emporium, Mr. J. Cohen, +proprietor, was his undoing in this instance as in so many others. +The Emporium got the trade and he got the good bys. Mr. Cohen was +not an old resident, as he was; Mr. Cohen's daughter was not +invited to picnics by the summer people; Mrs. Cohen was not head of +the sewing circle and the Chapter of the Ladies of Honor, and +prominent socially, as was Mrs. Dott; but Mr. Cohen bought cheap +and sold cheap, and the Emporium flourished like a green bay tree, +while the Metropolitan Store was rapidly going to seed. Daniel, +looking out through the front window at the blue sea in the +distance, thought of the past, of the days when, as commander and +part owner of the three masted schooner Bluebird, he had been free +and prosperous and happy. Then he considered the future, which was +bluer than the sea, and sighed again. Why had he not been content +to stick to the profession he understood, to remain on the salt +water he loved; instead of retiring from the sea to live on dry +land and squander his small fortune in a business for which he was +entirely unfitted? + +And yet the answer was simple enough. Mrs. Dott--Mrs. Serena Dott, +his wife--was the answer, she and her social aspirations. It was +Serena who had coaxed him into giving up seafaring; who had said +that it was a shame for him to waste his life ordering foremast +hands about when he might be one of the leading citizens in his +native town. It was Serena who had persuaded him to invest the +larger part of his savings in the Metropolitan Store. Serena, who +had insisted that Gertrude, their daughter and only child, should +leave home to attend the fashionable and expensive seminary near +Boston. Serena who--but there! it was all Serena; and had been +ever since they were married. Captain Daniel, on board his +schooner, was a man whose word was law. On shore, he was law +abiding, and his words were few. + +The side door of the store--that leading to the yard separating it +from the Dott homestead--opened, and Azuba Ginn appeared. Azuba +had been the Dott maid of all work for eighteen years, ever since +Gertrude was a baby. She was married, but her husband, Laban Ginn, +was mate on a steam freighter running between New York and almost +anywhere, and his shore leaves were short and infrequent. Theirs +was a curious sort of married life. "We is kind of independent, +Labe and me," said Azuba. "He often says to me--that is, as often +as we're together, which ain't often--he says to me, he says, 'Live +where you want to, Zuby,' he says, 'and if you want to move, move! +When I get ashore I can hunt you up.' We don't write many letters +because time each get t'other's, the news is so plaguey old 'tain't +news at all. You Dotts seem more like home folks to me than +anybody else, so I stick to you. I presume likely I shall till I +die." + +Azuba entered the store in the way in which she did most things, +with a flurry and a slam. Her sleeves were rolled up, she wore an +apron, and one hand dripped suds, demonstrating that it had just +been taken from the dishpan. In the other, wiped more or less dry +on the apron, she held a crumpled envelope. + +"Well!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "If some human bein's don't beat +the Dutch then _I_ don't know, that's all. If the way some folks +go slip-slop, hit or miss, through this world ain't a caution then-- +Tut! tut! tut! don't talk to ME!" + +Captain Dan looked up from the ledger. + +"What?" he asked absently. + +"I say, don't talk to ME!" + +"We--ll," with deliberation, "I guess I shan't, unless you stop +talkin' yourself, and give me a chance. What's the matter now, +Zuba?" + +"Matter! Don't talk to ME! Carelessness is the matter! Slip- +sloppiness is the matter! Here's a man that calls himself a man +and goes mopin' around pretendin' to BE a man, and what does he +do?" + +"I don't know. I'd tell you better, maybe, if I knew who he was." + +"Who he was! I'll tell you who he was--is, I mean. He's Balaam +Hambleton, that's who he is." + +"Humph! Bale Hamilton, hey? Then it's easy enough to say what he +does--nothin', most of the time. Is that letter for me?" + +"Course it's for you! And it's a week old, what's more. One week +ago that letter come in the mail and the postmaster let that--that +Hambleton thing take it, 'cause he said he was goin' right by here +and could leave it just as well as not. And this very mornin' that +freckle-faced boy of his--that George Washin'ton one--what folks +give such names to their young ones for _I_ can't see!--he rung the +front door bell and yanked me right out of the dish water, and he +says his ma found the letter in Balaam's other pants when she was +mendin' 'em, and would I please excuse his forgettin' it 'cause he +had so much on his mind lately. Mind! Land of love! if he had a +thistle top on his mind 'twould smash it flat. Don't talk to me!" + +"I won't," drily; "I WON'T, Zuba, I swear it. Let's see the +letter." + +He bent forward and took the letter from her hand. Then, adjusting +his spectacles, he examined the envelope. It was of the ordinary +business size and was stamped with the Boston postmark, and a date +a week old. Captain Dan looked at the postmark, studied the +address, which was in an unfamiliar handwriting, and then turned +the envelope over. On the flap was printed "Shepley and Farwell, +Attorneys, ----- Devonshire Street." The captain drew a long +breath; he leaned back in his chair and sat staring at the +envelope. + +Azuba wiped the suds from her wet hand and arm upon her apron. +Then she wrapped it and the other arm in said apron and coughed. +The cough was intended to arouse her employer from the trance into +which he had, apparently, fallen. But it was without effect. +Captain Daniel did stop staring at the envelope, but he merely +transferred his gaze to the ink-spattered blotter and the ledger +upon it, and stared at them. + +"Well?" observed Azuba. + +The captain started. "Hey?" he exclaimed, looking up. "Did you +speak?" + +"I said 'Well?'. I suppose that's speakin'?" + +"'Well?' Well what?" + +"Oh, nothin'! I was just wonderin'--" + +"Wonderin' what?" + +"I was wonderin' if that letter was anything important. Ain't you +goin' to open it and see?" + +"Hey? Open it? Oh, yes, yes. Well, I shouldn't wonder if I +opened it some time or other, Zuba. I gen'rally open my letters. +It's a funny habit I have." + +"Humph! Well, all right, then. I didn't know. Course, 'tain't +none of my business what's in other folks's letters. _I_ ain't +nosey, land knows. Nobody can accuse me of--" + +"Nobody can accuse you of anything, Zuba. Not even dish washin' +just now." + +Azuba drew herself up. Outraged dignity and injured pride were +expressed in every line of her figure. "Well!" she exclaimed; +"WELL! if that ain't--if that don't beat all that ever _I_ heard! +Here I leave my work to do folks favors, to fetch and carry for +'em, and this is what I get. Cap'n Dott, I want you to understand +that I ain't dependent on nobody for a job. I don't HAVE to slave +myself to death for nobody. If you ain't satisfied--" + +"There, there, Zuba! I was only jokin'. Don't get mad!" + +"Mad! Who's mad, I'd like to know? It takes more'n that to make +me mad, I'd have you understand." + +"That's good; I'm glad of it. Well, I'm much obliged to you for +bringin' the letter." + +"You're welcome. Land sakes! I don't mind doin' errands, only I +like to have 'em appreciated. And I like jokes well as anybody, +but when you tell me--" + +"Hold on! don't get het up again. Keep cool, Zuba, keep cool! +Think of that dish water; it's gettin' cooler every minute." + +The answer to this was an indignant snort followed by the bang of +the door. Azuba had gone. Captain Daniel looked after her, smiled +faintly, shook his head, and again turned his attention to the +letter in his hand. He did not open it immediately. Instead he +sat regarding it with the same haggard, hopeless expression which +he had worn when he first read the firm's name upon the envelope. +He dreaded, perhaps, as much as he had ever dreaded anything in his +life, to open that envelope. + +He was sure, perfectly sure, what he should find when he did open +it. A letter from the legal representatives of Smith and Denton, +the Boston hat manufacturers and dealers, stating that, unless the +latter's account was paid within the next week, suit for the amount +due would be instituted in the courts. A law suit! a law suit for +the collection of a debt against him, Daniel Dott, the man who had +prided himself upon his honesty! Think of what it would mean! the +disgrace of it! the humiliation, not only for himself but for +Serena, his wife, and Gertrude, his daughter! + +He did not blame Smith and Denton; they had been very kind, very +lenient indeed. The thirty-day credit originally given him had +been extended to sixty and ninety. They had written him many +times, and each time he had written in reply that as soon as +collections were better he should be able to pay in full; that he +had a good deal of money owed him, and as soon as it came in they +should have it. But it did not come in. No wonder, considering +that it was owed by the loafers and ne'er-do-wells of the town and +surrounding country, who, because no one else would trust them, +bestowed their custom upon good-natured, gullible Captain Dan. The +more recent letters from the hat dealers had been sharper and less +kindly. They had ceased to request; they demanded. At last they +had threatened. And now the threat was to be fulfilled. + +The captain laid the envelope down upon the open ledger, rose, and, +going to the front of the store, carefully closed the door. Then, +going to the door communicating with the other half of the store, +he made sure that no one was in the adjoining room. He had a vague +feeling that all the eyes in Trumet were regarding him with +suspicion, and he wished to shut out their accusing gaze. He +wanted to be alone when he read that letter. He had half a mind to +take it to the cellar and open it there. + +His fingers shook as he tore the end from the envelope. They shook +still more as he drew forth the enclosure, a typewritten sheet, and +held it to the light. He read it through to the end. Then, with a +loud exclamation, almost a shout, he rushed to the side door, flung +it open and darted across the yard, the letter fluttering from his +fingers like a flag. The store was left unguarded, but he forgot +that. + +He stumbled up the steps into the kitchen. Azuba, a saucer in one +hand and the dish towel in the other, was, to say the least, +startled. As she expressed it afterward, "the everlastin' soul was +pretty nigh scart out of her." The saucer flew through the air and +lit upon the top of the cookstove. + +"What--what--what--" stammered Azuba. "Oh, my land! WHAT is it?" + +"Where's Serena?" demanded Captain Daniel, paying no attention to +the saucer, except to tread upon the fragments. + +"Hey? Oh, what IS it? Is the store afire?" + +"No, no! Where's Serena?" + +"She--she--what--" + +"Where's SERENA, I ask you?" + +"In her room, I cal'late. For mercy sakes, what--" + +But the captain did not answer. Through dining-room, sitting-room, +and parlor he galloped, and up the front stairs to the bedroom +occupied by himself and wife. Mrs. Dott was standing before the +mirror, red-faced and panting, both arms behind her and her fingers +busily engaged. Her husband's breath was almost gone by the time +he reached the foot of the stairs; consequently his entrance was a +trifle less noisy and startling than his sky-rocket flight through +the kitchen. It is doubtful if his wife would have noticed even if +it had been. She caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, and heaved +a sigh of relief. + +"Oh, it's you, is it!" she panted. "My, I'm glad! For mercy sakes +fasten those last three hooks; I'm almost distracted with 'em." + +But the hooks remained unfastened for the time. Captain Dan threw +himself into a chair and waved the letter. + +"Serena," he cried, puffing like a stranded porpoise, "what--WHAT +do you suppose has happened? Aunt Laviny is dead." + +Serena turned. "Dead!" she repeated. "Your Aunt Lavinia Dott? +The rich one?" + +"Yes, sir; she's gone. Died in Italy a fortnight ago. Naples, I +think 'twas--or some such outlandish place; you know she's done +nothin' but cruise around Europe ever since Uncle Jim died. The +letter says she was taken sick on a Friday, and died Sunday, so +'twas pretty sudden. I--" + +But Mrs. Dott interrupted. "What else does it say?" she asked +excitedly. "What else does that letter say? Who is if from?" + +"It's from her lawyers up to Boston. What made you think it said +anything else?" + +"Because I'm not blind and I can see your face, Daniel Dott. What +else does it say? Tell me! Has she--did she--?" + +Captain Dan nodded solemnly. "She didn't forget us," he said. +"She didn't forget us, Serena. The letter says her will gives us +that solid silver teapot and sugar-bowl that was presented to Uncle +Jim by the Ship Chandlers' Society, when he was president of it. +She willed that to us. She knew I always admired that tea-pot +and--" + +His wife interrupted once more. + +"Tea-pot!" she repeated strongly. "Tea-pot! What are you talking +about? Do you mean to say that all she left us was a TEA-POT? If +you do I--" + +"No, no, Serena. Hush! She's left us three thousand dollars +besides. Think of it! Three thousand dollars--just now!" + +His voice shook as he said it. He spoke as if three thousand +dollars was an unheard-of sum, a fortune. Mrs. Dott had no such +illusion. She sat down upon the edge of the bed. + +"Three thousand dollars!" she exclaimed. "Is that all? Three +thousand dollars!" + +"All! My soul, Serena! Why, ONE thousand dollars just now is +like--" + +"Hush! Do be still! Three thousand dollars! And she worth a +hundred thousand, if she was worth a cent. A lone woman, without a +chick or a child or a relation except you, and that precious young +swell of a cousin of hers she thought so much of. I suppose he +gets the rest of it. Oh, how can anybody be so stingy!" + +"Sh-sh, sh-h, Serena. Don't speak so of the dead. Why, we ought +to be mournin' for her, really, instead of rejoicing over what she +left us. It ain't right to talk so. I'm ashamed of myself--or I +ought to be. But, you see, I thought sure the letter was from +those hat folks's lawyers, sayin' they'd started suit. When I +found it wasn't, I was so glad I forgot everything else. Ah hum!-- +poor Aunt Laviny!" + +He sighed. His wife shook her head. + +"Daniel," she said, "I--I declare I try not to lose patience with +you, but it's awful hard work. Mourning! Mourn for her! What did +she ever do to make you sorry she was gone? Did she ever come near +us when she was alive? No, indeed, she didn't. Did she ever offer +to give you, or even lend you, a cent? I guess not. And she knew +you needed it, for I wrote her." + +"You DID? Serena!" + +"Yes, I did. Why shouldn't I? I wrote her six months ago, telling +her how bad your business was, and that Gertie was at school, and +we were trying to give her a good education, and how much money it +took and--oh, everything. When your Uncle Jim's business was bad, +in the hard times back in '73, who was it that helped him out and +saved him from bankruptcy? Why, his brother--your own father. And +he never got a cent of it back. I reminded her of that, too." + +Daniel sprang out of his chair. + +"You did!" he cried again. "Serena, how could you? You knew how +Father felt about that money. You knew how I felt. And yet, you +did that!" + +"I did. Somebody in this family must be practical and worldly- +minded, and I seem to be the one. YOU wouldn't ask her for a cent. +You wouldn't ask anybody for money, even if they owed it a thousand +years. You sell everybody anything they want from the store; and +trust them for it. You know you do. You sold that good-for- +nothing Lem Brackett a whole suit of clothes only last week, and he +owes you a big bill and has owed it for a year." + +Her husband looked troubled. "Well," he answered, slowly, "I +suppose likely I didn't do right there. But those Bracketts are +poor, and there's a big family of 'em, and the fall's comin' on, +and--and all. So--" + +"So you thought it was your duty to help support them, I suppose. +Oh, Daniel, Daniel, I don't know what to do with you sometimes." + +Captain Dan looked very grave. + +"I guess you're right, Serena," he admitted. "I ain't much good, +I'm afraid." + +Mrs. Dott's expression changed. She rose, walked over, and kissed +him. "You're too good, that's the main trouble with you," she +said. "Well, I won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three +thousand anyway--and the tea-pot." + +"It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the +sugar-bowl's almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena." + +"Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and +think of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her +fortune. No wonder she didn't leave him the tea-pot; precious +little tea he drinks, if stories we hear are true. Well, there's +one good thing about it--Gertie can keep on with her college. This +is her last year." + +"Yes; I thought of that. I thought of a million things when I was +racin' across the yard with this letter. Say, Serena, you've never +told Gertie anything about how trade was or how hard-up we've +been?" + +"Of course not." + +"No, I knew you wouldn't. She's such a conscientious girl; if she +thought we couldn't afford it she wouldn't think of keepin' on with +that college, and I've set my heart on her havin' the best start in +life we can give her." + +"I know. Ah hum! I wish she could have the start some people's +daughters have. Mrs. Black was with me at the lodge room +yesterday--we are decorating for the men's evening to-morrow night, +you know--and Mrs. Black has been helping me; she's awfully kind +that way. You'd think she belonged here in Trumet, instead of +being rich and living in Scarford and being way up in society +there. She and her husband are just like common folks." + +"Humph! Barney Black IS common folks. He was born right here in +Trumet and his family was common as wharf rats. HE needn't put on +airs with me." + +"He doesn't. And yet, if he was like some people, he would. So +successful in his big factory, and his wife way up in the best +circles of Scarford; she's head of the Ladies of Honor there as I +am here, and means to get a national office in the order; she told +me so. But there! that reminds me that I was going to meet her at +the lodge room at ten, and it's half-past nine now. Do help me +with these hooks. If I wasn't so fleshy I could do them myself, +but I almost died hooking the others." + +"Why didn't you call Zuba? She'd have hooked 'em for you." + +"Azuba! Heavens and earth! She's worse than nobody; her fingers +are all thumbs. Besides, she would talk me deaf, dumb and blind. +She doesn't know her place at all; thinks she is one of the family, +I suppose." + +"Well, she is, pretty nigh. Been here long enough." + +"I don't care. She isn't one of the family; she's a servant, or +ought to be. Oh dear! when I hear Annette Black telling about her +four servants and all the rest it makes me so jealous, sometimes." + +"Don't make ME jealous. I'd rather have you and Gertie and this +place than all Barney Black owns--and that means his wife, too." + +"Daniel, I keep telling you not to call Mr. Black 'Barney.' He is +B. Phelps Black now. Mrs. Black always calls him 'Phelps.' So +does everybody in Scarford, so she says." + +"Want to know! He was Barney Black when he lived here regular. +Havin' a summer cottage here and a real house in Scarford must make +a lot of difference. By the way, speakin' of Scarford, that's +where Aunt Laviny used to live afore she went abroad. She owned a +big house there." + +"Why, so she did! I wonder what will become of it. I suppose that +cousin will get it, along with the rest. Oh dear! suppose--just +suppose there wasn't any cousin. Suppose you and I and Gertie had +that house and the money. Wouldn't it be splendid? WE could be in +society then." + +"Humph! I'd look pretty in society, wouldn't I?" + +"Of course you would. You'd look as pretty as Barney--B. Phelps +Black, wouldn't you? And I--Oh, HOW I should love it! Trumet is +so out of date. A real intelligent, ambitious woman has no chance +in Trumet." + +The captain shook his head. He recognized the last sentence as a +quotation from the works of Mrs. Annette Black, self-confessed +leader in society in the flourishing manufacturing city of +Scarford, and summer resident and condescending patroness of +Trumet. + +"Well," he observed; "we've got more chance, even in Trumet, than +we've had for the last year, thanks to Aunt Laviny's three +thousand. It gives us a breathin' spell, anyhow. If only trade in +the store would pick up, I--Hey! Good heavens to Betsy! I forgot +the store altogether. Sam hadn't got back from breakfast and I +left the store all alone. I must be crazy!" + +He bolted from the room and down the stairs, the legacy forgotten +for the moment, and in his mind pictures of rifled showcases and +youthful Trumet regaling itself with chocolates at his expense. +Azuba shrieked another question as her employer once more rushed +through the kitchen, but again her question was unanswered. She +hurried to the window and watched him running across the yard. + +"Well!" she exclaimed, in alarmed soliloquy. "WELL, the next time +I fetch that man a letter I'll fetch the doctor along with it. Has +the world turned upside down, or what is the matter?" + +She might have made a worse guess. The Dott world was turning +upside down; this was the beginning of the revolution. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Captain Dan's fears concerning the safety of his showcases were +groundless. Even as he sprang up the steps to the side door of his +place of business, he heard familiar voices in the store. He +recognized the voices, and, halting momentarily to wipe his +forehead with his handkerchief and to regain some portion of his +composure and his breath, he walked in. + +Gertrude, his daughter, was seated in his chair by the desk, and +John Doane was leaning upon the desk, talking with her. In the +front of the store, Sam Bartlett, the boy, who had evidently +returned from breakfast, was doing nothing in particular, and doing +it with his usual air of enjoyment. It was only when required to +work that Sam was unhappy. + +Gertrude looked up as her father entered; prior to that she had +been looking at the blotter on the desk. John Doane, who had been +looking at Gertrude, also changed the direction of his gaze. +Captain Dan struggled with the breath and the composure. + +"Why, Dad!" exclaimed Gertrude. "What is it?" + +"What's the matter, Cap'n Dott?" asked Mr. Doane. + +Daniel did his best to appear calm; it was a poor best. At fifty- +two one cannot run impromptu hurdle races against time, and show no +effects. + +"Hey?" he panted. "Matter? Nothin's the matter. I left the store +alone for a minute and I was in a kind of hurry to get back to it, +that's all." + +The explanation was not entirely satisfactory. Gertrude looked +more puzzled than ever. + +"A minute," she repeated. "Left it a minute! Why, John and I have +been here fifteen minutes, and Sam was here when we came." + +The captain looked at his watch. "Well, maybe 'twas a little +more'n a minute," he admitted. + +Master Bartlett sauntered up to take part in the conversation. + +"I got here twenty minutes ago," he observed, grinning, "and you +wasn't here then, Cap'n Dan'l. I was wonderin' what had become of +ye." + +Daniel seized the opportunity to change the subject. + +"Anybody been in since you came?" he asked, addressing Sam. + +"No, nobody special. Abel Calvin was in to see if you wanted to +buy some beach plums for puttin' up. He said he had about a bushel +of first-rate ones, just picked." + +"Beach plums! What in time would I want of beach plums? I don't +put up preserves, do I? Why didn't he go to the house?" + +"I asked him that, myself, and he said 'twa'n't no use." + +"No use! What did he mean by that?" + +"Well, he said--he said--" Sam seemed suddenly to realize that he +was getting into deep water; "he said--he said somethin' or other; +I guess I've forgot what 'twas." + +"I guess you ain't. WHAT did he say?" + +"Well, he said--he said Serena--Mrs. Dott, I mean--was probably +gallivantin' down to the lodge room by this time. Said 'twa'n't no +use tryin' to get her to attend to common things or common folks +nowadays; she was too busy tryin' to keep up with Annette Black." + +This literal quotation from the frank Mr. Calvin caused a +sensation. Captain Dan struggled to find words. His daughter laid +a hand on his sleeve. + +"Never mind, Dad," she said, soothingly. "You know what Abel +Calvin is; you don't mind what he says. Sam, you shouldn't repeat +such nonsense. Run away now and attend to your work. I'm sure +there's enough for you to do." + +"You--you go and clean up the cellar," ordered the irate captain. +Sam departed cellarward, muttering that it wasn't his fault; HE +hadn't said nothin'. Gertrude spoke again. + +"Don't mind that, Dad," she urged. "Why, how warm you are, and how +excited you look. What is it? You haven't spoken a word to John." + +Her father shook his head. "Mornin', John," he said. "I beg your +pardon. I ain't responsible to-day, I shouldn't wonder. I--I've +had some news that's drivin' everything else out of my mind." + +"News? Why, Dad! what do you mean? Bad news?" + +"No, no! Good as ever was, and. . . . Humph! no, I don't mean +that. It is bad news, of course. Your Great-aunt Laviny's dead, +Gertie." + +He told of the lawyer's letter, omitting for the present the news +of the legacy. Gertrude was interested, but not greatly shocked or +grieved. She had met her great-aunt but once during her lifetime, +and her memory of the deceased was of a stately female, whose +earrings and brooches and rings sparkled as if she was on fire in +several places; who sat bolt upright at the further end of a hotel +room in Boston, and ordered Captain Dan not to bring "that child" +any nearer until its hands were washed. As she had been the child +and had distinctly disagreeable recollections of the said hands +having been washed three times before admittance to the presence, +the memory was not too pleasant. She said she was sorry to hear +that Aunt Lavinia was no more, and asked when it happened. Her +father told what he knew of the circumstances attending the +bereavement, which was not much. + +"She's gone, anyhow," he said. "It's liable to happen to any of +us, bein' cut off that way. We ought to be prepared, I suppose." + +"I suppose so. But, Daddy, Aunt Lavinia wasn't cut off exactly, +was she? She was your aunt and she must have been quite old." + +"Hey? Why, let's see. She was your grandpa's brother's wife, and +he--Uncle Jim, I mean--was about four years older than Father. She +was three years younger'n he was when he married her. Let's see +again. Father--that's your grandpa, Gertie--was sixty-five when he +died and . . . Humph! No, Aunt Laviny was eighty-eight, or +thereabouts. She wasn't exactly cut off, was she, come to think of +it?" + +Gertrude's brown eyes twinkled. "Not exactly--no," she said, +gravely. "Well, Daddy, I'm sure I am sorry she has gone, but, +considering that she has never deigned to visit us or have us visit +her, or even to write you a letter for the past two years, I don't +think we should be expected to mourn greatly. And," glancing at +him, "I don't understand just what you meant by saying first that +the news was good, and then that it was bad. There is something +else, isn't there?" + +Her father smiled, in an embarrassed way. "Well, ye--es," he +admitted, "there is somethin' else, but--but I don't know as I +didn't do wrong to feel so good over it. I--I guess I'll tell you +by and by, if you don't mind. Maybe then I won't feel--act, I +mean--so tickled. It don't seem right that I should be. Let me +get sort of used to it first. I'll tell you pretty soon." + +His daughter laughed, softly. "I know you will, Dad," she said. +"You couldn't keep a secret in that dear old head of yours if you +tried. Not from me, anyway; could you, dear?" + +"I guess not," regarding her fondly. "Anyhow, I shan't try to keep +this one. Well, this time to-morrow you'll be back at college +again, in among all those Greek and Latin folks. Wonder she'll +condescend to come and talk plain United States to us Cape Codders, +ain't it, John." + +John Doane admitted that it was a wonder. He seemed to regard Miss +Dott as a very wonderful young person altogether. Gertrude glanced +up at him, then at her father, and then at the blotter on the desk. +She absently played with the pages of the ledger. + +"Dad," she said, suddenly, "you are not the only one who has a +secret." + +The captain turned and looked at her. Her head was bent over the +ledger and he could see but the top of a very becoming hat, a stray +lock of wavy brown hair, and the curve of a very pretty cheek. The +cheek--what he could see of it--was crimson. He looked up at Mr. +Doane. That young man's face was crimson also. + +"Oh!" said Captain Daniel; and added, "I want to know!" + +"Yes, you're not the only one. We--I--there is another secret. +Daddy, dear, John wants to talk with you." + +The captain looked at Mr. Doane, then at the hat and the face +beneath it. + +"Oh!" he said, again. + +"Yes. I--I--" She rose and, putting her arms about her father's +neck, kissed him. "I will be back before long, dear," she +whispered, and hurried out. Mr. Doane cleared his throat. Captain +Dan waited. + +"Well, sir," began the young man, and stopped. The captain +continued to wait. + +"Well, sir," began Mr. Doane, again, "I--I--" For one who, as +Gertrude had declared, wished to talk, he seemed to be finding the +operation difficult. "I--Well, sir, the fact is, I have something +to say to you." + +Captain Dan, who was looking very grave, observed that he "wanted +to know." John Doane cleared his throat once more, and took a +fresh start. + +"Yes, sir," he said, "I have something to say to you--er--something +that--that may surprise you." + +A faint smile disturbed the gravity of the captain's face. + +"May surprise me, hey?" he repeated. "Is that so?" + +"Yes. You see, I--Gertie and I--have--are--" + +Daniel looked up. + +"Hard navigatin', ain't it, John?" he inquired, whimsically. +"Maybe I could help you over the shoals. You and Gertie think +you'd like to get married sometime or other, I presume likely. +Is that what you're tryin' to tell me?" + +There was no doubt of it. The young man's face expressed several +emotions, relief that the great secret was known, and surprise that +anyone should have guessed it. + +"Why, yes, sir," he admitted, "that is it. Gertie and I have known +each other for years, ever since we were children, in fact; and, +you see--you see--" he paused once more, began again, and then +broke out impatiently with, "I'm making an awful mess of this. +I don't know why." + +Captain Dan's smile broadened. + +"I made just as bad a one myself, once on a time," he observed. +"Just as bad, or worse--and _I_ didn't know why either. There, +John, you sit down. Come to anchor alongside here, and let's talk +this thing over in comfort." + +Mr. Doane "came to anchor" on an empty packing case beside the +desk. As he was tall and big, and the box was low and small, the +"comfort" was doubtful. However, neither of the pair noticed this +at the time. + +"So you think you want Gertie, do you, John?" said the captain. + +"I know it," was the emphatic answer. + +"So. And she thinks she wants you?" + +"She says so." + +"Humph!" with a sidelong glance. "Think she means it?" + +"I'm trying to believe she does." + +The tone in which this was uttered caused Captain Dan to chuckle. +"'Tis strange, I'll give in," he remarked, drily. "No accountin' +for taste, is there--Well," his gravity returning, "I suppose +likely you realize that her mother and I think consider'ble of +her." + +"I realize that thoroughly." + +"You don't realize it as much as you will some day, perhaps. Yes, +we think Gertie's about right. She's a smart girl and, what's +more, she's a good girl, and she's all the child we've got. Of +course we've realized that she was growin' up and that--Oh, good +mornin', Alphy. Fine weather, ain't it. Lookin' for somethin', +was you?" + +He hurried out into the store to sell Mrs. Theophilus Berry, known +locally as "Alphy Ann," a box of writing paper and a penholder. +The transaction completed, he returned to his chair. John Doane, +who had recovered, in a measure, from his embarrassment, was ready +for him. + +"Cap'n Dott," said the young man, "I know how you feel, I think. I +know what Gertie is to you and how anxious you and her mother must +be concerning her future. If I did not feel certain--practically +certain--that I could give her a good home and all that goes with +it, I should not have presumed to speak to her, or to you, +concerning marriage. My business prospects are good, or I think +they are. I--" + +The captain held up his hand. "Er--er--John," he said, uneasily, +"maybe you'd better tell about that part of it when Serena's +around. She's the practical one of us two, I guess, far's money's +concerned, anyway. I used to think I was pretty practical when I +was on salt water, but--but lately I ain't so sure. I'm afraid--" + +He stopped, began to speak again, and then relapsed into silence, +seeming to forget his companion altogether. The latter reminded +him by saying: + +"I shall be glad to tell Mrs. Dott everything, of course. I have +been with the firm now employing me for eight years, ever since I +left high school. They seem to like me. I have been steadily +advanced, my salary is a fairly good one, and in another year I +have the promise of a partnership. After that my progress will +depend upon myself." + +He went on, in a manly, straightforward manner, to speak of his +hopes and ambitions. Daniel listened, but the most of what he +heard was incomprehensible. Increased output and decreased +manufacturing costs were Greek to him. When the young man paused, +he brought the conversation back to what, in his mind, was the +essential. + +"And you're certain sure that you two care enough for each other?" +he asked. "Not just care, but care enough?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, I guess I ain't got much to say. There's one thing, +though. Gertie's young. She ain't finished her schoolin' yet, +and--" + +"And you think she should. So do I. She wishes to do it, herself, +and I should be the last to prevent her, even if I could. We have +agreed that she shall have the final year at college and then come +back to you. After that--well, after that, the time of our +marriage can be settled. Gertie and I are willing to wait; we +expect to. In a few years I shall have a little more money, I +hope, and be more sure of success in life. I may never be a rich +man, but Gertie's tastes and mine are modest. She does not care +for society--" + +The captain interrupted. "That's so," he said, hastily, "she +don't. She don't care for 'em at all. Her mother has the greatest +work to get her to go to lodge meetin's. No, she don't care for +societies any more'n I do. Well, John, I--I--it'll come pretty +hard to give her up to anybody. Wait till you have a daughter of +your own and you'll know how hard. But, if I've got to give her +up, I'd rather give her to you than anybody I know. You're a +Trumet boy and I've known you all my life, and so's Gertie, for +that matter. All I can say is, God bless you and--and take good +care of my girl, that's all." + +He extended his hand and John seized it. Then the captain coughed, +blew his nose with vigor, and, reaching into his pocket, produced +two battered cigars. + +"Smoke up, John," he said. + +At dinner, a meal at which Mrs. Dott, still busy with the lodge +room decorations, was not present, Gertrude and her father talked +it over. + +"It comes kind of hard, Gertie," he admitted, "but, Lord love you, +there's a heap of hard things in this world. John's a good fellow +and--and, well, we ain't goin' to lose you just yet, anyhow." + +Gertrude rose and, coming around the table, put her arms about his +neck. + +"Indeed you're not, dear," she said. "If I supposed my marriage +meant giving you up, I shouldn't think of it." + +"Want to know! Wouldn't think of John, either, I suppose, hey?" + +"Well, I--I might think of him a little, just a tiny little bit." + +"I shouldn't wonder. That's all right. You can't get rid of me so +easy. After you two are all settled in your fine new house, I'll +be comin' around to disgrace you, puttin' my boots on the furniture +and--" + +"Dad!" + +"Won't I? Well, maybe I won't. I cal'late by that time I'll be +broke to harness. Your mother's gettin' in with the swells so, +lately, Barney Black's wife and the rest, that I'll have to mind my +manners. There! let's go into the sittin'-room a few minutes and +give Zuba a chance to clear off. Sam's tendin' store and his +dinner can wait a spell; judgin' by the time he took for breakfast +he hadn't ought to be hungry for the next week." + +In the sitting-room they spoke of many things, of Gertrude's +departure for school--she was leaving on the three o'clock train-- +of the engagement, of course, and of the three thousand dollar +windfall from Aunt Lavinia. The captain had told that bit of news +when they sat down to dinner. + +"What is that cousin's name?" asked Gertrude. "The one who +inherits all of your aunt's fortune?" + +"Let's see. His name? I ought to know it well's I know my own. +It's--it's Starvation, or somethin' like that. Somethin' about +bein' hungry, anyhow. Hungerford, Percy Hungerford, that's it!" + +Gertrude looked surprised. + +"Not Percy Hungerford--of Scarford!" she cried. "What sort of a +man is he? What does he look like?" + +"Looked like a picked chicken, last time I saw him. Kind of a +spindlin' little critter, with sandy complexion and hair, but +dressed--my soul! there wasn't any picked chicken look about his +clothes." + +Gertrude nodded. "I believe it is the same one," she said. "Yes, +I am sure of it. He came out to the college at one of our +commencements. One of the girls invited him. He danced with me-- +once. They said he was very wealthy." + +"Humph! All the wealth he had come from Aunt Laviny, far's I ever +heard. He was her pet and the only thing she ever spent money on, +except herself. And you met him! Well, this is a small world. +Like him, did you?" + +"No," said Gertrude, and changed the subject. + +Before her father departed for the store and she went to her room +to finish packing, she sat upon the arm of his chair and, bending +down, said: + +"Daddy, if you hadn't got this money, this three thousand dollars, +do you know what I had very nearly made up my mind to do?" + +"No, I'm sure I don't." + +"I had almost decided not to stay at college, but to come back here +and live with you and mother." + +"For the land sakes! Why?" + +"Because I was sure you needed me. You never told me, of course-- +being you, you wouldn't--but I was sure that you were troubled +about--about things." + +"Me? Troubled? What put that into your head? I'm the most gay, +happy-go-lucky fellow in the world. I don't get troubled enough. +Ask your mother if that ain't so." + +"I shall not ask anybody but you. Tell me truly: Weren't you +troubled; about the business, and the store? Truly, now." + +Captain Dan rubbed his chin. He wished very much to deny the +allegation, or at least to dodge the truth. But he was a poor +prevaricator at any time, and his daughter was looking him straight +in the eye. + +"Well," he faltered, "I--I--How in time did you guess that? I-- +Humph! why, yes, I was a little mite upset. You see, trade ain't +been first rate this summer, and collections were awful slow. I +hate to drive folks, especially when I know they're hard up. I was +a little worried, but it's all right now. Aunt Laviny's three +thousand fixed that all right. It'll carry me along like a full +sail breeze. You go back to school, like a sensible girl, and +don't you worry a mite. It's all right now, Gertie." + +"Honest?" + +"Honest to Betsy!" with an emphatic nod. + +He meant it; he really thought it was all right. The fact that he +owed a thousand already and that the remaining two would almost +certainly be swept into the capacious maw of the Metropolitan Store +did not occur to him then. Daniel Dott was a failure as a business +man but as an optimist he was a huge success. + +"Then you're sure you can afford to have me go back for my last +year?" + +"Course I am. I couldn't afford to do anything else." + +His absolute certainty stifled his daughter's doubts for the time, +but she asked another question. + +"And there's nothing that troubles you at all?" + +"No-o." The captain's answer was not quite as emphatic this time. +Gertrude smiled, and patted his shoulder. + +"Daddy, dear," she said, "you're as transparent as a window pane, +aren't you. Well, don't worry any more. That will be all right +pretty soon, too. Mrs. Black doesn't stay in Trumet all the year." + +Her father gasped. That this child of his, whom he had always +regarded as a child, should dive into the recesses of his soul and +drag to light its most secret misgivings was amazing. + +"What on earth?" he demanded. + +"You know what I mean. I'm not blind. I can see. Mother is just +a little carried away. She has heard so much about big houses and +servants and society and woman's opportunity, and all the rest of +it, that she has been swept off her feet. But it won't last, I'm +sure. She isn't really discontented; she only thinks she is." + +Daniel sighed. "I know," he said. "Fact is, I ain't up-to-date +enough, myself, that's what's the matter. She's a mighty able, +ambitious woman, your mother is, Gertie, and I don't wonder she +gets to thinkin', sometimes, that Trumet is a kind of one-horse +town. I like it; I AM one-horse, I suppose. But she ain't, +and she ain't satisfied to be satisfied, like me. It's a good +thing she ain't, I guess. Somebody's got to live up to the +responsibilities of life, and--" + +Gertrude laughed. "She said that, didn't she," she interrupted. + +"Why, yes, she did. She says it every once in a while. How did +you know?" + +"I guessed. And I imagine Mrs. Phelps Black said it first. But +there, Dad, be patient and. . . . Sh-sh! here's Mother now." + +It was Serena, sure enough, breathless from hurrying, her hat a bit +on one side, one glove off and the other on, but full of energy and +impatience. + +"I suppose you've had dinner," she exclaimed. "Well, all right, I +don't care. I couldn't help being late, there was so much to do at +the lodge rooms and nobody to do it right, except me. If Mrs. +Black hadn't helped and superintended and--and everything, I don't +know where we should have been. And those visiting delegates from +Boston coming! I must get a bite and hurry back. Where's Azuba? +Azuba!" + +She was rushing in the direction of the kitchen, but her husband +detained her. + +"Hold on, Serena," he shouted. "Goin' back! What do you mean? +You ain't goin' back to that lodge this afternoon, are you? Why, +Gertie's goin' on the up-train!" + +"I know, but I must go back, Daniel. Goodness knows what would +happen if I didn't. If you had seen some of the decorations those +other women wanted to put up, you would think it was necessary for +someone with respectable taste to be there. Why, Sophronia Smalley +actually would have draped the presiding officer's desk--MY desk-- +with a blue flag with a white whale on it, if I hadn't been there +to stop her." + +"Well, I--Why, Serena, you know Sophrony thinks a sight of that +flag. Simeon Smalley, her father, was in the whalin' trade for +years, and that flag was his private signal. She always has that +flag up somewhere." + +"Well, she shan't have it on my desk. Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean-- +said it was ridiculous. If such a thing happened in Scarford the +audience would have hysterics. Would you want your wife to make a +spectacle of herself, before those Boston delegates, standing +behind a white whale, and a dirty white at that! Gertie, I shall +be at the depot to say good by, but I must be at that lodge room +first. I MUST. You understand, don't you?" + +Gertrude said she understood perfectly and her mother hurried to +the kitchen, where she ate lukewarm fried fish and apple pie, while +Azuba washed the dishes and prophesied darkly concerning +"dyspepsy." Gertrude went to her room to put the last few things +in her trunks, and Captain Dan returned to the store, where he +found the Bartlett boy pacifying a gnawing appetite with chocolate +creams abstracted from stock. + +At a quarter to three the captain was at the railway station, where +he was joined by John Doane, who, his vacation over, was returning +to Boston. After a five-minute wait Serena and Gertrude appeared. +The latter had called at the lodge room for her mother and, during +the walk to the station, had broken the news of her engagement. + +Serena was not surprised, of course; she, like everyone else, had +expected it, and she liked John. But she was a good deal agitated +and even the portentous business of the lodge meeting was driven +from her mind. She and Mr. Doane shook hands, but the young man +felt very much like a thief, and a particularly mean sort of thief, +as young men are likely to feel under such circumstances. +Farewells were harder to say than usual, although Gertrude tried +her best to seem cheerful, and the captain swallowed the lump in +his throat and smiled and joked in a ghastly fashion all through +the ceremony. Just before the train started, his daughter led him +to one side and whispered: + +"Now, Daddy, remember--you are not to worry. And, if you need me +at any time, you will tell me so, and I shall surely come. You'll +promise, won't you? And you will write at least once a week?" + +The captain made both promises. They kissed, Serena and Gertrude +exchanged hugs, and John Doane solemnly shook hands once more. +Then the train moved away from the station. + +Daniel and Serena walked homeward, Mrs. Dott wiping her eyes with a +damp handkerchief, and her husband very grave and silent. As they +passed the lodge building the lady said: + +"I ought to go right back in there again. I ought to, but I just +can't, not now. I--I want to be with you, Daniel, a time like +this." + +"Goodness knows I want you, Serena; but--but for mercy sakes don't +call it a 'time like this.' Sounds as if we'd just come from the +cemetery instead of the depot. We ain't been to a funeral; we're +only lookin' for'ard to a weddin'." + +In spite of this philosophical declaration the remainder of that +afternoon was rather funereal for Captain Dan. He moped about the +store, waiting half-heartedly upon the few customers who happened +in, and the ring of the supper bell was welcome, as it promised +some company other than his thoughts. + +But the promise was not fulfilled. He ate his supper alone. Mrs. +Dott had gone back to the lodge room, so Azuba said. + +"I don't think she was intendin' to," remarked the latter, +confidentially. "She said she guessed she'd 'lay down a spell'; +said she was 'kind of tired.' But afore she got upstairs scarcely, +along comes that Black automobile with that Irish 'shover man'-- +that's what they call 'em, ain't it?--drivin' it and her in the +back seat, and he gets out and comes and rings the front door bell, +and when I answer it--had my hands all plastered up with dough, I +did, for I was makin' pie, and it took me the longest time to get +'em clean--when I answered it he said that she said she wanted to +see her and--" + +"Here! hold on, Zuba!" interrupted her bewildered employer. "'Vast +heavin' a second, will you? You ought to run that yarn of yours +through a sieve and strain some of the 'hes' and 'shes' out of it. +'He said that she said she wanted to see her.' Who wanted to see +what?" + +"Why, Barney Black's wife. She wanted to see Serena. So in she +came, all rigged up in her best clothes and--" + +"How do you know they were her best ones?" + +"Hey? Well, they would have been MY best ones, if _I_ owned 'em, I +tell you that. I never see such clothes as that woman has! All +trimmin' and flounces and didos, and--" + +"Hi! steady there, Zuba. Keep your eye on the compass. You're +gettin' off the course again. Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--came to +see Mrs. Dott; that's plain sailin' so far. What happened after +that?" + +"Why, they went off together in the automobile and Serena said to +tell you she had to go to lodge, and she'd be back when she could +and not to wait supper. That's all I know." + +The captain finished his lonely meal and returned to the store, +where he found Abel Blount's wife and their twin boys, aged eight, +waiting to negotiate for rubber boots. The boots were for the +boys, but Mrs. Blount did the buying and it was a long and talky +process. At last, however, the youngsters were fitted and clumped +proudly away, bearing their leather shoes in their hands. It was a +dry evening, but to separate the twins from those rubber boots +would have been next door to an impossibility. + +"There!" exclaimed the lady, as she bade the captain good night, +"that's done; that much is settled anyhow. I'm thankful I ain't +got four twins, instead of two, Cap'n Dott." + +Daniel, entering the sale in the ledger, was thankful also. If the +lengthy Blount account had been settled he would have been still +more so. + +At nine o'clock he and Sam locked up, extinguished the lamps, and +closed the Metropolitan Store for the night. Crossing the yard to +the house, which he entered by the front door, he found Serena in +the sitting-room. She was reclining upon the couch. She was +tired, and out of sorts. + +"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, acknowledging her husband's greeting +with a nod, "I am just about worn out, Daniel." + +"I should think you would be, Serena. You've been makin' tracks +between here and that lodge room all to-day and yesterday, too. I +should think you'd be about dead." + +"It isn't that. I don't mind the work. It's the thanklessness of +it all that breaks me down. I give my time and effort to help the +lodge, and what does it amount to?" + +"Well, I--I give in that it don't seem to me to amount to much, +'cordin' to my figurin'. I don't care much for lodge meetin's and +sociables and such, myself. I'd rather have one evenin' at home +with you than the whole cargo of 'em." + +This statement was frank, but it was decidedly undiplomatic. +Serena sniffed contempt. + +"Of course you would!" she said. "I don't get a bit of +encouragement here at home, either. I should think you'd be proud +to have your wife the head of the Chapter, presiding at meetings +and welcoming the visiting delegates and--and all." + +"I am," hastily. "I'm proud of you, Serena. Always have been, +far's that goes. But I'm just as proud of you here in this +sittin'-room as I am when you're back of that pulpit, poundin' with +your mallet and tellin' Alphy Ann Berry to 'come to order.' +Notwithstanding that you're the only one can make her come--or go, +either--unless she takes a notion. Why," with a chuckle, "it takes +her husband half an hour to make her go home after meetin's over." + +Mrs. Dott did not chuckle. + +"You think it's a joke," she said. "I don't. It is the Berry +woman and her kind that make me disgusted. I'm tired of them all. +I'm tired of Trumet. I wish we were somewhere where I had an +opportunity; somewhere where I might be appreciated." + +"_I_ appreciate you, Serena." + +Serena ignored the remark. "I wish we had never settled here," she +went on. "I'd leave in a minute, if I could. I'd like to be in +with nice people, cultivated people, intelligent, up-to-date +society, where I could have a chance to go on and be somebody. I'd +like to be a leader. I could be. Annette says I would be in a +city like Scarford. She says I 'have the faculty of the born +leader.' All I lack is the opportunity." + +Her husband sighed. He had heard all this before. Inwardly he +wished Mrs. Black at Scarford, or China, or anywhere, provided it +was not Trumet. + +His wife heard the sigh. "There, Daniel," she said; "I won't be +complaining. I try not to be. But," she hesitated, "there is one +thing I'd like to ask, now that we've got your Aunt Lavinia's three +thousand: Don't you suppose I could have some new clothes; I need +at least two dresses right away." + +"Why--why, I guess likely you could, Serena. Yes, course you can. +You go see Sarah Loveland right off." + +Miss Loveland was the Trumet dressmaker. At the mention of her +name Serena shook her head. + +"I don't want Sarah to make them, Daniel," she said. "Mrs. Black +says the things she makes are awful old-fashioned; 'country,' she +calls them." + +Daniel snorted. "I want to know!" he exclaimed. "Well, I remember +her husband when his ma used to make his clothes out of his dad's +old ones. I don't know whether they was 'country' or not, but they +were the dumdest things ever _I_ saw. Country, huh! Scarford +ain't any Paris, is it? I never heard it was." + +"Well, it isn't Trumet. No, Daniel, if we could afford it, I'd +like to have these dresses made up in Boston, where Gertie gets +hers. Mrs. Black often speaks of Gertie's gowns; she says they are +remarkably stylish, considering." + +"CONSIDERIN'! What does she mean by that?" + +"Don't be cross. I suppose she meant considering that they were +not as expensive as her own. DO you suppose I could go to that +Boston dressmaker, Daniel?" + +Captain Dan's reply was slow in coming. He hated to say no; in +fact, he said it so seldom that he scarcely knew how. So he +temporized. + +"Well, Serena," he began, "I--I'd like to have you; you know that. +If 'twasn't for the cost I wouldn't hesitate a minute." + +"But we have that three thousand dollars." + +"Well, we ain't got all of it. Or we shan't have it long. I was +footin' up what I owed--what the store owes, I mean--just now, and +it come to a pretty high figure. Over twelve hundred, it was. +That's GOT to be paid. Then there's Gertie's schoolin' and her +board. Course, I never tell her we ain't so well off as we were. +You and I agreed she shouldn't know. But it takes a lot of money +and--" + +Mrs. Dott sat up on the couch. Her eyes snapped. "Oh!" she cried; +"money! money! money! It's always money! If only just once I had +all the money I wanted, I should be perfectly happy. If I wouldn't +GO IT!" + +Steps sounded on the front porch, and the patent door bell clicked +and clanged. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through +Trumet. It spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it +grew. The Dotts had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The +Dotts were millionaires! Captain Daniel's brother had died and +left him fifty thousand dollars! His brother's wife had died and +left him a hundred thousand! It was not his brother's wife, but +Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance was two hundred +and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story reached Trumet +Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott relatives on +both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole survivors +of the family all the money and property in the world, with a few +trifling exceptions. + +Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,--one must eat, or try to eat, +even though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is +moving in a sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always +present--Captain Dan, coming into the house for dinner, expressed +his opinion of Trumet gossip mongers. + +"My heavens and earth, Serena!" he cried, sinking into his chair at +the table, "am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or +what's happened to me, or don't I?" + +Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him +across the table. + +"I should hope you did, Daniel," she answered. + +"Well, if _I_ do, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. +I've heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had +alive. And yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and +body! Say, did you know you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?" + +"I? In California? Nonsense!" + +"No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a +epileptic or an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or +a palace or a jail, and he was worth four millions or forty, I +forget which, and fell out of an automobile or out of a balloon or +out of bed--anyhow, it killed him--and--" + +"Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!" + +"Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this +forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to +folks that come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And +some of 'em was people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My +head's kind of wobbly this mornin', after the shock that hit it +last night, but it's a regular Dan'l Webster's alongside the +general run of heads in this town. Aunt Laviny's will has turned +Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all runnin' loose." + +"But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?" + +"'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen +folks you meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell +you you had one. They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a +grandmother or a step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or +the Cape of Good Hope, but they all know it's dead now, and we've +got anywheres from a postage stamp to a hogshead of diamonds. +Serena, if you hear yells for help this afternoon, don't pay any +attention. It'll only mean that my patience has run out and I'm +tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at least. +There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed." + +"Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to +be excited. I'm excited myself." + +The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. "_I_ ain't exactly +a graven image, now that you mention it," he admitted. "But you +and I have got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to +see you; or did you lock the doors?" + +"I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. +Tripp, and the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The +first four pretended they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge +woman to get my recipe for chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I +knew what they really came for. Daniel, HOW do you suppose the +news got out so soon? I didn't tell a soul and you promised you +wouldn't." + +"I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down +at the Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over +one seed of a yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll +have a crop of lies next mornin' that would load a three-master. +They come up in the night, like toadstools." + +"But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?" + +"You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' +to hire a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the +job was finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell +your gang?" + +"I simply said," Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke +with a gracious dignity; "I said they might quote me as saying it +was NOT a million." + +Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter. + +"There!" she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; "I +don't know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I +done the best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a +mercy I didn't fry the platter." + +Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more +wonderful and surprising than falling heir to three thousand +dollars and a silver tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the +Metropolitan Store the previous evening and started for the house, +the bearer of the great news was on his way from the Manonquit +House, where he had had supper. When Serena bewailed her fate and +expressed a desire for an opportunity, he was almost at the front +gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted her conversation +with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in the person of +Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of Shepley and +Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door. + +Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was +young, a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble +beard, and much professional dignity of manner and expression. +Occasionally, in the heat of conversation, he forgot the dignity; +the beard he never forgot. Shown into the Dott sitting-room by +Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to remove her kitchen apron, he +bowed politely and inquired if he had the pleasure of addressing +Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain assured him that +he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and its wearer to +remember etiquette. + +"Won't you--won't you sit down, Mr. er--er--" began the captain. + +Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After +a glance about the room, which took in the upright piano--purchased +second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons--the what- +not, with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, +and West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the +mantel of Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded +directly to business. + +"Captain Dott," he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing +politely to Serena to indicate that she was included in the +question, "you received a letter from our firm about a week ago, +did you not?" + +Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his +caller's identity, shook his head. "As a matter of fact," he +stammered, "I--I only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, +it got as far as the post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it +over to Balaam Hamilton, to bring to me. Well, Balaam is--well, +his underpinnin's all right; he wears a number eleven shoe--but his +top riggin' is kind of lackin' in spots. You'd understand if you +knew him. He put the letter in his pocket and--" + +"Mercy!" cut in Serena, impatiently, "what do you suppose Mr. +Farwell cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. +Farwell, and we only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't +been answered. What about the letter?" + +The visitor did not answer directly. "I see," he said. "That +letter informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott--your aunt, Captain,-- +was dead, and that we, her legal representatives, having, as we +supposed, her will in our possession, and being in charge of her +affairs--" + +Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since +she learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not +notice the peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did. + +"As you supposed?" she repeated. "You did have the will, didn't +you?" + +"We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years +ago. But we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was +another, a much more recent one, which superseded the one in our +possession. Of course, that being the case, the bequests in the +former were not binding upon the estate. That is to say, our will +was not a will at all." + +Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her. + +"Then we--then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?" she +cried. + +"Or--or the tea-pot?" faltered Captain Dan. + +Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the +situation. However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable +clients in suspense too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed +from Boston to impart. + +"She left you a great deal more than that," he said. "In the +former will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the +principal legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she +left the bulk of her property--some hundred and twenty thousand +dollars in securities, and her estate at Scarford--to him. But +last February it appears that he and she had a falling out. He-- +Mr. Hungerford--is, so I am told, a good deal of a sport--ahem! +that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable and expensive +tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, rather frequently. +The February letter reached her when she was grouchy--er--not well, +I mean, and she changed her will, practically disinheriting him. +Under the new will he receives twenty thousand dollars in cash. +The balance--" Mr. Farwell, who, during this long statement, had +interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional lapse into +youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,--"the +balance," he said, "one hundred thousand in money and securities, +and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty- +five thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, +Captain Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my +services and those of the firm, should you desire legal advice." + +Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to +enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be +the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed +were characteristic. + +"My soul and body!" gasped Captain Dan. "I--I--my land of love! +And only this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!" + +"A hundred thousand dollars!" cried Serena. "And that beautiful +house at Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!" + +Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. "A very handsome little windfall," +he observed, with condescension. + +"We get a hundred thousand!" murmured the captain. "My! I wish +Father was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on +that young Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!" + +"A hundred thousand!" breathed his wife, her hands clasped. "And +that lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we +wanted to! Yes, and live there! Oh--oh, Daniel! I--I don't know +why I'm doing it, but I--I believe I'm going to cry." + +Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her +shoulder. + +"Go ahead, old lady," he commanded. "Cry, if you want to. I--I'm +goin' to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!" + +Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and +it was the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which +set all Trumet by the ears next day. + +Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast +had been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they +could not eat. They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or +the other was certain to break out with an exclamation or a +wondering surmise, and the meal was, as the captain said, "all talk +and no substantials." They had scarcely risen from the table when +the doorbell rang. + +Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had +remembered this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried +it in her hand. + +"I'm a-goin'," she declared; "I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can." + +She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front +of her. + +"You stay right where you are," he ordered. "I'll answer that bell +myself this time." + +"Daniel," cried his wife, "what are you going to do?" + +"Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' +to do. They shan't get in here to pester you to death with +questions, not if I can help it." + +"But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be." + +"I don't care." + +"Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult +people." + +"I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em--I'll tell 'em you're sick and +can't see anybody." + +"But I'm not sick." + +"Then, I am," said Captain Dan. "They make me sick. Shut up, will +you?" addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. "I'll +come when I get ready." + +He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he +strode from the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba +heard him tramping through the front hall. + +"What--WHAT is he going to do?" faltered Serena; "or say?" + +Azuba shook her head. "Land knows!" she exclaimed. "I ain't seen +him this way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for +THAT with the hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't +talk to ME!" + +But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. +The anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they +were subdued ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked +troubled. + +"It's Barney Black and his wife," he answered, in a whisper. "I +couldn't tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, +waitin'. I suppose we'll have to see 'em, won't we?" + +Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and +patting her hair into presentable shape. + +"See 'em!" she repeated. "Of course we'll see them. I declare! I +think it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. +It's way round under your ear." + +They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and +her husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie. + +Mrs. and Mr. Black--scanning them in the order of their importance-- +rose as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and +gorgeous to view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not +as tall as his wife, and did not look his height. Annette swept +forward. + +"Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott," she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her +own gloved one. "We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we +couldn't resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it +wonderful!" + +Serena admitted that it was wonderful. "We can hardly believe it +yet, ourselves," she said. "But it was real nice of you to come. +Do sit down again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair." + +Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. "Sit down anywhere, +Barney," said the former. "Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; +that's got a squeak in the leg." + +Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and +sank into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the +word "Barney," and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, +were entirely lost upon the latter. + +"We had that rocker up in the attic till last month," he observed; +"but Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be +all the go now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. +I suppose it's all right. We'll be antiques ourselves before +many years, and we'll want folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! +ha! . . . Why, what's the matter, Serena?" + +Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that "nothing was the matter." + +"The rocker isn't very strong," she explained, addressing Mrs. +Black. "But it belonged to my great--that is, it has been in our +family for a good many years and we think a great deal of it." + +Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker +was a "dear." + +"I love old-fashioned things," she said. "So does Mr. Black. +Don't you, Phelps?" + +"Yes," replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be over- +enthusiastic. + +"But do tell us about your little legacy," went on the lady. "Of +course we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know +better than to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were +worth a million. Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!" + +Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a +glance in his direction, and he closed it again. + +"Yes," said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, "that was absurd, of +course." + +"So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country +people exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we +heard that your cousin had died--that is, _I_ heard it was a +cousin; Phelps heard it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, +wasn't it, Phelps?" + +"Yes," said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the +conversation. + +"So," went on Mrs. Black, "we didn't know which it was." + +She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to +speak, and again a look from his wife caused him to change his +mind. Before he had quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have +noticed the look, had turned to him. + +"Wasn't it funny!" she gushed. "I don't wonder you laugh. Here +was I saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. +It was so odd and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; +which was it, really, Captain Dott?" + +Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. +"Why," he stammered, "it was--it was--" He looked appealingly at +Serena. + +"Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?" inquired his wife, rather +sharply. + +"It was my Aunt Laviny," said the captain. + +Mrs. Black nodded and smiled. + +"Oh! your aunt!" she exclaimed. "There! isn't that funny! And SO +characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an +aunt. What did you say her name was?" + +"Laviny?" + +"Yes, I know. Laviny--what an odd name! I don't think I ever +heard it before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?" + +Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here. + +"It wasn't Laviny at all," she said. "That is only Daniel's way of +pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a +child. A--a sort of pet name, you know." + +"Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I +ever heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of +Sheba. She--" + +"Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was +Lavinia. She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James +Dott, Daniel's father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew +her. She has spent most of her time in Europe lately, but her +home, her American home, was where you live, in Scarford." + +This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped +audibly, and leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first +sign of interest. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't +say! Why, of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. +Everybody in Scarford did. Her place is one of the finest in +town." + +Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments +than this. + +"Yes," she said, calmly, "so we understand. The place--er--that +is, the estate--is a PART--" she emphasized the word--"a PART of +what she left to my husband." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her +face was a study. + +Captain Dan crossed his knees. + +"I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it," he +observed, reminiscently. "I tell you it looked big enough to me! +I was only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house +looked big as a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got +inside and was sittin' in the front parlor, I declare I was all +feet and hands! didn't know what to do with 'em. . . . Hey? did +you speak, Serena?" + +"I was only going to say," replied his wife, "that that was a good +while ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a +great deal since. Things look different after we grow up, don't +they, Mrs. Black?" + +Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time. +Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice. + +"They do, indeed," she said. "I remember the Dott house, of +course. It was very fine, I believe, in its day." + +Her husband interrupted. "In its day!" he repeated. "Humph! +there's nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I +had as good. Why--" + +"Phelps!" snapped Annette, "don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands +what I meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, +indeed. Perhaps some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that +is a matter of taste." + +"Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old- +fashioned--I thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. +That's what she said, wasn't it, Dan?" + +Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark +entirely. Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an +uncertain fashion. It was Serena who spoke. + +"I haven't any doubt it is lovely," she said. "We're just dying to +see it, Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. +Black. You might suggest some improvements, you know." + +"Improvements!" the visitor repeated the word involuntarily. +"Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?" + +"I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we +haven't made up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a +beautiful city. Mrs. Black has told us so ever so many times. +What were you going to say, Mrs. Black?" + +The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several +things, particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. +But what she did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and +agree that Scarford was beautiful. + +"And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott," she added. "A very +charming, quaint old house. But--you'll excuse my saying so, won't +you; you know Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a +city estate--don't you think it might prove rather expensive for +you to maintain?" + +Serena's armor was not even dented. "Oh," she said, lightly, "that +wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the +expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, +Mrs. Black." + +"Indeed!" rather feebly, "wasn't it?" + +"My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and +our affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I +must find time to run down there this afternoon for a last look +around. I want this open meeting to go off nicely. Who knows-- +well, I may not have the care of the next one." + +Azuba appeared in the doorway. + +"The minister and his wife's comin'," she announced. + +Mrs. Dott turned. + +"The minister and his wife?" she repeated. "The bell hasn't rung, +has it? How do you know they're coming here?" + +"See 'em through the window," replied Azuba, cheerfully. "They was +at the gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and +he was helpin' her. Here they be," as the callers' footsteps +sounded on the porch. "Shall I let 'em in?" + +"Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?" + +"Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was +havin' dinner, I thought--oh, that reminds me," addressing the +horror stricken Daniel, "Sam was in just now and wanted you to come +right out to the store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another +pair of them checkered overalls, same as he had afore." + + + +That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early +hour, the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge +meeting, Daniel voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed +his mind ever since the Blacks' call. + +"Say, Serena," he asked, "ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends +any more?" + +"Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is." + +"Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this +afternoon. Slappin' each other back and forth--" + +"Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What +DO you mean?" + +"I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely +I meant that. But the way you talked to each other--and the way +you looked. And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked +you four or five times who it was that had died and you wouldn't +tell, so, of course, I supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when +she asked me and I was backin' and fillin', tryin' to get off the +shoals, you barked out why didn't I 'answer her'? That may be +sense, but I don't see it, myself." + +Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own. + +"Did I bark?" she asked. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did +make me cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty +way--" + +"It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she +didn't act as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small +craft better get out from under her bows." + +"I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and +nice to me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, +and Doctor Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the +summer folks, that she has anything to do with." + +The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him +like her any better. His wife continued. + +"I was a little put out by her to-day," she admitted. "You see, +she was SO anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be +very rich, and SO certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big +house, that--that I just had to give her as good as she sent." + +Daniel chuckled. "You did that all right," he said. + +"But I wouldn't hurt her feelings--really hurt them--for the world. +I like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me." + +"Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other +I'm goin' out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard +you admirin' Zuba out in the kitchen just before we left." + +"Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell +her; she will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she +shouldn't. Just think what she said about you when the minister +called. It was just Providence, and nothing else, that kept her +from telling the Blacks what you said and how you acted at dinner. +That's it--laugh! I expected you'd think it was funny." + +"Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though +it didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba +talkin' any more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's +awful good-hearted--yes, and sensible, too, in her way." + +"I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of +having her up there at Scarford, behaving as she does." + +The captain caught his breath. + +"Scarford!" he repeated. "At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what +are you talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black +woman about our goin' to Scarford to live?" + +"I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I +don't say I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely +house, hasn't she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What +are we going to do with it?" + +"Why--why, I--I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. We've +got our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do +we?" + +"We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what +we shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of--you and I +will go to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, +don't argue, please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you +don't tell anyone how much money we've got or anything about it. +They'll all ask, of course, and they'll all talk about us, but you +must expect that. Our position in life has altered, Daniel, and +rich folks are always looked at and talked over. Are your shoes +clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and don't applaud +too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told that +Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't +order him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her +mouth. She isn't married and ain't likely to be, but. . . . Oh, +Mrs. Black, I'm SO glad to see you! It's real lovely of you to +come so early." + +Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love +for lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished +him to, but he was not happy while they were going on. At this one +he was distinctly unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black +exchange greetings as if the little fencing match of the afternoon +had been but an exchange of compliments. He saw the two ladies go, +arm in arm, to the platform, where sat the "Boston delegates." He +nodded to masculine acquaintances in the crowd, other captives +chained, like himself, to their wives' and daughters' chariot +wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's opening +speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and +Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from +the president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when +it was over, he could not have repeated a sentence of all those +which had reached his ears. + +No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful "open +meeting" ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of +Honor. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will +had changed their position in life, so Serena had said. She had +said other things, also, and he was beginning, dimly, to realize +what they might mean. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +"SCARFORD!" screamed the brakeman, throwing open the car door. +"Scarford!" + +Mrs. Dott, umbrella in hand, was already in the aisle. Captain +Dan, standing between the seats, was struggling to get the suitcase +down from the rack above. It was a brand-new suitcase. Serena had +declared that their other, the one which had accompanied them on +various trips to Boston during the past eight years, was altogether +too shabby. She had insisted on buying another, and, the stock in +the store not being good enough, had selected this herself from the +catalog of a Boston manufacturer. Her umbrella, silk with a silver +handle, was new also. So was her hat, her gown and her shoes. So, +too, was the captain's hat, and his suit and light overcoat. There +was a general air of newness about the Dotts, so apparent, +particularly on Daniel's part, that various passengers had nudged +each other, winked, and whispered surmises concerning recent +marriage and a honeymoon trip. + +The suitcase, the buckle of which had caught in the meshes of the +rack, giving way, came down unexpectedly and with a thump on the +seat. The captain hurriedly lifted it. A stifled laugh from the +occupants of adjacent seats reached Serena's ears. + +"What is it?" she demanded impatiently. "Aren't you coming? Do +hurry." + +"I--I'm comin'," stammered her husband, thrusting his fist into the +new hat which, as it lay on the seat, had received the weight of +the falling suitcase. "I'm comin'. Go ahead! I'll be right +along." + +He pounded the battered "derby" into more or less presentable +shape, clapped it on his head, and, suitcase in hand, followed his +wife. + +Through the crowd on the platform they passed, through the waiting +room and out to the sidewalk. There Captain Dan put down the case, +gave the maltreated hat a brush with his sleeve, and looked about +him. + +"Lively place, ain't it, Serena?" he observed. "Whew! that valise +is heavy. Well, where's the next port of call?" + +"We'll go to the hotel first. Oh, dear, it's a shame things +happened so we had to come now. In another fortnight the Blacks +would have been here and we could have gone right to their house. +Mrs. Black felt dreadfully about it. She said so ever so many +times." + +The captain made no answer. If he had doubts concerning the depths +of the Blacks' sorrow he kept them to himself. Picking up the +suitcase, he stepped forward to the curb. + +"Where are you going?" demanded his wife. + +"Why, to the hotel. That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?" + +"Certainly; but how were you going? You don't know where it is." + +"No, so I don't. But I can hail one of those electrics and ask the +conductor to stop when he got to it. He'd know where 'twas, most +likely." + +"Electric" is the Down East term for trolley car, lines of which +were passing and repassing the station. Daniel waved his +disengaged hand to the conductor of the nearest. The car stopped. + +"Wait a minute," said Serena quickly. "How do you know that car is +going the right way?" + +"Hey? Well, of course I don't know, but--" + +"Of course you don't. Besides, we don't want to go in an electric. +We must take a carriage." + +"A carriage? A hack, you mean. What do we want to do that for?" + +"Because it's what everyone does." + +"No, they don't. Look at all the folks on that electric now. +Besides, we--" + +"Hi there!" shouted the conductor of the car angrily. "Brace up! +Get a move on, will you?" + +Mrs. Dott regarded him with dignity. + +"We're not coming," she said. "You can go right along." + +The car proceeded, the conductor commenting freely and loudly, and +the passengers on the broad grin. + +"Now, Daniel," said Serena, "you get one of those carriages and +we'll go as we ought to. I know we've always gone in the electrics +when we were in Boston, but then we didn't feel as if we could +afford anything else. Now we can. And don't stop to bargain about +the fare. What is fifty cents more or less to US?" + +The captain shook his head, but he obeyed orders. A few minutes +later they were seated in a cab, drawn by a venerable horse and +driven by a man with a hooked nose, and were moving toward the +Palatine House, the hostelry recommended by Mrs. Black as the +finest in Scarford. + +"There!" said Serena, leaning back against the shabby cushions, +"this is better than an electric, isn't it? And when we get to the +hotel you'll see the difference it will make in the way they treat +us. Mrs. Black says there is everything in a first impression. If +people judge by your looks that you're no account they'll treat you +that way. But what were you and the driver having such a talk +about?" + +Captain Dan grinned. "I got the name of the hotel wrong at first," +he admitted. "I called it the Palestine House instead of the other +thing. The driver thought I was makin' fun of him. It ain't safe +to mention Palestine to a feller with a nose like that." + +The Palatine House was new and gorgeous; built in the hope of +attracting touring automobilists, it was that dreary mistake, a +cheap imitation of the swagger metropolitan article. Scarford was +not a metropolis, and the imitation in this case was a particularly +poor one. However, to the Dotts, its marble-floored lobby and +gilded pillars and cornices were grand and imposing. Their room on +the third floor looked out upon the street below, and if the view +of shops and signs and trucks and trolleys was not beautiful it +was, at least, distinctly different from any view in Trumet. + +Serena gloried in it. + +"Ah!" she sighed, "this is something like. THIS is life! There's +something going on here, Daniel. Don't you feel it?" + +Daniel was counting his small change. + +"What say?" he asked. + +His wife repeated her question, raising her voice to carry above +the noises of the street. + +"Feel it! Yes, yes; and hear it, too. How we're ever goin' to +sleep with all that hullabaloo outside I don't know. Don't you +suppose we could get a quieter room than this, Serena?" + +"I don't want a quiet room. I don't want to sleep. I feel as if +I'd been asleep all my life. Now, thank goodness, I am where +people are really awake. What are you doing with that money?" + +"Oh, just lookin' at it, while I can. I shan't have the chance +very long, if the other folks in this town are like that hack +driver. A dollar to drive half a mile in that hearse! Why, the +whole shebang wa'n't worth more than two dollars, to buy. And then +he had the cheek to ask me to give him 'a quarter for himself.'" + +"Yes, that was his tip. We must expect that. Gertrude says she +always has to tip the servants and drivers and such at college. +Did you give it to him?" + +"Who? Me? I told him I was collectin' for a museum, and I'd give +him a quarter for the horse, just as it stood--or WHILE it stood. +I said he'd better take the offer pretty quick because the critter +looked as if 'twould lay down most any minute." + +He chuckled. Serena, however, was very solemn. + +"Daniel," she said, "I must speak to you again about your language. +You've lived in Trumet so long that you talk just like Azuba, or +pretty nearly as bad. You mustn't say 'critter' and 'wa'n't' and +'cal'late.' Do try, won't you, to please me?" + +"I'll try, Serena. But I don't see what difference it makes. We +DO live in Trumet, don't we?" + +"We HAVE lived there. How long we shall--But there, never mind. +Just remember as well as you can and get ready now for dinner." + +Her husband muttered that he didn't see where the "getting ready" +came in; he had on the best he'd got. But he washed his hands and +brushed his hair and they descended to the dining-room, where they +ate a 'table d'hote' meal, beginning with lukewarm soup and ending +with salty ice cream. + +They had left Trumet the previous evening, spending the night at +Centreboro and taking the early morning train for Scarford. Two +weeks had passed since the fateful visit of young Mr. Farwell, and, +though the wondrous good fortune which had befallen the Dott family +was still wonderful, they were beginning to accept it as a real and +established fact. All sorts of things had happened during those +two weeks. They had gone to Boston, where they spent the better +part of two days with the lawyers, going over the lists of +securities, signing papers, and arranging all sorts of business +matters. Serena and the attorneys did the most of the arranging. +Captain Dan looked on, understanding very little, saying "Yes" or +"No" as commanded by his wife, and signing his name whenever and +wherever requested. + +After another day, spent in the Boston shops, where the new clothes +were purchased or ordered, a process which Serena enjoyed hugely +and her husband endured with a martyr's patience, they had paid a +flying visit to the college town and Gertrude. They found the +young lady greatly excited and very happy, but her happiness was +principally on their account. + +"I'm so glad for you both, Daddy," she told her father. "When I +got Mother's letter with the news the very first thing I thought +was: 'There! now Father won't have to worry any more about the old +store or anything else. He can be comfortable and carefree and +happy, as he deserves to be.' And you won't worry, will you, Dad?" + +The captain seemed oddly doubtful. + +"I shan't if I can help it," he said. "But I'm the most foolish +chap that ever lived, in some ways, seems so. When the business +was so I had to worry about it all the time I used to set up nights +wishin' I didn't own it. Now that we're fixed so it don't make +much difference whether I get a profit or not, I find myself +frettin' and wonderin' how Nathaniel and Sam are gettin' along. I +wake up guessin' how much they've sold since I've been away, and +whether we're stuck on those canvas hats and those middy blouses +and one thing or 'nother, same as I was afraid we'd be. I've only +been away three days altogether, but it seems about a year." + +Gertrude smiled and shook her head. + +"Why don't you sell out?" she asked. "Or would no one buy? I +presume that's it." + +"No-o, that ain't it. I don't wonder you think so, but it ain't. +Cohen--the fellow that owns the Emporium--was in only the day afore +we left, hintin' around about my retirin' and so on. He didn't +make any real bid for the business, but he as much as said he'd +consider buyin' me out if I'd sell. Your mother, she'd give me +fits if she knew it. She wants me to sell; but--but somehow I +can't make up my mind to. I've been so used to goin' out to that +store every mornin' and--and havin' it on my mind that somehow I +hate to give it up. Seems like cuttin' my anchor rope, as you +might say." + +"I understand. I shall feel much the same, I know, when I graduate +and my college work is over. I shall be lost for a time without +it; or I should be if it were not for John and--and my other plans. +But, whether you keep the store or not, you mustn't worry any more, +Daddy dear. Nathaniel is a clever, able fellow; every one says so. +You were fortunate to get him. Why don't you engage him +permanently? With his experience, he might make a real success of +the business. Who knows?" + +He could not possibly make less of a success than the captain had +made, that was fairly certain, although she did not say so. +Nathaniel Bangs was a Trumet young man who had been getting on well +with a little business of his own in Brockton, but who, owing to +ill health, had been obliged to return to the Cape the year before. +Then, health much improved, he was very glad of the opportunity to +take charge of the Metropolitan Store during its owners' short +absence. Serena had thought of him, and Serena had hired him. + +Captain Dan's real reason for not selling out to the astute Mr. +Cohen he had kept to himself. His wife's hints concerning Scarford +and her discontent in Trumet were his reasons. These were what +troubled him most. He liked Trumet; he liked its quiet, easy-going +atmosphere; he liked the Trumet people, and they liked him. He had +never been in Scarford, but he was certain he should not like the +life there, the kind of life lived by the B. Phelps Blacks, at any +rate. The Metropolitan Store was, he felt, an anchor holding him +fast to the Cape Cod village. If he cut the anchor rope, goodness +knows where he might drift. + +On the very day of their return from the Boston trip Serena had +begun to discuss the visit to Scarford, the visit of inspection to +Aunt Lavinia's "estate." They must go, she said; of course they +must go. It was their duty to do that, at least. How could they +know what to do with the property until they saw it? To all +Daniel's feeble objections and excuses she was deaf. Of course +they could leave the house. Azuba would take care of that, just as +she always did when they were away. As for the store, Nathaniel +would be glad to remain as manager indefinitely if they wanted him. +Surely he had done splendidly with it while they were in Boston. + +He had. During the four days' absence of its proprietor the +Metropolitan Store had actually sold more goods for cash than it +had sold during any previous week that summer. Bangs was +optimistic concerning its prospects. He was loaded with schemes +and ideas. + +"All you need is a little push and up-to-date methods, Cap'n," he +said. "You must advertise a little, and let people know what +you've got to sell. That's how I got rid of all that stale candy +you had in the boxes behind the showcase. I knew the Methodist +folks had a Sunday school picnic on the slate for Tuesday. Kids +like candy, but candy costs money. I got out all that stale stuff, +put it up in bags at five cents apiece, and sent the bags and Sam +here to the picnic. About every kid had ten cents or so to spend, +and it didn't make any difference to him or her whether the candy +was fresh or not, so there was enough of it. If a chocolate cream +is harder than the rock of Gibraltar it lasts longer when you're +eating it, and that's a big advantage to the average young one. +Sam came back, sold out, and we've got four dollars and eighty +cents right out of the junk pile, as you might call it. The kids +are happy and so are we. There's a half-dozen dried-up oilskin +coats in the attic that I've got my eye on. The Manonquit House +crowd are going off on a final codfishing cruise to-morrow and I'll +be on the dock with those coats at a dollar apiece when they sail." + +"But--but those coats are old as Methuselah," faltered the captain. +"They'll leak, won't they?" + +"Not if it's fair weather, they won't. And, if it's rough, they're +better than nothing. You can't expect a mackintosh for a dollar." + +Daniel's method would have been to refuse selling the coats because +they "wouldn't be much good in a no'theaster." When the codfishers +returned, enthusiastic because, although it had "drizzled" for +fifteen minutes, they had not gotten wet, he scratched his head and +regarded his new assistant with awe. Mr. Bangs' services were +retained, "for a spell, anyhow," and the captain's principal excuse +for not visiting Scarford was knocked in the head. To Scarford +they went, and at the Palatine Hotel in Scarford they now were. + +The 'table d'hote' meal eaten, the next feature of Mrs. Dott's +program was the visit to the Aunt Lavinia homestead. There was a +caretaker in charge, so the Boston lawyers told them, and Serena +had written him announcing the coming of the new owners. In spite +of her husband's protestations, another carriage was hired for the +journey. Daniel was strongly in favor of walking or going by +trolley. + +"Walkin'll be cheaper, Serena," he declared, "and pretty nigh as +fast, to say nothin' of bein' more cheerful. A hack always makes +me think of funerals and graveyards, and that skeleton of a horse +looked like somethin' that had been buried and dug up. Let's walk, +will you?" + +But Serena would not walk. + +"We must get used to carriages," she said. "We may ride in them a +great deal from now on. And, besides, we needn't take a horse +carriage. We shouldn't have taken one before. Get one of those +new kind, the automobile ones. What is it they call them? Oh, +yes--taxis." + +The taxi gave no opportunity for complaint as far as slowness was +concerned. After the first quarter of a mile dodge up the crowded +street Captain Dan shouted through the window. + +"Hi!" he hailed, addressing the driver. "Hi, you! You've made a +mistake, ain't you? You thought we wanted to fly. We don't. Just +hit the ground once in a while, so we'll know it's there." + +After this the cab moved at a more reasonable speed and its +occupants had an opportunity to observe the streets through which +they were passing. The business district was being left behind and +they were entering the residential section. + +Mrs. Dott seized her husband's arm. + +"Look!" she cried. "Look, Daniel, quick! Do you see that? That +building there!" + +"I see it. Some kind of a hall or somethin', ain't it?" + +"Yes. And I'm quite sure, from what Mrs. Black said, that it is +the hall where the Scarford Guild meets. Yes, it's just as she +said it was. I'm SURE that's it. Oh, I'm glad I've seen it! Yes, +and Mrs. Black said they lived not very far from the hall. Daniel! +Daniel! ask the man if he knows where the Blacks live and if he can +show us their house." + +Captain Dan obediently made the inquiry. + +"Who?" grunted the driver. "Which Black? Black and Cobb, the Wee +Waist Corset feller? Sure! I know where he lives. I'll show +you." + +A few moments later the cab slackened its speed. + +"There you are!" said the driver, pointing. "That's Black's house. +Built two years ago, 'twas." + +Serena and Daniel looked. The house was new and commodious, a +trifle ornate in decoration, perhaps, and a bit mixed in +architecture, owing to Mrs. Black's insisting upon the embodiment +of various features which she had seen in magazines; but on the +whole a rather fine house. To the Dotts, of course, it was a +mansion. + +"My!" said Serena, "to think of our knowing, really knowing, people +who live in a house like that! Oh, dear!" with a sigh, "I almost +wish I hadn't seen it until after we'd seen our own. We must try +not to be disappointed, mustn't we?" + +Captain Dan was surprised. "Disappointed?" he said. "Why, what do +you mean? As I recollect Aunt Laviny's place, 'twas just as good +as that, if not better. You said so yourself. You used to call it +a regular palace." + +"I know, but don't you think that was because we hadn't seen many +fine houses then? I'm afraid that was it. You know Mrs. Black +said it was old-fashioned." + +"Humph! Barney--What's his name? Phelps, I mean--he said he +wished his was as good. Don't you remember he did?" + +"Probably he didn't mean it. I'm not going to expect too much, +anyway. I'm going to try and think of it as just a nice old place, +and then I shan't feel bad when I see it. I'm not going to get my +expectations up or be a bit excited." + +In proof of the sincerity of this determination, she sat bolt +upright on the seat and looked straight before her. Her husband, +however, was staring out of the window with all his might. + +"Say!" he exclaimed, "this is a mighty nice street, anyhow." + +"Is it? Is it really?" For a person not excited, Mrs. Dott's +breathing was short and her fingers, tightly clasped in her lap, +were trembling. + +"You bet it is! Hey! Why, we're slowin' up! We're stoppin'." + +The cab drew up at the curb and came to a standstill. + +"Here you are," said the driver. "This is Number 180." + +Daniel made no reply. Leaning from the window, he was staring with +all his might. Serena's impatience got the better of her. + +"Well? WELL?" she burst forth. "What does it look like? Do say +something!" + +The captain drew back into the carriage. + +"My--soul!" he exclaimed presently. "Look, Serena." + +Serena looked, and her look was a long one. Then, her face flushed +and her eyes shining, she turned to her husband. + +"Oh! Oh, Daniel!" she gasped. "It's as good as the Blacks', isn't +it? I--I do believe it's better! Get out, quick!" + +The caretaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mutton-chop +whiskers, met them at the top of the stone steps leading to the +front door. He bowed low. + +"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said. "Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Dott, +ain't it, sir? And Mrs. Dott, ma'am. My name is 'Apgood, sir. I +was expecting you. Will you be so good as to walk in?" + +He threw open the door and, bowing once more, ushered them into the +hall, a large, old-fashioned hall with lofty ceiling and a mahogany +railed staircase. + +"I presume, sir," he said, addressing the captain, "that you and +the madam would wish to 'ave me show you about a bit. I was Mrs. +Dott's--the late Mrs. Dott's--butler when she resided 'ere, sir, +and she was good enough to make me 'er caretaker when she went +away, sir." + +Captain Dan, rather overawed by Mr. Hapgood's magnificent manner, +observed that he wanted to know, adding that he had heard about the +caretaking from the lawyers "up to Boston." After an appraising +glance at the speaker, Mr. Hapgood addressed his next remark to +Serena. + +"Shall I show you about the establishment, madam?" he asked. + +Serena's composure was a triumph. An inexperienced observer might +have supposed she had been accustomed to butlers and establishments +all her life. + +"Yes," she said loftily, "you can show us." + +Mr. Hapgood was a person of wide experience; however, he merely +bowed and led the way. Serena followed him, and Captain Dan +followed Serena. + +A large drawing-room, a library, a very large dining-room, five +large bedrooms--"owners' and guest rooms," Mr. Hapgood grandly +termed them, to distinguish from the servants' quarters at the +rear--billiard room, bathroom, and back to the hall again. + +"You would wish to see the kitchens, I suppose, ma'am," said Mr. +Hapgood. "Doubtless Mr. Dott wouldn't care for those, sir. Most +gentlemen don't. Perhaps, sir, you'd sit 'ere while the lady and I +go through the service portion of the 'ouse, sir." + +Daniel, who was rather curious to see the "service portion," partly +because he had never heard of one before, hesitated. His wife, +however, settled the question. She was conscious of a certain +condescension in the Hapgood tone. + +"Of course," she said lightly, "Cap'n Dott will not go to the-- +er--service portion. Such things never interest him. Sit here, +Daniel, and wait. Now--" cutting off just in time the "Mister" +that was on the tip of her tongue and remembering how butlers in +novels were invariably addressed--"Now--er--Hapgood, you can take +me to the--ahem--kitchens." + +It was somewhat disappointing to find that the plural was merely a +bit of verbal embroidery on the caretaking butler's part, and that +there was but one kitchen, situated in the basement. However, it +was of good size and well furnished with closets, the contents of +which stirred Serena's housekeeping curiosity. The inspection of +the kitchen and laundry took some time. + +Meanwhile, upstairs in the dim front hall, Captain Dan sat upon a +most uncomfortable carved teak-wood chair and looked about him. +Through the doorway leading to the drawing-room--"front parlor," he +would have called it--he could see the ebony grand piano, the +ormolu clock, and the bronze statuettes on the marble mantel, the +buhl cabinet filled with bric-a-brac, the heavy mahogany-framed and +silk-covered sofa. There were oil paintings on the walls, +paintings which foreign dealers, recognizing Aunt Lavinia's art +craving as a gift of Providence--to them--had sold her at high +prices. They were, for the most part, landscapes, inclining +strongly to snow-covered mountains, babbling brooks, and cows; or +marines in which one-third of vivid sunset illumined two-thirds of +placid sea. Of portraits there were two, Uncle Jim Dott in black +broadcloth and dignity and Aunt Lavinia Dott in dignity and black +satin. + +Captain Dan felt strangely out of place alone amid this oppressive +grandeur. Again, as on the memorable occasion of his first visit +to the house, he was conscious of his hands and feet. Aunt +Lavinia's likeness, staring stonily and paintily from the wall, +seemed to regard him with disapproval, almost as if she were +reading his thoughts. If the portrait could have spoken he might +have expected it to say: "Here is the person upon whom all these, +my worldly possessions, have been bestowed, and he does not +appreciate them. There he sits, upon the teakwood chair which I +myself bought in Cairo, and, so far from being grateful for the +gifts which my generosity has poured into his lap, he is wondering +what in the world to do with them, and wishing himself back in +Trumet." + +Mrs. Dott and the caretaker reentered the hall. + +"Thank you, Mr.--er--Thank you, Hapgood," said the lady. "That +will be all for to-day, I think. We will go now. Come, Daniel." + +Hapgood bowed. "You would wish me to stay 'ere as I've done, +ma'am?" he asked. + +"Yes. You may stay, for the present. Cap'n Dott and I will pay +your regular wages as long as we need you." + +"Thank you kindly, ma'am. And might I take the liberty of saying +that if you decide to stay 'ere permanently, ma'am, and need a +butler or a manservant about the place, I should be glad to 'ave +you consider me for the position. I'm sure it would 'ave pleased +the late Mrs. Dott to 'ave you do so, ma'am." + +"Well," said the captain, with surprising promptness for him, "you +see, Mr. Hapgood, as far as that goes we ain't intendin' to--" + +"Hush, Daniel. We don't know what we intend. You know that our +plans are not settled as yet. We will consider the matter, +Hapgood. Good day." + +"Good day, ma'am," said Hapgood. "Good day, sir." + +He opened the big front door, bowed them out, and stood respectfully +waiting as they descended the steps. The taxi driver, whom the +captain had neglected to discharge or pay, was still there at the +curb with his vehicle. Serena addressed him. + +"The Palatine Hotel," she said, with great distinctness. "Come, +Daniel." + +They entered the cab. Captain Dan closed the door. The driver, +looking up at Mr. Hapgood, grinned broadly. The latter gentleman +glanced at the cab window to make sure that his visitors were not +watching him, then he winked. + +As the cab whizzed through the streets Serena gloated over the +splendors of their new possessions. The house was finer than she +expected, the furniture was so rich and high-toned, the pictures-- +did Daniel notice the pictures? + +"And the location!" she cried ecstatically. "Right on the very +best street in town, and yet, so the Hapgood man said, convenient +to the theaters and the clubs and the halls. We saw the Ladies of +Honor hall on the way up, Daniel, you remember." + +Daniel nodded. "Yes," he admitted, "it's fine and convenient and +all. We"--with a sidelong glance at his wife's face--"we ought to +get a good rent for it if we decide not to sell; hey, Serena?" + +Serena did not answer. When they reached the hotel she left her +husband to settle with the driver and took the elevator to their +room. A few minutes later the captain joined her. He looked as if +suffering from shock. + +"My heavens and earth, Serena!" he exclaimed, "what do you suppose +that tax hack feller had the cheek to--" + +"Sshh! shh!" interrupted the lady, who was reclining upon the +couch. "Don't bother me now, Daniel. I don't want to be bothered +with common every-day things now; I want to think." + +"Common! Everyday! My soul and body! if what that pirate charged +me was everyday, I'd be in the poorhouse in a fortni't. Why--" + +"Oh, don't! Please don't! Can't you see I am trying to realize +that it's true and not a dream. That it has really happened--to +ME. Please don't talk. Do go away, can't you? Just go out and +take a walk, or something; just for a little while. I want to be +alone." + +Captain Dan slowly descended the stairs. The elevator, of course, +would have been quicker, but he was in no hurry. If he must walk, +and it seemed that he must, he might as well begin at once. He +descended the stairs to the ground floor of the hotel and wandered +aimlessly about through the lobby into the billiard room, and +finally to a plate glass door upon which was lettered the word +"Rathskeller." + +What a Rathskeller might be he did not know, but, as there was +another set of letters on the door and those spelled "Push," he +pushed. + +The Rathskeller was a large room, with a bar at one end and many +little tables scattered about. At these tables men were eating, +drinking and smoking. A violin, harp and piano, played by a trio +of Italians, were doing their worst with a popular melody. + +The captain looked about him, selected one of three chairs at an +unoccupied table, and sat down. A waiter drifted alongside. + +"What'll you have, sir?" inquired the waiter. + +"Hey? Oh, I don't know. Give me a cup of coffee." + +"Coffee? Yes, sir. Anything to eat?" + +"No, I guess not. I've had my dinner." + +"Smoke?" + +"Well, you might bring me a ten-cent cigar." + +The coffee and cigar were brought. Daniel lit the latter, took a +sip of the former and listened to the music. This was not taking a +walk exactly, but, so far as leaving his wife alone was concerned, +it answered the purpose. + +The room, already well tenanted, gradually filled. Groups of men +entered, stopped to glance at the tape of a sporting news ticker +near the bar, exchanged a word or two with the bartenders, and then +selected tables. Several times the two vacant chairs at the +captain's table were on the point of being taken, but each time the +prospective occupants went elsewhere. + +At length, however, two young men, laughing and talking rather +loudly, sauntered through the room. One of them paused. + +"Here are a couple," he said, indicating the chairs. + +His companion, an undersized, dapper individual, whose raiment-- +suit, socks, shirt, shoes, hat and tie--might comprehensively be +described as a symphony in brown, paused also, turned and looked at +the chairs, then at the table, and finally at the captain. + +"Yes," he drawled, regarding the latter fixedly, "so I see. Well, +perhaps we can't do better. This place is getting too infernally +common, though. Don't think I shall come here again. If it wasn't +that they put up the best cocktail in town I should have quit +before. All right, this will have to do, I suppose." + +He seated himself in one of the chairs. His friend followed suit. +The watchful waiter was on hand immediately. + +"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said, bowing obsequiously. + +Neither of the young men acknowledged the bow or the greeting, +although it was evident that the waiter was an old acquaintance. +The symphony in brown did not even turn his head. + +"Two dry Martinis," he said. "And mind that they ARE dry. Have +Charlie make them himself. If that other fellow does it I'll send +them back." + +"Yes, sir. All right, sir. Will you have a bit of lunch with +them, sir? Caviare sandwich or--" + +"No." + +"Shall I bring cigars, sir?" + +"Lord, no! The last I had here nearly poisoned me. Get the +cocktails and be lively about it." + +The waiter departed. The young gentleman drew a gold cigarette +case from his pocket. + +"Here you are," he drawled, proffering the case. "Cigars!" with a +contemptuous laugh. "They buy their cigars by the yard, at the +rope walk. Fact, Monty; take my word for it." + +"Monty" laughed. "That's pretty rough, Tacks," he declared. + +"Oh, but it's so. You can actually smell the hemp. Eh? By gad, +you can smell it now, can't you?" + +Captain Dan was relighting the stump of his "ten-center" which had +gone out. He had scarcely noticed the newcomers; his thoughts were +far away from Scarford and the Palatine Hotel. Now, however, he +suddenly became aware that his tablemates were regarding him and +the cigar with apparent amusement. He smiled good naturedly. + +"Been runnin' her too low," he observed. "Have to get up steam if +I want to be in at the finish." + +This nautical remark was received with blank stares. "Monty" +turned his shoulder toward the speaker. "Tacks" did not even turn; +he continued to stare. The arrival of the cocktails was the next +happening of importance. + +"I say, Tacks," observed Monty, leaning back in his chair and +sipping his Martini, "how are you getting on? Made up your mind +what to do?" + +"No," shortly. + +"Going to fight, are you?" + +"No use. The confounded lawyers say I wouldn't have a show." + +"Humph! Low-down trick of the old woman's, wasn't it, giving you +the shake that way? Everybody thought you were her pet weakness. +We used to envy your soft snap. Did you get the go-by altogether?" + +"Pretty near. Got a little something, but it was precious little." + +"Can you pull through on it?" + +"'Twill be a devilish hard pull." + +"Too bad, old man. But cheer up! You'll come out on top. Have +another one of these things?" + +"All right." + +More Martinis were ordered. "Monty" and his friend lit fresh +cigarettes. The former asked another question. + +"Who are the lucky winners?" he inquired. "Some country cousins or +other, I know that; but who are they?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Yes, I know; but what difference does it make?" + +"Isn't there a girl somewhere in the crowd?" + +"Yes, but--" He broke off. Captain Dan was regarding him +intently. + +"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Uncle?" +drawled "Tacks," with bland sarcasm. + +Daniel was taken aback. + +"Why," he stammered, "I--I don't know's there is." + +"Shall I speak a little louder? Possibly that might help. +Delighted to oblige, I'm sure." + +This was plain enough, certainly. The captain colored. His +confusion increased. + +"I--I hope you don't think I was listenin' to you and your friend's +talk," he protested hastily. "I wasn't. Why, if--if you two would +like this table to yourself you can have it just as well as not. I +can go somewhere else. You see, I was thinkin'--when you spoke to +me--I was thinkin' there was somethin' familiar about your face. +Seemed as if I'd seen you somewhere before, that's all; and--" + +The young gentleman in brown interrupted him. "You're mistaken," +he said, "I was never there." Then, turning to his friend, he +added, with an elaborate "Josh Whitcomb" accent: "Monty, 'taters +must be lookin' up. All aour folks have come to town to spend +their money." + +Monty, upon whom, like his companion, the second cocktail--second +in this particular sense--there had been others--seemed to be +having some effect, laughed uproariously. Even the joker himself +deigned to smile. Captain Dan did not smile. He had risen, +preparatory to leaving the table; now he slowly sat down again. + +"I guess I WAS mistaken," he said gravely. "I guess you're right +about my not havin' seen you before. If I had I wouldn't have +forgot where." + +Monty evidently thought it his turn to be funny. + +"You have a good memory, haven't you, Deacon?" he observed. + +The captain looked at him. + +"That don't necessarily follow, young man," he said. "There's some +things you CAN'T forget." + +There was a choking sound at the next table; a stout man there +seemed to be having trouble in swallowing. Those with him looked +strangely happy, considering. + +"Tacks" frowned, pushed back his chair and stood up. + +"Come on, Monty," he growled. "This place is going to the dogs. +They let ANYTHING in here now." + +Daniel turned to the stout man and his party. + +"That's strange, ain't it?" he said in a tone of grave surprise. +"I was just thinkin' that myself." + +Then, his cigar smoked to the bitter end, he, too, rose, and, +declining the invitations of the stout man and his friends to have +something "because he had earned it," he walked out of the +Rathskeller and took the elevator to the third floor. + +He opened the door of the room gently and entered on tiptoe, for he +thought it likely that Serena was taking a nap. She was not, +however; on the contrary, she was very wide awake. + +"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've been waiting and +waiting for you." + +Daniel chuckled. + +"I've been down below in a place they call the Rat Cellar, or some +such name," he said. "The rats was there, two of 'em, anyhow. And +I'd met one of 'em before. I know I have. I wish I could think +who he was. A sort of--" + +But Serena was not listening. + +"Daniel," she interrupted, "it is all settled. I have made up my +mind." + +Her voice was tremulous with excitement. Captain Dan looked at +her. + +"Made up your mind?" he repeated. "I want to know! What about?" + +"About our plans and our future, Daniel; my opportunity has come, +the opportunity I was wishing for. It has been sent to me by +Providence, I do believe--and it would be wicked not to take +advantage of it. Daniel, you and I must move to Scarford." + +The captain gasped. + +"Why--why, Serena," he faltered. "What are you talkin' about? +DON'T talk so! Move to Scarford! Give up Trumet and--" + +"Trumet! Don't mention Trumet to me. Daniel Dott, you'll never +get me back to Trumet again--to live there, I mean--never, never, +NEVER!" + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Captain Dan said--Well, it does not matter much what he said. He +said a great deal, of course, during that evening and the next +morning, and would have kept on saying it all the way to Trumet if +his wife had not declined to listen. + +"It is no use, Daniel," she declared calmly but firmly. "I have +thought it all out and I KNOW it is the right thing for us to do. +You will think so, too, one of these days." + +"Durned if I will! I tell you, Serena--" + +"Hush! you're telling everybody in the car, and THAT isn't +necessary, at any rate. Now we won't argue any more until we get +home. Then you can say your say; but"--with discouraging candor-- +"it won't change my decision a single mite. My mind is made up. A +higher power than you or me has settled everything for us. We are +going to Scarford to live, and we will go just as soon as we can +get ready." + +And go they did. The captain fought a stubborn battle, +surprisingly stubborn and protracted for him, but he surrendered at +last. Serena drove him from one line of entrenchments after the +other, and, at length, when she had him in the last ditch, where, +argument and expostulation unavailing, he could only say, "No! no, +I won't, I tell you!" over and over again, she used her most +effective weapon, tears, and brought him to terms. + +"You don't care," she sobbed. "You don't care for me at all. All +you care about is just yourself. You're willing to stay here in +this awful place, you're willing to plod along just as you always +have; and it doesn't make any difference about my wishes or my +hopes, or anything. If you were like most husbands you'd be proud +and glad to see me getting on in the world; you'd be glad to give +me the chance to be somebody; you'd--" + +"There! there! Serena, don't talk so. I'd do anything in this +world to please you." + +"Hush! hush! I should think you'd be ashamed to say such things. +I should think you'd be AFRAID to say them, afraid something would +happen to you--you'd be struck down or something. Oh, well! I +must be resigned, I suppose. I must give in, just as I always do. +I must be satisfied to be miserable and--and--Oh, what shall I do? +What SHALL I do?" + +Sobs and more sobs, frantic clutchings at the sofa pillows and +declarations that she had better die; it would be better for her +and ever so much better for everyone else if she were dead. No one +would care. + +Poor Daniel, distressed and remorseful, vaguely conscious that he +was right, but conscience stricken nevertheless, hoisted the white +flag. + +"Hush, hush, Serena!" he pleaded. "Land sakes, don't say such +things--please don't. I'll do anything you want, of course I will. +I'll go to Scarford, if you say so. I was just--" + +"I don't ask you to go there forever. I never have asked that. I +only ask you to go there and live a while and just see how we like +it. That was all I asked, and you knew it. But you won't! you +won't!" + +"Why, yes I will, too. I'll go--go next week, if you say so. I--I +just--" + +He got no further. Mrs. Dott, wet-eyed but radiant, lifted her +head from the sofa pillow and threw her arms about his neck. + +"Will you?" she cried ecstatically. "Will you, Daniel? I knew you +would. You're a dear, good man and I love you better than all the +world. We will be so happy. You see if we aren't." + +The captain was no less doubtful of the happiness than he had ever +been, but he tried to smile and to find comfort in the thought that +she was happy if he was not. + +He had written Gertrude telling of her mother's new notion and +asking for advice and counsel. The reply, which came by return +mail, did not cheer him as much as he had hoped. + +"It was inevitable, I suppose," Gertrude wrote. "I expected it. +I was almost certain that Mother would want to live in Scarford. +Mrs. Black has been telling her all summer about society and club +life and what she calls 'woman's opportunity,' and Mother has come +to believe that Scarford is Paradise. You will have to go, I +think, Daddy dear. Perhaps it is just as well. Mother won't be +satisfied until she has tried it, and perhaps, after she has tried +it, she may be glad to come back to Trumet. My advice is to let +her find out for herself, but, of course, if you feel sure it is +wrong, then you must put your foot down, say no, and stick to it. +No one can do that for you; you must do it yourself." + +Which was perfectly true, as true as the other fact--namely, that +Captain Dan could not "stick to it" in a controversy with his wife, +having lost the sticking faculty years before. + +But, oddly enough, there was one point upon which he did stick and +refused to budge: That point was Azuba's going to Scarford with +them. Mrs. Ginn's attitude when she was told of the family exodus +was a great surprise. Serena, who broke the news to her, expected +grief and lamentations; instead Azuba was delighted. + +"Well, now!" she exclaimed. "Ain't that fine! Ain't that +splendid! I always wanted to go somewhere's besides Trumet, and +now I'm goin'. I always told Labe, my husband, that if there was +one thing I was jealous of him about 'twas travelin'. 'You go from +Dan to Beersheby,' I says to him, 'any time you want to.' 'Yes,' +says he--this was the last time he was to home, three years ago-- +'Yes,' he says, 'and when I don't want to, too.' 'And I,' I says, +'I have to say stuck here in Trumet like a post in a rail fence.' +'You look more like the rail, Zuby,' he says--he's always pokin' +fun 'cause I ain't fleshy. 'Don't make no difference what I LOOK +like,' I says, 'here I be and I ain't never been further than the +Brockton cattle show since I was ten year old.' But now I'm goin' +to travel at last. My! I'm so tickled I don't know what to do. +I'll start in makin' my last fall's hat over this very night. Say, +it's a good thing you've got me to help in the goin' and the +settlin', ain't it, Sereny--Mrs. Dott, I mean." + +In the face of this superb confidence Serena, who had intended +leaving Azuba behind, lacked the courage to mention the fact. And +when she sought her husband in the store and asked him to do it, he +flatly refused. + +"What!" he said. "Tell Zuba Ginn we're goin' to cast her adrift! +I should say not! Of course we can't do any such thing, Serena." + +"But what can we do with her, Daniel? We might leave her here to +take care of the place, I suppose, but that would only be for a +time, until we find somebody to buy it. Of course we can't run two +places, and we'll have to sell this one some time or other." + +Daniel, to whom the idea of selling the home of which he had been +so proud was unthinkable, ignored the question. + +"You couldn't leave her here," he declared. "She wouldn't stay. +Zuba's queer--all her tribe are and always was--but she's nobody's +fool. She'd know right off you were tryin' to get rid of her. No, +it may be all right enough to leave Nate Bangs in charge of the +store, because he'd like nothin' better, but you can't leave Zuba +in the house." + +"Then what can we do with her?" + +"Take her with us. She can do housekeepin' in Scarford same as she +can here, can't she?" + +"Take her with us! Why, Daniel Dott! the very idea! Think of +Azuba in a place like that Scarford mansion! Think of her and that +dignified, polite Hapgood man together! Think of it!" + +The captain seemed to find the thought amusing. + +"Say, that would be some fun, wouldn't it?" he chuckled. "I'd risk +Zuba, though. He wouldn't do the Grand Panjandrum over her more'n +once. I'd risk her to hold up her end." + +"What do you think the B. Phelps Blacks would say if they saw Azuba +trotting through the grand front hall with her kitchen apron on?" + +The mention of the name had an odd effect upon the captain. He +straightened in his chair. + +"I don't care what they say," he declared. "I don't care what the +Blacks would say, nor the Yellows nor the Blues either. If they +don't like it they can stay in their own front halls and lock the +door. Look here, Serena: Zuba Ginn has been with us ever since +Gertie was born; she took care of her when she had the scarlet +fever, set up nights and run the risk of catchin' it herself, and +all that. The doctor told us that if it hadn't been for Zuba and +her care and self-sacrifice and common sense Gertie would have +died. She may be queer and hard to keep in her place, as you call +it, and a regular walkin' talkin' machine, and all that. I don't +say she ain't. What I do say is she's been good enough for us all +these years and she's good enough for me now. She ain't got any +folks; her husband is as queer as she is, and only shows up once in +two or three years, when he happens to think of it. She ain't got +any home but ours, and nobody else to turn to, and I won't cast her +adrift just because I've got more money than I did have. I'd be +ASHAMED to do it. No, sir! if Zuba Ginn wants to go to Scarford, +along with us, she goes, or I don't go myself." + +He struck the desk a violent blow with his clenched fist. Serena +regarded him with astonishment. It had been a long time since she +had seen him like this, not since the old seafaring days. + +"Why--why, Daniel," she faltered, "I didn't mean to make you cross. +I--I only thought. . . . Of course, she can go with us if you feel +that way." + +"That's the way I feel," said her husband shortly. Then, as if +suddenly awakening and with a relapse into his usual manner, he +added, "Was I cross? I'm real sorry, Serena. Say, don't you want +some candy? Nathaniel's just openin' a new case from Boston. Hi, +Sam! Sam! bring me a pound box of those Eureka chocolates, will +you?" + +Serena did not again suggest Azuba's remaining in Trumet. Neither +she nor Captain Dan referred to the subject again. Mrs. Dott was, +to tell the truth, just a bit frightened; she did not understand +her husband's sudden outbreak of determination. And yet the +explanation was simple enough. So long as he was the only +sufferer, so long as only his own preferences and wishes were +pushed aside for those of his wife or daughter, he was meekly +passive or, at the most, but moderately rebellious; here, however, +was an injustice--or what he considered an injustice--done to +someone else, and he "put his foot down" for once, at least. + +So, upon the fateful day when, preceded by a wagonload of trunks +and bags and boxes, the Dotts once more drove through Scarford's +streets to the mansion which was to be their home--permanently, +according to Serena; temporarily, so her husband hoped--Azuba +accompanied them. And Azuba was wildly excited and tirelessly +voluble. Even Captain Dan, the long-suffering, grew weary of her +exclamations and chatter at last. + +"Say, Zuba," he remonstrated, "is this an all-day service you're +givin' us? If it is, I wish you'd take up a collection or +somethin', for a change. Mrs. Dott and I are gettin' sort of tired +of the sermon." + +"Why--why, what do you mean? I was only just sayin' I never see so +many folks all at once since that time I was at the Brockton cattle +show. I'll bet there's a million right on this street." + +"I'll take the bet. Now you start in and count 'em, and let's see +who wins. Count 'em to yourself, that's all I ask." + +Azuba, with an indignant toss of the "made-over" hat, subsided for +the time. But the sight of the Aunt Lavinia mansion, with Mr. +Hapgood bowing a welcome from the steps, was too much for her. + +"Oh!" she burst forth. "Oh! you don't mean to tell me THAT'S it! +Why, it's perfectly grand! And--and there's the minister comin' to +call already! Ain't it LOVELY!" + +That night, as they sat down for the first meal in the new abode, a +meal cooked by Azuba and served by the light-footed, soft-spoken, +deft-handed Hapgood, Serena voiced the exultation she felt. + +"There, Daniel," she observed, beaming across the table at her +husband, "now you begin to appreciate what it means, don't you. +NOW you begin to see the difference." + +Captain Dan, glancing up at the obsequious Hapgood standing at his +elbow, hesitated. + +"Yes, sir?" said Mr. Hapgood anxiously. "What is it you wish, +sir?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Why, yes, I tell you: You go out and--and buy +me a cigar somewhere. Here's the money." + +"Cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What kind do you--" + +"Any kind; only get it quick." + +Then, as the door closed behind the dignified Hapgood, he added: + +"I've got three cigars in my pocket now, but that doesn't matter. +I had to send him after somethin'! Say, Serena, is it real +necessary to have that undertaker hangin' over us ALL the time? +Every time he looks at me I feel as if he was takin' my measure. +Has EVERY meal got to be a funeral?" + +There was no doubt that the captain noticed the difference. He +noticed it more the following day, and more still on each +succeeding one. + +The next evening the Blacks called--called in state. A note from +Mrs. Black, arriving by the morning's post, announced their coming. +Serena noted the Black stationery, its quality and the gilded +monogram, and resolved to order a supply of her own immediately. +Also she bade her husband don his newest and best. She did the +same, and when Captain Dan, painfully conscious of a pair of tight +shoes, entered the drawing-room he found her already there. + +"My!" he exclaimed, regarding her with admiration, "you do look +fine, Serena. Is that the one the Boston dressmaker made?" + +"Yes. I'm glad you like it." + +"Couldn't help likin' it. I can't hardly realize it's my wife +that's got it on. Walk around and let me take an observation. +Whew! I always said you looked ten years younger than you are. +THAT rig don't spell forty-five next January, Serena." + +Mrs. Dott sniffed. + +"Don't remind me of my age, Daniel," she protested. "It isn't +necessary to tell everyone how old I am." + +"All right. Nobody'd guess it, anyhow. But how funny you walk. +What makes you take such little short steps?" + +"I can't help it. This dress--gown, I mean--is so tight I can +hardly step at all." + +"Have to shake out a reef, won't you? How in the world did you get +downstairs--hop?" + +"Hush! Don't be foolish. The gown is no tighter than anyone +else's. It's the style, Daniel, and you and I must get used to it. +Are those your new shoes?" + +"They certainly are. Do they look as new as they feel? I walk +about the way you do, Serena. Bein' in style ain't all joy, is +it?" + +"It's better than being out of it. And, Daniel, please remember +not to say 'ain't.' I've asked you so many times. We have our +opportunity now and so must improve ourselves. You're not keeping +store in the country any longer. You are a man of means, living +among cultivated society people, and you must try to behave like +the ladies and gentlemen you will be called upon to associate +with." + +"Humph!" doubtfully. "I don't know as I could behave like a lady +if I tried. As for the gentleman, if you mean Barney Black--" + +"I mean B. Phelps Black. Don't you dare call him Barney to-night. +If you do I shall be SO mortified. Hush! Here they are. Very +well, Hapgood. You may show them in." + +Even Serena's new gown, fine as it was and proud as she had been of +it, lost something of its glory and sank into a modest second place +when Annette appeared. Mrs. Black had dressed for the occasion. +Also, she had insisted upon her husband's dressing. + +"What in blazes must I climb into a dress suit for?" demanded that +gentleman grumpily. "Going to call on Dan Dott and his wife. You +don't expect Dan to be wearing a dress suit, do you? He never wore +one in his life." + +"It doesn't make any difference what he wears. I want you to go in +evening dress." + +"But, confound it, Annette, we've been calling on those people all +summer." + +"THAT was in the country; this is not. Don't you SEE, Phelps? +Can't you understand? Those Dotts have come here to live. I did +all I could to prevent it, but--" + +"WHAT?" Mr. Black interrupted with an amazed protest. "Did all +you could to prevent it! Why, you used to preach Scarford to +Serena Dott from morning till night. You were always telling her +how much better it was than Trumet. I don't believe she would ever +have thought of coming here if it hadn't been for you." + +Annette stamped her foot impatiently. "Don't you suppose I know +it?" she demanded. "That was when I never imagined there was any +chance of their really coming. But now they have come and we've +got to be with them to some extent. We've GOT to; we can't get out +of it. That is why I want them to see how people of our class +dress. I can't TELL her that her clothes are a sight, as country +as a green pumpkin, but I can show her mine, and she's clever +enough to understand. And you can show her husband. Not that that +will do much good, I'm afraid. HE is the real dreadful part of the +thing. Goodness knows what he may say or do at any time!" + +Phelps grinned. Nevertheless, he donned the dress suit. + +Mrs. Black had another reason, one which she did not mention, for +making this, their first, call upon the Dotts in their new home a +ceremonial occasion. It was true that they would be obliged to +associate with these acquaintances from the country more or less; +the commonest politeness required that, considering all that had +gone before. But she meant there should be no misunderstanding of +the relations between the families. In Trumet she had made Mrs. +Dott her protegee because it was her nature to patronize, and +Serena had not resented the patronage. Now circumstances were +quite different; now the Dotts possessed quite as much worldly +wealth as the Blacks, but Annette did not intend to let Serena +presume upon that. No, indeed! She intended, not only by the +grandeur of her raiment and that of her husband, but by her +tone and manner, to make perfectly plain the fact that the +acquaintanceship was still a great condescension on her part and +did not imply equality in the least. + +But this lofty attitude was destined to be shaken before the +evening was over. The first shock came at the very beginning, and +Mr. Hapgood was responsible for it. Annette had referred, during +the Trumet acquaintanceship, to her "staff of servants," and had +spoken casually of her cook and second girl and laundress and +"man," as if the quartette were permanent fixtures in the Black +establishment. As a matter of fact, the only fixtures were the +cook and second girl. The laundress came in on Mondays and +Tuesdays to do the washing and ironing, and the "man" acted as +janitor's helper at the factory three days of the week. The +chauffeur was but a summer flourish; B. Phelps drove his own car +eight months in the year. + +So when the door of the Dott mansion was opened by a butler--and +such a dignified, polite, imposing butler--Mrs. Black's soul was +shaken by a twinge of envy. The second shock was Serena's +appearance and the calm graciousness of her demeanor. The Boston +gown was not as grand, as prodigal of lace and embroidery, as was +the visitor's, but it was in the latest fashion and Serena wore it +as if she had been used to such creations all her life. Neither +was she overawed or flurried when her callers entered. Serena had +read a good deal, had observed as much as her limited opportunities +would allow, and was naturally a clever woman in many ways. + +"Why, how do you do, Mrs. Black?" she said. "It's so good of you +to come. And to bring Mr. Black, too. You must take off your +things. Yes, you must. Hapgood, take the lady's wraps. Daniel!" + +The captain, who, not being used to butlers and lacking much of his +wife's presence of mind, had started forward to assist with the +wraps, stopped short. + +"Yes, Serena?" he faltered. + +"Can't you ask Mr. Black to sit down?" + +"Hey? Why, course I can. I judged he was goin' to sit down +anyway. Wasn't figgerin' to stand up all the evenin', was you, +Bar--er--Phelps?" + +"No," replied Mr. Black. To prove it he selected the most +comfortable chair in the room. + +"I had such a time to get Phelps to come," declared Annette, +sinking, with a rustle, into the next best chair. "He wanted to +see you both, of course, and to welcome you to Scarford, but he is +SO busy and has so many engagements. If it isn't a directors' +meeting it is a house committee at the club, or--or something. You +should be thankful that your husband is not a man of affairs and +constantly in demand. It was a club meeting to-night, wasn't it, +Phelps, dear?" + +"'Twas a stag dinner," observed Mr. Black. "Say, Dan, I'll have to +take you to one of 'em some time. It's a good bunch of fellows and +we have some of the cleverest vaudeville stunts afterward that you +ever saw. Last week there were a couple of coons that--" + +"Phelps!" Annette interrupted tartly, "you needn't go into details. +I don't imagine Captain and Mrs. Dott will be greatly interested. +What a charming old room this is, isn't it? SO quaint! Everything +looks as if it had been here a hundred years." + +Before Serena could frame a reply to this back-handed compliment +the unconscious B. Phelps removed the greater part of its sting by +observing: + +"That butler of yours looks as if he had been here a thousand. I +felt as if George the First was opening the door for me. He's a +star, all right. Did he come with the place?" + +Mrs. Dott explained that Hapgood was one of Aunt Lavinia's old +servants. "She thought the world of him. Daniel and I feel +perfectly safe in leaving everything to him. Auntie found him +somewhere abroad--working for a lord or a count or something, I +believe--and brought him over. He is pretty expensive, his wages, +I mean, but he is worth it all. Don't you think so?" + +Yes, Mrs. Black found it much more difficult to patronize than she +expected, and Serena was correspondingly happy. But the crowning +triumph came later. The doorbell rang, and Hapgood entered the +drawing-room bearing a tray upon which were several cards. He bent +and whispered respectfully. + +Mrs. Dott was evidently surprised and startled. + +"Who?" she asked. + +Hapgood whispered again. + +Serena rose. "Yes, of course," she said nervously. "Yes, +certainly. I declare, I--" + +"What's up?" asked her husband, his curiosity aroused. "Nothin' +wrong, is there? What's that he's bringin' you on that thing?" + +He referred to the cards and the tray. His wife, who had caught a +glimpse of Mrs. Black's face, fought down her nervousness and +announced with dignified composure. + +"Some more callers, that's all, Daniel," she said. "Oh, you +mustn't go, Mrs. Black. You know them, I'm sure. I've heard you +speak of 'em--of them often. It's"--referring to the cards--"the +Honorable Oscar Fenholtz and Mrs. Fenholtz. Ask them right in, +Hapgood. Daniel, get up!" + +Daniel hurriedly obeyed orders. Mr. Black also rose. + +"The Fenholtzes!" he observed in a tone of surprise. "Say, Dan, I +didn't know you knew them. Annette didn't say anything about it." + +Annette hadn't known of it; her expression showed that. The +Honorable and Mrs. Fenholtz were Scarford's wealthiest citizens. +Mr. Fenholtz was proprietor of a large brewery and was an ex-mayor. +His wife was prominent socially; as prominent as Mrs. Black hoped +to be some day. + +Hapgood reappeared, ushering in the new arrivals. The Honorable +Oscar was plump and florid and good-natured. He wore a business +suit and his shoes were not patent leathers. Mrs. Fenholtz was +likewise plump. Her gown, in comparison with Annette's, or even +Serena's, was extremely plain and old-fashioned. + +She hastened over to where Serena was standing and extended her +hand. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Dott?" she said pleasantly. "Welcome to +Scarford. You and I have never met, of course, but I used to know +Mrs. Lavinia Dott very well indeed. And this is Mr. Dott, I +suppose. How do you do? And here is my husband. Oscar, these are +our new neighbors." + +Mr. Fenholtz and the captain shook hands. Captain Dan felt his +embarrassment disappearing under the influence of that hearty +shake. + +"I suppose you scarcely expected callers--or calls from strangers-- +so soon," went on Mrs. Fenholtz. "But, you see, I hope we shan't +be strangers after this. I couldn't bear to think of you all alone +here in this great house in a strange place, and so I told Oscar +that he and I must run in. We live near here, only on the next +corner." + +"I said you would be having your after-dinner smoke, Mr. Dott," +explained the Honorable, with a smile and a Teutonic accent. "I +said you would wish we was ouid instead of in; but Olga would not +have it so. And, when the women say yes, we don't say no. Eh; +what is the use?" He chuckled. + +Captain Dan grinned. "That's right," he said. "No use for the +fo'mast hand to contradict the skipper." + +Mrs. Black stepped forward. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Fenholtz?" she said with unction. + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Serena. "I--I'm forgetting everything. But +you know Mr. and Mrs. Black, don't you, Mrs. Fenholtz?" + +Mrs. Fenholtz turned. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Black?" she said. Her tone lacked the +enthusiasm of Annette's. + +"Hello, Black," said her husband. "What are you doing here? I +thought you would be at the club, listening to the--what is it?-- +the cabaret. Py George, my wife says I shall not go any more! She +says it is no place for a settled man so old as I am. Ho! ho! Yet +I tell her the stag dinner is good for the beer business." + +Before B. Phelps could answer, Mrs. Black spoke. + +"He wanted to go, Mr. Fenholtz," she declared. "But he felt, as I +did, that our first duty was here. Captain and Mrs. Dott are old +friends of ours. We meet them every year at the Cape; we have a +summer home there, you know." + +Fenholtz seemed interested. "That is so," he said. "I forgot. +Dott, are you one of those Cape Cod skippers they tell me about? I +am glad of it. I have got a boat myself down in Narragansett Bay. +One of those gruisin' launches, they call them. But this one is +like the women, it will gruise only where and when it wants to, and +not where I want to at all. There is something the matter with the +engine always. I have had egsperts--ah, those egsperts!--they are +egsperts only in getting the money. When they are there it will go +beautifully; but when they have left it will not go at all. I wish +you could see it." + +Captain Dan was interested, too. + +"Well," he said, "I'd like to, first rate. I've got a boat of my +own back home; that is, I used to have her. She was a twenty-five +foot cat and she had a five-horsepower auxiliary in her. I had +consider'ble experience with that engine. Course, I ain't what +you'd call an expert." + +"I am glad of that. Now I will explain about this drouble of +mine." + +He went on to explain. In five minutes he and the captain were +head over heels in spark plugs and batteries and valves and +cylinders. Mr. Black endeavored to help out with quotations from +his experience as a motorist, but his suggestions, not being of a +nautical nature, were ignored for the most part. After a time he +lost interest and settled back in his chair. + +Meanwhile the three ladies were engrossed in other matters. Mrs. +Fenholtz asked to be shown the house; she had not seen it for a +long time, she said, and was much interested. Annette suddenly +remembered that, she also was "mad" to see it. So Serena led a +tour of inspection, in which Mr. Hapgood officiated as assistant +pilot and superintendent of lighting. + +After the tour was at an end, and just before the party descended +to the drawing-room, Mrs. Fenholtz turned to Serena and said: + +"Mrs. Dott, are you interested in club matters; in women's clubs, I +mean?" + +Serena's answer was a prompt one. + +"Indeed I am," she said. "I have always been interested in them. +In fact, I am president of the Trumet Chapter; that is, I was; of +course, I resigned when I came here." + +Mrs. Fenholtz looked puzzled. + +"Trumet Chapter?" she repeated. + +"Why, yes, the Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor. The +order Mrs. Black belongs to." + +"Oh!" in a slightly different tone. "Oh, yes, I see." + +"I'm terribly interested in THAT," declared Serena enthusiastically. +"If you knew the hours and hours I have put in working for the +Guild. It is a splendid movement; don't you think so?" + +"Why--why, I have no doubt it is. I don't belong to it myself. I +was thinking of our local club, our Scarford women's club, when I +spoke. I thought perhaps you might care to attend a meeting of +that with me." + +"I should love--" began Serena, and stopped. + +Mrs. Black, who was standing behind Mrs. Fenholtz, was shaking her +head. The last-named lady noticed her hostess' hesitation. + +"But of course," she went on, "if you are interested in the Ladies +of Honor you would no doubt prefer visiting a meeting of theirs. +In that case Mrs. Black could help you more than I. She is vice- +president of the Scarford Branch, I think. You are vice-president, +aren't you, Mrs. Black?" + +Annette colored slightly. + +"Why--why, yes," she admitted; "I am." + +Serena was surprised. + +"Vice-president?" she repeated. "Vice-president--I--I--must have +made a dreadful mistake. I introduced you as president at that +Trumet meeting. I certainly thought you were president." + +Now, as a matter of fact, if Mrs. Black had not specifically said +that she was president of the Scarford Chapter, she had led her +acquaintances in Trumet to infer that she was; at all events, she +had not corrected Serena's misapprehension on the night of the +meeting. She hastened to do so now. + +"Oh, no!" she said. "I noticed that you made a mistake when you +introduced me, but, of course, I could hardly correct you publicly, +and, when it was all over, I forgot. I am only vice-president, +just as Mrs. Fenholtz says." + +Mrs. Fenholtz smiled. "Well, I am not even an officeholder in our +club," she said, "although I was at one time. I have no doubt you +will prefer to be introduced by a vice-president rather than a mere +member; and I am sure Mrs. Black is planning for you to attend one +of the Guild meetings, so I mustn't interfere." + +Annette was visibly flurried. The Scarford Chapter was the one +subject which she had carefully avoided that evening. But between +it and the Woman's Club there was a bitter rivalry, and, although +she had not been at all anxious to act as sponsor for her friend +from the country, now that Mrs. Fenholtz had offered to do so and +had placed the responsibility squarely on her shoulders, she could +not dodge. + +"Why--why, of course," she said. "That was understood. We have +had so many things to talk about this evening that I had really +forgotten it, my dear Mrs. Dott. I had indeed! When," she +hesitated, "when could you make it convenient to attend one of our +meetings? Of course I know how busy you are just now in your new +home, and I shall not be unreasonable. I shouldn't, of course, +expect you to attend the NEXT meeting." + +"Oh," said the unconscious Serena, "I'm not so busy as all that. I +could go to the next meeting just as well as not. I should love +to." + +They entered the drawing-room, to find Captain Dan and the +Honorable Oscar still deep in the engine discussion and Mr. Black +sound asleep in his chair. Roused by his indignant wife, he +drowsily inquired if it was time to get up, and then, becoming +aware of the realities of the situation, hastily explained that he +had been thinking about business affairs and had forgotten where he +was. + +"Going, Annette, are you?" he asked. + +Annette tartly observed that she was going, and added that she +judged it high time to do so. Mrs. Fenholtz said that she and her +husband must be going, also. + +"But we shall hope to see a great deal of you and Mr.--I should say +Captain Dott," she said. "You must dine with us very soon. I will +set an evening and you mustn't say no." + +"That is right," said Mr. Fenholtz heartily. "Captain, some of +these days you and I will take a gouple of days and go down and +look at that boat. If she does not go then, we will put an +'egspert' in her and sink them both. What?" + +Altogether, it was a wonderful evening. The only fly in the +ointment was Azuba, who appeared just as the visitors were at the +door, to announce that "that foolhead of a grocer's boy" hadn't +brought the things she ordered and what they was going to do for +breakfast she didn't know. + +"I could give you b'iled eggs," she added, "but Captain Dan'l made +such a fuss about them we had yesterday that I didn't dast to do it +without askin' you. I wanted to have some picked-up fish, but they +didn't keep none but the hashed-up kind that comes in pasteboard +boxes, and I'd just as soon eat hay as that." + +On the way home Mrs. Black divided her discourse into two parts, +one a scorching of her husband for falling asleep and making her +ridiculous before the Fenholtzes, and the other a sort of irritated +soliloquy concerning "those Dotts" and the way in which they had +been loaded upon her shoulders. + +"I did my best to keep the Guild out of the conversation," she +said, "but that Fenholtz woman had to drag it in, and now, of +course, I've got to take that Dott person to the next meeting and +introduce her to everybody, and I suppose I shall have to see that +she is made a member. Oh, dear! I almost wish I had never seen +Trumet." + +B. Phelps grunted. "Humph!" he said. "If the Fenholtzes take them +up I don't see what you've got to kick about. You've been trying +to get in the Fenholtz set yourself for the last three years. +Maybe you can do it now." + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The Scarford Chapter of the Guild of the Ladies of Honor was not as +large a body as Mrs. Black in the exuberance of her Trumet +conversation had led Serena to think. In reality, its membership +was less than a hundred. It was formed in the beginning by a +number of seceders from the local Women's Club, who, disappointed +in their office-seeking ambitions and deeming the club old- +fashioned and old-fogyish in its ideas, had elected to form an +organization of their own. They had affiliated with the national +order of the Ladies of Honor, chiefly because of the opportunity +which such a body offered for office holding and notoriety. The +members were not drawn from the oldest families of Scarford nor +from those whose social position was established. They were +chiefly the wives and daughters of men who had made money rather +suddenly; would-be geniuses whose genius had not been recognized as +yet; women to whom public speaking and publicity were as the breath +of their nostrils; extravagants and social climbers of all sorts. + +The purposes of the organization, outside those specified in the +constitution of the parent body, were rather vague. Ex-Mayor +Fenholtz expressed a rather general opinion when he said: + +"The Ladies of Honor? Sure! it is a place where the women go who +think their husbands don't appreciate them. If I was one of those +husbands I should appreciate their having that place. They might +stay at home if they didn't. That would be a galamity." + +The ladies of the Scarford Chapter made it a point to be always +abreast of the times. Theirs was not a suffrage organization +because, as many of them said, the belief in suffrage was so common +nowadays. Their motto was "Advancement." Just what sort of +advancement seemed to make little difference. + +The next meeting--that is, the meeting to which Serena had been +invited--was one of the few at which men were permitted to be +present. The Blacks called at the Dott mansion with the car, Mr. +Black not acting as driver this time, and the journey to the hall +was made in that vehicle. It was not a lively journey, so Captain +Dan thought. He and B. Phelps occupied the folding seats facing +the two ladies and Mr. Black maintained a gloomy silence all the +way. As for Annette and Serena, they talked and talked upon +subjects miles above the head of the captain. Mrs. Black did most +of the talking; Serena was content to listen and pretend to +understand. + +"This is to be an open meeting, Mrs. Dott," said Annette +graciously. "You see, we have open meetings, just as you do in +Trumet, although I doubt if you find much resemblance between the +two. You'd scarcely expect that, would you? Ha! ha! It is a good +thing," she added, addressing the occupants of the carriage in +general, "for these husbands of ours to be shown occasionally what +their wives are capable of. Here is our Chapter building. Phelps, +give Mrs. Dott your arm." + +The Chapter building proved to be not quite up to Serena's +expectation. It was a building, of course, but the Chapter +occupied only two or three rooms on the third floor, the other +floors being occupied by offices of various sorts. The largest +room, that which Mrs. Black dignified by the title of "Assembly +Hall," was partially filled when they entered. Some sixty women of +various ages, with a sprinkling of men among them, occupied the +chairs on the floor. Upon the speakers' platform half a dozen +ladies in radiant attire were chatting volubly with another, an +imposing creature in crimson silk, who surveyed the audience +through a gold lorgnette, and whose general appearance reminded +Daniel of one of the stuffed armchairs in the parlor of their new +home. + +"That is Mrs. Cornish, the speaker of the evening," whispered +Annette. "She is one of our most brilliant members." + +"Yes," replied Dan'l, to whom the information had been imparted, +and upon whom the crimson silk had made an impression; "yes, she-- +she does look sort of--sort of brilliant." + +"But I thought the Chapter was larger than this," said the puzzled +Mrs. Dott. "I thought Scarford had one of the largest Chapters." + +"Oh, no, not the largest, merely one of the best. Our motto always +has been quality not quantity. And now will you excuse me? They +are waiting for me on the platform. I will see you when the open +meeting is over. Phelps, find good seats for Mr. and Mrs. Dott." + +She bustled away to the platform. The gloomy B. Phelps found seats +for the guests and himself and sank heavily down beside them. +Daniel, who had been gazing about him with curiosity, whispered a +question. + +"What do they do at these things, Barney--Phelps, I mean?" he +asked. "Are they like lodge meetings at home? This is my first +trip here, you know." + +"Humph!" grunted his companion. "You're in luck." + +"Talk, don't they?" + +"Talk! Good Lord! Say, Dan, if I get to sleep and you notice +Annette looking this way, nudge me, that's a good fellow." + +He settled himself in his chair and closed his eyes. Daniel turned +to his wife. + +"Serena," he murmured. "Say, Serena, don't you think it is a +queer-lookin' crowd? Seems to me I never saw such clothes or so +many different kinds of hair. Look at that woman's skirt. It's +tore all up one side." + +"Sshh! Don't speak so loud. That's the latest style." + +"What! THAT? Well, I--" + +"Sshh! It's the latest style, I tell you. Haven't you seen the +fashion magazines? All the new dresses are made that way." + +"Yours ain't." + +"Well, I--I'm not as young as that woman is." + +"You wouldn't wear a thing like that if you were as young as +Gertie; and she wouldn't either, not if I saw it first. I never +saw such folks as these at Trumet." + +"Of course you didn't. Trumet isn't Scarford. We are in society +now, Daniel. We mustn't show our ignorance." + +"Humph! I'd rather show my ignorance than--Hello, the doin's are +goin' to commence." + +The Chapter president, a Mrs. Lake, advanced to the desk, smote it +fiercely with a gavel and demanded order. The hall, which had been +buzzing like a colony of June bugs, gradually grew still. Then +Mrs. Lake opened the meeting. She delivered a short speech. Mrs. +Black, in lieu of the secretary, who was absent, read the minutes. +Then there were motions and amendments and excited calls for +recognition from "Madam President." It was livelier than Daniel +had expected. + +But soon the woman in crimson silk was introduced. Mrs. Cornish +bowed in recognition of the gloved applause, and proceeded to +talk . . . and talk . . . and talk. . . . + +At first Captain Dan endeavored to pay strict attention to the +address. Its title was "The Modern Tendency," and the tendency in +this case seemed to be to say as much as possible about nothing in +particular. + +Daniel found his attention wandering and his eyes closing. They +opened at intervals as the applause burst forth, but they closed +between bursts. The tremendous enthusiasm at the end, however, +awoke him for good, and he remained awake until the close of the +"open meeting," a marked contrast to Mr. Black, who slumbered to +the finish. + +When it was over Annette descended from the platform and came +hurrying to them. + +"How did you enjoy it, Captain Dott?" she purred. + +Daniel rather dubiously admitted that he guessed 'twas first rate, +far's he could make it out. His wife was enthusiastic; she +affirmed that it was splendid. + +"I'm sure we couldn't help enjoying it, Mrs. Black," she said. +"Everyone of us. Didn't you enjoy it, Mr. Black?" + +"Sure!" replied Phelps promptly. "Great stuff!" + +His wife swooped upon him like a swallow on a fly. + +"You?" she snorted contemptuously. "You didn't hear a word of it. +I only hope Mrs. Cornish wasn't watching you, as I was. And now," +she added, turning to Serena, "comes the other part, the important +part. Captain Dott, there is to be a short business meeting in a +few minutes, and men are, of course, excluded. Phelps, will you +have James drive Captain Dott home? You had better go with him, +and then come back again and wait for us. Captain Dott, I am going +to borrow your wife for a short time." + +Daniel, not knowing exactly what to say, said nothing. Phelps +seized his arm and led him down to the carriage. The driver +received his instructions and the homeward ride began. + +"I say, Barney," observed Daniel, after waiting for his escort to +volunteer a word or two, "are all their meetings like that?" + +Mr. Black snorted. "No," he declared; "some are a d----d sight +worse." + +It was after eleven when Serena returned. Her face was flushed and +shining with excitement. She did not wait to remove her hat, but +rushed into the parlor where her husband sat in lonely magnificence. +The solicitous Hapgood, who had happened in every few minutes to see +if his employer "wished anything," had been ordered to "go aloft and +turn in." The tone in which the order was given made an impression +and Hapgood had obeyed. + +"Oh, Daniel!" she cried. "What do you think? I've been made a +member of the Chapter!" + +Captain Dan should perhaps have been enthusiastic. If he was, he +suppressed his feelings wonderfully. + +"Have you, Serena?" he observed. "I want to know!" + +He listened while his wife dilated upon the wonderful happenings at +the meeting and the glorious consequences which she felt sure were +to follow. Just before putting out the light he asked one more +question. + +"That--that Mrs. Lake?" he said. "She's a grass widow, ain't she-- +isn't she, I mean?" + +"Yes, what of it?" + +"Oh, nothing. Only I thought you were kind of prejudiced against-- +against--" + +"I've had a good many prejudices, I suppose, like other people. +But Mrs. Lake's husband was a brute; Mrs. Black told me so. He +must have been, for she is perfectly lovely. I've met them all, +and they are ALL lovely. They're going to call and--and +everything. Oh, Daniel, this means so much to us!" + +Captain Dan turned out the gas. + +"Yes, Serena," he said slowly. "I shouldn't wonder if it did." + +The calls began the very next afternoon. Mrs. Black, having made +up her mind that the taking of the Dotts under her wing was a +necessity, made a virtue of that necessity and explained to her +fellow members of Scarford Chapter that Serena and Daniel were +really very nice people. "A little countrified, of course. You +must expect that. But they are very kind hearted and immensely +wealthy--oh, immensely." She was kind enough to add that Serena +was quite an exceptional person and an advanced thinker, +considering her opportunities. "The club people were going to take +them up, and so I felt that we should get in first," she explained. +"If they should prove to be impossible we can drop them at any +time, of course." + +In making this explanation she did not mention the Fenholtzes, and +yet if it had not been for the call of the Honorable Oscar and his +wife it is extremely doubtful if Serena would have become a member +of Scarford Chapter so soon. Also it is doubtful if the little +dinner given by the Blacks to Mr. and Mrs. Dott would have taken +place within the week. At that dinner Captain Dan wore his first +dress suit. He bought it ready made at one of the Scarford shops +and it fitted him remarkably well, considering. What he could not +do, however, was to feel at ease in it. + +"Good land, Serena!" he said, when the dressing was completed and +they were about to start for the dinner, "don't pick at me so +everlastin'ly. Don't you suppose I know I look as stiff and +awkward as if I'd froze? You won't let me put my hands in my +pockets, and all I can do is hang 'em around loose and think about +'em, and this blessed collar is so high I can't scarcely get my +chin over it. I'm doin' my best, so don't keep remindin' me what I +look like all the time." + +"I don't care what you say, Daniel," declared his wife. "The +clothes are just what you ought to wear, and if you would only +forget them for a little while you would look all right." + +"But I can't forget. I know the clothes are all right. It's me +that's all wrong. My red face stickin' over the top of this collar +looks like a fireman's shirt on a white fence. I tell you I ain't +used to this kind of thing. I wasn't born to it and it don't come +natural to me." + +"Neither was Mr. Black 'born to it,' but he has got used to it and +so can you if you will try." + +"Oh, I'll try. But I'm beginnin' awful late in life. I know +you'll be ashamed of me, Serena. You ought to have a different +husband." + +"I don't want a different one. I wouldn't change you for anybody. +But I do think you ought to try and help me as much as you can. My +chance has just come; I am only just beginning and I mean to go on +and improve myself and our position in life all I can. All I ask +you to do is not to hold me back by complaining." + +The "little dinner" was not as little as it might have been. +Annette had taken pains to make it as elaborate and as costly an +affair as she could. This was not solely on the Dotts' account. +She had invited Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz and the impression was to be +made upon them, if possible. But, unfortunately, the Fenholtzes +did not attend. Mrs. Fenholtz wrote that she had a prior +engagement and sent regrets, just as she had previously done on the +occasions of Mrs. Black's other "little" functions. + +However, the leading lights of Scarford Chapter attended and the +display of gowns and coiffures was more varied and elaborate than +at the open meeting. Serena, seated at the right hand of B. +Phelps, was in her glory. She felt that at last she was in touch +with the real thing. Daniel, sandwiched between Annete and Mrs. +Lake, was not as happy. The necessity of forgetting his clothes +and remembering his grammar was a heavy burden. His conversation +was limited to "Yes" and "No" and "I shouldn't wonder," and after a +time the ladies ceased in their efforts to make him talk and +carried on an animated dialogue across his shirt front. + +After dinner there was music and bridge. Daniel was fond of music, +but most of the songs, sung by a thin young lady with a great deal +of hair and a decollete gown, were in a language which he did not +understand, and the piano solos seemed to him to be made up of +noise and gymnastics with very little melody. He watched Serena, +however, who, in turn, was watching Mrs. Lake and the rest; when +they applauded, she applauded and the captain followed suit. + +Bridge was an unknown quantity to both of them, and they sat and +looked on while Mrs. Black made it "without" and found fault with +her partner when they lost. The thin young lady, who had obliged +with the vocal selections, asked the captain if he played "nullos." +Daniel, who was not sure whether "nullos" was a musical instrument +or a game, replied that he wasn't sure, but he didn't think he did; +after which he retired into the corner to avoid further +questioning. + +They reached home about two o'clock, and the captain fell sound +asleep in the taxi and had to be shaken into consciousness when the +machine reached the Dott door. + +"My soul, Serena," he said, when they were upstairs in the bedroom, +"don't those folks ever go to bed? There was stuff enough to eat +at that dinner to last the average family through three meals. +Time I had finished the ice cream I was ready to curl up like a cat +in front of the fire; but the rest of them seemed to be just +startin' in to be lively. Are we goin' to keep this up very long? +If we are, I'll have to sleep in the daytime, like a fo'mast hand +on night lookout." + +"But wasn't it splendid?" explained his wife. "Weren't they +cultivated, brilliant people? You and I never went to anything +like THAT dinner before, Daniel Dott." + +The captain admitted that they never did. "Could you make anything +out of that game they were playin'?" he asked. "What was it they +called it?" + +"Bridge. No, I couldn't, but I'm going to. I'm going to learn it +just as soon as I can. Mrs. Black says everybody plays it now." + +Her husband chuckled. "Those that don't play it had better not +try," he observed. "Judgin' from what I saw to-night, if they do +try they get into trouble. That Lake woman was givin' that poor +little bald-headed fellow she was playin' with fits most of the +time. Whenever they won she patted herself on the back, and when +they didn't she said it was his fault. He ought to have 'echoed' +or hollered back--or somethin'. One time she put down a card and +he put another kind of a one on it, and she glared at him and said, +'Havin' no clubs?' and he had one that he'd forgot. He spent the +next ten minutes beggin' her pardon, but 'twas a good thing SHE +didn't have a club. She'd have used it on him if she had. He was +all shriveled up like a frostbitten cranberry when they got +through." + +After they were in bed he said, "Serena, what was that black stuff +they had on the toast at the beginnin' of that supper? Looked like +tar, but it tasted kind of salty and good." + +"Don't say supper, Daniel. It was a dinner. All city people have +dinner at night. That was caviar on the toast. I've read about +it. It comes from Russia." + +Silence for a moment. Then Captain Dan said reflectively, "Caviar? +Caviar, eh? I've heard of that somewhere before; where was it? +Yes, yes, I know. 'Twas a caviar sandwich the waiter asked that +young fellow I met in the Rat Cellar to have. I never found out +who that young fellow was, and yet I know I've met him somewhere +before. I wish I could remember where it was. My memory is +failin' me, I guess; must be gettin' old. Can't you remember, +Serena?" + +But his wife bade him stop talking and go to sleep. + +The next day there were more calls, and Serena was asked to attend +a committee meeting as a guest. She attended it and returned more +full of Chapter enthusiasm than ever. She announced that she might +be asked to prepare a paper to be read before the Chapter, and that +she intended to study and prepare for it. Study and prepare she +did, and, between dodging callers, or helping to entertain them, +and keeping out of his wife's way while she was busy with the +encyclopedias which she had taken from the library, the captain +began to feel somewhat deserted. Hapgood's company was too stately +to be congenial, and Daniel sought refuge in the kitchen, where +Azuba, as usual, was always ready to talk. + +Azuba was brimming over with the novelty of city life. She had +been to the theater once already since her arrival, and to the +moving picture show three times. + +"Don't talk to ME," she said. "If them pictures ain't the most +wonderful things that ever was, then _I_ don't know. _I_ never +expected to see such sights--soldiers paradin', and cowboys a- +ridin', and houses a-burnin', and Indians scalpin' 'em! I was so +worked up I hollered right out." + +"I should think you would. An Indian scalpin' a house is enough to +make anybody holler." + +"They didn't scalp the house; what sort of foolishness would that +be--the idea! They scalped the folks IN the house. That is, they +would have scalped 'em, only along come the cowboys wavin' pistols +and hurrahin'--" + +"Could you hear 'em hurrah?" + +"No, but I could see 'em. And the way they went for them Indians +was a caution. And--Oh, say, Captain Dott, there was one set of +pictures there made me think of you. 'Twas all about some people +that wanted to go into society. She had a paralyzed father and +they had a child, a real pretty girl, and, would you believe it, +they commenced to neglect their child and go off playin' cards and +dancin' and carousin' around, and the child was took down sick and +the poor paralyzed grandfather--" + +"Grandfather? Thought you said it was a father." + +"'Twas the WOMAN'S father--the child's grandfather. Well, anyhow, +the poor thing had to take care of it, and the nurse went to sleep +and the father come home and found her dyin'--" + +"Who, the nurse?" + +"No, no, the child. The nurse wa'n't sick; but the child was +terrible sick." + +"What was the matter with the child; paralysis, too?" + +"I don't know what was the matter with it. 'Tain't likely 'twas +paralysis. You get me so mixed up I shan't know what I AM sayin' +pretty soon. Well, anyhow, what happened was that the child's +mother and father neglected it on account their fashionable goin's- +on, and the child up and died. 'Twas the most affectin' thing. +There was the child a-dyin', and the mother and father cryin', and +the old grandfather goin' all to pieces--" + +"All to pieces! That's worse than paralysis. Hold on a minute, +Azuba! Was all this in the picture?" + +"Yes." + +"And you paid to see it?" + +"Course I paid to see it. They wouldn't let me in for nothin', +'tain't likely." + +"Well, seems to me you've made a mistake. If cryin' and misery is +what you want, I don't doubt you can find a lot of funerals to go +to for nothin'. But what was there about all this mess of horrors +that made you think of me?" + +"Oh, I don't know, unless the way you and Mrs. Dott are goin' in +for society in Scarford. Course your child is grown up, so that's +different, though, ain't it?" + +"Yes, and there isn't any paralysis in the family, so far as I +know. That's a mercy. Don't you get paralysis, Azuba. If you do, +it will take you longer to get breakfast than it does now." + +"That's all right. You ought to be thankful you've got me to get +breakfast. If I wa'n't here you'd have to get it yourself, I +cal'late. Your wife's too busy these days, and that Hapgood man +wouldn't do it. I know that." + +Relations between the butler and Azuba were already somewhat +strained. He considered her a rude and interfering person and she +considered that he would bear watching. + +"He's always recommendin' folks for us to trade with," she told +Captain Dan. "What business is it to him who we trade with?-- +unless he gets a little somethin' for himself out of it. He won't +do it more than once--not if I catch him at it. Don't talk to me +about that Hapgood! I wouldn't trust one of them foreigners, +anyhow." + +The invitation to dine with the Fenholtzes came about a week after +the dinner at the Blacks'. Daniel, who opened the letter +containing the invitation, was very much pleased. He liked the +Fenholtzes at first sight and felt sure he should like them better +on further acquaintance. But when Serena came back from the lodge +meeting--the first regular meeting which she had attended since +becoming a member--she received the news rather coldly. + +"When is it they want us?" she said. "Next Tuesday night? Well, +we could go, I suppose, but I don't believe we shall. Mrs. Lake +said something about coming around that evening to help me read my +paper and criticise it." + +The captain was surprised and troubled. "She could come some other +time, couldn't she? I think 'twas real kind of the Fenholtzes to +ask us. Seems to me we ought to go. You and I haven't even been +to pay back that call yet." + +"I know it. I've meant to, but I've been so busy. Besides, I +don't know whether it is worth while or not. The Fenholtzes have +got a great deal of money, but all the Chapter people say they are +sort of back numbers." + +However, she decided to accept the invitation, and they went in +state. But the state was largely on their part. The dinner was a +very simple affair compared to the elaborate spread of the Blacks, +and the two or three people whom they met were quite different from +Mrs. Lake and her friends. Captain Dan enjoyed himself hugely. He +sat next to Mrs. Fenholtz at the table, and her quiet conversation +on every-day subjects he could understand. Before the dinner was +over he was thoroughly at ease, and when later on, in company with +the Honorable Oscar and the male guests, he sat smoking in the +library, he found himself spinning yarns and joking as freely as if +he had been in the back room of the Metropolitan Store in Trumet. +The shouts of laughter from the library could be heard in the +parlor, and Serena grew nervous. + +"Your husband must be very entertaining," said Mrs. Fenholtz. "I +haven't heard Mr. Fenholtz laugh so heartily in a long time." + +Mrs. Dott was fearful that Daniel might be making himself +ridiculous. She didn't mention her fears. Her own remarks were +delivered with a great deal of dignity, and she quoted Mrs. Black +and the encyclopedia often. On the way home she took her husband +to task. + +"What in the world were you talking about with those men?" she +demanded. "I never heard such a noise as they made. I do hope you +didn't forget yourself." + +The captain rubbed his chin. "I don't know but what I did forget +myself, Serena," he replied. "I know I had a good time and never +thought about my clothes after the first ten minutes. Could you +hear 'em laughin'? I was tellin' em' about Azuba's goin' to the +movin' pictures then." + +His wife was shocked. "And Azuba is our cook," she said, "and they +know it. I don't know what sort of servants they think we have. +They must think you're pretty familiar with them." + +"Good land, Serena! I've been familiar with Zuba all my life. If +I was to put on airs with her she'd take me down in a hurry." + +Mrs. Dott sighed. "I'm afraid you did forget yourself," she +declared. "I think if you could hear what the Fenholtzes are +saying about us now you'd be ashamed. I'm sure I should." + +And at that very moment Mr. Fenholtz was saying: "That man Dott is +all right. I have not laughed so for years. And he has common +sense, too. I like him." + +His wife nodded. "So do I," she said; "and I think I should like +Mrs. Dott, too, if she had not been spoiled by Annette Black and +the rest of those foolish women she associates with. I don't mean +to say that Mrs. Dott is completely spoiled yet, but she will be +soon, I'm afraid, unless I can make her realize that she is +beginning all wrong here in Scarford. If she could only have gone +to the Woman's Club first I think she might understand, but now I'm +afraid it's too late." + +At the next meeting of the Chapter Serena read her paper. She +mounted the platform with fear and trembling. She left it exalted +and triumphant. The paper had been applauded and she had been +congratulated by her fellow members. Annette was enthusiastic and +Mrs. Lake and the other leaders equally so. Stories of the "vast" +wealth inherited by the Dotts had been circulated freely, and +these, quite as much as the wonderful paper, were responsible for +Serena's bound into popularity. + +But the popularity was there, and the unconscious Serena believed +it to be real. That meeting was the beginning of her obsession. +Thereafter she talked chapter and society and opportunity and +advancement, and ate them and drank them, too--at least the meals-- +those at home--seemed to the captain to be made up of very little +else. Their evenings alone together became few and fewer. When +they were not entertaining callers they were calling. Captain Dan +actually began to feel at home in his evening clothes; a good deal +more than he did in his night clothes, so he told his wife. +Breakfast, which, in the beginning of their Scarford residence, had +been served at seven-thirty, was now an hour later, and even then +Daniel frequently ate alone. + +Then came the reception idea. Annette--she and Mrs. Dott were +calling each other by their Christian names now--had dropped the +hint concerning it. She had said that a good way in which to repay +social obligations was by doing it all at once, by giving a dinner, +or reception, or a tea, to which everyone should be invited. +Serena decided that the reception was perhaps the better, all +things considered. And so preparations for the reception began. +There was to be a collation, and when this item of information was +imparted to Azuba the kitchen became a maelstrom of activity in +which Captain Daniel could no longer find rest and refuge. + +"But, Zuba," he remonstrated, "what do you think's comin' here; a +drove of hyenas? You've cooked enough already to victual a ship +halfway across the ocean. These folks eat sometimes at home. You +don't think they're comin' here to make up for six months' +starvation, do you?" + +"Don't talk to me!" was all the satisfaction he got. "I've heard +about what they had to eat over there at Barney Black's, and I +don't mean for folks to say that they went hungry when they come +here. Don't say another word. I don't know now whether it was a +cup full of sugar or a pinch of salt I put in, or the other way +'round. Cookin'! Don't talk to ME." + +The captain found it practically impossible to talk to anybody. +Hapgood was busy; Serena was busier, and Azuba was busiest of all. +Wherever he went he seemed to be in the way, and when he fled for +walks up and down the streets the crowds of strange faces made him +feel lonelier than ever. On the evening before that upon which the +reception was to be held he returned from one of these walks to +find Serena in tears. + +"Why, good gracious sakes!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?" + +"Matter!" sobbed his wife. "Oh, dear me! Everything is the +matter! I'm so tired I don't know what to do, and Annette and Mrs. +Lake were coming here to-morrow to help me, and now they can't +come. They'll be at the reception, of course, but they can't come +before; and there's so much to get ready and I don't know whether +I'm doing it right or not. What SHALL I do!" + +Daniel shook his head. "Seems to me I'd do the best I could and +let it go at that," he advised. "If they ain't satisfied I'd let +'em stay the other way. I wish I could help you, but I don't know +how." + +"Of course you don't. You don't have any sympathy for the whole +thing, and I know it. I feel it all the time. You haven't any +sympathy for ME." + +The captain sighed. He had a vague feeling that he could use a +little sympathy himself, but with characteristic unselfishness he +put that idea from his mind. + +"I guess what you need is a manager," he said. "Somebody that's +used to these sort of things that could help you out. I wish I +knew where there was one." + +Hapgood appeared and announced that dinner was served. Serena +hurriedly dried her eyes and they descended to the dining-room. +Just as they were about to take their seats at the table the +doorbell rang. Hapgood left the room and returned a few moments +later bearing a card on a tray. Serena took the card, looked at +it, and then at her husband. Her face expressed astonishment and +dismay. + +"Why, Daniel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why, Daniel! WHO +do you suppose is here?" + +Her husband announced that he didn't know. He took the card from +her hand and looked at it. It was a very simple but very correct +card, and upon it in old English script was the name "Mr. Percy +Hungerford." + +Daniel's face reflected the astonishment upon his wife's. + +"My soul!" he muttered. "Percy Hungerford! Why, that's--that's +the cousin; the one Aunt Laviny cut out of her will; the one that +would have had all this place and all the money if we hadn't got +it. I thought he was in New York somewhere. Black said he was, +and now he's here. What in the world does he want?" + +Mrs. Dott rose. "I don't know," she gasped. "I can't imagine. +But I suppose we must see him. We've got to. Did you ask him to +wait, Hapgood?" + +Hapgood bowed respectfully. "Mr. Hungerford is in the drawing- +room, ma'am," he said. + +To the drawing-room moved Serena, followed by her husband. + +"Good evening, Mr. Hungerford," said the lady, with a partially +successful attempt at calmness. "How do you do? My husband +and I--" + +She paused. The expression on Mr. Hungerford's face was an odd +one. She turned to Daniel, and his expression was odder still. He +was standing in the doorway gazing at the visitor, his eyes opening +wider and wider. + +Mr. Percy Hungerford was the young man whom his friend had +addressed as "Tacks," the young man with whom Captain Dan had +exchanged repartee in the Rathskeller of the Palatine Hotel. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Of the two men, Mr. Hungerford was the first to recover presence of +mind. Presence of mind was one of the qualities upon which he +prided himself, and it was a very awkward situation to which he +could not rise. For just an instant the color rushed to his cheeks +as he recognized the captain and saw that the latter recognized +him. Then: + +"Why, how do you do, Captain Dott?" he said. "By Jove, this is +extraordinary, isn't it! Strange that relatives shouldn't know +each other when they meet. How do you do?" + +He stepped forward with extended hand. Captain Dan, who had +expected almost anything but this bland cordiality, scarcely knew +what to say or do. He took the proffered hand mechanically and +dropped it again. + +"Well!" he stammered. "Well!--I declare I--I didn't expect to--" + +He paused. Mrs. Dott, who had been watching this scene in +bewilderment, spoke before he could finish his sentence. + +"Why, what is it?" she asked. "Have you--" + +Mr. Hungerford smiled. "Your husband and I have met before," he +explained. "Just a casual meeting and we weren't aware of each +other's identity. I'm afraid I was not as cordial as I might have +been on that occasion, Captain. I was a bit tired and rather out +of sorts. I hope you'll forgive me, I'm sure." + +Daniel hesitated; then he smiled. + +"Why, I guess I can forgive my half if you can yours," he said +slowly. + +Before the puzzled Serena could ask another question the visitor +turned to her. + +"I'm sure you must be very much surprised to see me here," he said. +"I'm somewhat surprised to be here myself. I've spent a greater +part of the past month in New York and have only just returned-- +that is, to stay. I fully intended to call before, and should if I +had been in town. How are you getting on? How do you like the +dear old place? Ah!" with a sigh, as he seated himself and looked +about him, "how familiar it all seems!" + +The Dotts looked at each other. Serena sank into a chair. Captain +Dan remained standing. + +"Does it?" said the former rather feebly. + +"Indeed it does. One almost expects to see Auntie coming in at the +door. Dear old Auntie! I can scarcely realize that she has gone." + +Again Serena looked at Daniel and he at her. This was so strange, +so different from the attitude which a disappointed legatee might +be expected to assume that neither of the pair knew exactly how to +reply. But Mr. Hungerford did not appear to notice the look or the +hesitation. + +"This house seems like home to me," he said. "I've spent so many +happy hours here. When old Hapgood opened the door for me I almost +ordered him to take my bags to my room. Really I did. That would +have been droll, wouldn't it?" + +He laughed languidly. Serena admitted that it would have been +droll. Captain Dan remained silent as before. + +"Are--are you stopping at the hotel?" queried Mrs. Dott. + +"Not yet. In fact, I'm not really stopping anywhere. I've just +arrived. I must be hurrying back to dinner, I suppose, but I +couldn't resist coming here first. It seemed the natural thing to +do." + +Voices were heard in the hall. One of the voices was Azuba's; she +was informing Mr. Hapgood that if that soup didn't go back on the +stove pretty soon it might just as well be on ice. The words were +distinctly audible, and Serena colored. Mr. Hungerford rose. + +"I'm sure I must be keeping you from your own dinner," he said. +"Don't let me do that for the world." + +"Why--why--" faltered Serena. She looked appealingly at Daniel, +and the latter's instinctive hospitality asserted itself. He had +disliked the young man "Tacks" when he met him in the Rathskeller. +Now that "Tacks" had become Mr. Percy Hungerford, Aunt Lavinia's +cousin and his own distant relative, the dislike was only partially +abated. But to turn him away from the door hungry seemed wrong +somehow. + +"Hadn't you better--" he began. + +"Have dinner with us?" finished his wife. + +Mr. Hungerford protested. + +"Oh, I couldn't think of it," he declared. "No doubt you have +guests--" + +"Oh, no, we haven't. We're all alone and it would be no trouble at +all. We should like to have you stay. Shouldn't we, Daniel?" + +"Sartin, no trouble at all," said Daniel heartily. "Like to have +you first rate." + +"Well, if you insist. It is a frightful imposition--I shouldn't +think of it, of course, but--well, thank you so much." + +So Hapgood received orders to lay another plate, and Mr. +Hungerford, still murmuring protests, suffered himself to be +conducted to the dining-room. + +All through the meal the captain regarded him with puzzled +curiosity. That he had come to the house merely for a friendly +call he could scarcely believe. He had heard little or nothing of +the conversation between Hungerford and his friend at the table in +the Rathskeller, and yet the attitude of the former on that +occasion had not indicated a temperament likely to forgive "dear +Aunt Lavinia" so freely or to display such angelic cordiality +toward those who had come into possession of her property. But the +cordiality remained unchanged, and the visitor, so far from bearing +a grudge toward his more fortunate relatives, continued to treat +them as though they were near and dear friends, and do everything +in his power to relieve their constraint and to make himself +agreeable. The dinner ended and they adjourned to the drawing- +room, with Captain Dan's mental question "What in the world is this +young chap really up to?" still unanswered. + +Serena had asked herself that same question when the caller first +came, but now she was beginning to be ashamed of her suspicions and +to think them unfounded. Mr. Hungerford was agreeable; there was +no doubt of that. Also he was good-looking, in an effeminate sort +of way, and his conversation was fluent and cultured. He led +Serena into speaking of the Chapter and her work there, and he +displayed a knowledge of and an interest in that Chapter and its +members which was very gratifying. + +The coming reception was mentioned, and the visitor's interest in +that was more gratifying still. It was evident that receptions and +society functions generally were matters of every day, or every +night, occurrence to him. He asked Mrs. Dott who was to assist her +in receiving, and when she answered the question his approval of +the selections was unqualified. He suggested one or two little +ideas which he said might add to making the affair a success. +Serena welcomed the suggestions as a starving man might welcome a +meal. + +"That'll be lovely," she said, "and we can do it just as well as +not. And I had thought of having some bridge or something +afterwards; but Annette--Mrs. Black, I mean--didn't seem to think +bridge would be just the thing after a reception. And there's +music; I know we really ought to have music, and I had meant to +have somebody play the piano. But the woman I wanted can't come, +and now I don't know what to do. What would you think about that, +Mr. Hungerford?" + +Mr. Hungerford suggested hiring one or two professional musicians. +"A violinist, or harpist, or both, perhaps," he said. "Music is +always, as you say, a great addition to such affairs, Mrs. Dott. I +happen to know of a young fellow who plays exceptionally well, and +his sister is really a very accomplished performer on the harp. Of +course they should be engaged in merely a professional capacity. +They are not persons who would mingle with our set, but they're not +at all objectionable, really." + +The diplomatic phrasing of this remark had its effect. It +indicated that Mrs. Dott's "set" was an exclusive one and, +incidentally, that the accomplished and polished Mr. Hungerford +considered his host and hostess as social equals. + +"There!" exclaimed Serena. "I think that will be just fine. And +you are the first one, Mr. Hungerford, to think of it. Do you +suppose you could get these--these--er--persons you speak of to +come and play for us?" + +"I think so. I have befriended the young man in various ways, and +he is, if you will excuse my saying so, under some obligations to +me. I should be glad to make the attempt if you wish it, Mrs. +Dott." + +"Cost somethin', won't it?" observed Captain Dan casually. Mr. +Hungerford regarded him with well-bred surprise. + +"Why, of course," he said, "there will be some expense. I think +fifty dollars will cover the bill. The usual rate for musicians of +their class is somewhat higher." + +There was no doubt that the captain was surprised. "Fifty +DOLLARS!" he repeated. "Why--" + +His wife interrupted. "That will be all right, Mr. Hungerford," +she said. "That will be quite satisfactory." + +"Of course, there are many whom you can obtain for less, and, if +you feel that that figure is too high, I shall be glad to try +elsewhere. I have had little experience outside of the best, but-- +" + +Serena interrupted again. "We don't want anybody but the best," +she declared, emphatically. "Be still, Daniel. This isn't +Trumet." + +Daniel drew a long breath. "There ain't much doubt of that," he +observed. "But, all right, Serena, if you and Mr. Hungerford think +it's all right, I guess it is. I'm more used to hirin' sailors +than I am folks to play the harp." + +"Music," went on Mr. Hungerford, "is almost a necessity, in these +days, when everyone dances. Is this a formal reception, or had you +intended clearing a floor for dancing, Mrs. Dott?" + +Mrs. Dott had not intended any such thing; she had not thought of +it. But she concealed the fact from her visitor with remarkable +presence of mind. + +"Oh, of course!" she said. + +The conversation continued, a conversation limited to Mr. +Hungerford and his hostess, while Captain Dan remained a silent and +amazed listener. The young gentleman was invited to attend the +reception, Serena making many apologies for the informality of the +invitation, and the guest expressing himself as delighted. + +"Of course," he said, "I wouldn't intrude for the world, but I +don't feel like an intruder in this house, where I have spent so +many happy hours. Feeling as I do, I'm going to make another +suggestion which, under different circumstances, might be +considered an impertinence. I am at leisure to-morrow--in fact, +all this week--and if there is anything that I can do to help you +and Cousin Daniel, in this matter of the reception or any other, I +shall be at your service. I do hope you will permit me to help and +that you will not consider me presuming in offering to do so." + +It was quite evident that the offer was very welcome. Mrs. Dott +accepted it with enthusiasm and called upon her husband to confirm +the acceptance. He did so, but with less warmth, and it was agreed +that the obliging Mr. Hungerford should drop in the next morning +after calling upon his protege, the violinist. A half hour later +he said "Good-night," and departed. + +"There!" said Serena. "If that isn't Providence, then I don't +know. And it only goes to show how one person can misjudge another +without knowing anything about him. I've always had a prejudice +against that Mr. Hungerford simply because of what you told me of +meeting him years ago, and now I don't think I ever met a kinder, +nicer young man. Did you, Daniel?" + +The captain hesitated. "I--I," he stammered, "well, Serena, I will +give in that he seemed nice and obligin' enough to-night, but you +see there's just one thing that--" + +Serena turned on him. "Yes, I know," she said. "There's always +'one thing' about everybody that _I_ like. He's smart and bright +and well dressed and polite. He's a gentleman! and a different +kind from any that we've ever met. That makes YOU suspicious, of +course." + +"Now you know it isn't that; but--but--" + +"But what?" + +There was more hesitation on the captain's part. He had intended +to tell of the meeting at the Rathskeller; then he remembered the +young man's explanation and apology and thought better of it. He +and "Cousin Percy" might have another interview on the morrow. +Meanwhile, he would keep still, particularly as his wife seemed to +have forgotten their caller's reference to the meeting. He +finished his sentence in another way. + +"But I don't see what he came here for," he said. + +"He came here to see us. And, I think, considering how he was +treated in Aunt Lavinia's will, it was awfully nice of him to come +at all. And, as for helping me out on that reception, he's been a +perfect godsend already. I should THINK you would appreciate it." + +Before the next day was over, and long before the first of the +evening's guests arrived, the services of the new-found friend of +the family were appreciated even by the reluctant Daniel. Mr. +Hungerford came early and proceeded immediately to make himself +useful. He had seen the violinist, and the latter and his sister +had promised to be on hand. He took Hapgood in charge and +superintended the arranging of the drawing-room and the library for +the reception and the dancing. When the messenger from the florist +came with the flowers which Serena, acting upon the suggestion of +Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, had ordered, he saw that they were placed +in exactly the right positions for effect. Being urged to stay for +lunch, he stayed. And his conversation during the meal was so +fluent, so aristocratic in flavor, and yet so friendly, that Serena +became more and more taken with him. With the captain he was not +quite as much at his ease. But he did his best to be agreeable, +and Daniel, still vaguely suspicious, found nothing tangible upon +which to base distrust. There was so much to be done in the +afternoon that, acting upon a hint so delicate that it could +scarcely be called a hint, Mrs. Dott urged him to send to the hotel +for his bag and stay at their home overnight. He accepted and was +even busier than he had been during the forenoon session. He was +never so busy as to perform manual labor with his own hands--he +never stooped to that extent--but he managed to convey the +impression of being always ready and always helpful. + +To say that Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake were, upon their arrival, +surprised to find him there would be expressing their feelings far +too mildly. They knew Mr. Hungerford, but, heretofore, that +gentleman had moved in circles other than their own. It is true +that he belonged to the same club as did Mr. Black, but Mr. +Hungerford's friends had been younger, the ultra-fashionable set, +the set which Annette had characterized as "rather fast" but which, +because of its money and society connections, she secretly envied. +To find him here, an associate and friend of the people she had +called "countrified," was most astonishing. She wondered, but +she could not help being impressed, and her attitude toward her +dear friend Serena was never so gushingly cordial. As for +Mr. Hungerford, he greeted the Chapter representatives with +condescending urbanity. When the reception began, somehow or +other, Cousin Percy was in the receiving line. + +Captain Dan, uncomfortably starched and broad-clothed, received +likewise, but his remarks to those who pressed his hand and +murmured compliments were rather commonplace and very much alike; +this consisted principally of "How d'ye do's" and "Glad to see +you's"; and it was only when the Honorable and Mrs. Fenholtz came +that he appeared to remember anything else. It was evident that +Mr. and Mrs. Fenholtz were as surprised as the rest to see Mr. +Hungerford there. The Honorable, seizing an opportunity when the +captain was for a moment alone, whispered in his ear. + +"Where did he come from?" he asked, with a jerk of the head in +Cousin Percy's direction. + +"Him?" replied Daniel. "Oh, he came last night." + +"Is that so? Is he a friend of yours?" + +"Well, he ain't--isn't exactly a friend, I guess. He's a sort of +relation, a nephew of Aunt Laviny's." + +"Oh, oh, I see--I see." + +There was something in the tone which caused Captain Dan to ask a +question in return. + +"Know him, do you?" he inquired. + +"Yes, I know him, but--it is all right, Olga; I'm coming." + +He passed on to make room for another assortment of new arrivals, +lady members of the Chapter, and Daniel's curiosity remained +unsatisfied. + +After the reception proper, came a social and, to Daniel, very +uncomfortable hour, and then Mr. Hungerford, who seemed to have +taken upon himself the position of master of ceremonies, suggested +dancing. + +Of all the captain's society experiences so far, this was the most +amazing. He had danced in his younger days, it is true, but his +were dances of quite another variety. Quadrilles and Virginia +reels he was acquainted with, but tangos and Bostons and all the +infinite varieties of the one-step were to him revelations, and +revelations of a kind which caused him to gasp. He saw middle-aged +matrons dipping and hopping and twisting about the room in company +with middle-aged, stout, red-faced men who looked as if on the +verge of apoplexy. He saw Mr. Hungerford laboring dutifully to +pilot a woman of forty through the sinuosities of the "hesitation +waltz," and when the lady, who was inclined toward plumpness, had +collapsed into an armchair, he sought out her late partner and +vented his feelings. + +"For the land sakes!" he demanded; "what did you do that for?" + +"Do what?" inquired Mr. Hungerford, himself as fresh and unwilted +as an Easter lily. + +"Why, that--to her. Look at her, she's pretty nigh gone! She +ain't caught more than two breaths in the last minute and a half. +I've been watchin' her." + +Cousin Percy condescended to smile. "It's her own fault," he +observed. "She said she was dying to learn the 'hesitation' and +asked me to teach it to her." + +"Well, she ought to be satisfied. If she was dyin' before, she's +pretty near dead now. Why didn't you stop sooner? She all but +capsized a dozen times in the last two or three turns you and she +took around the room." + +Percy's smile became broader. "That is all part of the dance," he +explained. "Watch this couple here." + +Daniel watched as directed. The couple were a young man and a girl +about Gertrude's age. They were doing the "hesitation" with the +hesitancy emphasized. + +"My soul!" muttered the captain. "Where's that girl's mother? +Somebody ought to tell her." + +Hungerford smiled once more. "That was her mother I was dancing +with," he said. + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Daniel. It was the only comment he made. +He watched the rest of the dancing in silence. + +The collation followed the dancing, and Azuba and Mr. Hapgood +served it, assisted by four waiters who, at Mr. Hungerford's +suggestion, had been hired for the occasion. The butler's serving +was done with grace and elegance, not to mention dignity. Azuba +served as if the main object to be attained was to provide each +guest with as much food as possible in the shortest possible time. +She was arrayed in a new black gown, worn under protest, for her +own idea had been to wear her Sunday dress, a vivid purple, with +trimmings which, for color and variety, looked "like a patchwork +tidy," as Captain Dan expressed it. Also, under still greater +protest, she wore a white apron and cap. + +"I feel like my grandmother doin' dishes," Azuba declared when Mrs. +Dott brought the cap and apron to her and insisted on a dress +rehearsal. "The old woman lived to be ninety-five and wore a cap +for all the world like this one for thirty year. She had some +excuse for wearin' it--it hid the place where her hair was thin on +top. But I ain't bald and I ain't ninety-five neither. And why in +the world you want me to put an apron on in the parlor, _I_ don't +see. You've been preachin' at me to leave one off till I was just +rememberin' to do it, and now you want me to put it on again." + +"Not this kind of an apron, Azuba. Mrs. Black's maids wear aprons +like that, and so do Mrs. Fenholtz's. It's the proper thing and I +expect you to do it." + +"Humph! All right. Land knows I don't want to be improper. But +I'd just like to ask you this: Does that Fenholtz hired help have +to wear black clothes like this dress?" + +"Yes, always." + +"Well, then I suppose I'll have to do the same, but I hope they +don't feel as much like bein' in mournin' as I do. I thought this +reception thing was supposed to be a good time, but when I looked +at myself in the glass just now, all I could think of was the +Trumet post-office draped up for President McKinley's funeral. I +suppose it's style, so it'll have to be. But if Labe, my husband, +should see me now, he'd have a shock, I guess. Cal'late he'd think +he was dead and I'd got word of it afore he did." + +But the food was good and the guests seemed to enjoy it. Some of +them seemed to enjoy Azuba, and Mr. Fenholtz was observed by the +indignant Serena to laugh heartily every time the transformed maid- +of-all-work addressed him. + +As they were leaving he said to Captain Dan: "Captain, that maid +of yours is a wonder. If you ever want to get rid of her, let me +know. I thought Mrs. Fenholtz and I had tried every variety of +servant, but she is something fresh." + +Daniel grinned. "She's fresh enough, if that's all you want," he +admitted. "That's the main trouble with her, accordin' to my wife. +I like her myself. She reminds me of home." + +The Honorable shook his hand. "Home is a good thing to remember," +he said earnestly, "and a bedder thing not to be ashamed of. You +are not ashamed of your home and you do not forget it. That is why +I like you. Good night!" + +Somehow this remark pleased the captain greatly, but when he +repeated it to Serena, she did not seem pleased. + +"I don't know what we shall do with that Azuba," she said. "She +mortifies me to death, and yet you won't let me get rid of her." + +Her husband did not answer. In the matter of Azuba he was as +determined as ever. Amid the new life into which he had been +thrown, head over heels, the housekeeper was the one familiar +substantial upon which he could rely. He was used to her, her +conversation, and her ways. As he had said, she reminded him of +home, his real home, the home from which he was drifting further +and further every day. + +Next morning Serena was suffering from headache and had breakfast +in her room. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not descend to the morning +meal. Daniel wrote a long letter to Gertrude, describing the +reception, after his own fashion, but taking care to seem as +cheerful as ever. He did not feel cheerful, but there was nothing +to be gained by troubling his daughter, as he reasoned. + +Mr. Hungerford remained through that day and the next day and the +next. At the end of that time he sent for his trunks and settled +down to make the Dott house his home, for "a short season," he +said. This, of course, was done only after much protest on his +part and strenuous urging on the part of Serena. Cousin Percy had +taken her fancy at the very beginning of their acquaintance, and +his conduct since then had strengthened that liking tremendously. + +"Of course he can stay," she said in conversation with her husband. +"Why, Daniel, I don't know what I should do without him. His +coming was a special Providence, just as I told you. Just see how +he helped at that reception. It would never have been the success +it was if it hadn't been for him. And see how he's helped me +since. He knows just what is right and proper for people in our +station to do; he's been in society all his life. He's educated +and he has helped me with my paper for the next meeting of the +Chapter so much already. There's no reason why he can't be here; +we've got plenty of room. And it will only be while he's on his +vacation, anyway." + +Daniel rubbed his chin. "I know," he admitted; "so he says. But +how long a vacation is it goin' to be?" + +"How do you suppose I know that? I haven't asked him, it isn't +likely." + +"No, I didn't suppose you had; but it seems kind of funny he hasn't +told you himself. What's it a vacation from? What's he do for a +livin'? Anything but run receptions?" + +"That's it--sneer! He does a great many things. He is interested +in literary work, so he says. He writes for a living, I suppose +that means." + +"Humph! Has he got any answer?" + +"Answer? Answer to what?" + +"Why, to his writing. Has the livin' sent him word 'twas on the +way, or anything like that? I don't want to be mean, Serena. You +know well enough I ain't stingy. But I can't quite make that young +fellow out. Why did he come here, anyway? that's what sticks in my +mind. What sort of a chap is he? You know what that lawyer man +said about him. Nigh as I could make out from that, he thought he +was a kind of high-toned loafer, sportin' round on his aunt's +money. Why does that kind of a fellow come to live along with us? +WE ain't sports." + +"Will you EVER remember not to say 'ain't'? He came here because +he isn't that kind of a fellow at all. He explained about that. +It seems that he and that young upstart of a Farwell, the lawyer, +had had some words and Farwell had a grudge against him. He thinks +it was largely owing to those lawyers' influence that Aunt Lavinia +treated him as she did in her will. But he doesn't hold any +grudge. I never heard anybody speak more forgiving or kind than +he did about the whole affair. I declare, it was positively +affecting! He told me about his life and about how he was all +alone in the world; how he had never had to earn much--never having +been brought up to it--but that now he was trying to do his best. +I felt so sorry for him, and that was one of the reasons why I +thought we, the only relations he has, ought to be kind and show +him hospitality at least. I never thought you were inhospitable, +Daniel." + +"I ain't, Serena. That is, I mean I are--am not. But--but--Well, +I'll tell you. I haven't told you before, although I meant to, but +he and I met once since we've been in Scarford. I told you about +the meeting, but I didn't know then who I met. Now I--" + +"I know. He told me about that, too. He was the one you met at +the hotel that afternoon. He said he was ashamed of his behavior +that day, that he was tired, out of sorts, and discouraged. He +thought you had been listening to what he and his friend had been +saying, and it made him cross. He said that he apologized when he +first came to the house, and I remember that he did, and he asked +me whether I thought any further apology was necessary. I said no, +of course it wasn't." + +"Well, I don't suppose it is. But--well, there was somethin' else. +It seemed to me that afternoon at the Rathskeller that he and that +chum of his had been drinkin'." + +"Drinking? Do you mean that they were intoxicated?" + +"No, not exactly that; but they had a couple of cocktails while I +was there." + +"Is that all? Oh, dear me! Daniel, you are SO old-fashioned. +Your ideas don't change a single mite. In Trumet a cocktail is a +dreadful thing; but here it isn't. Why, everybody drinks a +cocktail before dinner. The Blacks always have them. There were +cocktails at that dinner at their house." + +"I know there was, but I didn't see you drinkin' yours, Serena." + +His wife hesitated. "No," she admitted rather reluctantly, "I +didn't. I've been temperance all my life and somehow I couldn't +bring myself to do it. I hope Annette didn't think it was bad +manners, but I just couldn't somehow. Perhaps I ought to have +tried--" + +"Tried! My soul and body, Serena! Don't talk that way. If I see +you startin' in to drink cocktails I shall begin to think the +world's comin' to an end. SOMETHIN' will come to an end right then +and there, I'll tell you that! The first cocktail you drink will +be the signal for me to clear decks for action. There's some +things I WON'T stand, and that's one of 'em!" + +"There, there! Don't get excited! I shan't begin at my time of +life. But I shan't be narrow, either. I don't want you to be. If +all you've got against Cousin Percy is that he drinks a cocktail +once in a while I think you'd better get over it as soon as you +can. He does help me, Daniel, in my Chapter work and all the rest +of it, and I'd like to have him stay here at present. Now won't +you be nice and obliging, same as you usually are, and let him +stay, for my sake? You will, won't you, dear?" + +Captain Dan said that he would, and yet he said it with +considerable inward reluctance. There was no real reason why he +should have distrusted Percy Hungerford. At least he could think +of none in particular. His distrust was based upon generalities +and a knowledge of human nature acquired during his years of +knocking about among men. His wife's words made an impression. If +what she said was true, his conscience told him that he should be +kind and generous in his attitude toward the literary person. +But--well, the "but" was still there. + +It was his intention to seek out Fenholtz and ask a few questions +concerning Cousin Percy, but the opportunity did not offer itself, +and shortly after the reception the Fenholtzes left for the South, +where they were to spend the winter. So that source of information +was cut off. + +During the next fortnight the captain's sense of desertion and of +being almost a stranger in his own house grew stronger than ever. +There were more callers and more calls to return; there were more +bridge parties and teas. His wife astonished him by announcing +that she was going to take lessons in bridge and that Mr. +Hungerford had found a teacher to perfect her in that branch of +knowledge. + +"Of course," she said, "it will cost quite a little, but Cousin +Percy says there's no use having a teacher at all unless you have a +good one, and three dollars a lesson isn't too much, because you +learn so quickly from an expert. I was sure you would be willing +for me to take the lessons, Daniel." + +Daniel shook his head. "I'm willin' for you to do most anything +that pleases you, Serena," he said, "but three dollars a lesson for +learnin' how to play cards seems to me a pretty good price. If it +was me I should feel as if 'twas doubtful whether I'd get as much +out of it as I put in. That's what Ezra Small, back home, said +when he put his sprained foot in a plaster cast. Ezra said he +never expected to get more than half his foot back, because the way +that plaster stuck he cal'lated it would hang on to the rest. I +should feel the same way about the three dollars for a bridge +lesson." + +"Oh, no, you wouldn't after you had taken a few. You'll like it +then." + +"_I_, like it! Good Heavens, you don't mean--" + +"I meant that you're going to take lessons, too, of course. You +must learn to play bridge--everybody plays it. And you used to +like cards." + +"I used to like high-low-jack, and I could manage to take a hand at +euchre without raisin' too big a disturbance; but I never could +learn that bridge and play it with those women friends of yours-- +never in this world. More'n that, I don't intend to try." + +And he positively refused to try in spite of his wife's pleading. +However, he consented to the employment of the bridge teacher for +her and, thereafter, two hours of each alternate afternoon, Sundays +excepted, were spent by Mrs. Dott and two other female students in +company with a thin and didactic spinster who quoted Elwell and +Foster and discoursed learnedly concerning the values of no-trump +hands. The lessons were given at the Dott home and Mr. Hungerford +was an interested spectator. Daniel, who was not interested, and +felt himself in the way, moped in his own room or went upon more of +the lonely walks about town. + +Chapter meetings and Chapter activities occupied more of Serena's +time. There were "open" meetings occasionally and these Captain +Dan seldom attended. Mr. Hungerford acted as his wife's escort and +seemed to enjoy it, in his languid fashion. Chapter politics began +now to have their innings. There was to be a national convention +of the Ladies of Honor, a convention to be held in the neighboring +city of Atterbury, and Scarford Chapter was to send delegates. +Mrs. B. Phelps Black, who aspired to national honors, was desirous +of being one of these delegates, but so were many others, and Mrs. +Black's candidacy was by no means unopposed. She called upon +Serena for help, and into the fight in aid of her friend Serena +flung herself, heart and soul. + +There were meetings, and more meetings, and letter writing, and +canvassing of voters. Here again, Daniel was of no use. Cousin +Percy's experience--he seemed to have had all sorts of experience-- +helped amazingly. Mr. Hungerford's willingness to help in all +things where no particular labor was concerned was most +astonishing. By this time he was as much a member of the Dott +household as Serena herself--more than the captain, who began to +feel that he was not a member at all. Even bridge was side-tracked +for the more absorbing political game, and evening after evening +Captain Dan spent alone. Occasionally Mr. Hungerford kept him +company, but his was company not too congenial. It is true that +the young man was agreeable enough, but he and the captain found +nothing in common to talk about, and Cousin Percy usually gave up +the attempt at conversation rather early and fell asleep upon the +sofa or went out on little excursions of his own to which Daniel +was not invited. + +Mr. Hungerford smoked a good deal, and it was Daniel's cigars that +he smoked. His vacation seemed no nearer the end than it had when +he first came. The shrewd Azuba informed the captain that she +guessed it was "one of them vacations that didn't have any end, but +was all beginnin'." Her employer reproved her for speaking in this +way of a friend of the family--he felt it was his duty to do that-- +but the rebuke was a mild one. + +One night, or rather one morning, for it was nearly two o'clock, he +was awakened by a series of violent shakes, and opened his eyes to +find his wife bending over him. She had been out, attending a +special meeting of the Chapter, and had hastened upstairs without +stopping to take off her wraps. + +"Daniel, Daniel, wake up!" she cried. + +The captain groaned. "Hey! what is it?" he asked sleepily. Then, +with a little more interest, "Is the house afire?" + +"No, no, but do wake up and listen. I've had the greatest honor +done me. You will hardly believe it. The delegates to the +Atterbury Convention were elected to-night. Annette Black is one-- +I just KNEW she'd win--and Mrs. Lake is another, and who do you +suppose is the third?" + +Captain Dan sat up in bed. "Not you?" he shouted. + +"Yes, I. And, more than that, I was the one selected to read a +paper there. Annette expected to do that, but, when it came to the +vote, my last paper, the one I read Thursday night, the one Cousin +Percy helped me so in preparing, was selected over all the rest. +The vote was nearly two to one. I am to read it on the second day +of the Convention. Isn't it wonderful! Annette was so jealous she +hardly said good-night to me. But I don't care. There, Daniel +Dott! aren't you proud of your wife?" + +There was a little hesitation in her husband's manner, and yet he +tried his best to be enthusiastic. "Oh, yes," he said, "but then I +was proud of you before, Serena. But--but what does this mean? +Have you and I got to traipse way over to Atterbury?" + +"Not you. You're not going. None of the men are. This is a +women's convention. Men are not invited." + +"I know. But I've got to go there with you. You ain't goin' off +travelin' by yourself." + +"I'm going with the other Chapter delegates; we will travel +together." + +"I want to know! How long are you goin' to be gone?" + +"I'm not sure. Three or four days probably." + +"And I've got to stay here alone?" + +"Why, you won't be alone. Cousin Percy will be here, and there's +Azuba." + +"Yes, and that everlastin' Hapgood, I suppose. Say, Serena, have +you GOT to go?" + +"Got to? Why, I WANT to! It's an honor. Don't you want me to +go?" + +"Why--why, I suppose I do; but--but--" + +"But, what? Oh, you DON'T want me to go! I can see--and I thought +you'd be so glad!" + +She was almost in tears. Daniel's sensitive conscience smote him +once more. "Land sakes!" he protested. "Of course I want you to +go, Serena! I wouldn't have you do anything else for the world. +I--I was just kind of lonesome, that's all. I get that way +sometimes, lately. Seems as if you and I don't see as much of each +other as we used to. Do you think it's all worth while?" + +"Worth while! Why, Daniel Dott!" + +"There, there! don't take on. I guess it is. I suppose you know +best about such things. But I get kind of blue settin' around here +thinkin', without you to talk to; and Gertie isn't here. You see, +I miss you both." + +"Yes, I suppose you do. Well, after this convention is over I +shall have a little more time, I hope. And Gertie will be home +pretty soon. It's almost time for her Christmas vacation." + +"Yes, I know it is. I was thinkin' that to-day. My! we'll be glad +to see her, won't we?" + +"Of course we will. But, do you know, Daniel, I've been so busy +that I almost forgot about Christmas and Gertie's vacation and +everything. It was Cousin Percy that reminded me of it." + +"Reminded you of what?--of Christmas?" + +"No, of course not--of Gertie's vacation. He said that she was +coming and that he should be glad to make her acquaintance." + +"HE said so? How did he know? _I_ never told him." + +"I don't remember that I did, either. But I suppose I must have. +Anyhow, he knew. He is very much interested in Gertie and how she +was getting on at college and all that. I saw him looking at her +photograph that very day of the reception. He knew that it was +she, without being told." + +"Humph! He seems to know a lot. But, there! I recollect now-- +Gertie said she met him at college. Well, Serena, I won't complain +any more. You can go to Atterbury if you want to. I'll get along +all right." + +And to Atterbury Mrs. Dott went. It was the first time since the +old sea-going days that Captain Dan and his wife had been separated +longer than twenty-four hours. He saw her off on the train and +then moped drearily back to Aunt Lavinia's mansion, which he was +now beginning to hate, and, seating himself in the library, tried +to find interest in a novel. He did not find it, however, and went +to bed early. Cousin Percy, who was out that evening, did not +retire early. Next morning he seemed to have little appetite for +breakfast, and was less agreeable than usual. + +The three days passed somehow. The wanderer was to return on +Thursday morning, but she did not. Instead came a telegram, +reading as follows: + + +"Meeting and paper great success. Send immediately one of my +latest photographs. Serena." + + +The puzzled Daniel sent the photograph preceded by a telegram of +his own which read: + + +"When are you coming home? Why don't you write? Have been worried +about you. Answer." + + +The answer was delayed still another day. When it came, it was in +the shape of a very short note stating that Saturday was the date +of return. Serena wrote that she was having a lovely time. She +would tell him all about it when she got back. "And," she added, +"I am sending you by this mail copies of the Atterbury paper. +Please show it to any of the Chapter members whom you may meet." + +Captain Dan unfolded the paper and gazed at the page marked with +blue pencil. Here, under black headlines, which screamed the +success of the convention of the Ladies of Honor, was a horrible +blotted outrage resembling a stout negress peering through a screen +door and labeled, "Mrs. Serena Sarah Dott, of Scarford, whose +brilliant paper scored the success of the meeting." It was only by +a process of deduction that Daniel realized the thing to be a +reproduction of the photograph he had sent. He glanced hurriedly +over the account of the meeting, catching here and there phrases +like "Mrs. Dott's forte is evidently platform speaking"--"clear +thought, well expressed"--"tumultuous applause." He felt that he +ought to read the account from beginning to end, but also that he +could not. Azuba, however, when it was shown to her, had no such +feeling. She bore it to the kitchen, read it all, and returned to +crow vaingloriously. + +"Well, there now, Captain Daniel!" she exclaimed. "Ain't it +wonderful! Ain't it grand! Ain't you a lucky man to have a wife +as notorious as she's gettin' to be! I swan to man, if it ain't--" + +The captain interrupted her. "Azuba," he said, rather testily for +him, "if you use that word again I don't know as I won't make you +eat a dictionary. My wife may be famous and she may be a platform +speaker, but I'm blessed if I'll have her notorious, not if I can +help it." + +"But she is notorious, ain't she? Look at her right there in the +newspaper, with all that piece about her in print! I wish Labe +could read such a piece in the paper about me. Why, what ails you, +Daniel Dott? Just look at that photograph!" + +Captain Dan rose. "Yes," he said drily, "I've been lookin' at it. +That's part of what ails me." + +On Saturday he was at the station to meet his wife. Serena was +inwardly jubilant, although, because of the presence of Mrs. Lake +and Annette, she tried to appear dignified and calm. But when she +and her husband were alone on their way to the house her jubilation +burst forth. + +"Oh, it was a wonderful success!" she declared. "I declare, I wish +you might have been there. The way they applauded! And the +entertainment they gave me! And the reporters after interviews! +And the things the women of the other Chapters said! Oh, Daniel, +it was splendid!" + +Lunch was a mere formality on her part. She talked incessantly, +while Cousin Percy and her husband listened. Mr. Hungerford's +congratulations were hearty. His praise was as close to fulsome +flattery as it could be and not overstep the mark. + +Daniel offered congratulations, too. He was glad that his wife had +succeeded, but the pleasure was solely because of her happiness. +He was not as happy on his own account. Several remarks which +Serena had made seemed to prophesy that the excursion to Atterbury +was but the beginning. + +All that afternoon Mrs. Dott spent in her room. She was going to +be very busy, she said, and she must not be interrupted. It was +only just before dinner that the captain found a moment for an +uninterrupted interview. He entered the room to find her seated at +the writing table, her fingers ink-stained, and the table covered +with closely written sheets of manuscripts. She looked up when he +appeared. + +"Oh," she said, "I'm so tired! I've written steadily all the +afternoon. My report had to be ready, and there was so much to +say." + +Daniel regarded her gravely. "You look tired, Serena. You're +doin' altogether too much of this sort of thing. You ought to +stop, or you'll be sick. Now, you just rest a while. My, it does +seem good to have you back again! We can have an evening together +now. I'll tell you what we'll do: You tell Hungerford you're +tired and then come right up here, and I'll come, too. Then we can +sit and talk. I've got so much to say to you." + +But Serena shook her head. "No, Daniel," she said. "I can't talk +to-night." + +"Then don't; I'll do the talkin'. Land's sakes! it'll be enough +just to look at you. I don't feel as if I'd seen you for a hundred +years." + +Another shake of the head. "I'm sorry, Daniel, but I can't be with +you at all to-night. I must present my report to the Chapter and I +shall probably not be home till very late." + +Daniel sprang from his chair. "Serena Dott!" he cried. "Do you +mean to tell me that you're goin' out to that Chapter thing again +TO-NIGHT! after bein' away from me all this time! Why, you've just +got home!" + +"I can't help it, Daniel. I must present my report. It's my duty +to do it. The Chapter expects me and I must be there." + +"Expects you! _I_ expected you, didn't I? And, by the everlastin', +I think I had a right to expect you! I'm your husband, ain't I? +Seems to me I am entitled to a little of your society." + +"I can't help it, Daniel. The Chapter--" + +Captain Dan's feelings got the better of his prudence. "Damn the +Chapter!" he shouted. "I wish you and I had never heard of it, nor +anybody that belongs to it." + +The instant after the words left his lips he would have given a +good deal to recall them, but it was too late. His wife slowly +rose. + +"Daniel Dott!" she gasped. "Daniel Dott! You--YOU--why--my +husband talking to me like that! My own HUSBAND! the man of all +men that I expected would be proud of me! The man who should be +proud and glad that I have found my lifework--speaking to me like +that! Oh! oh! what shall I do! How CAN I bear it!" + +She fell back into the chair, her head sank upon her arms over the +manuscript of the precious report, and she burst into a storm of +sobs. + +Daniel was as much overcome as she. He hurried to her side and in +an agony of remorse bent over her. + +"There, there, Serena," he pleaded. "Don't do so. I didn't mean +it. It kind of--" + +He would have put his arms about her but she pushed them away. + +"And swearing at me," she sobbed. "And using language that--" + +"I didn't mean to swear, Serena. I never swore at you before in my +life. I didn't mean to this time. It just seemed to come out all +of itself. Please forgive me, won't you? Please?" + +But Serena was not ready to forgive. The sleepless nights and days +of wild excitement had thrown her nerves into a state where it +needed but the slightest jar to break them completely. She sobbed, +and choked, and gasped, her fingers clutching at her hair. Daniel, +hanging over her, tried in vain to put in a word. + +"Please, Serena," he kept saying. "Please." + +Suddenly the sobs ceased. Serena's hands struck the desk and she +rose so abruptly that her husband had scarce time to get out of her +way. + +"Serena," he cried. + +But Serena cut him short. "Go away," she commanded. "Go away and +leave me. I don't want to speak to you again." + +"But, Serena--" + +"Go away. Don't come near me again to-night. Go, go, GO!" + +And Daniel went, slowly, reluctantly. He was scarcely past the +sill, his hands still upon the knob of the door, when that door was +closed from within with a slam. He made one more effort to speak, +but he heard the key turn and his wife's voice commanding him to go +away. He descended the stairs to the library and threw himself +into a chair. Mr. Hungerford, smoking one of his host's cigars and +reading the evening paper, looked at him curiously and asked what +was the matter. + +Daniel turned on him. "Nothin'," he roared. "Nothin', do you +hear?" Then he rushed from the library to the hall, seized his hat +and coat from the rack and hurried out of the house. He walked and +walked, but if, upon his return, anyone had asked him where he had +walked he could not have told them. This was the first serious +quarrel that he and his wife had had during their married life. + +It was half-past seven when he returned and found Azuba fidgeting +in the dining-room. It was Mr. Hapgood's free evening and he had +left early. + +"For mercy sakes!" Azuba demanded. "Where have you been?" + +"Out!" was the gloomy rejoinder. "Where's the rest of the folks?" + +"Gone to Chapter meetin'." + +"Both of 'em?" + +"Yes. It was an open meeting and Mr. Hungerford went along, too. +Where are you goin' now? Don't you want anything to eat? It's +been waitin' for you for an hour." + +"Let it wait; I don't want it." + +He walked from the room. Azuba gazed after him open-mouthed. + +"Well!" she soliloquized in a voice loud enough for the captain to +hear. "Well, if anybody'll tell me what's the use of gettin' all +het up cookin' vittles in this house, then I'd like to have 'em do +it. Here I've worked and worked and fussed and fussed to get +dinner and nobody's ate a mouthful but one, and he's the one that +gets it for nothin'. I never saw such doin's. Don't talk to ME!" + +Captain Dan didn't talk to anybody. He sat alone in the library, +miserable and downhearted. After a while Azuba came and announced +that she guessed she'd get a mouthful of fresh air, if she wasn't +needed. Receiving no answer, she apparently considered the request +granted and the captain heard the back door shut. Still the +captain sat in the library, a huddled, pathetic heap in the +armchair, gazing at vacancy. Occasionally he sighed. + +The doorbell rang. Aroused from his doleful reverie by the sound, +Daniel jumped from his chair and, going to the hall, shouted for +Azuba. Then he remembered that Azuba was not on the premises and +answered the ring himself. He had forgotten to push the button of +the porch light and, peering out into the dark, he could see only +that the person standing upon the top step was a woman. A carriage +had drawn up at the curb and the driver was unloading a trunk from +the rack. + +"Good evenin'!" said Daniel. + +The answer was a surprise. There was a laugh, and then a pair of +arms were thrown about Captain Dan's neck and a girlish voice said: +"Good evening! Is THAT all you've got to say to me? Why, Daddy, +you dear old goose, don't you know me?" + +Daniel's answer was a shout that might have been heard at the next +corner. + +"What!" he roared. "GERTIE! Good land of love! Where'd you come +from?" + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"But aren't you glad to see me, Daddy?" asked Gertrude. They were +in the library. The trunk had been carried upstairs and the young +lady had assured her father over and over again that she really +didn't want any dinner, as she had eaten on the dining car during +the journey from Boston. + +The captain, who had scarcely taken his eyes off her since her +arrival at the house, drew a long breath. + +"Glad to see you!" he repeated. "I never was more glad to see +anybody in MY life. How'd you happen to come so soon? We weren't +expectin' you for a week." + +"I hadn't expected to come, but I changed my mind. Now tell me all +about yourself. How are you, and how's Mother? And how are you +getting on? Mother has gone to the Chapter meeting, you say. Did +she go alone?" + +"No, she didn't go alone. That--Cousin Percy went with her." + +"Cousin Percy? Oh, you mean Mr. Hungerford. Do you call him +Cousin Percy? How funny!" + +She seemed much amused. Her father smiled, but it was a rather +sheepish smile. + +"'Tis kind of funny, I suppose," he admitted. "I don't know as he +really is a cousin. Fact is, I guess he ain't any real relation." + +"Of course he isn't. He was Aunt Lavinia's second cousin, or +something like that, but she was only your aunt by marriage. I +don't see why you should speak of him as 'Cousin Percy.' Did he +ask you to?" + +"No-o; I don't know as he did. But, you see, he always calls your +mother Cousin Serena and me Cousin Daniel, and--and--well, I guess +we've kind of got into the habit. Your mother began it and, now +that he's been here so long, I've caught the disease, I shouldn't +wonder." + +"Long! Why, he hasn't been here more than a month, has he?" + +"Hey? No; no; now that you mention it I don't suppose he has. But +it seems a lot longer than that to me." + +He sighed. Gertrude regarded him keenly. Unconscious of the +regard he sat there, lost in thought, apparently forgetful of her +presence. She reminded him by saying: + +"Why does it seem longer?" + +He started and looked up. + +"Hey? Why?" he repeated. "Oh, I don't know. So many things have +happened, I guess." + +"What kind of things?" + +"All kinds. But there--tell me about yourself. How's college? +And how's John? Land sakes! I ain't said a word about John, and +he's about as important as anything on earth just now, or he ought +to be. Guess you think I'm a selfish old pig, not to ask about him +before this. How is he?" + +"You couldn't be selfish if you tried, Daddy. You never knew how +to be. John is well and very busy. He sent his love to you and +Mother, and he hopes to run down here before very long and spend a +few days with us." + +"Does, hey? That's good. I suppose YOU don't hope he'll come. +Ha! ha! no, of course not. He's doin' all the hopin'." + +"Well, perhaps not all. But there, Daddy, don't waste time talking +of John or me. I want to hear about you and about Mother, and how +you like living in Scarford." + +"Why, I wrote you all about that." + +"Yes, I know you did, but I want to hear more, lots more. And I +want to see the house. Just think, I haven't seen it at all. Now, +Daddy, you must show me all the rooms right away. We can talk as +we go. Come on." + +She led the way and Daniel followed. The house was shown from top +to bottom. Gertrude asked many questions, the majority of which +seemed to have little to do with the new establishment and more +with the life which her parents had spent in it. Captain Dan +answered these questions in the intervals between rooms, and his +answers were less guarded than they might have been under different +circumstances. At length the young lady ceased to question, and +the tour of inspection was finished in silence on her part. + +When they returned to the library, the captain, who had been +waiting for some expression of approval from his daughter, suddenly +blurted out: + +"Well, why don't you say somethin', Gertie? Don't you like it?" + +Gertrude, seated in the easy chair, her elbow resting on the chair +arm and her chin supported by her hand, answered promptly. + +"No," she said, "I don't like it at all." + +"What! Don't LIKE it? Don't like this house? Well, for mercy +sakes!" + +"Oh, not the house; I like that well enough. I liked our old one +quite as well--but never mind that now. The house is all right. +It is the rest of it that is all wrong. I don't like that." + +"The rest of it? What do you mean?" + +Gertrude did not answer. Instead she raised her head and looked at +him. It was a long look and a steady one, and the captain found it +hard to bear. He fidgeted for a moment and then blurted out: + +"Well, what is it? Why are you starin' at me like that?" + +The stare continued. + +"What is it?" demanded Daniel. "What does ail you, Gertie? Or is +it me?" + +His daughter nodded. "Yes," she said, "it is you. Why don't you +tell me all about it, Daddy? I have a right to know. Why don't +you tell me?" + +"Tell you? Tell you what?" + +"You know. Why don't you tell me? You have told me so much +already that you may as well make a clean breast of it. Why, you +silly old Dad, what do you suppose brought me here a week ahead of +my vacation? Why do you think I came?" + +"Why do I think--? Why--why, you came because you wanted to see +your mother and me, I suppose. That's reason enough--or I +flattered myself that 'twas. I thought you was as anxious to see +us as we was to see you." + +"So I was; but that wasn't reason sufficient to make me leave my +work at college before the term was over, leave it for good, very +likely. I came because I was sure you needed me. And your letters +made me sure." + +Daniel gasped. His letters had been triumphs of diplomatic +evasion, so he considered. He had been so careful to write nothing +of his troubles, to leave out everything which should hint at his +disturbed state of mind. He had taken pains to express, in each +epistle, his contentment and happiness, had emphasized them. And +now-- + +"My letters!" he exclaimed. "My letters made you think--made you +sure--" + +"Yes; your letters and mother's. Hers were full of all sorts of +things, the very things that you never mentioned. She didn't say +she was having a good time here, but it was plain enough that she +was. You said it in every letter--that you were having the good +time, I mean--but it was perfectly plain that you weren't. And her +last letter was so short--she was so busy with the Atterbury +preparations that she could not write more, she said--and yours was +so very, very long, and SO full of lonesomeness--" + +Her father interrupted. Lonesomeness was the very thing he had +tried to keep out of that letter. + +"Gertrude Atwell Dott!" he shouted. "How you talk! I never wrote +a word--" + +"Yes, you did. It was all there, between the lines. I could read +it, for you and I have been acquainted a good many years. As soon +as I received that letter I made up my mind to come at once. Since +I have been here I have asked a good many questions, and you have +answered them. But I didn't need the answers. Just to look at you +was enough. You are miserable, Daddy dear, and, because you are +you, you won't admit it. But you've got to; you've got to tell me +the whole story. I want to know all about everything." + +The wind was taken completely out of Daniel's sails. He could only +sit there, guilt written plainly upon his face, and stammer frantic +protestations. + +"No, no," he declared. "It ain't so. You're all wrong, Gertie. +You're way off the course. The idea of you sayin' your mother was +neglectin' me." + +"I didn't say it. You have said it a dozen times, but I haven't." + +"_I_ said it? I never. Your mother is a fine woman, Gertie; as +good a woman as ever was." + +"I know that. And she would not neglect you wilfully for the +world. But she has not had experience. She takes people and +things at their face value. She doesn't understand--Why are you +smiling? Is it so funny?" + +Captain Dan rubbed the smile from his lips. In spite of his +perturbation he had been amused for the moment. + +"Why," he observed, "I don't know as 'tis, but--but--well, I +couldn't help wonderin' how old you'd got to be in the last couple +of months, Gertie. You talk as if you was the grandmother and your +ma and I were young ones just out of school. About how much +experience have YOU had, young lady? now that we're speakin' of +it." + +Gertrude's earnestness was too real to be shaken by this pertinent +inquiry. + +"I have had a good deal," she declared. "One can get a lot of +experience in college. There are as many kinds of character there, +on a small scale, as anywhere I know. I have seen girls--but +there! this is all irrelevant, away from the subject. You ARE +neglected, Daddy; you are lonely and miserable. Now, I want you to +tell me all about it." + +But her father had, in a measure, recovered his composure, and he +declined to tell. He had been longing for a confidant, and here +was the one he had longed for most; but his sense of loyalty to +Serena kept him silent. + +"There's nothin' to tell," he vowed stoutly. "I'm all right. +You're dreamin', Gertie." + +"Nonsense! I shall lose patience with you pretty soon, and I don't +want to. Judging by what I have seen and learned so far, I am +likely to need a great deal of patience in this house, and I can't +waste any. Mother has gone head over heels into this precious +Ladies of Honor work of hers, hasn't she?" + +"We-ll, she's terrible interested in it, of course; but she's so +smart anyhow, and here in Scarford she's got the chance she's been +lookin' for." + +"And she is very much in society here, isn't she?" + +"Yes. That's natural, too, with her smartness and all." + +"What kind of society is it?" + +"Hey? What kind? Why, it's the genuine gilt-edged kind, I should +say. _I_ never saw such clothes, nor such dinners, nor dances. +It--" + +"Hush! Yes, I can believe all that. You wouldn't be likely to see +them--in Trumet. And I can believe in the gilt; the genuine part +is what I am most doubtful of. Mrs. Black is as influential with +Mother as ever, isn't she?" + +"Yes. She and Serena bein' such close friends, it--" + +"I know. Tell me, Daddy, are the rest of Mother's friends like the +Blacks?" + +"Pretty much. They're all the same tribe--that is, I mean they're +all brilliant, fashionable folks." + +"I see. What sort of friends have YOU made?" + +This was straight from the shoulder and the captain was somewhat +staggered. + +"Well," he admitted, after a slight pause, "I--I ain't made so +dreadful many friends, Gertie. Most of the men here are--are kind +of different from me, seems so. They belong to clubs and such, and +they're out a lot nights. I don't care for goin' out much; I've +always been a great home body--you know that, Gertie. I don't +doubt, if I joined the club and went to 'stag' dinners and so on, +I'd have more friends. It ain't their fault, you know, it's me." + +"Yes, it always is you, isn't it, Daddy? No one else is to blame, +of course. Well, I'm very glad I came when I did. How many +evenings have you spent alone, as you were spending this one?" + +"Not a great many. I just--" + +"Why didn't you go to the Chapter to-night? It must have been an +open meeting, otherwise Mr. Hungerford couldn't have gone. Why +didn't you go with Mother?" + +Here was the one question Daniel had dreaded most. To answer it +truthfully meant telling of the quarrel between Serena and himself. +He could not tell that, not even to his daughter. + +"I--I didn't feel like goin', somehow," he faltered. + +"That's strange. I knew that you were not particularly interested +in the Chapter--at least you never were in Trumet--but I never knew +you to stay at home when Mother asked you to go with her. Did she +ask you?" + +"Now--now, Gertie, 'tain't likely I--I--" + +"Never mind; you needn't answer. Tell me more about this new +relative of ours, 'Cousin Percy.' Do you like him, now that you +really know him?" + +"Why--why, yes, I like him all right enough, I guess. Course he +and I are different, in some ways; but, then, he's younger by a +good many years." + +Gertrude nodded slowly. "I see," she said. "You've made up your +mind not to tell me anything, haven't you, Daddy? You wouldn't +hurt anyone's feelings for the world, and you are afraid I may +blame Mother. Well, I am not going to blame anyone yet. And I am +not going to quiz you any longer. But I came home to find out +things, and I am going to find out. If you won't help me, I must +help myself." + +Her father leaned forward and patted her hand. + +"Now--now, Gertie," he pleaded nervously, "don't be foolish. +Everything's all right, I tell you. Don't go stirrin' up any +trouble. I am so tickled to have you here I don't know what to do. +Let's be contented with that. Let's just be happy together. +Don't--Hello! here comes the Chapter folks now, I guess. Maybe +your mother won't be glad to see you! Oh, Serena, who do you think +is here? I'll bet you'll be some surprised!" + +There was no doubt of the surprise; neither was there any doubt as +to Serena's joy at seeing her daughter. An outburst of greetings +and questions and explanations followed. Gertrude explained that +she had had an opportunity to leave college a week earlier than the +end of the term and had availed herself of it. + +"I just had to see you and father," she declared. "I couldn't wait +any longer. I've been telling father so; haven't I, Daddy?" + +She accompanied this question with a glance which Captain Dan +recognized as a warning. He nodded. + +"Yes," he said. + +Serena suddenly remembered that the family was not alone. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "What have I been thinking of? Your coming +home like this, Gertie, has made me forget everything else. Cousin +Percy--Why, where is Cousin Percy?" + +Mr. Hungerford, who, from motives of delicacy or other reasons, had +stepped back into the hall, where he could see and hear without +being too conspicuous, now made his appearance. + +"Gertrude," said Mrs. Dott, "this is our cousin, Mr. Percy +Hungerford. You've heard him spoken of. Oh, yes--why, you and he +have met. I remember now, so you have." + +Mr. Hungerford bowed. + +"I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Dott one evening a year or two +ago," he observed politely. "No doubt she has forgotten me, +however, by this time." + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"Oh, no," she said. "I remember you very well, indeed. How do you +do, Mr. Hungerford?" + +The young gentleman announced that he was quite well. He made a +move as if to shake hands, but as there was no corresponding move +on Miss Dott's part, he put his hand in his pocket instead. + +"That evening--the evening of the college dance--is one of my +pleasantest recollections," he observed. "I made some delightful +acquaintances there. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten the +names of the young ladies, but forgetfulness is one of my +failings." + +"He meets so many people," cut in Serena, by way of apology. + +Gertrude smiled. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. + +"I'm sure he hasn't forgotten us all," she declared. "He could not +be so ungallant as that." + +"He didn't forget you, anyway," declared Daniel. "He knew your +photograph just as soon as he laid eyes on it." + +"Oh, thank you, Daddy. You've saved my self-respect. But I was +not referring to myself. There are others whom I am sure Mr. +Hungerford has not forgotten. Isn't that true, Mr. Hungerford?" + +Cousin Percy appeared somewhat disconcerted. + +"Why," he stammered, "I don't understand. I can't recollect--" + +"Can't you! Oh, that is dreadful! Do you correspond with so many +young ladies that you can't remember their identity? Oh! oh! and +Margaret was SO proud of those letters! Really, Mr. Hungerford!" + +She shook her head. Her eyes were brimming over with fun. Cousin +Percy's cheeks had lost something of their aristocratic pallor. +Margaret Babcock, the daughter of a well known glass manufacturer, +had been one of the list of feminine acquaintances whom he had +honored with long distance familiarity. She was an impressionable +young person and her papa was very wealthy. The correspondence had +broken off when her mother discovered one of the letters. Mrs. +Babcock had definite views concerning her daughter's future, and +Mr. Hungerford was not included in the perspective. The latter had +forgotten, for the moment, that he met Miss Babcock at the college +dance; therefore he was confused. + +But the confusion was short-lived. He recovered quickly. + +"I BEG your pardon, Miss Dott," he said with a laugh. "I had +forgotten Miss Babcock. Poor Margaret! She was of an age when +letters, especially masculine letters, are delightfully wicked. +Forbidden fruit, you know. She asked me to write, and I was +foolish enough to do so. I presume my humble epistles furnished +harmless amusement for the class. Very glad to have contributed, +I'm sure." + +"You did contribute. We all enjoyed them so much--especially +Margaret. She is a year older than I, Mr. Hungerford." + +Serena, who, like the captain, did not understand a great deal of +all this, decided to change the subject. She did not address her +husband--she had not spoken to him since the scene in the room +upstairs--but the exaltation and triumph which the evening just +passed had brought to her soul now burst forth. She began to +describe the Chapter's meeting and to tell of her great success at +Atterbury, and the enthusiastic reception by the Scarford members +of her report. Mr. Hungerford seized the opportunity to deprive +the family of his society. He was rather tired, he explained, had +a bit of writing to do before retiring, and, if they would excuse +him, would go to his room. Being excused, with reluctance on Mrs. +Dott's part and silence on the part of Gertrude and her father, he +said good-night and withdrew. + +"And now, Mother," said Gertrude, "tell me more about yourself, and +about the Chapter, and the friends you have made, and everything. +Father has told me a little, and your letters and his have told me +more, but I want to know it all. I am very much interested." + +Serena did not need to be asked twice. She told a great deal, +warming to her subject as she proceeded. She told of their arrival +in Scarford, of the kindness shown by the Blacks and Mrs. Lake and +the rest. "Wonderful women, Gertie! brilliant, intellectual, +advanced thinkers, every one of them. Not much like Abigail Mayo +and the rest at Trumet." + +She told of their adventures in society, of the Blacks' dinner, of +the reception, of her bridge lessons. Gertrude listened, saying +nothing, but watching both her parents intently as the narrative +proceeded. + +Daniel, fidgeting in his chair, waited, nervously expectant, for +the protest which he felt sure his daughter might make at any +moment. But no protest came. Only once did the young lady +interrupt, and then it was to ask a question. + +"I suppose Daddy enjoys all this as much as you do, Mother?" she +said. "Doesn't he?" + +Mrs. Dott's expression changed. The radiant joy, which had +illumined her face as she described her progress at bridge, faded, +and she seemed on the verge of tears. + +"Don't, Gertie," she begged. "Don't ask me about your father, +please. Enjoy it? No, he doesn't enjoy it at all. He has no +sympathy for my aims and ambitions. He takes no pride in my +advancement. To-night--only this very night, he said to me--Oh, I +can't tell you what he said! Don't ask me, please." + +Captain Dan almost slipped from his chair in the agony of +justification. + +"I never meant it, Gertie," he declared. "It just happened, I +don't know how. I'll leave it to you; I'll leave it to anybody, +if--" + +For the first time his wife noticed his presence. + +"Leave it to anybody!" she repeated wildly. "You'll leave it to +anybody! I wish you would! I wish you could hear what people +think of it. Why, Cousin Percy said--" + +For the second time since lunch the captain forgot to be prudent. + +"Cousin Percy said!" he shouted. "He said! Do you mean to say you +told him--THAT? What business was it of his, I'd like to know? +What did he say? If he says it to me, I'll--I'll--" + +Gertrude motioned him to stop. + +"There! there!" she commanded. "Daddy, be quiet. Mother, you're +tired out. You must go to bed. I'll go up with you, and we can +talk while you are getting ready. Daddy will wait here. Come, +Mother, come." + +She led the sobbing Serena from the room. Captain Dan, his +feelings divided between deep contrition at his own behavior and +anger at Mr. Hungerford's interference in the affairs of himself +and wife, obeyed orders and remained where he was. + +It was a long wait. He smoked a cigar half through, lighting it +three times in the process. When it went out for the fourth time +he dashed the stump into the fireplace and took to pacing up and +down the room. This reminded him of other days, days when he had +paced the deck of his three-master, counting the hours which +separated him from his wife and his home. He thought of the +welcome he had always received when he reached that home. Oh, why-- +WHY had he ever retired from the sea? That was where he belonged; +he was of some use in the world there. With a groan he stopped +pacing and went out into the hall to listen for sounds from above. +He heard the low murmurs of voices, the voices of his wife and +daughter, but he could not distinguish words. Back he went to the +library and lit another cigar. These cigars cost three times what +his old Trumet brand had cost, but he got not a hundredth of the +enjoyment from them. + +Twelve o'clock struck before Gertrude re-entered the library. She +entered quietly and, walking over to her father's chair, laid a +hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her in mute appeal. + +"It's all right, Daddy," she said. "You can go up now." + +"But--but she--is she--" + +"She has forgiven you, I think. You must be very kind to her." + +"Kind to her? Kind! Why, Gertie, I never meant to be anything +else. I wouldn't have--" + +"Of course you wouldn't. Oh, Daddy, if you weren't the very worst +diplomat in all this world this wouldn't have happened. Why didn't +you tell me all about it? Why didn't you write me the truth long, +long ago? If I had only come sooner! If I had only known! Oh, +WHY did you let things reach this state? Why didn't you stop it?" + +"Stop it? Stop what?" + +"Oh, everything. Don't you remember that I told you to send for me +if you needed me? To send at any time and I would come? And don't +you remember that I wrote you if you felt this moving to Scarford +was wrong to say no and stick to it? Why didn't you do that?" + +"Why, I--I--Serena, she was so set on comin' and all that, that--" + +"I know. You needn't tell me. And yet, in a way, it seems +strange. I remember some things Laban Ginn, Azuba's husband, told +me about you and your ways aboard ship; he said your crews obeyed +every order you gave as if it was what he called 'Gospel.' You, +and no one else, was master there. However, that is not pertinent +just now. Run along to bed, there's a dear." + +Daniel obediently rose. + +"But what are you goin' to do, Gertie?" he asked. + +"I don't know what I am going to do. First of all I am going to +see and find out for myself. Then I shall decide. One thing seems +certain: I shall not go back to college." + +"Not go back! Not go back to college? Why, it's your last term! +What'll your mother say? What'll John say?" + +Gertrude's lips closed tightly and she gave a determined toss of +her head. + +"John will say what I say, I think," she declared. "As for Mother-- +well, what she says won't make any difference, not at present. +Good-night, Daddy. Now don't worry, and," she repressed a smile, +"be very careful and, if you must express your opinion of the +Chapter, do it in the back yard or somewhere out of hearing. Good- +night." + +She kissed him and he went slowly and fearfully upstairs. Serena's +attitude of reproachful and self-sacrificing forgiveness he met +with meek repentance and promises not to offend again. He got into +bed, worn out and troubled, but with a ray of hope in his bosom, +nevertheless. Gertie had come home; Gertie was going to do +something or other, he did not know and could not guess what. At +any rate she was with him, and he could see her every day. +Perhaps--perhaps--still wondering perhapses he fell asleep. + +Next morning at breakfast the young lady seemed to be in good +spirits and, except for Serena's absence--Serena had breakfast in +her room, a proceeding which was apparently developing into a +habit--the meal was to Daniel quite like one of the happy +breakfasts of Trumet days. Mr. Hungerford marred the captain's +pleasure somewhat by joining the pair before they left the table, +and to him Gertrude was surprisingly cordial and communicative. +Cousin Percy, who had been, at first, rather on his guard, soon +thawed and became almost loquacious. Gertrude and he found a +kindred taste for pictures and art in general, and before the +captain's second cup of coffee was disposed of Mr. Hungerford had +invited Miss Dott to accompany him to a water-color exhibition at a +neighboring studio. Gertrude said she thought she might accept the +invitation, if the exhibition was to remain for a few days. + +"Is the artist a friend of yours?" she asked casually. + +"Oh, no," was the languid answer. "He's a queer old gink--old +chap, I mean--whose work is quite the go about here recently. Some +very decent people have taken him up, I believe. He's worth +meeting, so I'm told, as a curiosity. I've seen only two or three +of his paintings, but they're really not bad. Some of the fellows +at the club were talking about him the other night. I think you'd +enjoy the exhibition, Miss Dott." + +"I'm sure I should. I should like to see the pictures and the--er-- +gink as well. Thank you very much, Cousin Percy." + +When they were alone, Captain Dan turned to his daughter in puzzled +amazement. + +"What did you call him 'Cousin Percy' for?" he demanded. "Thought +you thought your mother and I callin' him that was funny; you said +you did." + +Gertrude laughed. "Did I?" she replied. "Well, perhaps I think so +still." + +Whatever she may have thought, it did not prevent her continuing to +be very cordial to the newly discovered relative. He and she were +together a good deal during the day. She seemed to really enjoy +his society. The remainder of the time she spent with her mother. +Captain Dan scarcely saw her except at luncheon and dinner. Once +he found her in the kitchen talking with Azuba, and on another +occasion she and Mr. Hapgood were in conversation, but for her +father she could spare only odd moments. The captain did not know +what to make of it. When, taking advantage of a fleeting +opportunity, he asked her she only laughed. + +"I am very busy, Daddy," she said. "You mustn't bother." + +"Bother! Well, I like that! How long since my company was a +bother to you, Gertie? It never used to be." + +"It isn't now, and you know it. But, as I say, I am very busy. +Business first, pleasure afterwards." + +"Humph! I'm glad I'm a pleasure, even if it's the kind that comes +after everything else. What have you and your ma been talkin' +about upstairs for the last hour?" + +"A great many things--society and the Chapter and--oh, all sorts." + +"Want to know! What were you and Azuba talkin' about?" + +"About household matters and the people IN the house." + +"People in the house! What people?" + +"You and mother and Mr. Hun--that is, Cousin Percy--and Hapgood." + +"That's all there is, except yourself. What was you and Hapgood +havin' a confab on; more household matters?" + +"Yes, in a way. Daddy, have Mr. Hungerford and Hapgood known each +other long?" + +"I guess so. He was Aunt Laviny's butler for a good many years, +and Percy was a regular visitor there. What made you ask that?" + +"Feminine curiosity, probably. Has our cousin many friends here in +Scarford?" + +"Why, he seems to know 'most everybody; everybody that's in what he +and your mother call society, that is." + +"But has he any intimate friends? Have you met any of them?" + +"I met one once. He seemed to be pretty intimate. Anyhow, they +called each other by their first names. Ho! ho! that whole thing +was kind of funny. I never wrote you about that, did I?" + +He told of the meeting in the Rathskeller. Gertrude evinced much +interest. + +"What was this friend's name?" she asked. + +"'Monty,' that's all I heard. Queer name, ain't it--isn't it, I +mean. But it ain't any queerer than 'Tacks'; that's what he called +Hungerford." + +"Has this 'Monty' called here? Has he been here at the house?" + +"No-o, no, he hasn't. I caught a glimpse of him at the club, that +time when I went there with Barney--Godfreys! it's a good thing +Serena didn't hear me say that--with Phelps Black, I mean." + +"Daddy, sometime when you have an opportunity, ask Mr. Black about +this Monty, will you?" + +"Sartin, if you want me to. But what do you care about Percy +Hungerford's friends?" + +"I don't--about his friends." + +With which enigmatical remark she moved away to join Cousin Percy, +who had just entered the room. + +During the next three days, Daniel's feeling that his daughter was +neglecting him grew stronger than ever. Her "business," whatever +it might be, occupied practically all her time, and the captain and +she were scarcely ever alone. He was disappointed. He had +regarded her coming as the life preserver which was to help him +through the troubled waters to dry land, and so far he was as +helplessly adrift as before. Serena had forgiven his profane +expression concerning her beloved Chapter, that was true, but +Serena also was "busy" during the days and evenings, and at bedtime +she was too tired to talk. Gertrude was with her mother a great +deal, and with Cousin Percy almost as much. They visited the +water-color exhibition together, and would have gone on other +excursions if the cousin had had his way. Daniel did not like Mr. +Hungerford. He had grown to tolerate him because Serena liked him +so much, and declared him such a help in her literary and political +labors, but the captain had found secret comfort in the belief that +his daughter did not like him any better than he did. Now it +looked as if she was beginning to like him, after all. And there +was no doubt whatever that Cousin Percy liked her. + +Gertrude's apparent interest in her mother's social and Chapter +affairs was another disquieting feature of the situation, as Daniel +viewed it. Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called one afternoon and to +them the young lady was cordiality itself. They talked "Chapter," +of course, and to her father's horror Gertrude talked it, too. +Being invited to attend the next meeting she announced that she +should be delighted to go. + +"You didn't mean it, did you, Gertie?" pleaded the captain, when +Serena had escorted the guests to the door. "You didn't mean you +was figgerin' to go to that devilish--to that Chapter?" + +"Hush! Yes, of course I meant it." + +"But--but YOU!" + +"Hush! Daddy, don't interfere. I know what I'm about." + +Daniel was doubtful. If she had known she surely would not think +of going. And yet, on the evening of the meeting, go she did. The +meeting was a protracted one, and, on their return, Serena, finding +the lower rooms apparently deserted, went upstairs. Gertrude was +about to follow, but a figure stepped from the shadows of the +library and detained her. + +"Why, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing up at this hour?" + +"Sh-sh!" in an agitated whisper. "Don't let your mother hear you. +I--I've been waitin' for you, Gertie. I just had to talk to you. +Come in here." + +He led the way into the library. + +"Don't say anything," he whispered; "that is, don't say very much. +Serena'll be wantin' to know where I am in a minute. Gertie, what +are you up to? WHY did you go to that Chapter?" + +"Hush, Daddy, hush! It is all right." + +"All right! Yes, I know it's all right so far. That's what your +mother used to say, back in Trumet, when she first started in. You +begin by sayin' it's all right and pretty soon it IS all right. It +ain't all right for me--it's all wrong. Why did you go to that +meetin'?" + +"I went because I wanted to see for myself. And I saw." + +"Yes, you saw. And you heard, too, I'll bet you. Well, did you +like it?" + +"LIKE it! Daddy, tell me: There is another Woman's Club in +Scarford, isn't there? This can't be the only one." + +"No, it ain't. I believe there's another. A different one--a +sensible one, so I've heard tell. Mrs. Fenholtz--you've heard me +speak of her, Gertie; she's a fine woman--she belonged to the other +one. She wanted Serena to join, but Annette Black had her innin's +first, and after that 'twas all off." + +"I see, I see." + +"You see; but what are you goin' to do? Are you goin' to any more +of them blessed meetin's?" + +"I may. I probably shall. Daddy, dear, you must trust me. It is +all right, I tell you." + +Ordinarily this would have been enough. But to-night it was not. +Captain Dan had spent some troubled hours since dinner and his +nerves were on the ragged edge. + +"All right!" he repeated impatiently. "Don't say that again. Is +it all right for you to be gettin' into the same mess your mother +is in? Is it all right for you to be talkin' about society and +Chapters and--and I don't know what all? I did trust you, Gertie. +I said so. I told Serena so this very afternoon. She was talkin' +about Cousin Percy, she's always praisin' him up, and she said you +liked him just as much as she did. He was a cultivated, superior +young man, she said, and you recognized it. I laughed at her. I +says, 'That's all right,' I says, 'but I wouldn't take too much +stock in that. Gertie knows what she's up to. She's got some plan +in her head, she told me so. She may pretend--'" + +His daughter interrupted him. + +"Father!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Daddy! did you tell +Mother THAT?" + +"Course I did! Why not? It's so, ain't it? What is the plan, +Gertie? What are you up to? You are pretendin', aren't you? +Don't tell me you ain't! Don't tell me--" + +"I shan't tell you anything. You don't deserve to be told. I'm +out of patience with you, altogether. You deserve to be miserable. +You'll spoil--But there! good-night." + +"Gertie! Gertie! hold on. Don't--" + +Serena's voice sounded at the head of the stairs. + +"Gertie!" she called. "Who is it you're talking with? Is your +father there? Why doesn't he come to bed?" + +"He's coming, Mother, right away. So am I. Good-night, Daddy." + +The next forenoon, as Azuba was blacking the stove, Gertrude +entered the kitchen. + +"Good-morning, Azuba," she said. "Are you alone?" + +"Yes, yes, I'm alone." + +"Where is Hapgood?" + +"Land knows! Upstairs, lookin' out for that Hungerford man's +clothes, I guess likely. He waits on that young critter as if he +was the Prince of Wales. Well, you went Chapterin' and advancin' +last night, I understand. What did you think of it?" + +"Think? I thought--Oh, Azuba!" + +"Yup. It's 'oh, Azuba,' I guess. That's what I've been sayin' to +myself for quite a spell. I'd have said it to your pa, too, if it +would have done any good." + +"It wouldn't. We mustn't say a word to him, or anyone else." + +"I know. And yet, when I think of the way things are goin' at +loose ends I have the shakes. Do you know what it's costin' to run +this place the way it's run? I know. And I know, too, that nobody +else seems to know or care. Your pa trusts everything to his wife, +and she trusts everything to that Hapgood. She can't be bothered, +she says, and Hapgood's such a capable buyer. Capable! he'll be +rich as well as capable if it keeps on, and the rest of us'll be +capable of the poorhouse. And there's Serena's health. She's +gettin' more nervous all the time, and just wearin' herself out +with her papers and conventions and politics and bridge and +society. My land! Don't talk to me! And it ain't no use to talk +to her. There's got to be somethin' more'n talk." + +Gertrude nodded. + +"So I think," she affirmed. "Azuba, I have a scheme. It may be +the best idea in the world and it may be the worst, but I am going +to risk it. And you must help me. Will you?" + +"Sartin sure I will!" + +"And you won't tell a soul, not a living soul?" + +"Not one, livin' or dead. You needn't look at me like that. I +swan to mercy, I won't tell anybody." + +"Good! Then listen." + +Azuba listened, listened in silence. When her young mistress +ceased speaking she shook her head slowly. + +"Well," she observed, "it looks some like hoppin' out of the fryin' +pan into the fire, but, even if it turns out that way, perhaps it's +just as well to be roasted as fried. Humph! no, 'twon't do to tell +anybody. I shan't, and you mustn't." + +"I don't intend to." + +"Um! Not even John Doane?" + +"Well," doubtfully, "I may tell John later on. But I shall wait to +tell him, I shan't write. He'll have to trust me, too." + +"So he will. Fur's that goes, it's a good thing for men folks to +learn to trust us women. If Labe, my husband, hadn't trusted me +all these years, he'd have done some worryin', I cal'late. All +right, Gertie, I'm with you till the last plank sinks. But," with +a chuckle, "I'm kind of sorry for your pa. The medicine may cure +us all in the end, but it'll be a hard dose for him to take, won't +it?" + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Captain Dan's foundations were slipping from beneath him. His +daughter's return had seemed to him like the first ray of sunshine +breaking through the clouds and presaging the end of the storm. +Now, it began to look as if the real storm was but beginning. +Gertrude was apparently contracting the society and Chapter +disease. Gertrude, upon whose good sense and diplomacy he had +banked so heavily, was rapidly losing that sense. So far from +influencing her mother to give up the "crazy notions" which were, +Daniel firmly believed, wrecking their home and happiness, she was +actually encouraging and abetting these notions. + +The young lady was certainly spending a great deal of time with her +mother and her mother's friends. When Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake +called for consultations concerning Chapter affairs, Gertrude took +part in these consultations. Daniel, peeping into the library, saw +the four heads together over the table, and heard his daughter's +voice suggesting this and that. Invitations to various social +functions came, and it was Gertrude who urged acceptance of these +invitations. Captain Dan's pleas for quiet evenings together at +home went for nought. + +"You needn't go, Daddy," said Gertrude. "Mother and I know you +don't care for such things. She and I can go without you." + +"Go without me? The idea! Look pretty, wouldn't it, to have you +two chasin' around nights all by yourself, without a man to look +after you!" + +"Oh, Cousin Percy will go with us. He is always obliging that way. +Cousin Percy will go, I am sure." + +The captain was equally sure. Cousin Percy was altogether too +willing to go anywhere, at any time, provided Miss Dott went also. +This very obvious fact did not add to Daniel's peace of mind. +Rather than have his family escorted by its newest member, he +resolved to sacrifice his own inclinations and go himself. + + + +Miss Canby--the blonde young woman who played the piano at the +Black home on the night of the dinner--issued invitations for an +"At Home" in her apartments. All the Dott household--Mr. +Hungerford included--were invited. Mrs. Black, who came to call, +was enthusiastic. Her jealousy of Serena, which had manifested +itself on the night of the latter's appointment as an Atterbury +delegate, had apparently disappeared. She was again the dear +friend and counselor, with all the old cordiality and a good deal +of the old condescension. + +This condescension, however, was confined to Serena and Captain +Dan. Toward Cousin Percy she was extremely polite, but never +patronizing, perhaps because that gentleman was so languidly at +ease in her presence. He listened to her conversation with +apparent interest, but his answers, gravely delivered, were at +times a trifle sarcastic. She seemed to be a bit afraid of Cousin +Percy, afraid and somewhat suspicious. + +To Gertrude she was gushingly friendly, overwhelmingly so, and the +friendship was, to all outward seeming, returned. Daniel, who had +gathered from his daughter's previous remarks that she disliked the +great Annette, was surprised and dismayed. + +"For goodness sakes, Gertie," he demanded, "what did you kiss her +for? Anybody'd think she was somebody near and dear that you +hadn't laid eyes on for ten years. And she was here only +yesterday. Do you love her so much you have to hug her every time +you see her?" + +Gertrude laughed. "Do you think I do?" she asked. + +"I don't know what to think. It's a mighty sudden love, that's all +I've got to say. Do you want her here ALL the time?" + +"Well, when she is here I know where she is." + +"So does anybody within hearin'. I never saw such a change in a +person as there is in you. And all inside of a week. You used to +go out of the room when that Black woman came into it. Now you +kiss her when she comes." + +"No, Daddy; I kiss her when she goes." + +With which puzzling statement the interview ended. + +B. Phelps accompanied his wife when the latter called to discuss +the Canby invitation. His coming was unusual, the Dotts had seen +comparatively little of him since their arrival in Scarford. +Daniel was glad he came. Black and he were not altogether +congenial; the captain would not have chosen him as an intimate; +but at least there would be someone present with whom he could +exchange a word. As B. Phelps did not care for Chapters and "At +Homes" any more than he did, there was that bond between them. + +Mr. Hungerford was, for a wonder, not in when the callers came. He +went out very little nowadays, except when Miss Dott and her mother +went; then he was always ready to go. + +Annette declared that the Canby "At Home" was certain to be a most +unusual affair. "So--er--well, so different," she explained. +"Miss Canby is a very unusual woman, a unique woman, and her +affairs are always as unique as she is. So truly Bohemian. I +adore Bohemians, don't you, Gertrude?" + +Gertrude said she did. "I don't know that I've met a great many," +she added, "but I'm sure they must be very enjoyable." + +"Oh, they are! And Miss Canby is one. The very first time I +attended a gathering at her home I said to myself: 'THIS is true +Bohemianism.'" + +Captain Dan was astonished. + +"Why!" he exclaimed, "Miss Canby's folks came from Down-East +somewheres--Bangor, Maine, I think 'twas. She told me so, +herself." + +The remark was received in various ways, by various individuals. +Serena frowned; Gertrude bit her lip; B. Phelps Black burst into a +roar of laughter. + +"I did not mean my statement literally, Captain Dott," explained +Annette in gracious toleration. "But when people are independent +and free from the usual conventionalities, as Miss Canby is, we +speak of them as Bohemians. It is an--er--a term among artists and +musicians, I believe." + +Daniel understood little or nothing of this. He understood +perfectly well, however, that he had blundered somehow, a glance at +his wife's face told him that. Gertrude smiled at him kindly and +observed: "Father is like myself, his acquaintance in Bohemia has +been limited." + +Captain Dan muttered that he guessed likely that was so, adding +that he had an Armenian steward once who was a pretty good fellow. +Then he subsided. Serena took up the conversation, changing the +subject to the ever fruitful one of her beloved Chapter. In a +moment the two ladies were deep in a discussion concerning the +election of National officers for the Legion, an election which was +to take place in Boston a few months later. Gertrude joined in the +discussion, a proceeding which her father noticed with apprehension. + +Mr. Black accepted an invitation to smoke, and he and Captain Dan +went into the library. After the cigars were lighted, B. Phelps, +lowering his voice so as not to be heard in the adjoining room, +said suddenly: + +"Dan, is that daughter of yours going off her head like the rest of +the females?" + +Daniel was indignant. + +"Off her head!" he repeated. "Gertie! She's as smart and sensible +a girl as ever lived. I say so, even if she is my daughter. What +are you talkin' about?" + +Mr. Black waved his hand. "Keep your hair on, Dan," he counselled +pleasantly. "I like Gertrude, always have. I always thought she +was as sensible as she is pretty, and that's saying something. But +what has got into her since she got here in Scarford? You used to +tell me she didn't care anything for society and all the rest of +it; now she seems to be as daffy as her--well, as my wife, if you +like that better." + +"Daffy! See here, Barney Black, I--" + +"Hush! Don't begin to yell or we'll have that hen convention in +the parlor down on us. I'm not finding any fault with your +daughter. I'm only talking for her good and yours. What does she +care about this confounded Chapter foolishness?" + +"She don't care nothin' about it." + +"Doesn't she? She seems to be mighty interested in that talk +they're having in there now. And she was as joyful as the rest of +'em over this Canby woman's 'At Home.'" + +The captain was quite aware of the apparent joy; and Gertrude's +growing interest in her mother's Chapter and its members was too +obvious to be denied. Nevertheless, he tried to deny it. + +"Oh, that's nothin'," he declared. "She and Serena have always +been plannin' together over things, and this Chapter's like the +rest, that's all. As for the 'At Home,' why--why--well, Gertie's +young, and young folks generally like a good time." + +"A good time! Great Scott! Have you ever been to that Canby +apartment and seen the crowd that--No, of course you haven't. Dan, +if my wife heard me she'd take my head off, but you're an old +friend of mine and I like your daughter. Listen to me: Don't let +Gertrude go to that 'At Home' if you can help it." + +"Don't let her! How am I goin' to help it?" + +"I don't know. Keep her in the house. Lock the door and hide the +key. I would. If she was my daughter I'd--I'd chloroform her. +Hanged if I wouldn't!" + +Captain Dan's indignation was rapidly changing to alarm. + +"See here, Barney," he demanded, "what are you tryin' to say, +anyhow? What's wrong with this Miss Canby? Out with it." + +"Nothing's wrong with her, so far as I know. And yet there isn't +anything right. She's good enough, I guess, and she can play the +piano like a streak, but she's a fool. She and the gang she is +with are bleached-haired, frowzy-headed idiots, who hope they are +Bohemians--whatever that is. They like to do what they call +unusual things; they like to shock people--think it's smart. Don't +let your wife or Gertrude--Gertie, especially--get in with that +crowd. They don't belong there. And there's something else." + +He hesitated. Daniel, trembling with anxiety, urged him to +continue. + +"What is it?" he begged. "What is the somethin' else?" + +"Oh, nothing. It isn't my business anyhow. I ought to keep +still." + +"Keep still! After sayin' as much as you have? You go ahead or +I'll shake it out of you one word at a time. Heave ahead now! I'm +waitin'." + +"Well, then, don't get mad. Remember I'm saying it merely as a +friend. Is Gertie engaged to be married?" + +"Sartin she is. To a fine fellow, too. What of it?" + +"Why, this: If she is engaged why is she trotting about with this +precious cousin of yours--this Percy Hungerford?" + +Captain Dan started violently. He had asked himself that very +question many times during the week which had just passed. To have +someone else ask it, however, was too much. He bristled up like an +angry cat. + +"By Godfreys!" he sputtered, "what do you mean? Do you mean to +hint--" + +"I'm not hinting anything. Be quiet, or I'll stop right here. +What do you know about Hungerford, anyway? Why is he here at your +house?" + +"Here! Why--why, he's here 'cause we asked him to stay. He's on +his vacation and he's just makin' us a visit. As to knowin" +anything about him, what do you mean by that? Do YOU know anything +about him?" + +"Not much. Neither does anyone else; that's the queer part of it. +While old lady Dott--your Aunt Lavinia--occupied this house, he was +here a good deal. He didn't do anything then, except to be a +general high-flyer around town with a few chums like Monty Holway, +who is another gay young bird with money. After Mrs. Dott went +abroad to live, he left Scarford and went to Providence a while; +after that to Boston and New York, and various places. He had the +reputation of being something of a sport, and in with a fast set. +Now, all at once, he comes back here and settles down on--with you +and your wife. What did he do that for?" + +"I--I don't know. He didn't intend to settle. Says he didn't, +anyway. As for bein' a sport--well, he's told us about that, told +Serena the whole yarn. He owned up that he never took life very +seriously while Aunt Laviny lived; had plenty of money and didn't +have to. But now it's different. He's realized that he must work, +same as other folks, and he's doin' it. He works for some magazine +or other, doin' what he calls literary work." + +"Humph! What magazine is it?" + +"I don't know. I never asked." + +"Well, all right. I tell you, honestly, Dan, there's a feeling +that he is working you and the family for easy marks. You give him +a good home and plenty to eat and smoke and it's a pretty soft +thing for him. As to work--Humph!" + +Daniel hesitated now. He had had faint but uneasy suspicions along +this very line, although these, like other suspicions and +misgivings, he had kept to himself. And Serena was such a firm +believer in Cousin Percy; at the least hint against that young +gentleman she flew to arms. The captain remembered this and his +strong sense of loyalty to his wife caused him to remonstrate. He +shook his head. + +"No, no," he said, "you're wrong there, Barney, sure you are. Why, +Percy has done a lot of writin' and such since he's been here. He +goes to his room 'most every afternoon to write, and he's helped +Serena with her Chapter papers and speeches more than you could +imagine. As for Gertie's trottin' around with him, that's just +foolishness. She's gone to picture shows and such when he asked +her to, but that's only because she likes such things and wanted +company her own age. It's all foolishness, I tell you. If anybody +says 'tain't, you tell 'em I say they're lyin'. By Godfreys! if +they say it to me I'll--" + +"There! there! Keep your hair on, I tell you." + +"'Tis on, what there is left of it. But, Barney, what sort of talk +have you been givin' me? If Hungerford ain't all right, how is it +that he knows so many folks in this town? How is it that he's +invited everywhere, to all sorts of places, into everybody's +houses? Invitations! Why, he gets more'n we do, and," with a +sigh, "land knows that's enough, nowadays." + +B. Phelps grunted contemptuously. "It is easy enough to get +invitations," he observed. "When you've been in this town as long +as I have you'll know that any young fellow, who is as good looking +and entertaining as he is, will be invited to all sorts of things. +The girls like him, so do their mothers--some of them. But there! +I may be all wrong. Anyhow, I mustn't stay with you any longer or +Annette'll be suspicious that you and I are knocking her dashed +Chapter. I've told you this for your own good. Gertrude's a bully +girl; I always liked her--wished a good many times I had a daughter +like her. I should hate to see her get in wrong like--well, like +some people you and I know. You keep her at home as much as you +can. Good Lord, man!" with sudden vehemence, "do you want your +house to get to be an empty d----d hole, only fit to sleep in, +like--like--Yes, Annette, I'm coming." + +This conversation remained in Captain Dan's head for days. It +disturbed him greatly. Several times he made up his mind to speak +to Serena concerning it, but each time he changed his mind. He +even thought of writing a note to John Doane, urging the latter to +run down to Scarford for a few days, but he was fearful that to do +this might be a mistake. John would tell Gertrude, and she might +not like it. Besides, Gertrude had said that she expected John to +come before very long. So Daniel did nothing further than to +remonstrate mildly concerning the acceptance of Miss Canby's +invitation. As he gave no reason for his objection, other than the +general one that he was tired and did not care about it, his +remonstrances were unheeded. He need not go unless he wished, said +Serena, she and Gertrude and Cousin Percy could go and he could +stay at home and rest. Gertrude said the same. When the evening +came, the whole family went, the captain included. + +Annette had characterized the gifted Miss Canby as unusual, and the +social affairs given by her as unique. After the first half hour +in the "Bohemian" apartments, Daniel would have agreed with her, +although his opinion might have been more emphatically expressed. +Miss Canby WAS unusual, her apartments were unusual, and the +"Bohemians" there gathered most unusual of all. + +Gertrude, strolling about in the company of a young gentleman--not +a Bohemian, but, like herself, merely a commonplace guest--found +her father seated in a corner, sheltered by a Japanese screen and +an imitation palm, and peering out at the assembled company with a +bewildered expression on his face. + +"Well, Daddy," she asked, "are you having a good time?" + +Daniel, who had not noticed her approach, started and looked up. + +"Hey?" he asked. "A good time! My soul and body! Yes, I'm havin' +a good time. I haven't had a better one since I went to the +sideshow at the circus. Who's that long-legged critter with the +lay-down collar and the ribbon necktie? That one over there, +talking to the woman with the hair that don't match. What ails +him?" + +Gertrude looked and laughed. "That is Mr. Abercrombie, the poet," +she said. "Nothing ails him; he is a genius, that's all." + +"Humph! That must be bad enough, then. What--" + +He stopped. His daughter's escort had caught his attention. The +young man's face was familiar. + +"Why!" he faltered, "isn't this--" + +"This is Mr. Holway, Daddy. I wanted you to meet him." + +Her tone was quite serious, but there was an odd expression in her +eye. Mr. Holway, blond, immaculate and blase, bowed. Then he, +too, started. + +"Eh!" he exclaimed. "Why, by Jove!" + +Captain Dan nodded. "Yes," he observed, quietly. "Well, I'm much +obliged to you, Gertie, but Mr. Holway and I have met before." + +Gertrude's surprise, real or assumed, was great. + +"Have you?" she cried. "Why, how odd! When?" + +Mr. Holway, himself, answered. He seemed confused and his +explanation was hurriedly given. + +"Your father and I met one afternoon at--at the Palatine," he +stammered. "I--I should have known. Tacks told me, but--but I had +forgotten. I'm ashamed of my part in that, Mr. Dott. I really am. +I owe you an apology. I hope you--I hope--" + +Captain Dan nodded. "All right," he said briefly. "Don't say any +more about it." + +"But--but I hope you and Miss Dott won't--won't think--" + +"We won't. I won't, anyway. I stopped thinking about it long ago. +Well, Gertie, what have you been doin'? 'Most time to go home, is +it?" + +"Time to go home? Why, Daddy, we've just got here. We haven't +been here an hour yet." + +"Haven't we? I want to know! Seemed a good deal longer than that +to me. All right, don't you worry about me. I can stand it, I +guess. Where's your mother and--and Cousin Percy?" + +"Mother is in the next room with Mrs. Lake and some more of the +Chapter members. Cousin Percy is--Oh, here he comes now." + +Hungerford appeared, strolling in their direction. He seemed +surprised when he saw his relatives in company with Mr. Holway. + +"Hello, Monty!" he said. "You here? How are you?" + +The two young men shook hands. Gertrude smiled upon them both. + +"Father and Mr. Holway were renewing acquaintanceship," she +observed, cheerfully. "It seems that they have met before." + +Cousin Percy's acknowledgment of this statement was a brief "Oh, +indeed!" He and his friend exchanged glances. + +"The--er--performance is about to begin, I believe," announced Mr. +Hungerford. "Our hostess has--er--reluctantly consented to be led +to the piano. Shall you and I adjourn to the next room, Cousin?" + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"Oh, thank you," she said, "but Mr. Holway has been telling me the +most interesting stories about Scarford and the people in it, and I +want to hear the rest. He is dreadfully sarcastic; I should not +listen, I know, but I want to. Come, Mr. Holway." + +She moved away, the flattered "Monty" in her wake. Mr. Hungerford +gazed after them. He appeared not altogether pleased. + +"Very sociable, chatty chap, that friend of yours, I should judge," +observed Captain Dan drily. + +"Um-hm!" grunted Cousin Percy. "Been chatting to you, has he?" + +"No-o, not much this time. But you remember I've had the pleasure +before." + +Mr. Hungerford doubtless remembered; he looked as if he did. Then +he, too, strolled away. The captain, left alone, indulged in a +quiet chuckle. + +Miss Canby's rendition on the piano, of what she was pleased to +call "A sweet little thing of Tschaikovsky's--one of my favorites," +was enthusiastically applauded, and she obliged with another, and +still another. Then Mr. Abercrombie was prevailed upon to read one +of his own outpourings of genius, a poem called "The Tigress," in +which someone, presumably the author, described the torments +involved in his adoration of a feminine person with "jetty brows +and lambent eyes," whose kiss was like "a viper's sting" and who +had, so to speak, raised the very dickens with his feelings. He +read it with passionate fervor, and Captain Dan, listening, decided +that the Tigress must be a most unpleasant person. + +However, judging by the acclaim of the rest of the audience, she +was a huge success, and the poet was coaxed into reading again, +this time something which he had labeled "Soul Beams," and in which +"love" rhymed with "dove" and "heart" with "dart" and "bliss" with +"kiss" in truly orthodox fashion. Mr. Abercrombie's poetic gems +were not appreciated by the mercenary and groveling minions who +edited magazines, but here, amid his fellow Bohemians, they were +more than appreciated, a fact which their creator announced +gratified him more than he could express. And yet, he seemed to +have little difficulty and less hesitation in expressing most +things. + +Daniel was not enthusiastic over the poems. He could not +understand a great deal of them, but he understood quite enough. +When B. Phelps Black winked at him from his seat at the other side +of the room, he did not return the wink, although he knew perfectly +well what it meant. + +The poems were bad enough, according to his figuring, but when Miss +Beatrice Dusante tripped into the circle to slip and twist and +slide and gyrate in "one of her delightful Grecian dances," he +found himself looking about for a convenient exit. Discovering +none he remained where he was and blushed for the company. + +The Bohemians, however, did not blush; neither, to his amazement, +did Serena, who looked on and applauded with the rest. He found +some comfort in the absence of his daughter, who was not among the +seated guests, but, at last, even this comfort was dispelled. He +caught a glimpse of Gertrude, still accompanied by the attentive +Mr. Holway, standing in the back row. He tried to catch her eye +and, by frowns and shakes of the head, to indicate his disapproval +of the dance and her presence as a witness. He did not succeed in +attracting her attention, but when, a moment later, she and her +escort moved off, he was somewhat relieved. Gertrude looked as if +she did not care for Miss Dusante's dancing any more than he did. +Mr. Hungerford, also, did not appear interested. He was looking at +Miss Dott and "Monty," and there was a frown on his face. + +Upon their return, after they were together in the library at home, +Daniel's shocked indignation burst forth. + +"Well!" he declared, "that's enough. That's the limit, that is! +What kind of a gang IS that, anyway?" + +His wife regarded him with astonishment. Gertrude, after one +glance at his face, turned and walked to the other side of the +room, where she busied herself with a book on the table. Cousin +Percy smiled broadly. + +"Gang!" repeated Serena. "Gang! Why, what are you talking about, +Daniel?" + +"I'm talkin' about that gang at that Canby woman's place to-night. +I never saw such a brazen gang anywhere. Haven't they got ANY +respectability? How'd they come to let that dancin' thing in +there? Couldn't they see her before she got in? Couldn't they +stop her? Why--" + +Serena interrupted. "Stop her!" she repeated. "How could they +stop her? She was an invited guest." + +"Who invited her? That's what I want to know. Who invited her?" + +"Miss Canby, I suppose. She is a friend of hers." + +"A friend! A FRIEND!" + +"Yes. Now, Daniel, don't be silly. I know what you mean, and I +must say I sympathize with you just a little. Annette explained to +me afterwards though, so I suppose it is all right. Annette says +that this Miss Dusante's dancing is all the rage now. She has made +a study of the ancient Grecian dances and she does them everywhere. +She is paid high prices for it, too." + +"I don't doubt it. I should think she'd want to be. Did you see +the way she was dressed? I never--" + +"Hush, Daniel! That was the old Greek costume. Miss Canby told me +all about it; the old Greeks used to dress like that." + +"They did! Then it didn't take 'em long. Brazen thing! Why!" +with a sudden turn upon his daughter, "Gertie--Gertie Dott, stop +fussin' with that book and listen to me. You were there; I saw you +lookin' on. YOU didn't like that Greek dancin', did you?" + +Gertrude hesitated. Her cheeks were red and, for a moment, she +seemed to find it difficult to speak. Then, after a quick look at +her mother, she answered, calmly: + +"Like it! Why not, Daddy? It is all the rage, just as Mother +says, and it is certainly graceful. I rather think I should like +to learn it myself. I understand Miss Dusante gives lessons." + +Daniel's mouth opened and remained open. Cousin Percy stared at +the speaker. Even Serena, defender of the dances of the ancient +Greeks, looked shocked. + +"Why, Gertie!" she cried. "Gertie! You! the idea!" + +"Why not, Mother?" + +"Why not! I should think you would know why not. I never heard +you speak like that before." + +"I never saw any dances like those before. I have heard about +them, of course, but I never saw them. We never did--you or father +or any of us--a great many things that we are doing now. We are +learning all the time; that's what you told me, Mother. I never +went to a Bohemian 'At Home' before." + +Serena's eyes snapped. "Well, you'll never go to another one," she +declared, "if it's going to have this effect on you." + +The young lady smiled. "Why, of course I shall," she cried. "I +want to learn, just as you do, Mother. And I mean to. Good- +night!" + +She left the room and they heard her ascending the stairs. Daniel +and Serena looked at each other. Cousin Percy looked at them both. + +Captain and Mrs. Dott had a long talk before retiring. The captain +derived some satisfaction from the talk; it seemed to him that +their daughter's declaration of independence had startled Serena +somewhat. She even went so far as to admit that, in spite of Mrs. +Black's explanations and gracious commendations, she, herself, had +not been impressed by Miss Canby's guests. She and Gertrude would +have an interview in the morning, she declared. + +Captain Dan waited hopefully for the result of that interview. The +hope was crushed when Serena reported to him. + +"It is all right, Daniel," said Mrs. Dott. "I guess Gertie didn't +really mean what she said about taking lessons of the Dusante +woman. She thought the dances graceful, and they were, of course. +But Gertie is older now--yes, she is older, and she expects to have +her own way more than she has had it. She said a lot of things to +me, things that she hasn't said before. It seems that when she +first came home she was inclined to think I had exaggerated when I +wrote her about the lovely people here in Scarford, and the +Chapter, and the brilliant women in it. Now, she sees I was right. +She has helped me a good deal already with my Chapter work, and she +means to do more. She is going to join the Chapter herself. She-- +why, what's the matter?" + +Daniel had made a choking noise in his throat; he appeared to be +strangling. + +"Noth--nothin'," he gasped. "Nothin' much. I'm all right. But-- +but you said--why, how can Gertie join the Chapter? She ain't +goin' to stay here. She's goin' back to college soon as her +vacation's over." + +Serena shook her head. There was just a shade of doubt, almost of +trouble, in her voice as she answered. + +"No-o," she said, "no, Daniel, she isn't. She isn't going back any +more. She thinks it isn't necessary." + +"Not necessary! Why, how you talk, Serena! Not necessary to +finish out her last term! What do you mean? One of the things +that troubled me most, back there in Trumet before we was rich, was +that I might not afford for her to finish out at that college, and +now, when I can, she ain't goin'. I say she is. I say she's got +to." + +"I don't believe that will make any difference, Daniel. She seems +to have made up her mind. I'm kind of sorry, I must say, but she +is obstinate. She says it is so much more interesting here that +she is going to stay. You can talk to her, if you want to, but I +don't think it will do any good." + +Serena was right; although Captain Dan did talk to his daughter his +arguments and persuasions were quite useless. + +"No, Daddy," said Gertrude, "I am going to stay right here. I told +you that if I were needed I should come home. I have come home and +I am needed. I shall not go back. It is only the last half term, +anyway." + +"Yes, but then's when the girls have all their best times, all the +dances and--and entertainments and society times. You said so. Do +you want to miss all those?" + +Gertrude smiled. "Oh," she observed, "I expect to have a great +many 'society times,' as you call them, right here in Scarford. +There seems to be no lack of them, and Mother is decidedly in the +swim. It's no use, Daddy; my mind is made up. Don't you worry, it +is all right." + +"Well--well, I--I must say--See here, are you really going to join +that Chapter thing?" + +"Yes." + +"You are! After all you said--" + +"Yes, no matter what I may have said." + +"By--by time! I don't know what to do with you. I--I set a lot of +store by you, Gertie. I kind of banked on you. And now--" + +Gertrude's expression changed. She patted his cheek. + +"Keep on banking on me, Daddy dear," she whispered, "perhaps I'm +not altogether hopeless, even yet." + +But her father, for once, refused to believe her. + +"I don't like it," he declared. "And other folks don't like it, +either. Why, Barney Black got after me only the other day about +you. He wanted to know why you--you, an engaged girl--was cruisin' +around so much with this Cousin Percy of ours. He thought 'twas +queer. I said--" + +Gertrude rose to her feet. Her arm was snatched from the captain's +shoulder so quickly that he jumped. + +"Daddy!" she cried, her cheeks blazing, "do you mean to say that +you have been discussing me with--with Mr. Black?" + +"I didn't start it, he did. He said--" + +"I don't care what he said. Oh, the impertinence of it! And you +listened! listened and believed--" + +"I didn't say I believed it." + +"You did believe it, though. I can see you did. I shan't try to +comfort you any more. You deserve all that is coming to you. +And," with a deliberate nod, "it is coming." + +"Comin'! It's HERE! Gertie, there's another thing: What about +John? What do you think John would say if he knew you weren't +goin' back to college?" + +Gertrude looked at him. Her lips twitched. + +"Oh," she said, mischievously, "as to that--well, Daddy, you see, +he DOESN'T know it." + +That afternoon Daniel wrote a letter. He said nothing to anyone, +not even Serena, about the letter, but wrote it in the solitude of +the library and posted it with his own hands. Just before sealing +the envelope he added this postscript: "Whether you come or not, +don't tell a soul that I wrote you this. And, if you do come, just +let them think it was all on your own hook. THIS IS IMPORTANT." + +On Saturday evening there was to be a meeting of the Chapter, and +on Tuesday Serena returned from committee with the joyful news that +Gertrude was to be admitted to membership at that meeting. The +young lady expressed herself as delighted. Cousin Percy extended +congratulations. Captain Dan said nothing. Later, he visited +Azuba in the kitchen, and there he received another shock. + +Azuba was not, as usual, busy with her cooking or scrubbing. She +was seated in a chair by the window, reading a paper. She looked +up as he entered, but immediately resumed her reading. The captain +waited for her to speak. As a general thing he did not have to +wait. + +"Hello, Zuba," he hailed. + +Azuba turned a page of the paper. She did not answer. + +"Hello!" he hailed again. "What's the matter, Zuba? Gone into a +trance, have you?" + +"Hey?" Azuba did look up then, but at once looked down again. +"Hey?" she repeated. "No, I ain't in no trance. I'm readin', +that's all." + +"I should think that was enough, if it fixes you so you can't speak +to anybody. Must be mighty interestin' readin'." + +"Hey? Interestin'? I guess 'tis interestin'! It's more'n that, +it's upliftin', too. I'm just beginnin' to realize what I am." + +"That so? Well, what are you?" + +"I'm a woman, that's what I am." + +She made the declaration with the air of one imparting news of a +startling discovery. Daniel laughed. + +"Is that so!" he exclaimed. "Well, well! I want to know! I +always suspected it, Zuba, but I'm glad you told me, just the same. +Does it say so in that paper?" + +Azuba rose from her chair. She did not laugh; she was intensely +serious. + +"It says a lot of things," she announced, "a lot of things I never +thought of afore. I don't mean that exactly. I've thought of 'em, +but I never knew how to make anything out of my thoughts. I just +kept thinkin' and let it go at that. Now, I'm beginnin' to +realize. I'm a woman, I am, a free woman. That paper is for free +women. Have you read it, Cap'n Daniel?" + +Captain Dan took the paper which she extended to him at arm's +length. He recognized it immediately. It was "The Woman's Voice," +official organ of the National Guild of Ladies of Honor. Serena +was a subscriber. + +He glanced at the paper and tossed it on the table. + +"Yes," he said shortly, "I've read some of it." + +Azuba seized the discarded journal as if it were a precious +treasure, a thing to be treated tenderly and with reverence. + +"Some of it!" she repeated. "Humph! I'd read all of it, if I was +you. 'Twould do the men good if they was made to read every number +ten times over. It's a wonderful paper. It's opened MY eyes, I +can tell you that." + +It had, apparently, opened her mouth as well, although to do that +required no great urging at any time. She went on to preach the +glories of the "Voice," and concluded by reading an editorial +which, like Mrs. Lake's addresses at Chapter meetings, contained a +great many words and, to the captain's mind, little understanding. + +He listened, fidgeting impatiently, to perhaps two-thirds of the +editorial, and then he interrupted. + +"Hold on! Heave to!" he ordered. "For the land sakes, Zuba, +what's set you goin' like this? Are YOU goin' to--to--" + +"To what? Am I goin' to what?" + +"Are you goin' to 'advance' or whatever you call it? What ails all +you women, anyway?" + +"What ails us? Hain't I been readin' you what ails us?" + +"You've been readin' a whole lot, but I've heard it all before. +You want to be 'free'! Confound it, you ARE free, ain't you? You +want to take your place in the world! Why, you've had the front +place ever since Eve got Adam to eat the apple. She was skipper of +that craft, wasn't she! And us men--most of us, anyhow--have been +fo'mast hands ever since. What is it you want? Want to vote? Go +ahead and vote. I'M willin'." + +But Azuba laughed scornfully. + +"Vote!" she repeated. "I don't care whether I vote or not." + +"Then what do you want?" + +"We want--" Azuba hesitated, "we want--what this paper says we +want. And," with determination, "we're goin' to have it." + +"All right, have it, then! Meantime, let's have dinner. It's +pretty nigh half-past five, and the table ain't set. And," with a +sniff, "there's somethin' burnin' somewheres, I smell it." + +This statement had an effect. Azuba dropped the precious paper and +sprang to open the oven door. + +"Well!" she declared, "it's all right. 'Twas that cranberry pie, +and 'twas only beginnin' to scorch. It's all right." + +"Glad to hear it. Now, say, Zuba, you take my advice; you're a +practical, sensible woman, I always said so. Don't you get to be +silly, at your age." + +It was an impolitic remark. Azuba bristled. + +"At my age!" she repeated. "Humph! I ain't so much older than +some folks in this kitchen, nor in the rest of the house, either. +What do you mean by silly?" + +"I mean--I mean--well, I mean don't you get to joinin' lodges and +readin' papers and racin' out every night in the week to somethin' +or other. It ain't worth while. It's silly--just silly." + +"Oh, is it! Well, other women do it. Your wife's been doin' it +ever since we got here. And now Gertie's startin' in. You always +made your brags that she was about as sensible, smart a girl as +ever drawed breath. _I_ ain't got money; nobody's left ME a cart +load of dollars and a swell front house. But I've got rights and +feelin's. I'm a woman, a free woman, and if it ain't silly for +Mrs. Dott and Gertie to want to advance and--and so on, I cal'late +'tain't silly for me either. Perhaps you'd like to have me tell +Serena that you said she was silly. Shall I?" + +Daniel did not answer, but his look was answer sufficient. Azuba +smiled triumphantly. + +"Practical," she sneered. "No, Cap'n Daniel, I ain't been +practical so far, but I'm goin' to be. I'm a-goin' to be. You +watch me." + +Her employer's guns were spiked. He marched out of the kitchen, +slamming the door viciously. The library was tenanted by Cousin +Percy, who was taking a nap on the lounge. Upstairs, Gertrude was +helping her mother with a "report" of some kind. Hapgood, the +butler, was in the hall, and he bowed respectfully. + +"Yes, sir," he said. "Did you wish anything, sir?" + +"No," snarled Captain Dan, and went out for a walk. This was the +last straw. If Azuba was going crazy the situation was hopeless +indeed. And he had received no reply to his letter. + +Hapgood, left alone in the hall, grinned, strolled into the library +and, regardless of Mr. Hungerford's presence, filled his pockets +with cigars from his employer's box. Downstairs, in the kitchen, +Azuba was busy getting dinner. At intervals she burst out +laughing. + +That evening Mr. "Monty" Holway called. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mr. Holway's call was, ostensibly, a call upon the Dott family in +general, but it was to Gertrude that he addressed most of his +conversation. The young lady was very affable and gracious. She +expressed herself as glad to see him, and she appeared to be. +"Monty" was a voluble person, and he talked a great deal, although +a critic might possibly have considered his remarks more remarkable +for quantity than quality. In the presence of Captain Dan he +appeared a trifle ill at ease, a fact which the captain attributed +to circumstances attending their first meeting. Serena seemed +somewhat surprised at the call. She regarded her daughter and Mr. +Holway with an odd expression, and, so it seemed to her husband, +was apparently dissatisfied or disturbed. At all events she said +little and, when addressed, answered absent-mindedly. + +Mr. Hungerford was the most surprised of all. He had been out, and +when, returning, he found his friend in the drawing-room, his +greeting was not too cordial. Mr. Holway also seemed embarrassed, +and a bit on his guard. + +"Hello, Tacks!" he said, rising and extending his hand. + +Cousin Percy did not see the hand, or, if he saw it, did not offer +his own. + +"Hello," he said, gruffly. Then, after a quick glance at the +quartette in the drawing-room, he pulled forward a chair and, +without waiting for an invitation, seated himself. + +"How goes it?" inquired Monty. + +"All right enough. Oh--er--Gertrude, I've found out about that +recital affair. It is next Wednesday afternoon. I have arranged +for us to go. Rather difficult business to manage, at such a late +date, but I managed to pull it off." + +Gertrude smilingly declared that she was much obliged. "I don't +know, of course," she added, "what Mother's plans for that day may +be, but if she is not busy I'm sure we shall be pleased to go. +Thank you for thinking of us." + +Mr. Hungerford hesitated. "Well," he said, "to tell you the truth, +I had supposed that Mrs. Dott might be rather busy. It is your +committee meeting afternoon, isn't it, Mrs. Dott? and so I arranged +for only two. Awfully stupid of me, I know." + +"Oh, that will be all right. You and Mother can go, then. I don't +mind at all. Really, I don't. And Mother is so fond of music. It +is all right, Mother," turning to Serena, who had been about to +speak, "you can go just as well as not. You must. Never mind the +committee meeting; I'll act as your substitute there." + +Cousin Percy was not overcome with joy; at least, he managed to +restrain his ecstasy. Mr. Holway volunteered a word. + +"Is it the Wainwright Recital you are talking about?" he inquired, +eagerly. "That's all right. I can get cards for that. It's a +cinch. I'll see that you go, Miss Dott. By George! I'll--I'll go +myself. Yes, I will, really. We'll all go." + +This prompt suggestion should have cleared the air. Somehow it did +not. Mr. Hungerford merely grunted. Gertrude shook her head. + +"No," she said, "I think, perhaps, I had better not go, after all. +But it is ever so nice of you to offer, Mr. Holway. You and Cousin +Percy can take Father and Mother. That will be splendid." + +"Don't bother about me," put in Daniel, hastily. Recitals were +almost as distasteful as Chapter meetings or "At Homes" to his +mind. + +"It won't be any bother, I'm sure," declared Gertrude. "Will it, +Cousin Percy? Will it, Mr. Holway?" + +Both the young gentlemen murmured their pleasure at the prospect of +acting as escorts to the elder members of the Dott family. Serena +said she would "see about it," she couldn't say for certain whether +or not she would be able to attend the recital. Captain Dan said +nothing. + +The conversation dragged somewhat after this. "Monty" and Mr. +Hungerford addressed the greater portion of their remarks to +Gertrude, only occasionally favoring Serena and Daniel with a word +or question. To each other they were very uncommunicative. At +last, however, after Mr. Holway had given a very full account of a +"dinner dance" which he had recently attended, "a very exclusive +affair, only the best people, you know," Percy, who had been +listening impatiently, turned toward him and drawled: + +"I remember that dance. Beastly tiresome, I judged it would be, so +I sent regrets. I heard you enjoyed yourself, old chap. Said I +imagined so, considering your company. By the way, that must be +getting quite serious, that affair of yours. When may we expect +the announcement?" + +Holway colored. His usual facility of speech seemed to have +deserted him. + +"Announcement!" he stammered. "Announcement! What--what--" + +His friend laughed. + +"Oh, it's all right, old man," he observed. "Don't get excited. +She's a charming girl. No one blames you." + +"Monty" continued to sputter. Gertrude was all excitement. + +"Oh, how interesting!" she said. "Do tell us about her, Mr. +Holway. Do I know her?" + +"Know her!" Mr. Holway's indignation was intense. "I--I don't +know her myself. He's just guying, Miss Dott. He--he thinks +because he--he is so confoundedly fascinating, and has so many--so +many-- + +"Oh, that reminds me, Tacks," turning upon the smiling Hungerford, +"I saw a friend of yours yesterday. She looked quite desolate, +quite broken-hearted, my word she did. You were a little cruel +there, weren't you, my boy? Just a bit cruel. Everyone expected--" + +He did not finish the sentence, but his expression indicated that +much was expected. It was Cousin Percy's turn to color. + +"Don't be an idiot, Monty," he snapped. "That is, more of an idiot +than you can help. Don't mind him, Gertrude; he has an amazing +idea of repartee, that's all." + +Serena volunteered a remark concerning the weather just then. She +observed that it might be raining, it had looked that way before +dinner. Mr. Holway possibly considered that a hint was involved; +at any rate, he rose and announced that he must be going. Gertrude +begged him not to hurry, they had all enjoyed his call so much, she +said. Cousin Percy suddenly declared that he would accompany his +friend on his way, a walk would do him good. Monty expressed no +enthusiasm at the prospect of company, but the pair left the house +together. + +After they had gone, Daniel turned to his wife. + +"Humph!" he observed, "what sort of talk do you call that? I +thought those two were chums; and yet I didn't know but they was +goin' to fight one spell. It's a good thing you hove in that about +the rain when you did, Serena." + +Serena was grave. "Gertie," she inquired, "did you ask that young +man to call here?" + +Gertrude was the picture of surprised innocence. + +"Ask him to call?" she repeated. "Mr. Holway, do you mean? I +don't know. I think not. Why?" + +"WHY?" Captain Dan almost shouted it. His wife motioned him to be +quiet. + +"Hush, Daniel," she said. "You know why, Gertie, as well as I do. +You are engaged to be married." + +Gertrude smiled. "Of course I am," she answered. "What of it?" + +"What OF IT?" + +"Hush, Daniel, hush! Engaged girls, Gertie, are not supposed to +have young men calling upon them." + +"Oh," with a shrug. "I don't know that he was calling on me. He +did not ask for me when he came. And you and Daddy were here all +the time. Besides, merely because I am engaged isn't any reason +why I should retire from the world altogether, is it? Mrs. Lake +says--" + +Daniel struck the table with his fist. + +"Mrs. Lake!" he shouted. "Mrs. Lake don't live with her husband. +She's a grass widow, that's what she is." + +"She is one of Mother's dearest friends, and any friend of Mother's +should be good enough for me." + +The captain choked. "You--you talk to her, Serena," he stammered; +"I can't." + +Serena looked more troubled than ever. + +"Gertie," she faltered, "if Mrs. Lake has been advising you--to-- +to--" + +"She hasn't advised me at all. Now, Mother, what IS the use of all +this? If I have learned anything from you and your Chapter friends +it is to be broad-minded and independent. If Mrs. Lake is not a +living example of independence, who is?" + +Serena could not seem to find an answer at the moment. Her husband +tried again. + +"Gertie Dott," he declared, "I--I don't know what to make of you, +all at once. And John Doane wouldn't either. If John knew--" + +Gertrude interrupted. "That's enough, Daddy," she said, firmly. +"I am quite willing John shall know; when I am ready I shall tell +him. He is a dear, good fellow, in his way, but--" + +She hesitated. Her parents asked a question in concert. + +"But what?" they demanded. + +"Why--why, nothing of importance. But I am learning here in +Scarford. My opportunity has come, just as yours did, Mother. I +am a free woman and I shall not be a slave--a SLAVE to any man." + +With which remark, a quotation from a paper read at the most recent +Chapter meeting, she walked from the room. Her astonished parents +looked at each other. Daniel was the first to speak. + +"My soul and body!" he gasped. "What--what--Serena, did you hear +what she said? That about John? That he was a good fellow--in his +way? In his WAY! My soul and body!" + +Serena shook her head. + +"I--I don't believe she meant it, Daniel," she said. "I'm sure she +didn't. She's just a little carried away, that's all. All this +society--this altered social position of ours--has turned her head +the least bit. She didn't mean it. I'll have another talk with +her pretty soon." + +"I should say you'd better. Serena, do you know what I've done? +Done on my own hook, I mean. I've written--" + +He paused. The disclosure which, on the impulse of the moment, he +had been about to make was, for him, a serious one. He had written +the letter "on his own hook," without telling his wife of his +action. What would she say if he told her now, so long afterward? + +"You've done? What have you done?" asked Serena sharply. + +The captain still hesitated. Before his mind was made up the front +door opened and Cousin Percy made his appearance. He entered the +hall quickly, and to Mr. Hapgood--who hastened from somewhere or +other to take his coat and hat--he said nothing, except to snarl a +comment on the butler's slowness. He did not speak to the Dotts +either, but tramped savagely up the stairs. His face, as seen by +the electric light, was flushed and frowning. + +Serena turned to her husband. + +"How cross he looked," she said, wonderingly. "I never saw him so +before. What do you suppose has happened?" + +Speculation concerning Cousin Percy's evident perturbation caused +her to forget the disclosure Captain Dan had been about to make. +By the time she remembered to ask about it the captain had decided +not to tell. He fabricated some excuse or other, and the excuse +was accepted, to his great relief. + +None of the Dott household attended the Wainwright recital. Mr. +Holway called on Wednesday, just after luncheon, to say that he had +obtained the necessary cards, but his kindness went for nought. He +stayed, so it seemed to Daniel, a good deal longer than was +necessary, and Mr. Hungerford, who remained in the room every +moment of the time, evidently thought so, too. So did Serena. +Gertrude, however, was very cordial, and again begged the visitor +not to hurry. + +Saturday evening was that of the Chapter meeting, the meeting at +which Gertrude was to be made a member. That forenoon Azuba +electrified her mistress by expressing an ardent desire to become a +member also. Her wish was not received with enthusiasm. + +"Why, what do you want to do that for, Azuba?" asked Serena in +amazement. + +"Why shouldn't I want to? You're a member, ain't you? Gertie's +goin' to be a member to-night, ain't she?" + +"Yes. But--but--" + +"Well, but what?" + +"I didn't know you were interested in such things. You never were +when we lived in Trumet." + +Azuba dismissed the past with a scornful sniff and a wave of the +hand. + +"Trumet!" she repeated. "Trumet ain't nothin'. Nobody's anything +in Trumet. We're in Scarford now, and Scarford's a progressive, +up-to-date place. We've all changed since we've been here, and I'm +changin' much as anybody. I've been hearin' your papers, when you +read 'em to Gertie and the cap'n, and I've been readin' 'The +Voice,' too. Yes ma'am, I've read it and I've found out what a +back number I've been. But, I ain't goin' to be so no more. I'm +goin' to be as up-to-date as the next one, even if I do have to +wash dishes for a livin'. Serena--Mrs. Dott, I mean--I'd like +first rate to join that Chapter of yours. You put my name in to- +night and maybe it can be voted on next meetin'." + +"But--but, Azuba, are you sure you know what it means? Do you +think your husband would want you to--" + +"My husband! What's he got to do with it? If we free women have +got to be slaves to our husbands it's a pretty state of things, I +must say. You don't ask your husband every time you go to meetin' +whether he likes it or not. No, ma'am, you don't! You're above +that, I cal'late. And I shan't ask Labe neither--even if he was +where I could ask him, which he ain't. Husbands! Don't talk to me +about husbands! THEY don't count." + +Serena said that she would see what could be done and hurried away +to discuss the new development with the family. + +"Of course she can't join," she declared. "It is ridiculous. The +idea! I supposed she had more sense." + +Daniel chuckled. "So did I," he observed, "until she got shoutin' +independence to me the other day. But it looked then as if she'd +got it bad. All right, Serena, if Zuba Jane Ginn is goin' to make +speeches at your Chapter meetin's, I'll go any time. You won't +have to ask me but once." + +He laughed aloud. His wife was vexed. + +"Of course you think it's a great joke," she said. "Anything that +makes trouble for me is a joke to you. She can't join. What do +you suppose Annette and Mrs. Lake and the rest would say if I +proposed my servant girl as a member? Do stop being silly, if you +can. What are you grinning at now?" + +Captain Dan, repressing his grin with difficulty, explained that he +was thinking of what they would say. Serena, giving him up in +disgust, turned to her daughter. + +"Gertie," she begged, "why don't you say something? Azuba can't +join that Chapter and you know it." + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"I suppose, she can't," she replied. "And yet, I'm afraid, Mother, +that you will find that fact rather hard to explain to her. Azuba +doesn't consider herself a servant, in the ordinary sense, at all. +She feels, I think, that she is a friend of the family. And she +has a right, of course, to improve and advance in every way. I am +very much pleased to know she is so ambitious." + +"Ambitious! Azuba Ginn! What does she know about progress or +advancement? Who put such ridiculous ideas in her head?" + +"Perhaps I did. She and I have had some long talks on the subject. +She asked questions and it was duty--and my privilege--to answer +them. I am very hopeful of Azuba. She is my first convert. I +shall help her all I can." + +"Help her! Help her to what? To be too high and mighty for her +place? Help her to be dissatisfied with her station in life?" + +"Yes; why not? None of us should be satisfied, short of the very +highest. Why, Mother, if you had been satisfied we might all be +stagnating in Trumet." + +Serena abandoned the argument. She refused to mention Azuba's +desire for advancement again. Several times during the day Captain +Dan saw her regarding her daughter with the same odd, doubtful look +that she had worn when Mr. Holway made his first call. + +After dinner that evening Gertrude and Serena hastened upstairs to +dress for the Chapter meeting. Mr. Hungerford, after expressing +his regret that the gathering was not to be an "open" one and he, +therefore, would not be permitted to see Miss Dott become one of +the elect, went out. When he first became a member of the +household it was his custom, on occasions of this kind, to remain +in the library as "company" for Captain Dan. Now, however, he +seldom did this. The captain did not mind; he preferred his own +society to that of Cousin Percy. + +Just as the ladies descended the stairs the doorbell rang. Hapgood +answered the ring, and the voice which replied to his polite query +concerning the caller's name was a familiar one. + +"Why!" exclaimed Serena, "it is--isn't that--" + +"It's John!" cried Gertrude. "Why, JOHN!" + +Mr. Doane pushed past the butler and entered the hall. His glance +took in the group at the foot of the stairs, but it lingered upon +only one member of it. + +"Gertie!" he said, and stepped forward. Captain and Mrs. Dott +looked the other way; Hapgood gave his attention to the closing of +the door. + +A moment later the young man was ready to shake hands with the less +important inhabitants of the mansion. He did so heartily. + +"My!" he exclaimed, "but I'm glad to see you all. It seems a +hundred years since I did see you. How are you?" + +Serena answered. Captain Dan, his first surprise over, seemed +nervous. + +"We're real well," declared Serena. "And it seems awfully good to +have you here. Gertrude and I--" + +Gertrude interrupted. + +"But, John," she said, "how did you happen to come so unexpectedly? +I didn't know--you didn't write me a word about it." + +"I didn't know it, myself. That is, I wasn't sure of it. You know +our junior partner, Mr. Griffin, has been very ill--I wrote you +that. He is very ill even yet, but he is a little better, and so I +grabbed the opportunity. I should have come before, just as soon +as--" + +He paused. Daniel, in the background, was grimacing and shaking +his head. + +"As soon as what, John?" asked Gertrude. + +"As soon as--as soon as I could. You're glad I came, aren't you; +even if it was rather sudden?" + +"Of course I am. You know it." + +Her tone was hearty enough, and yet Mr. Doane seemed to find +something lacking in it. Serena, too, looked quickly at her +daughter. + +"Of course she's glad," she declared. "So are we all. But what +are we thinking of? Take off your things. Where's your trunk? +Have the man bring it right in." + +"There isn't any trunk. There's a bag outside there, that's all. +My visit is likely to be a very short one. If I should have a wire +that Mr. Griffin was worse it might be shorter still. I should +have to go at once. But we won't worry about that. Dinner? No, +thank you, I have dined." + +Captain Dan ushered the newcomer into the drawing-room. John +exclaimed at the grandeur of the apartment. + +"Whew!" he whistled. "You're fine, aren't you? Gertie wrote me +how grand you were and I have been anxious to see the new house. +Gertie--why, Gertie! what is it?" + +Gertrude was standing in the doorway. She looked perplexed and +troubled. John noticed, for the first time, that she was wearing +her coat and hat. + +"Were you going out?" he asked. + +Gertrude hesitated. Serena answered for her. + +"Gertie and I were going out," she said. "It is Chapter night and +she was going to be made a member. But you won't go now, of +course, Gertie. I'll go--John will excuse me, I know--and you can +join at the next meeting. It will be all right, I think. It will +have to be, of course." + +But Gertrude still hesitated. Her father was surprised. + +"Why, Gertie!" he cried. "What are you standin' there for? +'Tain't likely you'll go to that meetin' now that John's come all +the way from Boston to see you. Tell him you ain't goin'." + +The young lady was plainly much disturbed. She looked at Mr. Doane +and it was evident that she wanted to say something very much +indeed. What she did say, however, was a surprise to everyone. + +"I--I ought to go, John," she faltered. "It is a very important +meeting. I can't tell you--now--how important it is." + +John's disappointment showed in his look, but his answer was +prompt. + +"Then go, by all means," he said. "I'll go with you, if I won't be +in the way." + +But this self-sacrificing proposal was dubiously received by both +the ladies. Serena shook her head. + +"I'm afraid you couldn't do that, John," she said. + +"It isn't an open meeting, and men are not admitted. But Gertie +doesn't need to go." + +"Yes, I do, Mother." + +"No, you don't. I'll explain to Mrs. Lake and the rest. Of course +you won't go and leave John here alone." + +"Daddy will be with him and I shall hurry home as soon as I can. I +must go, John; I really must. I will explain why later. If I had +only known that you were coming! If you had only written me! WHY +did you come without writing?" + +Captain Dan, fearful of the answer, and indignant at his daughter's +conduct, burst into protest. + +"You ought to be glad he's come, anyhow," he declared. "I cal'late +he thought--I don't care, Serena, I've said 'cal'late' all my life, +and I can't help forgettin' once in a while--I suppose John thought +he'd surprise you, Gertie. And now you're goin' to clear out and +leave him, just on account of that--that Chapter of yours. You +never used to be crazy about Chapters. You used to poke fun at +'em. You did and you know it. But since you've got here to +Scarford--I can't help it, Serena; I'm mad clean through. Can't +YOU tell that girl to stay to home where she belongs?" + +"Gertie," began Serena, again; but her daughter would not listen. + +"Don't, Mother!" she cried, "you are wasting time. We shall be +late, as it is. John knows that my going is necessary, or I should +not do it. He trusts me to that extent, I hope." + +"Of course," said Mr. Doane heartily. "Run along and don't say any +more about it. Come back as soon as you can, that's all. Shan't I +come after you? I can wait outside until the thing is over." + +"No; I don't intend to wait until it is over. Mother and I can +take a cab. Come, Mother." + +Serena reluctantly led the way to the hall. Hapgood opened the +door. + +"One moment, Mother," said Gertrude. She left Serena on the step +and hurried back to the drawing-room. Captain Dan and John were +standing there in silence. + +"Daddy," said the young lady, "I think I left my pocketbook +upstairs in my room. Will you get it for me?" + +The captain ran to the stairs. Gertrude stepped quickly over to +her lover. + +"John," she whispered, "you will forgive me, won't you, dear? I +MUST go. It will spoil everything if I don't. You see--why, +Daddy! you haven't found that pocketbook so soon!" + +Daniel had reappeared in the doorway. + +"I sent Hapgood for it," he announced. "It's a good thing to make +him work once in a while. What's the use of my runnin' errands +when I pay him wages to run 'em for me? He'll be down in a +minute." + +Gertrude did not seem pleased. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Well, never +mind. Why! here is the pocketbook in my bag, after all. Good-by, +John. I will hurry back. You and Daddy will have a lot to talk +about, I know. Good-by." + +The door closed behind her. Captain Dan stepped to the foot of the +stairs. + +"Found it yet?" he shouted. + +Hapgood answered from above. + +"No, sir, not yet." + +"Then keep on lookin' till you do. It's a good excuse to keep him +out of the way," he explained, turning to Mr. Doane. "He makes me +nervous, hangin' around and lookin' at me. I never was brought up +to a butler and I can't get used to this one. Come on into the +sittin'-room--library, I mean. The furniture ain't so everlastin' +straight up and down there and there's somethin' to smoke--or there +ought to be, if Cousin Percy ain't smoked it first. Come on, +John." + +In the library, with lighted cigars and in comfortable easy chairs, +the two men looked at each other. + +"Well, John," began the captain, "you--you come, didn't you?" + +"Yes, of course. I should have come as soon as I got your letter, +but I couldn't get away. I was going to tell you that." + +"Yes," drily, "I know you was. If I hadn't cut across your bows, +you would. Whew! if you had I guess likely there'd have been +somethin' doin'. If Gertie or Serena knew I wrote you that letter +I'd stand to lose what hair I've got left. Didn't I write you not +to mention that letter to a livin' soul?" + +"You did. But I couldn't understand why. What is all this +secrecy, anyhow? And what is troubling you about Gertie?" + +"Well, now, I don't know as there's anything." + +"Humph! I judged there was a little of everything. What is the +matter? Out with it. + +"Well--we-ell--you see--you see--" + +"I don't see anything, Captain Dott." + +"You saw how she was set on goin' to that Chapter meetin', didn't +you? You saw that?" + +"Yes, but what of it?" + +"What of it? What OF it? Did she ever use to want to go to such +things? Down in Trumet did she ever want to go? I bet she didn't! +But now she does. And she's goin' to join the thing--join it, +herself! As if one loon--I mean as if one Chapter member in the +family wasn't enough. I thought when Gertie come home she'd +probably keep her ma from goin' off the course altogether. I +thought, with her level head, she'd swing us back into the channel +again. But she didn't--she didn't. John, Gertie's got the Chapter +disease worse than her ma ever had it, I do believe. You've got to +talk to her, John, that's what you've got to do--talk to her." + +John laughed. He did not take the situation very seriously. If +Gertrude wished to become interested in the Chapter, he was willing +she should. She probably had a good reason for it. Her insisting +upon attending a meeting on the very evening of his arrival was +odd--it did not seem like her--but she doubtless had a good reason +for that, too. + +"Why don't you talk to her yourself, Captain?" he asked. + +"Me! Me talk to her! I have, and what good has it done? She +won't listen to me any more. I don't mean she ain't kind to me and +lovin' and all that--she wouldn't be Gertie if she wasn't that--but +when it comes to Chapter business she's all on her ma's side." + +"Why not talk to her mother, then?" + +Daniel straightened in his chair. "To Serena!" he repeated. "Talk +against Chapter to Serena! John, you don't know what you're +sayin'. One time--just one--I did talk that way. I biled over and +I damned that Chapter and the gang in it, cussed 'em in good plain +United States. But I'll never do it again. Once was enough." + +He was so very serious that his companion fore-bore to laugh. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Why! John, you ain't married or you wouldn't ask that. I'm a +peaceable body and I like peace in the house. More'n that, I hate +to go 'round feelin' like a sneak thief. That one damn made me +miserable for two days. I never swore to Serena afore and I never +will again. She was all cut up over it and in a way she was right. +No, swearin' aboard ship is one thing--I've had mates that couldn't +navigate without it--but ashore in your own house, to the women +folks you care for, it don't go. I can't talk to Serena about that +Chapter--not even if I'm left alone ALL the time, same as I'm left +to-night." + +John nodded. He thought that, at last, he had reached the milk in +the cocoanut. Captain Dan, with his love for home and his hatred +of lodges and societies, had refused to be interested in his wife's +pet hobby, and felt himself neglected and forsaken. He had brooded +upon it, and this outburst and the letter he had written were the +consequences. + +"Oh, well," he said. "I shouldn't worry. The Chapter here is a +large one and Mrs. Dott is interested in it. The interest will +wear off when it gets to be an old story." + +"Wear off! With Gertie goin' it harder than her mother ever +thought of?" + +"Oh, Gertie doesn't mean it." + +"She DON'T! She don't! Perhaps you don't think she means it when +she goes to every 'tea' and 'recital' and 'at home' and crazy dido +from here to Beersheba and back. Is THAT goin' to wear off? +Chasin' around with Cousin Percy and that Holway and land knows +who?" + +"What? Captain Dott, you're making mountains out of mole hills. +Gertie isn't that kind." + +"That's what I said. That's what I used to think. It's this +Scarford that's doin' it. It's this Scarford and the society crowd +we've got in with. Annette Black--Barney Phelps's wife--is in +society, and so's the Lake woman and that Canby piano pounder and +that Dusante--my Godfreys! you ought to have seen her, John! She +was the brazen thing. Dancin' around! And all hands sittin' +lookin' at her as if she was a Sunday School. Everybody! Serena +and Gertie and that Holway man and all. And Gertie up and says she +might like to dance that way. She! And Cousin Percy laughin' +because she said it." + +"Hold on! Wait a minute, Captain. I never saw you so excited. +What about this Cousin Percy of yours? He's living here with you, +I know that; but what sort of a chap is he? And Holway--who is +Holway?" + +Daniel went on to explain who Holway was. Also he spoke of Mr. +Hungerford and his ways and his intimacy with the family, +particularly Gertrude. For weeks the captain had been wanting to +talk to someone about these things and, now that he had that +opportunity, he made the most of it. He spoke of his own +loneliness, and of Serena's infatuation for society, of Gertrude's +coming and the great change in her, of the gay life in Scarford, +and of his daughter's apparent love for it. He gave his opinion of +Hungerford and of Holway, the latter's friend. When John asked +questions which implied a belief that the situation was not really +as bad as the narrator thought it, Captain Dan, growing warmer and +more anxious to justify himself, proceeded to make his statements +stronger. He quoted instances to prove their truth. Serena was +crazy on the subjects of Chapter and Chapter politics and fashion +and money and society, and Gertrude was getting to be even worse. +It wasn't any use to talk to her. He had tried. He had told her +she was engaged and ought to be more careful. He wasn't the only +one who thought so. Barney Black had said the same thing. He +quoted from Mr. Black's conversation. + +John Doane listened, at first with the smile of the disbeliever, +then with more and more uneasiness. He trusted Gertrude, he +believed in her, she was not a flirt, but if these stories were +true--if they were true--he could not understand. He asked more +questions and the answers were as non-understandable. Altogether, +Captain Dan, with the best intentions in the world, and with the +happiness of his daughter and John uppermost in his mind, succeeded +in laying a mine which might wreck that happiness altogether. + +At last something--perhaps the expression on his visitor's face-- +caused him to feel that he might have said too much. He hastened +to rectify the mistake. + +"Of course you mustn't think Gertie ain't all right, far's you're +concerned, John," he said. "She is--I--I'm dead sure she is. But, +you see--you see--You do see, don't you, John?" + +Mr. Doane did not answer. He seemed to be thinking hard. + +"You see, John, don't you?" repeated Captain Dan. + +"Yes, I suppose I do." + +"And you know Gertie's all right--at heart, I mean? You mustn't be +jealous, nor anything of that kind." + +John laughed. "Don't talk nonsense," he said curtly. + +"No, I won't. But--er--what are you thinkin' about?" + +"Nothing. Humph! I can't understand--" + +"Neither could I. That's why I wrote you. You see why I wrote +you, don't you, John?" + +"Yes--yes, I see why you wrote me; but--but I can't see why she +didn't. She hasn't written me a word of all this." + +And then the captain, in his anxiety to explain, made another +indiscreet remark. + +"Well," he observed, "I suppose likely she was afraid you might +think that, now she had money--more money than she ever had before, +I mean--and was in a different, a higher-toned crowd than she had +ever been, that--that--well, that she was likin' that crowd better +than the old one. She might have thought that, you know, mightn't +she?" + +Mr. Doane did not answer. Daniel had made a pretty thorough mess +of it. + +"Of course," went on the captain, "as far as Cousin Percy is +concerned--" + +John stirred uneasily. "Cousin Percy be hanged!" he snapped. +"That's enough of this foolishness. Let's change the subject. How +is Nate Bangs getting on with the store at home?" + +The Metropolitan Store at Trumet was the one thoroughly satisfactory +spot on the checkered map of Daniel Dott's existence at the present +time. Nathaniel Bangs was making a success of that store. He +reported each week and the reports showed increasing business and a +profit, small as yet, but a profit nevertheless. + +So the captain was only too glad to speak of the store and did so. +John appeared to listen, but his answers and comments were absent- +minded. He accepted a fresh cigar, at his host's invitation, but +he permitted it to go out. + +At half-past ten the doorbell rang. Daniel sprang to his feet. + +"Here they are!" he declared. "Gertie come home early, just as she +said she would. That's 'cause she wanted to see you, John. Hi!" +shouting at Mr. Hapgood, who had long since given up the search for +the missing pocketbook and had been dozing upstairs, "Hi! you +needn't mind. Go aloft again! Go below! Go somewhere! We don't +need you. I'll let 'em in, myself." + +The butler, looking surprised, obeyed orders and went--somewhere. +The captain flung open the door. + +"Well!" he hailed. "Here you are! And pretty early for Chapter +night, too. We're waitin' for you, John and I. Shall I pay the +cab man?" + +Serena, the first to enter, answered. + +"No," she said, "he is already paid." + +"That so? Did you pay him, Serena? Thought that was my job +usually. I--" Then, in a tone go entirely different that John +Doane, in the drawing-room, noticed the change, he added, "Oh! oh! +I, see." + +"Come in," went on Serena. "Come right in, Cousin Percy." + +She entered the drawing-room, followed by Gertrude and--Mr. Percy +Hungerford. Captain Dan, remaining to close the door, came last. + +"John," said Serena proudly, "we want you to meet our cousin, Mr. +Hungerford. Percy, this is John." + +John and Hungerford exchanged looks. The latter gentleman extended +a gloved hand. "Charmed," he observed. + +John expressed pleasure at the meeting. The pair shook hands. + +"So--so Cousin Percy came home with you, did he?" inquired Daniel. +"That was kind of unexpected, wasn't it?" + +Mr. Hungerford himself answered. + +"Why," he declared, "not altogether, on my part I hoped for the +pleasure. It seemed rather rough for Miss Dott and her mother to +come alone, and so I hung about until the affair was over." + +"He had a carriage all ready for us," declared Serena. "It was so +thoughtful of him." + +"Not at all. Great pleasure, really." + +Gertrude made the next remark. + +"We did not need a carriage," she said. "Or, if we did, we could +easily have gotten one. Cousin Percy need not have troubled." + +"John offered to come for you," said Daniel. "So did I. We'd have +both come, but you wouldn't have us. Wouldn't accept our +invitation, would they, John? Gave us to understand they didn't +like our company." + +"Cousin Percy did not wait for an invitation," explained Serena. +"He just came. He is so thoughtful." + +Gertrude looked annoyed. She had been regarding Mr. Doane. + +"Mother," she said sharply, "don't be silly. We did not ask for an +escort and we didn't need one. The whole thing was quite +unnecessary and unexpected. Come, Mother, do take off your things. +Oh, I'm so glad to get home." + +The ladies retired to remove their wraps. John made a move to go +to their assistance, but Mr. Hungerford, attentive as usual, got +ahead of him. + +"Well, Daddy dear," said Gertrude, as they re-entered, "what have +you and John been doing while we were away? I suppose you've had a +long talk?" + +Daniel colored. He looked at Mr. Doane, who, in spite of himself, +colored also, and was tremendously annoyed because he did so. + +"Yes," said the captain hastily. "Yes, we talked. We talked, +didn't we, John?" + +"We did," affirmed John. + +"I'm sure you did. And what about?" + +"Oh--oh, about everything. How did the Chapter doin's go off? +You're a member now, I suppose, Gertie?" + +"Yes," was the brief reply, "I am a member." + +"Um-hm! Well, I hope you're satisfied--I mean I hope you'll like +it. Didn't make a speech, did you? Ha! ha!" + +Gertrude did not answer. Serena, to her husband's surprise, +appeared vexed. + +"But she did though, by Jove!" exclaimed Cousin Percy. "She did, +and I'm told it created a great sensation. Miss Canby told me +about it as I was waiting for you to come out, Gertrude. She said +you gave them a brand-new idea. Congratulations, Gertrude. Wish I +might have heard it. Something about the privileges of the Chapter +being extended to the hoi polloi, wasn't it?" + +The new member of Scarford Chapter looked more annoyed than ever. + +"I spoke of the Chapter's advantages being extended," she said, +"that's all." + +"And enough, too," cried her mother, impatiently. "Quite enough, I +should think. If I had known you were going to do that, I should +have stayed at home. It was that foolish Azuba who put the notion +in your head. You'll be proposing her name next, I suppose. The +idea!" + +Daniel burst into a roar of laughter. + +"What do you think of that, John?" he cried. "Zuby Jane makin' +speeches! There's advancement for you, ain't it?" + +John smiled, but rather faintly. He had scarcely taken his eyes +from Cousin Percy's aristocratic presence. The latter gentleman +turned to him. + +"Well--er--Mr.--Mr. Doane," he observed carelessly, "how do you +like Scarford, as far as you've seen it?" + +John replied that he had seen very little of it. + +"You will find it a bit different from--er--what is it? Oh, yes, +Trumet. You'll find it a bit different from Trumet, I imagine." + +"No doubt. I can see that already." + +"But John doesn't come from Trumet," explained Serena; "that is, +not now. He is in business in Boston." + +Cousin Percy seemed surprised. He favored the visitor with another +look. "Indeed!" he drawled. He did not add "He doesn't look it," +in words, but his manner expressed just that. + +Daniel caught his wife's eye. "Well, Serena," he observed, with a +meaning wink, "I guess likely you're tired, ain't you? Time to go +aloft and turn in, I should say." + +Serena nodded. "Yes," she answered. "Gertrude, you and John will +excuse us, won't you? John, Captain Dott and I will see you in the +morning. Good-night! Good-night, Cousin Percy." + +"Good-night!" said Mr. Hungerford. + +"You'll excuse us, John, I'm sure," went on Serena. "Of course you +and Gertie will want to talk, and," with a slight pause and a +glance at Percy, "we will only be in the way. Come, Daniel." + +Captain Dan paused in the doorway. "Ain't you tired, too, Cousin +Percy?" he inquired. + +It was a fairly broad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it. + +"Oh, no," he replied; "not at all. Good-night, Captain." + +He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife +upstairs. + +The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to +Hungerford and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less +opportunity to say it. Each remark made by the young lady was +answered by Percy, and that gentleman talked almost incessantly. +His remarks also were of a semi-confidential nature, dealing with +happenings at various social affairs which Gertrude and he had +attended, and hints at previous conversations and understandings +between them. John began to feel himself an outsider. After a +time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed into silence. + +Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her +entertaining cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost +sharply: + +"John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five +minutes." + +John said very little, even in reply to this accusation. + +"Haven't I?" he observed. "Well, what shall I say?" + +"You might say something, considering that you and I haven't seen +each other for so long." + +Mr. Hungerford rose. "I hope I haven't interfered," he announced. +"Didn't mean to intrude, I assure you. Beg pardon--er--Doane." + +John did not answer. Gertrude also rose. + +"Good-night, Cousin Percy," she said, with a gracious smile. +"Thank you so much for the carriage and your escort." + +"Quite welcome. Pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Gertrude. Oh, by +the way, I believe you and I are to go over that paper of your +mother's tomorrow. She asked my advice and said you would assist, +I think. I shall look forward to that assistance. Good-night, +Doane. Glad to have met you, I'm sure." + +He strolled out. Upon reaching his room he discovered that his +cigar case was empty. Hapgood not being on hand and, feeling the +need of a bedtime smoke, he tiptoed down the stairs and through the +back hall into the library. The room was dark, but sufficient +light shone between the closed curtains of the drawing-room to +enable him to locate Captain Dan's box. Silently and very slowly +he refilled the case. + +John Doane and Gertrude, alone at last, looked at each other. The +former was very solemn. Gertrude, quite aware of the solemnity, +but not aware of its principal cause--her father's impolitic +disclosure of his apprehensions concerning herself--was nervous and +a bit impatient. + +"Well, John," she asked, after a moment's wait, "aren't you going +to say anything to me even now?" + +John tried his best to smile. It was a poor attempt. + +"Why, yes," he said slowly, "I came all the way from Boston to see +you and talk to you, Gertie. There is no reason why I shouldn't +say--whatever there is to say, I suppose." + +Gertrude looked at him. The tone in which this speech was +delivered, and the speech itself--the first part of it, especially-- +amazed and hurt her. Incidentally, her temper having been sorely +tried already that evening by Mr. Hungerford, it made her angry. + +"All the way from Boston," she repeated. "Well, I never knew you +to complain in that way before. I'm sorry to have caused you so +much trouble." + +"It wasn't a trouble, Gertie. You know I would go around the world +for you." + +"Then why speak of coming all the way from Boston? Whose fault was +it, pray? Did I ask you to come?" + +And now, John, who had been fighting his own temper for some time, +grew angry. + +"You did not," he declared. "But I judge it was time I did." + +"Indeed! Indeed! Why?" + +"Well--well, for various reasons. Of course, had I known my coming +would interfere with your--your precious Chapter affairs and--" + +"John, I had to go to that meeting. If you had written you were +coming I shouldn't have gone. I should have made other +arrangements. But you didn't write." + +"I wrote every day." + +"Yes, but you did not write you were coming here." + +"I didn't think it was necessary. You wrote every day, too, but +you didn't write--you didn't write--" + +"What?" + +"A good many things that--that I have learned since I came here." + +"Indeed! What things? How did you learn them?" + +"I--" John hesitated. To bring Captain Dan's name into the +conversation would be, he felt, disloyal. And it would surely mean +trouble for the captain. "I--I learned them with my own eyes," he +declared. "I could see. Gertie, I can't understand you." + +"And I don't understand you. I told you, at the only moment we +have had together, I told you then that I would explain about the +Chapter. I said that I must go or everything would be spoiled. +You very nearly spoiled it by coming as you did." + +Mr. Doane's expression changed. It had softened when she reminded +him of the whispered word in the drawing-room. The last sentence, +however, brought his frown back again. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Well--humph! that's easily remedied. I +came in a hurry and I can go the same way." + +"John! John, what do you mean? How can you speak so to me! Would +you go away now that--that--" + +"You wouldn't miss me so much, I should imagine. Cousin Percy will +be here, and you and he seem to be very confidential and friendly, +to say the least." + +Gertrude gasped. She was beginning to understand, or imagined that +she was. She laughed merrily." + +"John! Why, John!" she cried. "You're not jealous! YOU!" + +John looked rather foolish. "No-o," he admitted doubtfully, "I'm +not jealous. Of course I'm not, but--" + +"But what? Don't you trust me, John? Don't you?" + +"Of course I do. You know I do, but--See here, Gertie, you said +you were going to explain--to explain something or other. Do it, +then. I think I am entitled to an explanation." + +But Gertrude's merriment had vanished. Her eyes flashed. + +"I shall not explain," she said. "You don't trust me. I can see +you don't." + +"I do. I do, Gertie, really; but--but--" + +"But you don't. You think--you think--oh, I don't know WHAT you +think! No, I shall not explain, not now, at all events. Good- +night!" + +She hastened from the room. John ran after her. + +"Gertie," he cried, "you're not going? You're not going to leave +me in this way, without a word? I do trust you. I only said--" + +"It wasn't what you said; it was the way you said it. I am going. +I am shocked--yes, and hurt, John. I shall not speak to you again +to-night. To-morrow perhaps, if you beg my pardon and I am really +sure you do trust me, I may tell you--what I was going to tell. +But not now. I--I didn't think you would treat me so." + +She put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried up the stairs. +John, standing irresolute on the lower step, hesitated, fighting +down his own pride and sense of injury. That moment of hesitation +was freighted with consequence. Then: + +"Gertie," he cried, hastening after her, "Gertie, wait! I do beg +your pardon. I'm sorry. I didn't mean--" + +But it was too late. Gertie's chamber door closed. John went +slowly up to his own room, the room to which the butler had carried +his bag. A few minutes after he had gone the curtains between the +library and drawing-room parted and Mr. Hungerford appeared. He +was very cautious as he, too, ascended the stairs. But his +expression was a pleasant one; there was no doubt that Cousin Percy +was pleased about something. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Captain Dan stirred uneasily. In his dream he had navigated the +Bluebird, his old schooner, to a point somewhere between Hatteras +and Race Point light. It was night all at once, although it had +been day only a few minutes before, and Azuba, who, it seemed, was +cook aboard the Bluebird, was washing breakfast dishes in the +skipper's stateroom. She was making a good deal of noise about it, +jingling pans and thumping the foot of the berth with a stick of +stove wood. The captain was about to remonstrate with her when +Serena suddenly appeared--her presence on the schooner was a +complete surprise--to ask him if he had not heard the bell, and why +didn't he come into the house, because dinner was ready. Then +Azuba stopped pounding the foot of the berth and began to thump him +instead. + +"Don't you hear the bell?" repeated Serena. "Wake up! Daniel! +Daniel!" + +Daniel stirred and opened his eyes. The Bluebird had vanished, so +had Azuba, but the thumps and jingles were real enough. + +"Hey?" he mumbled, drowsily. "Stop poundin' me, won't you?" + +"Pounding you! I've been pounding and shaking you for goodness +knows how long. I began to think you were dead. Wake up! Don't +you hear the bell?" + +Daniel, still but two-thirds awake, rolled over, raised himself on +his elbow and grunted, "Bell! What bell?" + +"The door bell. Someone's at the door. Don't you hear them?" + +Captain Dan slid out of bed. His bare feet struck the cold floor +beneath the open window and he was wide awake at last. The room +was pitch dark, so morning had not come, and yet someone WAS at the +door, the front door. The bell was ringing steadily and the ringer +was varying the performance by banging the door with his feet. The +captain fumbled for the button, found and pressed it, and the +electric light blazed. + +"For mercy sakes!" he grumbled, glancing at his watch hanging +beside the head of the bed, "it's quarter past one. Who in time is +turnin' us out this time of night?" + +Serena, nervous and frightened--she, too, had been aroused from a +sound sleep--answered sharply. + +"I don't know," she snapped. "It's something important though, or +they wouldn't do it. Hurry up and find out, can't you? I never +saw such a man!" + +Her husband hastened to the closet, found his slippers and +bathrobe--the latter was a recent addition to his wardrobe, bought +because his wife had learned that B. Phelps Black possessed no less +than three bathrobes--and shuffled out into the hall. The bell had +awakened other members of the household. A light shone under the +door of John Doane's room, and from Gertrude's apartment his +daughter's voice demanded to know what was the matter. + +Daniel announced that he didn't know, but cal'lated to find out, +and shuffled down the stairs. The lights in the hall and drawing- +room were still burning, Gertrude and John having forgotten to +extinguish them. Captain Dan unlocked the front door and flung it +open. A uniformed messenger boy was standing on the steps. + +"Telegram for John Doane," announced the boy. "Any answer?" + +Daniel seized the proffered envelope. "How in time do I know +whether there's any answer or not?" he demanded pettishly. "I +ain't read it yet, have I? Think I've got second sight? Why in +the nation didn't you ring up on the telephone, instead of comin' +here and routin' out the neighborhood?" + +The boy grinned. "Against the rules," he said. "Can't send +telegrams by 'phone unless we have special orders." + +"Well, I give you orders then. Next time you telephone. Hold on a +minute now. John! oh, John!" + +Mr. Doane, partially dressed, his coat collar turned up to hide the +absence of linen, was already at the head of the stairs, and +descending. + +"Coming, Captain Dott," he said. "For me, is it?" + +"Yes. A telegram for you. What--good land, Gertie! you up, too?" + +Gertrude, in kimono and cap, was leaning over the rail. "What is +it?" she asked quickly. + +John announced, "A wire for me," he said. "I'm afraid--" He tore +open the envelope. "Yes, I thought so. Mr. Griffin is worse and +they want me at once. Every minute counts, they say. I must go-- +now. When is the next train for Boston, Captain?" + +Daniel was very much flustered. "I don't know," he stammered. +"There's a time-table around on deck somewheres, but--you ain't +goin' now, John? To-night?" + +"Yes, I must." + +Gertrude hastened to find the time-table. John turned to the +messenger. + +"Know anything about Boston trains?" he asked. + +"Yup. Two-twenty express through from New York. That's the next." + +John stepped to the drawing-room and looked at the clock. "I can +get it, I think," he announced. "I must. If I can get a cab--" + +"I'll 'phone for one. But--but, John, you hadn't ought to--" + +"Any answer?" demanded the messenger boy, intent on business. + +"Yes. Say that I am leaving on the two-twenty. On the two-twenty. +Got that, have you?" + +"Sure, Mike! Prepay or collect?" + +"I'll--I'll pay it, John." Captain Dan reached under his bathrobe. +"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I declare I forgot I didn't have on--All +right, John, I'll pay it. You go get ready." + +Mr. Doane was on his way to his room. Daniel hurried after him, a +difficult progress, for the slippers and bathrobe made hurrying +decidedly clumsy. He located his trousers and the loose change in +their pockets, explaining the situation to Serena as he did so. He +and his wife descended the stairs together. The captain paid the +messenger and hastened to telephone for the cab. + +When the vehicle arrived, John was ready. His farewells to Daniel +and Serena were hurried ones. + +"I'm awfully sorry I can't stop longer," he declared. "I really +shouldn't have come at all, under the circumstances. I--" + +He paused. Gertrude was standing by the door. She was very grave +and her eyes looked as if she had not slept. John went over to +her; he, too, was grave. + +"Gertie," he faltered, "Gertie--" + +Serena interrupted. "Daniel!" she said, "Daniel!" + +The captain looked at her. She frowned and motioned with her head. +The light of understanding dawned in her husband's eyes. + +"Hey? Oh, yes!" he cried hastily. "Come into the front room, +Serena, just a minute. I want to speak to you." + +They entered the drawing-room together. Gertrude and John were +alone. For a moment neither spoke. Then the young man, bending +forward, whispered: "Gertie," he asked anxiously, "aren't you-- +haven't you anything to say to me?" + +"I thought, perhaps, you had something to say to me, John." + +"I have. Gertie, I--" + +There was a sound from above. Cousin Percy Hungerford, fully +dressed and debonnair as always, was descending the stairs. + +"What's the row?" he drawled. "I heard the racket and decided the +house must be on fire. What's up?" + +Whatever else was "up" it was quite plain John was sorry that Mr. +Hungerford was up because of it. His tone was decidedly chilly as +he answered. + +"A wire for me," he said shortly. "I'm called to Boston at once." + +"Really! How extraordinary! It wasn't a fire then, merely a false +alarm. Sorry to have you go, Doane, I'm sure." + +He spoke as if he were the host whose gracious pleasure it had been +to entertain the guest during the latter's stay. John resented the +tone. + +"Thanks," he said crisply. "Gertie, I--I hope--" + +He hesitated. It was not easy to speak in the presence of a third +person, particularly this person. Cousin Percy did not hesitate. + +"Gertie," he observed, "your--er--friend is leaving us at the wrong +time, isn't he? There's so much going on this coming week. +Really, Doane, you're fortunate, in a sense. Miss Dott and I are +finding the social whirl a bit tiresome; you will escape that, at +least." + +Captain Dan appeared at the entrance to the drawing-room. + +"I say, Hungerford! Percy!" he hailed impatiently. + +Mr. Hungerford did not seem to hear him. He was regarding Miss +Dott with anxious concern. + +"Really, Gertrude," he said, "I shouldn't stand by that open door, +if I were you. You have a slight cold and for--all our sakes--you +must be careful. Step inside, I beg of you." + +His begging was so tender, so solicitous, so intimate. John +Doane's fists clenched. + +"Hi!" It was the cabman calling from the street. "Hi! we've only +got twelve minutes to catch that train." + +John turned, involuntarily, toward the door. Gertrude, startled by +the cabman's voice and aware of the need of haste, stepped to one +side. Cousin Percy chose to put his own interpretation upon her +movement. + +"Thank you, Gertrude," he said feelingly. "That's better; you will +be out of the draft there. Thank you." + +John Doane, who was still hesitating, hesitated no longer. He +seized his bag. + +"Good-by, all," he said, in a choked voice. "Good-by, Captain +Dott." + +He strode through the doorway. Gertrude, for a moment, remained +where she was. Then she followed him. + +"John!" she cried, "John!" + +John, half way down the steps, halted, turned, and looked up at +her. + +"Good-by, Gertie," he said. + +"But, John, are you--aren't you--" + +She stretched out her hands. Mr. Hungerford, pushing by the +captain and Serena, stepped in front of her. + +"Here, you!" he shouted, addressing the cabman; "what are you +thinking about? Why don't you take the gentleman's bag?" + +The driver sprang to get the bag, incidentally he seized his +prospective passenger by the arm. + +"Come on!" he shouted. "Come on! We'll miss the train. Ten to +one we've missed it, anyhow." + +"Oh, DO hurry, John!" cried Serena, anxiously. "You WILL miss it. +You MUST go!" + +And Mr. Doane went. The cab rattled away up the street, the old +horse galloping, the driver shouting, and the whip cracking. +Daniel drew a long breath. + +"Well!" he said slowly, "he's gone. Yes, sir, he's gone, ain't +he." + +Serena turned on him. + +"Yes, he's gone," she observed sarcastically, "but he isn't going +very fast. Why in the world didn't you order an electric cab +instead of that Noah's Ark? Half the neighbors have been waked up +and they'll see it. How many times must I tell you? You NEVER +learn!" + +"Well, now, Serena--" + +"Don't talk to me! Don't! My nerves are all of a twitter. I--I-- +oh, do let me go to bed! Gertie--why, Gertie, where are you +going?" + +Gertrude was on her way to the stairs. She did not appear to hear +her mother's question. + +"Gertie!" cried Serena again. + +There was no answer. The young lady hurried up the stairs and they +heard her chamber door close. Cousin Percy shrugged his shoulders. + +"Too bad our friend was called away so suddenly," he observed. +"Very much of a surprise, wasn't it? Too bad." + +No one replied, not even Serena, who was not wont to ignore the +comments of her aristocratic relative. Her next remark was in the +nature of an order and was addressed to her husband. + +"Come! Come! Come!" she said fretfully. "Do come to bed!" + +Daniel, pausing only to extinguish the lights, obeyed. Mr. +Hungerford, with another shrug and a covert smile, preceded him up +the stairs. As the captain was about to enter his bedroom, a +voice, which sounded as if the speaker was half asleep, called from +the third floor. + +"Is there anything I can do, sir?" asked Hapgood. "I 'ave just +been aroused, sir." + +Daniel turned. Here was a heaven-sent vent for his feelings. + +"Do!" he repeated. "Anything you can do? Yes, there is. Shut +your door and turn in." + +"But, sir--" + +"And shut your head along with it!" + +There were some inmates of the Dott mansion who, probably, slept +peacefully the remainder of that night, or morning. Cousin Percy +doubtless did, also Mr. Hapgood. Azuba, sleeping at the rear of +the house, had not been awakened at all. But neither Captain Dan +or Serena slept. Mrs. Dott's nerves kept her awake, and the +combination prevented Daniel from napping. Nerves were a new +acquisition of Serena's; at least she had never been conscious of +them until recently. Now, however, they were becoming more and +more in evidence. She was fretful and impatient of trifles, and +the least contradiction or upset of her plans was likely to bring +on fits of hysterical weeping. It was so in this case. Daniel, +trotting for smelling salts and extra pillows and the hot water +bottle, was not too calm himself. His plans, the plans founded +upon John Doane's remaining in Scarford for a time, had been +decidedly upset. He pleaded with his wife. + +"But I don't see what ails you, Serena," he declared. "John's +gone, that's true enough, but you didn't know he was comin'. He +was here, a little while, and that's some gain, ain't it? I don't +see--" + +"See! You wouldn't see if your eyes were spyglasses. Oh, dear! +why does everything have to go wrong with me? I thought when John +came that Gertie--" + +"Yes. That Gertie what?" + +"Oh, nothing, nothing! Oh, my poor head! It aches so and the back +of it feels so queer. Where are the pillows? Can't you get me +another pillow?" + +"Sure I can! You've got three already, but I can fetch another. +It's all this society business that's breakin' you down, Serena. +That everlastin' Chapter--" + +He was sorry as soon as he said it, but said it had been. He spent +the next hour in explaining that he did not mean it. + +Serena was not on hand at breakfast time. Neither was Gertrude. +That young lady came into the library at ten o'clock, looking pale +and worn and with dark circles under her eyes. She had a thick +envelope in her hand. + +"Daddy," she said, "will you post this for me?" + +Her father looked up from the pile of papers on the writing table +before him. He, too, appeared somewhat worried. + +"Sartin," he announced promptly. "I've got a stack of stuff for +the postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena +usually attends to the house bills, but she's kind of under the +weather this morning. Say, Gertie," gravely, "it costs a sight to +run this place, did you know it?" + +"I suppose it does." + +"You bet it does! Why, I never realized--But there, I suppose +likely these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. +Good land! if they ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask +Serena about 'em by and by, when she's better. Give me your +letter, Gertie, I'll mail it." + +"You won't forget?" + +"Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em +to the postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? +You're pretty prompt in your writin', ain't you? But that's +natural; I remember when I used to write your mother twice a day. +It's a wonder she stood it and kept her health, ain't it. Ha! ha!" + +He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. +Gertrude left the room. + +Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of +envelopes on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford +entered, seeking the cigar box. + +"Good-morning," he observed, cheerfully. + +Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy +smiled. A querulous voice called from the second floor. + +"Daniel!" called Serena. "Daniel, where are you? Why don't you +come up? I am all alone." + +The captain sprang to his feet, "Comin'! Serena!" he shouted. +"Comin'!" + +He hurried out. Mr. Hungerford, left alone, helped himself to a +cigar and strolled about the room. The pile of letters on the +table caught his attention. Idly he turned the envelopes over, +examining the addresses. All at once his interest became less +casual; one of the written names had caught his attention. + +Five minutes later the postman rang the doorbell. Captain Dan ran +downstairs, entered the library, seized the letters from the table +and hastened to hand them to the carrier. + +"Daddy!" called Gertrude from above, "did you post my letter?" + +"Sure!" was the prompt answer. "Just gave it to the mail man. +It's on the road now." + +Serena's "nerves" were in much better condition the following day, +and her spirits likewise. Gertrude, however, was still grave and +absent-minded and non-communicative. Toward Mr. Hungerford in +particular she was cool and distant, answering his chatty remarks +and solicitous inquiries concerning her health with monosyllables, +and, on several occasions, leaving the room when he entered it. +This state of affairs was even more marked on the second day after +Mr. Doane's abrupt departure, and still more so on the third. She +seemed nervously expectant when the postman brought the mail, and +depressed when each consignment contained no letter for her. On +the fourth day this depression was so marked that her father asked +the cause. + +"What ails you, Gertie?" he inquired. "You look as if you just +come from a funeral. What's wrong?" + +Gertrude, who was standing by the window, looking out, answered +without turning her head. + +"Nothing," she said shortly. + +"Well, I'm glad of that. I thought you was troubled in your mind +about somethin'. Ain't frettin' about John, are you?" + +His daughter looked at him now, and the look was a searching one. + +"About--Why should I fret about him, pray?" she asked slowly. + +"I don't know. I thought maybe his goin' away so sudden was a sort +of disappointment to you. 'Twas to the rest of us. Hey? Did you +say somethin'?" + +"No." + +"Oh, I thought you did. Well, you mustn't be disappointed, Gertie. +You see, business is business. John did what he thought was right +and--" + +"Daddy, do be still. I do not intend to trouble myself about--him. +Don't talk to me, please. I don't feel like talking." + +Daniel talked no more, at that time, but he wondered, and +determined to ask Serena her opinion when the opportunity came. + +It did not come immediately. A new development in Chapter politics +was occupying Mrs. Dott's mind, a development so wonderful and so +glorious in its promise that that lady could think or speak of +little else. Mrs. Lake's term as president of Scarford Chapter was +nearing its end. Annette Black, the vice-president, would have +been, in the regular course of events, Mrs. Lake's successor to the +high office. But Mrs. Lake and Annette, bosom friends for years, +had had a falling out. At first merely a disagreement, it had been +aggravated and developed into a bitter quarrel. The two ladies did +not speak to each other. Annette announced her candidacy in +meeting, and the very next day Mrs. Lake came to Serena with an +amazing proposition. + +The proposition was this: Mrs. Lake, it seemed, wished to become +secretary of the National Legion. In order to do this--or to +become even a prominent candidate--it was necessary for her to have +the support of the officers of her own Chapter. If Mrs. Black was +elected president she most decidedly would not have this support. + +"That woman is a cat," she declared, "a spiteful underhanded cat. +After all I have done for her! Why, she never would have been +vice-president if it had not been for me! And just because she +heard that I said something--something about her that was perfectly +true, even if I did not say it--she broke out in committee and said +things to me that--that I never shall forget, never! She shan't be +president. I have as many friends as she has and I'll see to that. +Now, my dear Mrs. Dott, I am counting on you--and your daughter, of +course--as among those friends. We must select some woman for the +presidency who will command the respect and get the votes of all +disinterested members. Miss Canby wants the office, but she is too +closely identified with me to be perfectly safe. But our party--I +and my friends, I mean--have been considering the matter and we +have decided that a dark horse--that is what the politicians call +it--a dark horse is bound to win. We must get the right kind of +dark horse. And we think we have it--him--her, I mean. YOU shall +be our candidate. YOU shall be president of Scarford Chapter." + +Serena gasped. + +"Me?" she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured +correctness of speech. "Me? President?" + +"Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are +known to be rich--I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. +We can elect you and we will. Isn't it splendid? I'm SO proud to +be the one to bring you the news!" + +There was one strong qualification possessed by Mrs. Dott which the +bearer of good news omitted to mention. Serena was supposed to be +Annette Black's most devoted friend. Announcement of her candidacy +would have the effect of splitting the Black party in twain. Mrs. +Lake and her followers were very much aware of this, although their +spokeswoman said nothing about it. + +"You'll accept, of course," gushed Mrs. Lake. "Of course you will. +I shall be so proud to vote and work for you." + +Serena hesitated. The honor of being president of her beloved +Chapter was a dazzling prospect. And yet--and yet-- + +"You will, won't you?" begged the caller. + +"No," said Serena. "No, Mrs. Lake, I can't. I could not run +against Annette Black. She is my best and dearest friend. If it +were not for her I should not have come to Scarford at all. It +would be treachery of the meanest kind. No, Mrs. Lake, I am not +that kind of a friend. No." + +"But--" + +"Please don't speak of it again. I am ashamed even to hear you. +Let's talk of something else." + +But Mrs. Lake did not want to talk of anything else. She urged and +argued and pleaded in vain. Then she began to lose her temper. +The parting was not cordial. + +And then came Mrs. Black, herself. She, somehow or other, had +learned of the offer to be made Serena. When she found that the +latter had refused that offer because of loyalty to her, she fairly +bubbled over. + +"You dear!" she cried, embracing her hostess. "You dear, splendid +thing! It was what I expected; I knew you'd do it; but I'm SO +happy and SO grateful. I never shall forget it--never. And +whenever I can prove my loyalty and devotion to you, be sure I +shall do it." + +Serena was touched and gratified, but there was just a shade of +disappointment in her tone as she answered. + +"I know you will," she said. "Of course, I had rather be president +of Scarford Chapter than anything else in the world, but--" + +And then Annette had an idea. She clasped her hands. + +"You shall be," she cried. "You shall be. Not this term, but the +next--the very next. This term I shall be president, and you--YOU +shall be vice-president. With you as our candidate we can beat +that Canby creature to death. Oh, lovely! It is an inspiration." + +And on that basis it was settled. The opposing tickets were Black +and Dott against Canby and a lady by the name of Saunderson, +another of Mrs. Lake's "dear friends." The Chapter was racked from +end to end. Politics became the daily food of its members. + +For Serena it was almost the only food. She was too busy to eat, +except at odd times and hurriedly, and she slept less than ever. +Her nervousness increased and she lost weight. Daniel was worried +concerning her health and would have mentioned his worriment to +Gertrude had not that young lady's mental state and behavior +worried him almost as much. + +Gertrude, for the first week after John Doane's departure, was +depressed and silent and solemn. Once, her father found her in her +room, crying and when he anxiously asked the reason she bade him go +away and leave her, so sharply and in a tone so unlike her, that he +went without further protestation. He did, however, go to Serena +for advice. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Serena impatiently. "She misses John, I +suppose. She thought he was going to stay and he didn't, and she +was disappointed. Don't bother me! Don't! I've checked this +voting list over three times already and it has come out different +each time. I'm so tired and headachy and nervous I think I shall +die. Sometimes I don't care if I do. Go away." + +"But, Serena, there's--there's somethin' queer about Gertie and +John. I don't believe she's heard from him since he left. I don't +believe she has." + +"Then, why doesn't she write and find out what is the matter? +Perhaps he's sick." + +"Maybe so, but perhaps she don't want to write. Perhaps she's +waitin' for him to do it." + +"He can't write if he's sick, can he? Why don't she telegraph +him?" + +"That would be just the same, the way she may look at it." + +"Then wire him yourself, why don't you? Oh, please go away-- +PLEASE. I'll speak to her, Daniel, when I get time; I was going +to. But just now I--oh, my POOR head!" + +Daniel made up his mind to telegraph Doane that very afternoon, but +he did not. A happening in the household prevented him. Mr. +Hapgood was summarily discharged. + +Azuba was responsible for the affair. Serena was out--"committeeing" +as usual--Gertrude was with her. Mr. Hungerford, also, was absent. +Captain Dan, in the library, dolefully musing in an arm chair, heard +a violent altercation in the kitchen. As it did not cease, but +became more violent, he hastened to the scene. + +Azuba was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her back against +the table, facing the butler. Mr. Hapgood's face was red, his +fists were clenched, and he was shaking one of them under the +housekeeper's nose. + +"Give it to me!" he ordered. "'And it over now, or I'll bash you +good and 'ard." + +Azuba merely smiled. "You'll bash nobody," she declared. "You're +a thief, that's what you are--a low-down thief. I've always +cal'lated you was one, ever since I laid eyes on you; now I know +it. Don't you dare shake your fist at me. If my husband was here +he'd--" + +Hapgood interrupted, savagely consigning the Ginns, both male and +female, to a much hotter place than the kitchen. Captain Dan +strode into the room. + +"Here!" he said sharply. "What's all this? You," addressing +Hapgood, "what, do you mean by shakin' your fist at a woman?" + +Mr. Hapgood's bluster collapsed, like a punctured toy balloon. +He cringed instead. + +"W'y, sir," he pleaded, "it wasn't anything. I lost my temper a +bit, sir, that's all. She"--with a malignant snarl at Azuba-- +"she's got a letter of mine. She stole it and won't give it up. +I was angry, sir, same as any man would 'ave been, and I forgot +myself. Make 'er 'and over my letter, sir." + +The captain turned to the defiant Mrs. Ginn. + +"Have you got a letter of his, Zuba?" he demanded. + +Azuba laughed. "I have," she declared, "and I'm glad of it. I've +been waiting to get somethin' like it for a long spell. Stealin'! +HE accuse anybody of stealin'! Here, Daniel Dott, you read that +letter. Read it and see who's been doin' the stealin' around +here." + +She extended the letter at arm's length. The butler made a snatch +at it, but Captain Dan was too quick. He unfolded the crumpled +sheet of paper. It bore the printed name and address of one of +Scarford's newer and more recently established grocers and +provision dealers, and read as follows: + + +EDWARD H. HAPGOOD, + +SIR:--Our order clerk informs us that you expect a higher +percentage of commission on goods ordered by your household. We do +not feel that we should pay this. While we, being a new house, +were willing, in order to obtain your business, to allow a fair +rate of commission to you for putting it in our way, and while, +during the past three months, we have paid such commission, we do +not feel-- + + +Daniel tossed the note on the floor. He marched to the door +leading to the back yard and threw it open. Then he turned to the +butler. + +"See that door?" he inquired, pointing toward it. "Use it." + +Hapgood did not seem to comprehend. + +"Wh-what, sir?" he faltered. + +"Use that door. Get out! Out of this house, and don't you dare +show your nose inside it again. Here!" stepping to the rack behind +the open door. "These are your--duds--aren't they? Take 'em and +get out. Quick!" + +He threw an overcoat and hat at the astonished man-servant, who +caught them mechanically. + +"Get!" repeated the captain. + +Hapgood apparently understood at last. His usual expression of +polite humility vanished and he glowered malevolently. + +"So I'm fired, am I?" he demanded. "Fired, without no notice or +nothin'. 'Ow about my two weeks' wages? 'Ow about square +treatment? 'Ow about my things upstairs? I've got rights, I 'ave, +and you'll find it out. Blame your eyes, I--" + +He darted through the doorway just in time. Captain Dan was on the +threshold. + +"You can send for your things upstairs," said the captain. +"They'll be ready--either up there or on the sidewalk. Now, my-- +hum--thief," with deliberate and dangerous calmness, "I'm comin' +out into that yard. If I was you I'd be somewhere else when I get +there. That's my advice." + +The advice was taken. Mr. Hapgood was in the street by the time +his employer reached the gate. Bolting that gate, Daniel walked +back to the kitchen. + +"Thank you, Zuba," he said quietly. "You've only confirmed what I +suspected before, but thank you, just the same." + +Azuba was regarding him with a surprise in which respect was +strongly mingled. + +"You're welcome," she said drily. "It's good riddance to bad +rubbish, that's what I call it. But," her surprise getting the +better of her judgment, "I must say I ain't seen you behave--I +mean--" + +She stopped, the judgment returning. But Captain Dan read her +thoughts and answered them. + +"He's a man," he said shortly, "or an apology for one. I know how +to deal with a MAN--his kind, anyway." + +Azuba nodded. "I should say you did," she observed. "Well, if +you'd like to hear the whole yarn, how I come to suspect him and +all, I can tell you. You see--" + +But Daniel would not listen. "I don't want to hear it," he said. +"Tell Serena, if you want to, when she comes home. I've got too +much else on my mind to bother with swabs like him. If he should +try to come back again you can call me, otherwise not. I ain't +interested." + +And yet, if he could have seen and heard his ex-butler just at that +moment, he might have been interested. Hapgood, on the next +corner, out of sight from the Dott home, had met and waylaid Mr. +Percy Hungerford. To the latter gentleman he was telling the story +of his discharge. Cousin Percy seemed disturbed and angry. + +"It's your own fault," he declared. "You ought to have been more +careful." + +"Careful! 'Ow should I know the fools was going to write a letter? +I told 'em not to. And 'ow did I know the old woman--blast 'er-- +was watchin' me all the time? And now I've lost my job, and a good +soft job, too. You've got to get it back for me, Mr. 'Ungerford; +you've got to 'elp me, sir." + +"I'll help you all I can, of course, but I doubt if it will do any +good. I can't stand talking with you here. Drop me a line at the +club, telling me where you are, and I'll let you know what turns +up. Oh, say, have any more letters come for--you know who?" + +"No, that was the only one, sir. But a telegram came this +morning." + +Mr. Hungerford started. "A telegram?" he repeated. "For her?" + +"Yes, sir. And from 'im, it was, too." + +"Did she get it?" + +Mr. Hapgood winked. "It was 'phoned up from the telegraph office, +sir," he said, "and I answered the 'phone. 'Ere's the copy I made, +sir." + +He extracted a slip of paper from his pocket. Cousin Percy +snatched the slip and read the penciled words. Hapgood smiled. + +"Looks good, don't it, sir," he observed. "'Frisco's a long way +off." + +Hungerford did not answer. He tore the paper into small pieces and +tossed them away. + +"Well," he said, after a moment, "good by and good luck. Let me +know where you are and meanwhile I'll see what can be done for you. +Good by." + +He was moving off, but his companion stepped after him. + +"Just a minute, sir," he said. "Could you 'elp me out a bit, in +the money way? I'm flat broke; the old 'ayseed chucked me without +a penny; 'e did, so 'elp me." + +Cousin Percy looked distinctly annoyed. + +"I'm pretty nearly broke myself," he declared, impatiently. + +"Is that so, sir, I'm sorry, but I think you'll 'ave to 'elp me a +bit. I think--I think you'd better, Mr. 'Ungerford, sir." + +Hungerford looked at him. The look was returned. Then the young +gentleman extracted a somewhat attenuated roll of bills from his +pocket, peeled off two and handed them to his companion. + +"There you are," he replied. "That's all and more than I can +spare, just now. Good by." + +"Good by, sir--for now. And thank you kindly." + +Captain Dan, for all his prompt handling of the thieving butler and +his professed ability to deal with men--Mr. Hapgood's kind of man-- +awaited the return of his wife and daughter with considerable +uneasiness. Hapgood, in his capacity as trained, capable, +aristocratic servant, had been a favorite of Serena's. The captain +dreaded telling his wife what, in the heat of his anger, he had +done. But his dread was needless. Serena's mind was too much +occupied with politics and political ambition to dwell upon less +important matters. + +"I suppose it is all right," she said. "If he was a thief he +should be discharged, of course. No doubt you did right, Daniel, +but we shall miss him dreadfully. I don't know where we can get +another butler like him." + +Daniel gasped. "Good land of love!" he cried; "we don't WANT +another like him, do we! I should hope we didn't." + +"I don't mean another thief. Oh, dear me! Why do you pick me up +in that way? One would think you took a delight in worrying me all +you could. Get me a cup of tea. I want it right away. My nerves +are all unstrung. Gertie--" + +But Gertie had gone to her room; she spent the greater part of her +time there now. Her mother sighed. + +"She's gone," she declared. "Just when I need her most, of course. +I can't see what has got into her for the last few days. She was +so interested in the Chapter. Even more than I, I began to think. +And yet, at the committee meeting this afternoon--the most +important meeting we've had; when we were counting the votes which +we can be sure of and those that are doubtful, she scarcely said a +word. Just sat there and moped. I don't know what is the matter +with her." + +Daniel nodded. "I think I do," he said. "It's John. Somethin's +the matter between her and John. If he had only stayed here! If +he would only come back!" + +"Then for mercy sakes get him back! Telegraph him. You said you +were going to." + +Captain Dan rose. "I will," he declared. "I'll do it right now, +this minute. Not till I see you to your tea, Serena," he added, +hastily. "I'll tell Zuba about that first, of course." + +He sent the telegram within the hour. It was an inquiry concerning +Mr. Doane's whereabouts, his employer's health, how he was getting +on, and when he--John--was to return to Scarford. The answer +arrived, via telephone, about eight that evening. It was a +surprising answer. + +"Doane gone to San Francisco on business of the firm," it said. +"Left at midnight yesterday." + +It was signed by the senior partner. Serena had gone out, of +course; she was scarcely ever in now, but Gertrude, having finished +dinner, was in her room as usual. Her father hurried up the +stairs. + +"Gertie," he cried, entering without knocking, "Gertie, what do you +suppose I've just found out? It's the most astonishing news. John +is--he has--Why, you'd never guess!" + +Gertrude, who was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, +showed her first sign of interest. At the mention of the name she +turned quickly. + +"What?" she cried, in a startled voice. "What? Is it--is it bad +news? He isn't--isn't--" + +"No, no! No, no! He's all right. Don't look like that, you scare +me. John's all right; that is, I suppose he is. But he--Here! +read it yourself." + +Gertrude took the paper upon which he had written the message. She +read the latter through; read it and reread it. Then she turned to +her father. + +"But I can't understand," she faltered. "I can't--I can't +understand. He didn't send this himself. He has gone to San +Francisco; but--but this is signed by someone else. What does it +mean?" + +Daniel was frightened. It was time to explain, and yet, +considering his daughter's look and manner, he was afraid to +explain. + +"You see," he stammered, "well, you see, Gertie, that's an answer, +that is. John didn't send it, he'd gone. But, I presume likely +they thought my telegram ought to be answered, so--" + +Gertrude interrupted. "Your telegram?" she repeated. "YOUR +telegram? What telegram?" + +"Why, the telegram I sent to John. I knew you hadn't heard from +him, and I thought probably--" + +"Wait--wait a minute. Did YOU send a telegram to--to him?" + +"Yes; sure I did. I--" + +"What did you say?" + +"I said--why, I said that you--we, I mean--was wonderin' about him +and--and missin' him and when was he comin' back here. That's +about what I said. I wrote it in a hurry and I don't remember +exactly. That's about it, anyhow. Why, what's the matter?" + +Gertrude had risen. + +"You said that!" she cried. "You--without a word to me--said--you +begged him to come back! Begged him! on your knees! to--to--" + +"No, no! I never got on my knees. What would I do a fool thing +like that for, when I was sendin' a telegram? I just asked--" + +"You just asked! You said that I--_I_--And this was your answer! +THIS!" + +She dashed the message to the floor, covered her face with her +hands and threw herself upon the bed. Daniel, aghast and alarmed, +would have raised her but she pushed him away. + +"Oh!" she cried. "The shame of it! Don't touch me! Please don't +touch me!" + +"But, Gertie--what on earth?" + +"Don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Just go away, Daddy. Go +and leave me. I mustn't talk to you now. If I do, I shall say-- +Please go. I want to be alone." + +Daniel went. That he had made another blunder was plain enough, +but just now he was too hurt and indignant to care a great deal. + +"All right," he said shortly; "I'm goin'. You needn't worry about +that. That's about all the orders I get nowadays--to go away. I +ought to be used to it, by this time. I'm a fool, that's what I +am, an old worn-out, useless fool." + +He slammed the door and descended the stairs. He had been in his +accustomed refuge, the library, for perhaps twenty minutes, when +the bell rang. He waited for Hapgood to answer the ring and then, +suddenly remembering that the butler had departed, answered it +himself. + +Mr. Monty Holway smiled greeting from the steps. + +"Good evening, Captain Dott," he said. "Is Miss Dott in?" + +Daniel hesitated. "Yes," he said, "she's in, but--" + +"May I see her? Will you be good enough to give her my card?" + +The captain took the card. + +"Ye-es," he said, "I'll give it to her, but--but--Well, you see, +she ain't feelin' very well this evenin' and I don't know as she'll +want to see anybody." + +Gertrude herself called from the head of the stairs. + +"Who is it, Daddy?" she asked. "Someone for me?" + +"It's--er--Mr. Holway." + +"Oh, is it!" The tone was one of delighted surprise. "Ask him to +come in, Daddy. I'll be right down." + +She came almost immediately. She greeted the caller with +outstretched hand. + +"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Holway," she said. "I was lonely. It +was nice of you to come." + +She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more +apparent than ever, but the eyes themselves were shining brightly. +She was gay and, for her, extremely vivacious. Mr. Holway looked +gratified and happy. Captain Dan looked astonished and bewildered. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The bewilderment and astonishment remained with the captain for +some time, just as his daughter's apparent light heartedness +remained with her. Holway's call was longer than usual, lasting +until Serena, escorted by Mr. Hungerford, returned from Mrs. +Black's, where they had been discussing the all-important election. +Hungerford and his friend greeted each other with a marked lack of +warmth; in fact, they scarcely spoke. Serena was too tired to +talk, but Gertrude talked enough for all. She chatted and laughed +with almost feverish gaiety until the caller, after many false +starts and with evident reluctance, finally tore himself away. +Then her manner changed, she was silent and thoughtful and, soon +afterward, said goodnight and went up to her room. + +Captain Dan forebore to trouble his wife with the news of the +telegram announcing John Doane's departure for the West, and the +reception of that news by Gertrude. After hearing Serena's +complaints of her "nerves" and weariness, he decided that there was +trouble sufficient for that night. But the next morning he spoke +of it. Serena was surprised, of course, and worried likewise. + +"You're right, Daniel," she said, "I am afraid you're right. She +and John must have had some disagreement. I suppose it is only a +lover's quarrel--young engaged people are always having foolish +quarrels--and they always get over them and make up again. But, +oh, dear! why did they quarrel just now? Haven't I got enough on +my mind without fretting about them? Well, I'll talk to Gertie +this very forenoon." + +She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting +anxiously to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook +her head. + +"I can't make Gertie out," she declared pettishly. "She acts so +queer. Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all +right, and why should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so +different, somehow. She was willing enough to discuss my chances +for the vice-presidency. She asked twenty questions about that and +declares she is going to help me. And yesterday, when I wanted her +to help, she didn't take any interest. I never saw such a change. +And she is so--so fidgety and--and nervous and high-spirited and +silly. She laughed at nothing and kept jumping up and walking +about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME jumpy just to +look at her." + +Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan +to feel "jumpy" more than once. Her determination to help her +mother in the campaign she put into immediate practice. She called +Cousin Percy into council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter +members, and the pair spent hours checking that list together. +Then Gertrude announced that she was going to make some calls. She +made them and returned, exultant. + +"I think I have made two converts this afternoon," she said. "I am +almost sure they will vote for you, Mother. You and I must go to +Mrs. Black's to-night and talk it over with her. We MUST; it is +very important." + +Serena, who had hoped for an early bedtime, expressed weariness, +and protested, but her protests were overruled. They went to the +Blacks' and Captain Dan and Mr. Hungerford went, also. Annette was +delighted to see them. Mr. Black succeeded in repressing his joy. + +"For the Lord's sake, Dan!" he exclaimed, when, he and the captain +were alone, "isn't there EVER going to be any let-up to this tom- +foolery? Are these women of ours going stark crazy?" + +Daniel gloomily replied that he didn't know. + +"You're worse off than I am," continued B. Phelps. "There's two +lunatics in your family and only one in mine. Your daughter's just +as bad as her mother, every bit--worse, if anything. But, it seems +to agree with HER. I never saw her so lively or so pretty either. +Humph! your pet cousin there is badly gone, or I'm no judge. Well, +you remember what I told you about him." + +Daniel nodded. He was too depressed for words. + +"All right, it's your funeral, not mine. But, say! there's one ray +of hope. The whole crowd may be licked to death in this election. +If they are, my wife says she'll resign from the Chapter and never +speak to one of the bunch again. It sounds too good to be true, +but it may be. It's enough to make a fellow hop in and do some +political work himself--for the other side. What?" + +The political work continued, mornings and afternoons, evenings and +far into the nights. Serena was in it, Gertrude was in it, and +Cousin Percy and Mr. Holway were in it because she was. Monty's +calls were of frequent occurrence. Mr. Hungerford and his +erstwhile chum did not speak to each other at all now. But at +receptions and teas and dances and musicals and committee meetings +one or the other was on hand at Miss Dott's elbow. And Gertrude +was very gracious to them both; not more to one than the other, but +exceptionally kind and agreeable to each. + +The social affairs were of almost as frequent occurrence as the +political meetings. Gertrude accepted all invitations and urged +her mother to accept. + +"You must, Mother," she declared. "Now is the time when you can't +afford to offend or neglect anyone. You may need their votes and +influence." + +"But, Gertie," pleaded poor, tired Serena, "I can't go everywhere." + +"You must. If this vice-presidency is worth all the world to you, +as you say it is, you must sacrifice everything else to get it." + +"But, I can't! I'm almost worn out. I--I--oh, sometimes I feel +almost willing to give it all up and go back to--to--almost +anywhere, even Trumet, if I could rest there." + +"You don't mean that, Mother." + +"No; no, of course I don't." + +"Because if you do, why--well, that is different. If you WANT to +go back to dead and alive old Trumet--" + +"I don't. I--I wouldn't for anything. I shouldn't think you, of +all people, would hint at such a thing. You! When I have climbed +so high already; when our social position has become what it is. +You! talking of going back to Trumet." + +"I'm not. You mentioned it; I didn't. I'm having a beautiful +time. I just love our social position. The Blacks and the Kellys +and--er--that Miss Dusante! Oh, I adore them. I wouldn't leave +such cultured people for anything. And you enjoy it so, Mother. +You look so happy." + +Was there a trace of sarcasm in this outburst? Serena was, for the +moment, suspicious. She tried her hardest to look very happy +indeed. + +"I am happy, of course," she declared. + +"I know it. And we want to keep on being happy, don't we. So we +must not decline anyone's invitation. We must go, go, go, all the +time." + +"But some of the invitations are from people I scarcely know at +all. And some I don't like." + +"That makes no difference. They may be of value to you in your +campaign, or socially, or somehow. Don't you see, Mother? In +politics or society one wishes to advance, to climb higher all the +time. And to do that one must use one's acquaintances as rounds in +the ladder. Use them; get something from them; pretend to love +them, no matter whether you really hate them or not. They may hate +you, but they want to use you. That's part of the game, Mother." + +This was worldly advice to be given by a young lady scarcely out of +college. And it sounded so unlike Gertrude. But, then, Gertrude +had changed, was changing more and more daily. + +"We don't entertain enough," went on the adviser. "We should be +giving some affair or other at least once a week. Invite everybody +you know--everyone but the Lake crowd, of course. I'll make out a +list of eligibles to-day and we'll give an 'At Home' next week." + +"But, Gertie--the expense. It costs so dreadfully. We're not +rich; that is, not very rich." + +"No matter. Everyone thinks we are. If they didn't, most of them +would cut us dead to-morrow. We must pretend to be very rich. +I'll make out the list. Mr. Holway will help me. He is coming to +call this evening." + +Serena looked more troubled than ever. + +"Gertie," she said earnestly, "I think I ought--yes, I am going to +warn you against that Mr. Holway. I don't like your having him +call or being seen in his company." + +"You don't! I am surprised. I'm sure he is very polite and +agreeable. He belongs to the best club and he dresses well, and as +to society--why, he is in the very heart of it; our kind of +society, I mean." + +"I know, I know. But--well, Cousin Percy doesn't speak well of +him. He says he is a very fast young man." + +Gertrude bit her lip. "Did Percy say that!" she exclaimed. "How +odd! Why, Monty--I mean Mr. Holway--said almost the same thing +about him. And I KNOW you like Cousin Percy, Mother." + +Mrs. Dott scarcely knew how to answer. As a matter of fact she did +not like their aristocratic relative quite as well as she had at +first. There were certain things about him, little mannerisms and +condescensions, which jarred upon her. He was so very, very much +at home in the family now; in fact, he seemed to take his permanent +membership in that family for granted. He had ceased to refer to +himself as being on a vacation, and, as for his "literary work," he +appeared to have forgotten that altogether. + +But these were not the real reasons for Serena's growing dislike +and uneasiness. She hinted at the real reason in her next remark. + +"I don't think," she said, "I don't think, Gertie, that you and he +should be so much together. You are engaged to be married, you +know, and John--" + +Gertrude interrupted. She ignored the mention of Mr. Doane's name. + +"Oh, Cousin Percy is all right," she said lightly. "He's good +company. Of course he may be something of a sport, but that is to +be expected. The trouble with you and me, Mother, is that we are +too old-fashioned; we are not sporty enough." + +"GERTIE!" Serena's horror was beyond words. + +Gertrude laughed. "But that can be mended," she went on. "Mother, +you should learn to drink cocktails and tango. I think I shall. +Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it!" + +Humming this spirited ditty, which the street pianos had rendered +popular, and smiling over her shoulder at her mother, she "one- +stepped" from the room. Serena put both hands to her head. Her +"nerves" were more troublesome than ever the remainder of that day. + +There were enough troubles to rack even a healthy set of nerves. +The domestic situation was decidedly complicated. No successor to +the departed Hapgood had, as yet, been selected. Mr. Hungerford +was partially responsible for this. At first, when told of the +butler's misbehavior and its consequences, he had expressed sorrow, +but had advised forgiveness and the reinstallation of the +discharged one. The crime was, after all, not so very serious. +Most butlers exacted commissions from tradespeople, so he had been +told. Of course it was all wrong, a pernicious system and all +that, but they did do it. And many employers winked at the system. +Hapgood was an exceptional fellow, really quite exceptional. Aunt +Lavinia had treated him as one of the family, almost. Captain Dan, +to whom these statements were made, was stubbornly indignant. He +wouldn't wink at a thief, and he wouldn't fire him and then hire +him over again, either. If "that everlastin' sneak showed his +white-washed face on the premises again, he'd have that face +damaged." All the captain hoped for was a chance to inflict the +damage. + +So Cousin Percy, finding Daniel obdurate, tried his influence upon +Serena, whom he regarded, and justly, as the real head of the +house. But Serena, too, refused to consider Mr. Hapgood's re- +employment. She had talked with Azuba, and Azuba had declared that +she should leave in "just about two-thirds of a jiffy" if the +butler came back. "When he comes into my kitchen," she said, "I +get out. I should hate to quit the folks I'd worked for the +biggest part of my life, but there's some things I won't stand. +He's one of 'em. Don't talk to me about HIM!" + +Mr. Hapgood was not re-engaged nor forgiven, and Hungerford kindly +volunteered to find a competent successor. He would make some +inquiries among his friends, the right sort of people, he said, and +his manner indicated that the said people were accustomed to +employing butlers in droves. + +Azuba, therefore, was left with all the domestic cares upon her +hands. These hands were quite competent, had they been disengaged, +but just now they were full. Azuba was "advancing," just as she +had proclaimed to Captain Dan that she intended to do. She read +"The Voice" and kindred literature a great deal, and quoted from +her readings at every opportunity. Denied admittance to the +Chapter, in spite of Gertrude's efforts in her behalf--Gertrude had +warmly advocated the formation of a Servants' Branch--she had made +search on her own hook and suddenly announced that she had found +what she was looking for. This, so she affirmed, was an +organization called "The Free Laborers' Band," and it met in a hall +somewhere or other, though no one but its members seemed to know +just where that hall was. Serena made inquiries, but neither +servants nor mistresses had ever heard of the "Band." Gertrude, +when she heard of it, at first seemed to be much amused, and +laughed heartily. Then she became very grave and declared it a +splendid thing and that she was delighted because Azuba had found +her opportunity. She was entitled to that opportunity, as was +every free woman, and certainly neither Gertrude or her mother, +being "free women" themselves, must offer objection or permit mere +household drudgery to interfere. + +So Azuba "advanced" and preached and went out at night and +occasionally during the day. Gertrude and Serena went out all the +time, when they were not entertaining themselves. Life became a +never-ending round of politics and society functions, followed by, +on Mrs. Dott's part, sleepless nights and "nerves" and fretful +worriment concerning Gertrude. Gertrude did not appear to worry. +She grew gayer and more gay, more careless in her manner and more +slangy in her speech. Mr. Holway continued to call and Cousin +Percy to dance solicitous attendance. John Doane's name was never +mentioned in his fiancee's presence. She would not speak, or +permit others to speak, of him. + +And then Mr. Holway ceased to call. His final call was a lengthy +one, and he and Gertrude were alone during the latter part of it. +The following day Daniel met him on the street and was barely +recognized. The captain was not greatly troubled at the slight--he +did not care greatly for the lively Monty--but he was surprised. +When he mentioned the meeting to his daughter the young lady +smiled, but offered no explanation. Her father did not press the +point. As Holway came no more and it became apparent that he was +not coming, the captain was satisfied. + +Gertrude's strange behavior alarmed and troubled him, but his +wife's ill health and her worn, weary expression alarmed him more. +He was actually frightened concerning her. + +"Oh, Serena," he begged, "what makes you do it? It isn't worth it. +You're killin' yourself. Let's give it up and go somewhere and +rest. The Queen of Sheba's job ain't worth it, let alone just +bein' vice-president of Scarford Chapter." + +But Serena shook her head. "I can't give it up, Daniel," she +declared hysterically. "I--I think I would if I could. I really +do. Sometimes I feel as if I would give up everything just to be +at peace and happy and contented again." + +"You bet!" with enthusiasm. "So would I. And we were contented at +Trumet, wasn't we? That is, I was; and you was enough sight better +contented than you are now." + +"I know, I know. But I can't give it up, Daniel. Don't you see? +I can't! I mustn't think of myself at all. See how loyally +Annette and the rest have stood by me. Their splendid loyalty is +the one thing that makes it worth while. I must keep up and fight +on for their sakes. I must be as true to them as they are to me. +Would they desert me for anything? No! And I shan't desert them. +I am going to be elected. I know it. After that, after the +election is over, I may--I might, perhaps--" + +"You might go somewhere with me and have a good, comfortable time. +All right, we will. And Gertie can go, too." + +The mention of her daughter's name seemed to be more disturbing +than all the rest. Serena burst into tears. + +"She wouldn't go, Daniel!" she cried. "You know she wouldn't. +She--she is going crazy, I do believe. She is wild about society +and bridge--she told me only yesterday she wasn't sure that playing +for money was wrong. All my friends and her friends did it and why +shouldn't we? And she dances all these dreadful new dances and +uses slang and--and--oh, she is--I don't know WHAT she will be if +this keeps on. Why does she do it? WHO is responsible?" + +Daniel did not answer. He had a feeling that he could, without +moving from his chair, lay a hand upon the person chiefly +responsible, but he kept that feeling to himself. + +"She'd go, if we wanted her to," he affirmed stoutly. + +"No, she wouldn't." + +"By time! she would. You and I would make her. I couldn't do it +alone, I know that, but if you'll say the word and stand by me +she'll go, if I have to--to give her ether and take her while she's +asleep. Say the word, that's all I want you to do." + +Serena did not say the word, not then. She continued to moan and +wring her hands. + +"She's all wrong, Daniel!" she cried. "She does wrong things. She +is with--with Cousin Percy too much. He and she are getting to be +altogether too friendly. She has dropped John for good, I'm +afraid. Oh, suppose she should--" + +The captain's anger burst forth at this expression of his own +secret dread. + +"Suppose she should marry that Hungerford, you mean!" he cried. +"She won't! She won't! She's too sensible, anyway; but, if she +should, I--I'd rather see her dead. Yes, sir, dead!" + +"So had I. But Cousin Percy--" + +"D--n Cousin Percy!" + +For once his profanity met with no rebuke. Serena did not appear +to notice it. + +"He is not the right sort of man for her," she declared. "He is +polite and aristocratic and he has helped us in society; but he is +dissipated and fast, I'm sure of it. He has been out a great deal +lately and comes home late, and I have heard him come up the stairs +as if--as if--Oh, WHY did you insist on his staying here, living +here with us?" + +"Why did _I_--Humph! Well, that's all right. That's all right, +Serena. You back me up in that, too, and he'll go out a sight +quicker than he came in. I'll see that he does. He'll fly. I can +handle MEN even yet--though I don't seem to be good for much else." + +But Mrs. Dott wouldn't hear of it. They couldn't PUT him out, she +declared; think of the scandal! No, no, no! The interview ended +by the captain's dismissal and Serena's getting ready for that +evening's committee meeting. + +It developed that Azuba's "Band" met on that same evening. +Gertrude and her mother had gone--they were to dine with the +committee at Annette's--and when Daniel, at seven o'clock, shouted +for his dinner, no dinner was ready. + +"I can't stop to fuss with dinner," said Azuba firmly. "I've got +to get ready for my Band meetin'. All the afternoon I've been +fussin' with my speech--I'm goin' to speak to-night--and now it's +time for me to change my clothes. I'm sorry, Cap'n Dott; I never +neglected you afore; but this time I've got to. There's plenty to +eat in the ice-chest and you must wait on yourself. No use to +talk! I ain't got time to listen." + +Captain Dan was furious. This was a trifle too much. + +"You get that dinner!" he roared. "Get it, or you'll never get +another meal in this house!" + +"Won't I? Why not? Mrs. Dott said I might go to this meetin'. +She'll understand." + +"By time, Zuba Ginn, I'll discharge you! I will! I don't care if +you have been with us since Methusalem's time. You old foolhead! +At your age--" + +"I'm no older than your wife, Dan'l Dott. And you can't discharge +me, neither. I wouldn't go. I'm no Hapgood. I've got rights and +I'll stand up for 'em. You ain't the boss, I guess. If Serena +discharges me, all right; but she won't. There! don't talk to ME. +I've got other fish to fry." + +She marched up the back stairs. Daniel sprang after her, but she +closed the door in his face. For a moment he hesitated. Then he +turned back and, re-entering the kitchen, began to pace up and +down, his hands in his pockets. + +He strode from the sink to the back door, wheeled and strode back +again. There was an odd expression on his face. He frowned, +muttered to himself, whistled, smiled, and once broke into a short +laugh. But, as he continued the pacing, gradually the frown +and smile disappeared and his expression became one of grim +determination. His lips closed, his eyes puckered, and his stride +lengthened. His heels struck the oilcloth with sharp, quick +thumps. If one of his former shipmates, a foremast hand on the +schooner Bluebird, could have seen him then, that foremast hand +would have interpreted his behavior as a forerunner of trouble. He +would have known that the "old man" was making up his mind to a +definite course of action and that, having made it up, he would +keep to that course so long as he could see or breathe. + +And that interpretation would have been correct. Captain Dan was +desperate. He had made up his mind to fight, to "put his foot +down" at last. Serena's ill health, Gertrude's conduct, the +aggravating insolence of Cousin Percy, all these had helped to spur +him to this pitch. And now came Azuba's open rebellion and her +declaration that his command amounted to nothing, that he was not +the "boss." It was true, that was the humiliating fact which +stung. He was not the boss; he was not even cabin boy, and he knew +it. But, to be openly told so, and by his cook, was a little too +much. The worm will turn--at least we are told that it will--and +Daniel Dott was turning. + +He jerked his hands from his pockets and opened his mouth. + +"Azuba!" he roared. "You, Zuba, come here!" + +Azuba did not answer. She was in her room at the top of the house +and, of course, did not hear the shout. Before the captain could +repeat it someone knocked at the back door. + +The knock was no hesitating, irresolute tap. It was an emphatic, +solid thump. Daniel heard it, but, in his present state of mind, +was in no mood to heed. + +"Zuba!" he repeated. "Zuba Ginn, are you comin' here or shall I +come after you? ZUBA!" + +The back door was merely latched, not locked. Now it was thrown +open, a heavy step sounded in the entry and a voice, a man's voice, +said, in a shout almost as loud as the captain's, "Yes, Zuba; +that's what I was cal'latin' to say, myself. Who--why, hello, +Cap'n Dan! How are you?" + +Daniel turned. A man had entered the kitchen, a big man, wearing a +cloth cap, and carrying in one hand a lumpy oilcloth valise. He +tossed the valise to the floor, grinned, and extended a hand. + +"Well, Cap'n Dan," he observed, "you look as natural as life. _I_ +must have changed, I cal'late. Don't you know me?" + +The captain's eyes were opening wider and wider. "Labe!" he +exclaimed; "Laban Ginn! Where in the world did you come from?" + +The person who had so unceremoniously entered the kitchen was +Azuba's husband, mate of the tramp steamer. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +"For the land sakes! Laban Ginn!" repeated Daniel. + +Mr. Ginn grinned cheerfully. He was six feet tall, or thereabouts, +and more than half as wide. His hair and beard were grayish red +and his face reddish brown. He was dressed in the regulation +"shore togs" of a deep sea sailor, blue double-breasted jacket, +blue trousers and waistcoat, white "biled" shirt, low collar-- +celluloid, by the look--and a "made" bow tie which hung from the +button by a worn loop of elastic. His hands were as red as his +face and of a size proportionate to the rest of him. He seized the +captain's hand in one of his, crushed it to a pulp, and returned +the remains to the chief mourner. + +"Well, say," he cried, his grin widening, "that feels natural, +don't it? Last time you and me shook hands was over three years +ago. How are you? Blessed if it ain't good to see you again." + +Captain Dan was slowly regaining his equilibrium. + +"Same to you, Labe," he returned heartily. "But--but, by Godfreys, +you're the last person I expected to see just now." + +"Yep, I shouldn't wonder." + +"Sit down, sit down. Humph! Does Azuba know you're comin'?" + +"No, not yet." + +"Well, sit down and I'll call her. She's here with us, of course." + +"Sartin she is. Where else would she be? I knew she was here; +heard you hailin' her just as I made port at the back door. Set +down?" He threw himself into a chair, which groaned under the +pressure. "Sure, I'll set down! Feels kind of good to drop anchor +when you've been cruisin's long as I have. No, Zuby don't know I'm +comin'. Last time I wrote her was from Mauritius. I've been to +clink and gone since. She WILL be surprised, won't she? Ho! ho! +Did I leave the hatch open? Here, let me shut it." + +But Daniel himself shut the "hatch," that is to say, the back door. +He was on his way to the stairs, but Mr. Ginn detained him. + +"Hold on a shake, Cap'n," he said. "I ain't hardly seen you yet. +Let's have a look at you." Crossing his legs--his feet were like +miniature trunks--he added, "How are you, anyway?" + +Daniel replied that he was fair to middling. + +"Sit still and make yourself comfortable, Labe," he went on. "I'll +tell Zuba you're here." + +"What's your hurry? Give me a chance to catch my breath. I lugged +that dunnage bag," indicating the valise, "from the depot up here, +and I feel as if I'd strained every plank in my hull. Ought to go +into dry dock and refit, I had. I landed in Philadelphy a week +ago," he continued. "Quit the old steamer for good, I have. Me +and the skipper had some words and I told him where he could go. +Ho! ho! I don't know whether he went or not; anyhow, I started for +Trumet. Got there and found you'd come into money and had moved to +Scarford and was livin' with the big-bugs. Some house you've got +here, ain't it! Soon's I see it I headed for the back door. 'A +first cabin companion like that's no place for me,' I says. Ho! +ho! Besides, I cal'lated to find Zuby Jane out in the fo'castle +here. Didn't expect to locate you, though, in this end of the +ship. How's it seem to be rich? Ain't got fat on it, have you." + +Daniel, amused in spite of his recent ill temper, shook his head. + +"Not yet," he answered. "So you've been ashore a week and your +wife doesn't know it? Why didn't you write to her from +Philadelphia?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Zuby and me's got an understandin' about that, +and other things. There's nothin' like havin' a clear understandin' +to make married folks get along together. We write letters, of +course, but we don't write very often. I'm li'ble to be 'most +anywheres on the face of the earth, and it makes me fidgety to think +there's letters chasin' me round and I ain't gettin' 'em. I say to +Zuby, 'Long's you don't hear from me you'll know I'm all right, and +long's I don't hear from you I'll know the same. We'll write when +we feel like it. I'll come home as often as I can, and when I come +I'll fetch you my share of the wages.' That's our understandin' and +it's a good one. We ain't had a fight since we was spliced; or, if +we have, I always stop it right off--stop her part, I mean. Where +IS the old gal, anyhow?" + +"She's up in her room, I presume likely." + +"Oh, is she? Well, she'll be down in a jiffy. If she ain't I'll +go up and give her a surprise." + +"I'll call her, if you give me a chance." + +"No, no, you needn't. No 'special hurry. She's waited for three +years; cal'late ten minutes more won't hurt neither of us. Had +your supper yet?" + +Daniel smiled grimly. "Not yet," he replied. + +"Then she'll be down to get it, of course. I shan't stop her; I'm +empty as a rum bottle four days out of port. You folks eat late, +don't you?" + +"Sometimes." + +"I should think so. What's Zuby doin' up in her room this time of +night?" + +"She said she was goin' to change her clothes." + +"Oh, yes, yes; I see. Well, 'twon't take her long. If I went up +I'd only hold her back, and I want my supper. Let's have a smoke, +Dan, while we're waitin'." + +He patted one pocket after the other and finally located a chunky, +battered pipe, which he proceeded to fill with shavings from a +black plug. Daniel watched him. A new idea was dawning in his +mind, an idea which seemed to afford him some pleasurable +anticipation. Mr. Ginn looked up from his tobacco shaving. + +"Now, tell me about all this money of yours," he commanded. "I +didn't hear nothin' else at Trumet; that and your wife's gettin' to +be commodore of some woman's lodge or other was all they talked +about. Hey? Why, where's your pipe? Ain't you goin' to smoke? +I've got plenty terbacker." + +Daniel looked dubious. "I guess not, Labe," he said. "Zuba--well, +the fact is, Zuba doesn't like people to smoke in her kitchen." + +Laban's face expressed astonishment. "She don't!" he cried. "She +don't? How long since?" + +"Oh, almost ever since she came here. It is one of her new ways." + +"'Tis, hey? Well, I like the old ones better, myself. Never you +mind her ways; trot out your pipe and light up. I--" + +He was interrupted by his companion, who made a flying jump toward +the stove. The teakettle was boiling over. + +"Let it bile," commented Mr. Ginn. "'Tain't your funeral, is it? +You ain't supposed to boss the galley. That's the cook's business, +not the skipper's." + +But Daniel carefully removed the kettle to a place of safety. + +"It's my business to-night," he said. "I'm gettin' my own supper." + +Mr. Ginn straightened in his chair. "You be?" he exclaimed. "You +BE? What for? Ain't there no women folks in the house? Ain't +Zuby--why, you said--" + +"I know I said, but what I say don't seem to amount to much. You +see, Labe, your wife has got some of what MY wife calls advanced +ideas. She belongs to some kind of a lodge herself, and this is +their meetin' night. Just before you came Zuba made proclamations +that I could cook my own supper. She said she couldn't stop to do +it; she'd be late to the meetin' if she did." + +Laban's mouth opened. The pipe fell from it, scattering sparks +like a Roman candle, and bounced upon the spotless floor of the +kitchen. Daniel would have picked it up, but his visitor +intervened. He put one mammoth foot upon the sparks and, leaning +forward, demanded instant attention. + +"For thunder sakes, Dan Dott!" he cried. "Never mind that pipe; +let it alone. For thunder sakes, tell me what you're talkin' +about? Zuby--Zuby Jane Ginn racin' to lodges and tellin' you--YOU-- +to cook your own meals! Go on! You're loony." + +"Maybe I am, Labe, but it's so." + +"It's so? And you let it be so? I don't believe it. What do you +mean? How long has it been so?" + +Captain Dan proceeded to tell of his housekeeper's conversion to +progress and advancement. He did not suppress any of the details; +in fact, he magnified them just a bit. + +"She's a free woman, so she says, Labe," he said, in conclusion. +"And a free woman has a right to be free." + +"Is that so! That's what she says, hey? And you let her say it? +Why, you--you--" He hesitated, hovering between candid expression +and the respect due an ex-skipper of a three-master. "Wh-what do +you have such goin's on in your house for?" he demanded. "What +makes you let the gang afore the mast run over you this way? Why +don't you--who's that upstairs; your wife?" + +"No, my wife is out. I shouldn't wonder if that was Zuba. She's +on her way to the door, probably." + +"She is, hey? Call her down here. Sing out to her to come down. +Hi!" as the captain stepped to the stairs, "don't say nothin' about +me." + +Daniel, suppressing a grin, shouted up the stairs. + +"Zuba!" he called. "Zuba, come down here a minute." + +Azuba answered, but in no complacent tone. "Don't bother me, Cap'n +Dott," she protested. "I'm late as 'tis." + +"Just a minute, Zuba, that's all. One minute, please." + +Mr. Ginn snorted at the "please." They heard the housekeeper +descending. At the bottom step she sniffed loudly. + +"I do believe it's tobacco smoke!" she exclaimed. "Cap'n Dott, +have you been smokin' in my kitchen?" + +She entered the room, waving an indignant arm. She was dressed in +her Sunday best, bonnet and all. + +"What!" she began, and then, suddenly aware that her employer was +not alone, turned to stare at his companion. "Why!" she exclaimed; +"who--oh, my soul! LABAN!" + +"Hello, Zuby!" roared her husband, rising to greet her. "How be +you, old gal?" + +Before she could speak or move he seized her in his arms, squeezed +her to him, and pressed a kiss like the report of a fire-cracker +upon her cheek. "How be you, Zuby?" he repeated. + +"Oh, Labe!" gasped Azuba. "Labe!" + +"I'm Labe, all right. No doubt about that. . . . Well, why don't +you say somethin'? Ain't you glad to see me?" + +Azuba looked as if she did not know whether she was glad or not; in +fact, as if she knew or realized any little of anything. + +"Labe!" she said again. "Laban Ginn! When--WHERE did you come +from?" + +"Oh, from all 'round. Trumet was my last port and I made that by +way of Malagy and Philadelphy. But I'm here, anyhow, and that's +somethin'. My! it's good to see you. You look as natural as life. +Set down and let's look at you." + +The housekeeper sat down; she appeared glad of the opportunity. +Her husband faced her, grinning broadly. + +"Just as handsome as ever; hey, old lady," he observed. "And look +at the duds! Say, you're rigged up fine, from truck to keelson, +ain't you, Zuby! Never seen you rigged finer. A body would think +she knew I was comin', wouldn't they, Cap'n Dan?" + +Daniel did not answer, although he seemed much interested in the +situation. + +Azuba drew a hand across her forehead. + +"I DIDN'T know it," she declared emphatically. "Indeed, I didn't! +Why didn't you write me, Laban Ginn?" + +"Write! Write nothin'! I wanted to surprise you. But there, +there! Don't set around in that rig any longer. Makes me feel as +if you'd come to call on the parson. Take off your coat and bonnet +and let's be sociable. And while we're talkin' you turn to and get +supper. I'm pretty nigh starved to death. So's the cap'n; he said +so." + +Mrs. Ginn looked at Captain Dan. There was a twinkle in his eye. +Azuba noticed that twinkle. + +"Laban," she stammered, "I--I--I CAN'T stay here and get supper to- +night. I can't." + +Laban was tremendously surprised--at least he pretended to be. + +"Can't!" he repeated. "Can't stay here, when I've just got home?" + +"No, I can't. If I had known you was comin' 'twould have been +different. But I didn't know it." + +"What difference does that make? Zuby, don't make me laugh; I'm +too hungry for jokin'. Take off your bonnet, now; take it off." + +"I mustn't, really, Labe. It's lodge night and they expect me. +I--" + +"Take off your bonnet!" + +"I can't! . . . Well, I will, for just a minute." The last +sentence was added in a great hurry, for her husband showed signs +of preparing to remove the headgear with his own hands. She placed +the bonnet on the table and fidgeted in her chair, glancing first +at her employer and then at the clock. Captain Dan was smiling +broadly. + +"That's fine!" exclaimed Mr. Ginn. "Now you look like home folks. +Now she'll get us some supper, won't she, Cap'n?" + +Again Daniel did not answer, but his smile, as Azuba interpreted +it, was provokingly triumphant. Her lips closed tightly. + +"I can't get any supper to-night, Laban," she declared firmly. "I +just can't. I'm awful sorry, bein' as you've just got home, but +you'll have to forgive me. I'll explain when you and me are +alone." + +"Explain? Explain what?" + +"Why--why--" with another look, almost vindictive, at the grinning +captain, "what my reason is. But I can't tell you now--I can't." + +"That's all right. I don't care about explainin's. You can +explain any old time; just now, me and the cap'n want our supper." + +"I shan't get your supper. I told Cap'n Dott I couldn't before I +went upstairs. I'm goin' out." + +"No, no, you ain't. Quit your foolin', old lady. I'm gettin' +emptier every minute. So are you, ain't you, Cap'n?" + +Daniel hesitated, looked at his housekeeper's face, and burst into +a roar of laughter. That laugh decided the question. Azuba rose. + +"Don't talk to me," she snapped. "I'm sorry, but it serves you +right, Laban, for comin' home without sendin' me word; and just at +the wrong time, too. Give me that bonnet." + +She reached for the bonnet, but her husband reached it first. +"'Tain't much of a bonnet, anyhow, Zuby," he said. "Now I look at +it closer I don't think it's becomin' to your style of complexion. +Some day I'll buy you another." + +"Give me that bonnet, Laban Ginn!" + +"I don't like to see that bonnet around, Zuby. Let's get it out of +sight quick." + +His wife sprang at the bonnet, but he barred her off with an arm +like a fence-rail, removed a lid from the stove, put the unbecoming +article in on the red-hot coals, and replaced the lid. "There!" he +said, "that helps the scenery, don't it? Now let's have supper." + +Captain Dan laughed again. For an instant Azuba stared, white- +faced, at the cremation of the bonnet. Then she darted to the +door. "I'll go now," she cried, "if I have to go bareheaded! I'll +show you! Let go of me!" + +Mr. Ginn had thrown an arm about her waist. She pulled his hair +and gave him some vigorous slaps on the cheek, but he smiled on. +"You want to get supper, Zuby," he coaxed. "I know you do. You +just think it over now. It's too noisy out here to do much +thinkin'. Where's a nice quiet place? Oh! this'll be first rate." + +He bore her, kicking like a jumping-jack, across the kitchen to the +closet where the pans and cooking utensils were kept. "Think it +over in there, Zuby," he said calmly, shutting the door and +planting himself in a chair against it. "That's a fine place to +think. Now, Cap'n, you and me can have our smoke, while she's +thinkin' what to give us to eat; hey?" + +Judging by the thumps and kicks and screams inside the closet the +housekeeper's thoughts were otherwise engaged. + +"You let me out, Labe Ginn!" she screamed. "Cap'n Dott, you make +him let me out!" + +Daniel, weary from laughing, could only gasp. + +"I can't, Zuba!" he answered, choking. "I can't! It ain't my +affair. I couldn't interfere between husband and wife. You're a +free woman, Zuba, you know. You ought to be advanced enough by +this time to fight your own battles." + +"That's right, Zuba," counseled Mr. Ginn. "Fight 'em out in there. +You can be just as free in there as you want to. Have some of my +terbacker, Cap'n?" + +Captain Dan declined. The prisoner continued to thump and kick and +threaten. Her jailer refilled and lighted his pipe. + +"Thought over that bill of fare, Zuby?" he shouted, after a time. + +More thumps and threats; tears as well. Daniel began to feel pity +instead of triumph. + +"Hadn't you better, Labe," he began. Mr. Ginn waved him to +silence. + +"How about supper, Zuby?" he called. "Oh, all right, all right. I +don't know as I'm as hungry as I was, anyway. Appetite's kind of +passin' off, I cal'late. You stay in there and think till mornin', +and we'll have it for breakfast." + +Silence--actual silence--for a moment. Then Azuba asked, in a +half-smothered but much humbler voice, "Oh, Labe! WON'T you let me +out?" + +"Sure thing--if you've thought up that supper for me and Cap'n +Dan'l." + +"But I did so want--oh, if I could only tell you! It was SO +necessary for me to go to that meetin'. You've spiled everything, +and just as 'twas goin' so nice. What Gertie'll say I don't know." + +Daniel developed a new interest. + +"Gertie?" he repeated. "Hush, Labe! wait a minute. What's Gertie +got to do with it?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Oh, Labe, PLEASE." + +"Well, I tell you, Zuby: it's close to nine now, and that's too +late for you to be cruisin' out to meetin's. Sorry you have to +miss the speeches and things, but--Say, I tell you what I'll do. +If it's a sermon you want I'll preach you one, myself. Make it up +while you're settin' the table. Ready to come out and be good? +That's right. Now, I bet you she's thought up somethin' that'll +make our mouths water, Cap'n." + +The crestfallen housekeeper emerged, blinking, from her thinking +place. She removed her coat and, without even a glance at her +employer, proceeded to adjust the dampers of the stove. Captain +Dan rose from his chair. + +"I'm afraid I can't stop to have supper with you, Labe," he said. +"I've got an--an errand to do outside, myself. I'll eat at a +restaurant or somewhere. You'll stay here to-night, of course. +I'll see you in the mornin'. Good-night! Good-night, Zuby!" + +Azuba did not reply. Laban shouted protests. What was the sense +of going just when supper was being made ready at last? Daniel, +however, did not stay to listen. He climbed the back stairs to the +hall, put on his overcoat and hat and went out. He had been too +tender-hearted to remain in the kitchen and gloat, or appear to +gloat, over a "free woman's" humiliation. Nevertheless, he +astonished the waiter at the restaurant where he ate dinner by +bursting into laughter at intervals, and with no obvious cause. +The waiter suspected that the old gentleman from the country had +been drinking, and the size of the tip he received helped to +confirm his suspicion. + +His dinner eaten, Captain Dan walked slowly home. Unlocking the +front door with his latchkey he tiptoed through the hall and +listened at the head of the back stairs. There was a steady murmur +of voices in the kitchen. He heard a bass grumble from Mr. Ginn +and Azuba's shrill reply. Then the pair burst into a laugh. +Evidently some sort of understanding on a peaceful basis had been +reached. Still chuckling, the captain went up to his bedroom, +removed his outer garments and his shoes, put on his bathrobe and +slippers, and settled himself, with the evening paper, to await his +wife's return. He resolved to be awake when she did return; he had +news for her. Filled with this resolution, he read for three- +quarters of an hour steadily, then at intervals between naps, and +at last dropped into a sound sleep, the paper in his lap. + +Gertrude and Serena came home at a surprisingly early hour. Not +that the committee meeting was over; it was not. In fact, the +elaborate dinner spread before her supporters by the grateful Mrs. +Black had scarcely reached its last course when Gertrude suddenly +rose from the table and hastened to her mother's side. She had +been watching the latter with increasing anxiety all the evening. + +"What is it, Mother?" she asked. "What is it?" + +Serena, sitting with her elbow on the table, her hand to her +forehead, and her untasted ice before her, looked up in a +bewildered way. + +"What--why, what do you mean, Gertie?" she stammered. "What--I +don't think I understood you." + +"What is the matter, Mother?" repeated Gertrude. "Don't you feel +well?" + +Still Mrs. Dott did not seem to understand. She tried to smile, +but the vague uncertainty of the smile caused even Annette, who had +been deep in discussion of a plan for securing the vote of a still +doubtful member, to cease speaking and regard her guest with +surprise. + +"What is it, Mother?" urged Gertrude. "You look so strange. Are +you ill?" + +Serena gazed at her for a moment, rose, stood looking about in the +same hesitating, uncertain manner, and then, throwing her arms +about her daughter's neck, burst into hysterical sobs. + +The alarmed guests clustered about them, asking questions, +exclaiming, and offering suggestions. + +"What IS it?" demanded Annette. "My DEAR! What IS it?" + +Serena, still clinging to Gertrude, continued to sob. + +"I--I don't know," she moaned. "I--I feel so strange. I'm--I'm +tired, I guess. I'm--I'm worn out. I--oh, Gertie, take me home. +Take me home--please." + +"Yes, yes, Mother, dear. We will go home at once. Come." + +She led her into the next room. Annette, hastening with a glass of +wine and the smelling salts, caught the young lady's arm. + +"She isn't going to be ill, seriously sick, is she?" she demanded. +"You don't think she is. It would be dreadful if she was." + +Gertrude shook her head. + +"I don't know," she answered. "I certainly hope not. Will you +call a carriage, Mrs. Black?" + +"Yes, yes, I'll call one right away. Oh, I hope she isn't going to +be sick. It would be dreadful--just now. The election is only two +weeks off, and without her I--we should be almost certain to lose. +I know we should. Oh, Serena, DEAR! you WON'T be sick, will you? +for my sake!" + +It did not seem to occur to the agitated Annette that her friend +might not care to be ill, for her own sake. But it was evident +that Gertrude was thinking just that. The young lady's tone was +sharp and decidedly cold. + +"She is tired out," she said. "She has worn herself out working +for her--for her friends, Mrs. Black. Will you call the carriage?" + +"Yes, yes. They are calling it now. I'm so sorry the chauffeur-- +or--or Phelps--is out. If he--if they were not you could use our +car. But, oh, Serena--" + +Serena looked up. She was calmer now, she had heard, and loyally +she answered. + +"Don't worry, Annette," she said. "I am not going to be sick. I +won't. You can depend on me. Oh, Gertie, I'm SO tired! My poor +head!" + +The carriage came and she and Gertrude were driven home. Annette +did not offer to accompany them. It was such an important meeting +and there were so many things to talk about, she explained. She +would call the very next day. Serena thanked her; Gertrude said +nothing. + +Serena seemed better on the way home. When they reached the house +she announced bravely that she was all right again; all she needed +was a night's rest, that was all. Gertrude insisted on accompanying +her to her room. They found Daniel asleep in the chair, and to +him his daughter explained the situation. The captain was too +greatly disturbed to think of his "news," the news of Mr. Ginn's +arrival and Azuba's subjection. + +"You get right into bed, Serena," he ordered. "Gertie, you call +the doctor." + +But his wife would not hear of the doctor. "Nonsense!" she +declared. "I don't need any doctor. I want to go to bed. I'm +tired--tired. I won't see the doctor or anybody else. Go, Gertie, +please go. Your father will be with me. Please go! I am all +right now." + +Gertrude went, but she whispered to the captain that she would wait +in the library and, if they needed her, he was to be sure and call. + +In the library she took a book--one of Aunt Lavinia's legacies-- +from the shelf and tried to read, but that was impossible. She +could not read, she could only think, and thinking was most +unpleasant. Her conscience was troubling her. Had she been wrong? +Had she gone too far? She had meant well, her plan had seemed the +only solution of the family problem, but perhaps she had made a +mistake. She loved her mother devotedly. Oh, if anything serious +should happen--if, because of her, her mother should be ill--if--if +she should. She could not think of it. She would never forgive +herself, never. It had been all wrong from the beginning, and she +had been wicked and foolish. It had cost her so much already; her +own life's happiness. And yet--and yet, she had meant to do right. +But now, after that misunderstanding and consequent sacrifice, if +her mother should-- + +She broke down and was very, very miserable. + +Someone was at the front door, fumbling with a latchkey. Gertrude +hurriedly sprang from her chair, wiped her eyes with her +handkerchief and was on her way to the hall when the door opened. +The hall was dark; she had turned off the light when she came +downstairs; and for a moment she could not see who it was that had +entered. She, however, was in the full glow from the electrolier +in the library and Mr. Hungerford saw her. + +"Ah, Gertrude," he said cheerfully. "Is that you? Don't go. +Don't go." + +He was at the doorway before she could reach it. He had been +dining out with some masculine friends--"old college chums," he had +explained when announcing the situation--and was in evening dress. + +"Don't go," he repeated. "What's the hurry? Wait a minute and +I'll join you." + +He removed his overcoat and silk hat and tossed them carelessly +upon the hall table. The hat fell to the floor, but he did not +heed it. Then he entered the library. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Alone? Burning the midnight oil and all +that sort of thing. Where is old--er--where's your father?" + +Gertrude replied that her father had retired. She was about to do +so, she added. It was untrue, but she was not in the mood for a +conversation with anyone, least of all with Cousin Percy. + +Cousin Percy, however, appeared decidedly conversational. His face +was a trifle flushed and he smiled more than seemed necessary. + +"Well," he observed, "this is an unexpected pleasure. Didn't +expect to find anyone up at this hour." + +Gertrude curtly remarked that it was not late. + +"I didn't mean up, I meant in. Did I say 'up'? Most extraordinary. +I thought you and Mrs. Dott were playing the political game this +evening. Expected to find you out and old--the respected captain, +I mean--in the arms of--what's his name?--Morpheus. That's all +right, though; that's all right. So much the better. We can talk-- +you and I." + +"I don't feel like talking. You must excuse me." + +"What? Don't feel like talking? Cruel! Why not? It isn't late; +you said so yourself." + +"I know but--really, you must excuse me." + +She was moving toward the door, but again he stepped in her way. + +"Now, Gertie," he said. Then he broke into a laugh. "Called you +Gertie, didn't I?" he said. "Beg pardon. Quite unintentional. It +slipped out before I thought. But you don't mind, do you? It's a +pretty name. Just a little bit less formal than Gertrude, eh? +Don't you think so--Gertie?" + +Gertrude hesitated. She was humiliated and angry, but she did not +wish a scene. Her parents might hear and her mother must on no +account be disturbed. + +"Perhaps it is," she answered. + +"Then you don't mind?" + +"No. Now, Percy, you must excuse me. Goodnight!" + +"Wait! Wait! Gertie, I have something to say to you. Been +wanting to say it for a long time, but haven't had the opportunity. +You have kept out of my way. Ha! ha! you know you have. Perhaps +you guessed I wanted to say it. Was that it? Ha! ha! was it now? +Confess; was it?" + +Gertrude did not answer. She moved toward the door. Mr. +Hungerford laughingly blocked the passage. + +"No, no!" he cried. "No, no! Mustn't run away. I am going to say +it, and you must hear me. Come, don't be cross." + +"Mr. Hungerford, will you stand aside? I can not talk with you to- +night, or listen. I am going to my room." + +The tone in which this was uttered should have been a warning, but +Cousin Percy was in no condition to recognize warnings, or to heed +them if he had. His smile grew more tender and his tone more +intimate. + +"Not yet," he smiled; "not just yet. I can't permit it. Gertie, +I--" + +"If you don't stand aside I shall call my father." + +"What? Call the old gentleman? No, you don't mean it. Of course +you don't. You wouldn't be so unreasonable. Come, come! we're +friends at least. We understand each other, don't we?" + +"I understand YOU, thoroughly." + +"Of course you do," with a triumphant leer. "And you know what I +am going to say. Ah ha! I was sure you did. And you've +confessed. Gertie, my dearest girl, I--What! Going? Not until +you pay toll. I'm keeper of the gate and you must pay before you +pass, you know. If you won't listen you must pay. Ha! ha!" + +He held out his hands. Gertrude shrank back. She was not afraid +of him, but she did fear a scene. She had threatened to call her +father, but she could not do that. If she did her mother would be +frightened. She moved away, to the other side of the library +table. + +Cousin Percy interpreted her retreat as a sign of surrender. He +followed her, laughing. + +"Come!" he insisted. "I knew you didn't mean it. Come, my dear! +Just one. I--" + +He tripped over the captain's favorite footstool and fell to his +knees. With a sudden movement Gertrude jerked the cord of the +electrolier on the table. The lights went out. She dodged around +the table, through the doorway, into the hall, and up the stairs. +Mr. Hungerford, pawing in the darkness at the offending footstool, +swore. Then he laughed. + +"Good!" he exclaimed. "Very good, but not good enough. You can't +escape that way. I shall find you. Where are you hiding? Eh! +Ah, there you are!" + +He had scrambled to his feet and hurried to the doorway. There +were the sounds of footsteps and the rustle of skirts at the other +end of the hall. + +"There you are!" he cried. "I've caught you. Now you must pay-- +twice." + +He put his arm about a feminine waist and imprinted a kiss upon a +feminine cheek. Then his own cheek received a slap which made his +head ring, and the hall echoed with a shrill scream. + +"Labe!" shrieked Azuba. "Oh, Labe! Help! Come quick!" + +Mr. Ginn came up the back stairs three steps at a time. + +"What is it? What's the matter, Zuby?" he demanded. + +"A man! A man! He--he--" + +"Where is he? What's he doin'?" + +"He--there he is. Hear him? There!" + +Mr. Hungerford, paralyzed with astonishment and dizzy from the +slap, had moved, injudiciously. Laban heard him. + +"Hey?" he bellowed. "Ah! I've got him. Stand still, dum you! +I've got him, Zuby. Who is he? What did he do?" + +"I--I don't know who he is," panted the frightened housekeeper. +"He--he kissed me." + +"KISSED you! YOU? Why--" + +"It's a mistake!" cried Cousin Percy, frantically struggling in the +grasp of his captor. "I--Stop! Stop! Help! Help!" + +The hall became a pandemonium of thumps, struggles, cries for help, +and pleas for mercy. Azuba added her shrieks to the tumult. From +above Captain Dan shouted and Serena screamed. Then the chandelier +blazed. Gertrude had pressed the button at the top of the stairs. + +"Let him be!" ordered the young lady, rushing to the rescue. +"Don't! don't! Azuba, stop him!" + +"Labe! stop! stop!" pleaded the housekeeper. "You--My soul! it's +Mr. Hungerford." + +It was what there was left of Mr. Hungerford. Mr. Ginn extended +the disheveled, whimpering remnant at arm's length and regarded it. + +"Humph!" he grunted. "You know him, do you?" + +"Know him! Of course I do. But--but I must say--" + +Captain Dan came tearing down the stairs, his bathrobe fluttering +and a slipper missing. In one hand he held a pair of scissors, the +only offensive weapon which he had found available at the moment. + +"What in blazes?" he demanded. "Burglars, is it?" + +Gertrude answered. "No, Daddy," she said gravely. "It's no one +but Cousin Percy. And--and Mr. Ginn. Why, Mr. Ginn, is--is it +you?" + +Laban nodded. "It's me, all right," he observed grimly. "Who the +devil is this? That's what I want to know." + +Daniel turned to the captive. + +"Why--why, Percy!" he gasped. "What--what's happened to you? Let +go of him, Labe Ginn! Percy Hungerford, what--what's all this?" + +Mr. Hungerford, suddenly freed from the grasp upon his torn shirt +collar, staggered against the wall. + +"It's--it's a mistake," he panted. "I--I--this--this blackguard +assaulted me. I--I--" + +"Assaulted you! I should say he had. Labe Ginn, what did you +assault him for?" + +Mr. Ginn glared at his victim. + +"Blackguard, am I?" he growled. "Humph! Well, if he starts to +callin' me names, I'll--" + +"Belay! Answer me! What have you been doin' to him? Look at him! +What do you mean by assaultin' him that way?" + +"What do I mean? When a man comes home from sea and finds another +man kissin' his wife, what would he be likely to mean?" + +Daniel could not answer. He looked about him in absolute +bewilderment. Gertrude choked and turned away. + +"Kissin'!" repeated Captain Dan. "Kissin' your wife? Kissin' +ZUBA! I--I--am I crazy, or are you, or--or is he?" + +Apparently he judged the last surmise to be the most likely. +Cousin Percy, frantic with rage and humiliation, tried to protest. + +"It's a lie!" he cried. "It's a lie!" + +The captain turned to his housekeeper. + +"Zuba," he demanded, "what sort of lunatic business is this? Do +you know?" + +Azuba straightened. + +"I don't know much," she announced sharply. "All I know is that I +come upstairs in the dark and he grabbed me and--and said somethin' +about my payin' him--and then he--he--done the other thing. That's +all I know, and it's enough. Don't talk to ME! I never was so +surprised and mortified in MY life." + +"But--but what's it mean? Can't anybody tell me, for the Lord +sakes?" + +Gertrude stepped forward. "I think I understand," she said. "Our +cousin made a mistake, that's all. I will explain at another time, +Daddy. If--if you will all go away, he and I will have an +interview. I think I can settle it better than anyone else. Go, +please. I'm sure Mother needs you." + +The mention of his wife caused her father to forget everything +else, even his overwhelming curiosity. + +"My soul!" he cried. "She heard this; and--and I left her all +alone." + +He bolted up the stairs. Gertrude's next remark was addressed to +the housekeeper. + +"Azuba," she said, "would you and your husband mind leaving us? +Perhaps you'd better not go to bed. I--I may need Mr. Ginn later +on; perhaps I may. But if you and he were to go down to the +kitchen and wait just a few moments I should be so much obliged. +Will you?" + +Azuba hesitated. + +"Leave you?" she repeated. "With--with him?" + +"Yes. I have something to say to him. Something important." + +She and Azuba exchanged looks. The latter nodded. + +"All right," she said decisively; "course we'll go. Come, Labe." + +But Laban seemed loath to move. + +"I ain't got through with him yet," he observed. "I'd only begun." + +"You come with me. Have you forgot all I told you so soon? Come!" + +"Hey? No; no, I ain't forgot. Is this part of it?" + +"Part of it's part of it; the rest ain't. You come, 'fore you do +any more spilin'. Come, now." + +Mr. Ginn went. At the head of the back stairs he paused. + +"You'll sing out if you need me?" he asked. "You will, won't you? +You'll only have to sing once." + +He tramped heavily down. Gertrude walked over to the victim of the +"mistake" and its consequences. + +"I think," she said coldly, "that you had better go." + +"Go?" Mr. Hungerford looked at her. "Go?" he repeated. + +"Yes. I give you this opportunity. There will not be another. Go +to your room, change your clothes, pack your trunk, and go--now, +to-night." + +"What do you mean? That I am to go--and not come back?" + +"Yes." + +"But, Gertrude--Gertie--" + +"Don't call me that. Don't DARE to speak to me in that tone. Go-- +now." + +"But, Ger--Miss Dott, I--I--don't you see it was all a mistake? +I--" + +"Stop! I am trying very hard to keep my temper. We have had +scenes enough to-night. My mother is ill and she must not be +disturbed again. If you do not go to your room and pack and leave +at once, I shall call Mr. Ginn and have you put out, just as you +are. I am giving you that opportunity. You had better avail +yourself of it. I mean what I say." + +She looked as if she did. Cousin Percy evidently thought so. His +humbleness disappeared. + +"So?" he snarled angrily. "So that's it, eh? What do you think I +am?" + +Gertrude's eyes flashed. She bit her lip. When she spoke it was +with deliberate distinctness. Every word was as sharp and cold as +an icicle. + +"Do you wish to know what I think you are?" she asked. "What I +thought at the very beginning you were, and what I have been taking +pains to make sure of ever since I came to this house? Very well, +I'll tell you." + +She told him, slowly, calmly, and with biting exactness. His face +was flushed when she began; when she finished it was white. + +"That is what you are," she said. "I do not merely think so. I +have studied you carefully; I have stooped to associate with you in +order to study you; I have studied you through your friends; I KNOW +what you are." + +His anger and mortification were choking him. + +"You--you--" he snarled. "So that is it, is it? You have been +using me as a good thing. As a--as a--" + +"As you have used my father and mother and their simple-minded +goodness and generosity. Yes, I have." + +"You have been making a fool of me! And Holway--confound him--" + +"Mr. Holway was useful. He helped. And he, too, understands, +now." + +"By--by gad--I--I won't go. I'll--" + +Gertrude walked to the rear of the hall. + +"Mr. Ginn!" she called, "will you come, please?" + +Laban came. He looked happy and expectant. + +"Here I be," he observed eagerly. + +"Mr. Ginn," said Gertrude, "this--gentleman--is going to his room +for a few minutes. He is preparing to leave us. If he doesn't +come down and leave this house in a reasonable time will you kindly +assist him? He will, no doubt, send for his trunks to-morrow. But +he must go to-night. He must. Do you understand, Mr. Ginn?" + +Laban grinned. "I cal'late I do," he said. "Zuba's been tellin' +me some. He'll go." + +"Thank you. Good-night!" + +She ascended the stairs. The first mate looked at his watch. + +"Fifteen minutes is enough to pack any trunk," he observed. "I'll +give you that much. Now, them, tumble up. Lively!" + +At the door of her parents' room Gertrude rapped softly. Captain +Dan opened it and showed a pallid, agitated face. + +"She's mighty sick, Gertie," he declared. "I wish you'd telephone +for the doctor." + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The doctor came, stayed for some time and, after administering a +sleeping draught and ordering absolute quiet for his patient, +departed, saying that he would come again in the morning. He did +so and, before leaving, took Captain Dan and Gertrude into his +confidence. + +"It is a complete collapse," he said gravely. "Mrs. Dott is worn +out, physically and mentally. She must be kept quiet, she must not +worry about anything, she must remain in bed, and she must see no +one. If she does this, if she rests--really rests--we may fight +off nervous prostration. If she does not--anything may happen. +With your permission I shall send a nurse." + +The permission was given, of course, and the nurse came. She was a +quiet, pleasant, capable person, and Daniel and Gertrude liked her. +She took charge of the sick room. Azuba--the common sense, +adequate, domestic Azuba of old, not the rampant "free woman" of +recent days--was in charge of the kitchen. Her husband remained, +at Daniel's earnest request, but he spent his time below stairs. + +"Sartin sure I won't be in the way, Cap'n, be you?" he asked +earnestly. "I can go somewheres else just as well as not, to some +boardin' house or somewheres. Zuby Jane won't mind; we can see +each other every day." + +"Not a mite of it, Labe," replied Daniel earnestly. "There's +plenty of room and you can stay here along with your wife just as +well as not. I'd like to have you. Maybe--" with a suggestive +wink, "maybe you can kind of--well, kind of keep things runnin' +smooth--in the galley. You know what I mean." + +Laban grinned. "Cal'late you won't have no more trouble that way, +Cap'n," he observed. "I guess that's over. Zuby and I understand +each other better'n we did. I THOUGHT she was mighty--" + +"Mighty what?" Mr. Ginn had broken off his sentence in the middle. + +"Oh, nothin'. It's all right, Cap'n Dott. Don't you worry about +Zuby and me. We'll boss this end of the craft; you 'tend to the +rest of it. Say, that Hungerford swab ain't come back, has he?" + +"No. No, he hasn't. He's gone for good, it looks like. Sent for +his trunk and gone. That's queer, too. No, he hasn't come back." + +Laban seemed disappointed. "Well, all right," he said. "If he +should come, just send for me. I'd just as soon talk to him as +not--rather, if anything." + +The captain shook his head in a puzzled way. + +"That business of--of him and Zuba was the strangest thing," he +declared. "I can't make head nor tail of it, and Gertie won't talk +about it at all. He said 'twas a mistake, and of course it must +have been. Either that or he'd gone crazy. No sane man would--" + +"What's that?" It was Mr. Ginn's turn to question, and Daniel's to +look foolish. "What's that no sane man would do?" demanded Laban +sharply. + +"Why--why, go away and leave us without sayin' good-by," explained +the captain, with surprising presence of mind. "Er--well, so long, +Laban. Make yourself at home. I've got to see how Serena is." + +He hurried up the back stairs. Mr. Ginn, who seemed a trifle +suspicious, called after him, but the call was unheeded. + +At the door of his wife's room--his room no longer--Captain Dan +rapped softly. The nurse opened the door. + +"How is she?" he whispered. + +"She is asleep now," whispered the nurse in reply. "You must not +come in." + +"I wasn't goin' to. But--but--has she been askin' for me?" + +"Yes. I told her you were out. If she wakes and asks for you I +will call. You may see her then for a minute or two. She is +easier when you are with her--or near by." + +This was true. The one person Serena wished to see most of all was +her husband. She asked for Gertrude, of course, but it was Daniel +for whom she asked continually. If he were near her she seemed +almost happy and contented. It was when he sat beside the bed that +she ceased tossing upon the pillow and lay quiet, looking at him. + +"You are a good man, Daniel," she whispered, on one of these +occasions. "A dear, good, unselfish man." + +"No, no, I ain't any such thing," protested the captain hastily. + +"But you are. And--and WHAT should I do without you now?" + +"Sh-sh! I'm not much help. Land knows I wish I was more." + +"You ARE the help; all the help I have. Gertie--Daniel, you will +keep an eye on Gertie, won't you. You won't let her do anything +foolish." + +"Who? Gertie? She won't do foolish things. She ain't that kind." + +"I know, but she has changed so. It worries me. Percy--" + +"Now don't you worry about Percy. He isn't here now." + +"Not here? Where is he?" + +"I don't know. He's gone away--for a spell, anyhow. Maybe that +vacation he used to talk about is over. I guess that's it." + +Serena was too weak to ask further questions, even concerning so +surprising a matter as Cousin Percy's sudden departure. But she +did make one further plea. + +"Daniel," she begged, "if Annette calls about the Chapter you tell +her--" + +"I've told her. She understands. She says it's all right." + +"Does she? I'm so glad. Oh, Daniel, you'll have to take charge of +everything now. I can't, and Gertrude--you must do it, yourself, +Daniel. You MUST. Of Azuba and Gertie and everything. I rely on +you. You WILL, won't you, Daniel?" + +"Sure I will. I'm skipper now, Serena. You ought to see how the +hands jump when I give an order." + +It was true, too; the hands did "jump" at the captain's orders. He +was skipper, for the time being. His wife's illness, Mr. +Hungerford's absence, Gertrude's meekness--she was a silent and +conscience-stricken young lady--all combined to strengthen Daniel's +resolution, and he was, for the first time in years, the actual +head of the household. He took active charge of the bills and +financial affairs, he commanded Azuba to do this and that, he saw +the callers who came and he sent them to the rightabout in a hurry. + +His statement concerning Mrs. Black was not the literal truth. +Annette had called, that was true; she had called the very next +morning after her chief aide was stricken. But she had not +declared that everything was "all right"; far from it. + +"But can't I see her, Captain Dott?" she begged. "I MUST see her +for just a minute." + +"Sorry, ma'am, but you can't do it. Doctor's orders. She mustn't +be disturbed." + +"But I've got to see her. I must talk with her." + +"I know, but I'm afraid you can't. You can talk to me, if that +will do any good." + +"It won't. Of course it won't. Where is Gertrude? Let me talk to +her." + +Daniel climbed the stairs to his daughter's room. He found her +sitting at her desk; she had been writing "regrets" in answer to +various invitations. She turned a careworn face in his direction. + +"What is it, Daddy?" she asked. "Mother is not worse, is she?" + +"No, no; she's better, if anything. But that--er--Annette Black +has come and, long as she can't see Serena, she wants to talk to +you." + +"About her precious politics, I suppose." + +"Your supposin' is as nigh right as anything mortal can be, Gertie. +That's what she wants." + +"I can't see her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear +the word politics. I--" + +"That's enough, that's enough. I'll 'tend to HER. You stay right +here." + +He descended to the drawing-room, where Annette was fidgeting on +the edge of a chair, and announced calmly that Gertrude was not at +home. + +The caller's agitation got the better of her temper. + +"Nonsense!" she snapped. "I don't believe it. How do you know she +isn't?" + +"Because she said so. Lovely mornin' for a walk, isn't it?" + +Mrs. Black rose and stalked to the threshold. But there she turned +once more. + +"If your wife knew," she cried hysterically, "how I, her best +friend, was treated in her house, she--she--" + +Daniel stepped forward. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Black," he said. +"Maybe I have been pretty plain spoken. I'm sorry if I've hurt +your feelin's. But, you see, we're all upset here. I'm upset, and +Gertie's as much so as the rest. She can't talk to you, or anybody +else, now. I'm willin' to try, but you say my talkin' won't do any +good." + +"Of course it won't. Oh, don't you SEE? I'm sorry Serena is not +well, but this is IMPORTANT." + +"I know, but so's her health, 'cordin' to my thinkin'." + +"If I might see her just a moment. It is so provoking. Just at +this critical time! Doesn't my--her election mean ANYTHING to you? +Don't you care about the cause?" + +The captain shook his head. "All I'm carin' for is my wife, just +now," he said. "She's all I can think about. If some of us had +thought more about her, maybe--" He stopped, cleared his throat, +and added: "I know you'll understand and forgive us, when you +think it over. I'll tell her you called. Good-mornin'." + +If he supposed this was the end, he was mistaken. Annette was not +so easily whipped or discouraged. She called again that afternoon, +and again the next day. Each morning for a week she came, and, +between times, other adherents of the Black-Dott party called. +They all asked concerning the invalid, but their interest plainly +centered upon her part in the campaign. Would she be well enough +to take part in the election, that was the question. They sent +flowers and notes. The flowers reached the lady for whom they were +intended; the notes did not. And, after the first week, the calls +became fewer. Annette and her followers had, apparently, given up +hope of aid and advice from their candidate for vice-president. At +any rate they ceased to trouble the captain and his daughter. + +"It's all the better, Daddy, dear," said Gertrude. "Mother will +have a chance to rest and improve now." + +And Serena did improve, slowly at first, then with gratifying +rapidity. She began to sit up for a portion of each day and to +sleep through the greater part of each night. At the end of the +tenth day the doctor announced that the nurse's services were no +longer necessary. + +"She will be all right now," he said, referring to his patient. +"But she must continue to have absolute rest and she must not be +worried or permitted to worry. If you and she could go somewhere, +Captain Dott, to some quiet place in the country, and stay there +for six months, I think it would help her more than anything. Can +you do it?" + +"_I_ can do it, Doctor," replied Daniel eagerly. "I'd like to do +it. I'll go anywhere, if it will help her." + +"Good! Then I will advise it and you and Miss Dott must back my +advice. Will you?" + +"I will, and so'll Gertie, I'm sure. You speak to her, Doctor. +We'll do the backin' up." + +So the doctor made the suggestion. Serena received it quietly, +but, when her husband came to do his share of the "backing up," she +shook her head. + +"I'd like to, Daniel," she said. "I'd like to, but I can't." + +"You can't? Course you can! Now let's think where we'll go. +Niagara Falls, hey? You always wanted to go to the Falls." + +"No, Daniel." + +"No? Well, then, how about Washin'ton? We'll see the President, +and the monument, and the Smithsonian Museum, and Congress--we'll +see ALL the curiosities and relics. We'll go to--" + +"Don't, Daniel. It makes me tired out just to hear about them. I +couldn't stand all that." + +"Course you couldn't! What a foolhead I am! The doctor said you +needed rest and quiet, and Washin'ton is about as quiet as the +Ostable Cattle Show. Well, what do you say to the White +Mountains?" + +"In winter? No, Daniel, if I went anywhere I should like to go to-- +to--" + +"Where, Serena? Just name it and I'll buy the tickets." + +"Daniel, I'd rather go to Trumet than anywhere else." + +Captain Dan could scarcely believe it. + +"WHAT!" he cried. "Trumet? You want to go to Trumet, Serena? +YOU?" + +"Yes. I've been wanting to go for some time. I never told you; I +wouldn't even admit it to myself; but I've thought about it a great +deal. I was getting so tired, so sick of all the going about and +the dressing up and the talking, talking all the time. I longed to +be somewhere where there was nothing going on and where you and I +could be together as we used to be. And, oh, Daniel--" + +"Yes, Serena? Yes?" + +"Oh, Daniel, since I've been really sick, since I've been getting +better and could think at all, I've been thinking more and more +about our old house at Trumet, and how nice and comfortable we were +there, and what pleasant evenings you and I used to have together. +It was home, Daniel, really and truly home, and this place never +has been, has it?" + +"You bet it hasn't! It's been--well, never mind, but it wasn't +home. Lordy, but I'm glad to hear you talk this way, Serena! _I_ +haven't thought anything else since we first landed, but I never +imagined you did." + +"I didn't, at first. It has been only lately since I began to feel +so tired and my head troubled me so. Daniel, I'm not sure that our +coming here wasn't a mistake." + +The captain was perfectly sure. He sprang to his feet. + +"That's all right, Serena," he cried. "If it was a mistake it's +one that can be straightened out in two shakes of slack jib sheet. +You stay here and rest easy. I'll be back in a few minutes." + +"Where are you going?" + +"I'm going to make arrangements for our trip to Trumet. 'Twon't +take me long." + +"Daniel, stop! Sit down. I didn't say I was going. I said I +should like to go." + +"That's the same thing. Now, Serena, I know what's frettin' you. +You're thinkin' what'll become of this house and all the fine +things in it. They'll be all right. We could rent this house in +no time, I know it. I ain't sure but what we could sell it if we +wanted to. That real estate fellow, the one Barney--B. Phelps, I +mean--introduced me to down street one time, met me t'other day and +told me if I ever thought of sellin' this place to let him know. +Said he had a customer, or thought he had, that knew the house well +and always liked it. He believed that feller would buy, if the +price was right. Course I didn't pay much attention then; I judged +you wouldn't think of sellin', but--" + +"Stop! stop, Daniel! You are so excited it makes me nervous again +to hear you. I wasn't thinking of the house at all. The way I +feel now I had as soon sell it as not. But that isn't it. I can't +leave Scarford. I can't!" + +Daniel's enthusiasm faded. There was determination in his wife's +tone. He sat down again. + +"Oh!" he observed wistfully, "you can't? You're sure you can't, +Serena? You know what the doctor said. Why can't you go?" + +"Because I can't. It is impossible. I couldn't leave the Chapter. +Don't you SEE, Daniel? I am a candidate for vice-president. My +friends--the truest, most loyal friends a woman ever had--are +depending upon me. I couldn't desert them. I told you that +before. Would they desert me?" + +"I suppose likely they wouldn't," reluctantly. + +"You know they wouldn't. No personal considerations, no selfish +reasons, NOTHING could make them do it. But I've said this all +before, Daniel. You must see why I have to stay. I'd like to go, +I'd love to, but I can't. Let's talk of something else." + +Captain Dan sighed. "I presume likely you're right, Serena," he +admitted. "It would seem like a mean trick, the way you put it. +But after the election? You said, when we was talkin' before, that +after you was elected maybe you would go with Gertie and me +somewhere. And we'll go to Trumet, that's where we'll go." + +"All right, Daniel, dear, we'll see. And don't worry about me. I +am almost well again and I am going to be completely well. Now +won't you ask Gertie to come in and talk with me? I am beginning +to think about the election. Gertrude must go. We need her vote +and her influence. Has she been helping Annette? I hope she has. +Send her to me, Daniel, please." + +So the captain, his hopes somewhat dashed, but finding comfort in +his wife's new longing to visit the one spot on earth which spelled +home to him, left the room to carry Serena's message to their +daughter. + +He was busy at the desk in the library when, several hours later, +Gertrude entered. She was wearing her hat and coat and, coming +into the library, stood beside him. He looked up. His expression +surprised and alarmed her. + +"Why, what's the matter, Daddy?" she asked anxiously. "You look as +if something dreadful had happened. What is it?" + +Her father put down his pen. A sheet of paper, covered with +figures, was on the desk before him; so, also, was the family +checkbook which had been, until the illness of Mrs. Dott, in that +lady's sole charge. + +"Matter?" he repeated. "Matter? Humph! Do I look as if somethin' +was the matter? Where have you been?" + +"I have been out. Mother was so anxious about the election that I +promised her I would see Mrs. Black and some of the others this +very day. I have been calling on them." + +"Have, hey? Well, what's the prospect? The cause of right and +Black, and justice and Dott is goin' to prevail, I presume likely, +isn't it?" + +"I don't know. I couldn't find out anything. Mrs. Black was not +in, at least that is what the maid said; but I am almost sure she +was in. I think I saw her peeping between the curtains as I went +down the steps." + +"That so? Perhaps she was dosin' you with the same medicine I +handed her when she called that first day after Serena was taken +down." + +"I thought of that. But I called on three other leaders of +Mother's party--" + +"Yours and your mother's, you mean?" + +"Yes, of course. I called on three of our leaders. Two of them +were in and I talked with them. I could learn nothing from either +about the election. They would not discuss it, except to say that +everything would be all right. They behaved so oddly and were so +embarrassed. It was perfectly obvious that they wanted to get rid +of me. I can't understand it." + +"There's lots of things we can't understand in this world. Don't +fret your mother about it." + +"I shan't, of course. But what is troubling you, Daddy? +Something, I know." + +"Look that way, do I? My looks don't belie me, then. See here, +Gertie, I'm stumped. I've been goin' over back bills and the +bankbook and the checkbook and--and--well, I'm on my beam ends, +that's where I am." + +"Why? Don't the books balance?" + +"They balance all right. That's what's kicked me over. If they're +true--course they can't be, but IF they are--we've spent close to +five thousand dollars since we made this town." + +"Indeed! Well?" + +"WELL! Five thousand dollars! I'm sayin' five THOUSAND; do you +understand?" + +"I understand. I'm not surprised. Living as we do, and moving in +the--in the best society as we have, the expense is large, +naturally. You must expect that." + +"Expect! Gertie Baker Dott, STOP talkin' that way! Our income, +not countin' what the store at Trumet is fetchin' in, ain't over +six thousand at the outside. Six thousand a YEAR, that is. And +we've got rid of five thousand in a few months! We've got a +thousand or so to live the rest of this year on. One thousand--" + +"Hush, Daddy! Don't shout and wave your arms. We shall have to +use a part of the principal, I presume." + +"Part of the prin--Oh, my soul and body! Use part of it this year, +and some more next year, and some more the next, and--and--Do you +know where we'll be ten year from now? In the poorhouse, that's +where." + +"Oh, I hope not as bad as that. And, besides, think what a +beautiful time we shall have during those ten years. Just as +beautiful as we have had so far; better, no doubt, for we have +really only begun." + +"Ger-tie DOTT!" + +"Just think of it, Daddy. We have only begun." + +"I--I won't think of it! I'll stop it, that's what I'll do!" + +Gertrude smilingly shook her head. + +"Oh, no, you won't, Daddy," she said. "You never stop anything." + +She turned to go. Captain Dan sat, speechless in his chair, +staring at the bills, the figures, the checkbook, and the prospect +of the poorhouse. Then he felt her hand upon his shoulder. + +"Never mind, Daddy, dear," she said softly. "I wouldn't worry any +more, if I were you. I think--I am beginning to hope that YOUR +worries are almost over." + +She kissed him and hurried out before he could collect his senses +sufficiently to ask what she meant. He did ask her at their next +meeting, but she only smiled and would not tell him. + +The next morning Serena's first remark was concerning the election, +which was to take place that evening. All that day she spoke of +little else, and when the evening came she insisted upon Gertrude's +leaving for the hall immediately after dinner. Laban went with her +as escort, Mr. Hungerford's former enviable duty, and one which +that gentleman had appeared to enjoy more than did its present +occupant, who grumbled at missing his "after supper" smoke. Laban +returned early. Gertrude did not. + +It was after ten when the young lady appeared. She was very grave +when her father met her in the hall. + +"How is Mother?" she asked. "Asleep, I hope." + +Daniel nodded. "Yes," he said, "she's asleep, for a wonder. She +vowed and declared she was goin' to stay awake until you came, but +I read out loud to her and she dropped off while I was doin' it." + +"Then don't wake her, for the world. Tell her I have returned, +that I am tired and have gone to bed, and will give her the news in +the morning." + +"That won't do. She'll want to know to-night. What is the news? +Can't you leave some message? She won't rest if you don't." + +Gertrude pondered. "Tell her," she began slowly, "tell her Mrs. +Black is elected. That is all to-night. Perhaps she will take-- +other things for granted." + +But when morning, very early morning, came, Captain Dan summoned +his daughter from her room. + +"She's wide awake, Gertie," he said, "and she wants to know it all. +You'd better come and tell her." + +But Gertrude had been thinking. "I think you had better tell her +first, Daddy," she said. "I think it may be wiser for you to tell +her. Things were said and done at that election which she must not +know. They were so mean, so contemptible that she ought never to +know. If I am not there she cannot ask about them. I will tell +you the result and how it came about and you can tell her. Perhaps +that will be sufficient. I hope it may be. Listen, Daddy." + +Daniel listened. "My soul and body!" he exclaimed, when the tale +was ended. "My Godfreys! and those were the folks she figgered +were her friends!" + +"Yes." + +"And Annette Black--" + +"She was the moving spirit in the whole of it, I'm certain." + +"My Godfreys! And she--and she--well, I guess maybe Serena'll be +willin' to go back to Trumet NOW. She wanted to go before; 'twas +only loyalty to that gang that kept her from goin'. She's sick of +society, and sick of politics, and sick of Scarford. She said +she'd give anything to go back to the old house and be comfortable +same as we used to be; she said--" + +"Daddy!" Gertrude seized his arm. She was strangely excited. +"Did she--did Mother really say that?" she demanded eagerly. + +"Sure, she said it! Twice she told me so." + +"And she meant it?" + +"She acted as if she did. Course we both realized 'twould be hard +for you, Gertie, but--" + +"Go! Go and tell her about the election. Quick! quick!" She +fairly pushed him from her. "Don't wait," she urged, "go." + +Daniel was on his way when she called him back. + +"I almost forgot, Daddy, dear," she said repentantly. "I was so +gl--I mean--well, never mind. What I want to say is that if you +think the news will be too great a shock, if you think she is not +strong enough to hear it now--" + +Her father interrupted. "She's stronger than I've seen her for a +fortnight," he declared. "And one thing's sure, she won't rest +till she does hear it. I shall tell her, and get it over." + +"Then be as gentle as you can, won't you?" + +"I'll try. But, Gertie, what did you mean by sayin' you was so--so +glad? That was what you was goin' to say, wasn't you? I don't see +as there's much to be glad about." + +"Don't you? Well, perhaps. . . . Run along, Daddy, run along." + +She closed the door of her room. Daniel, much perplexed, departed +on his unpleasant errand. + +His wife was eagerly awaiting him. + +"Where's Gertie?" she demanded. "Isn't she coming?" + +"She'll come by and by, Serena. She isn't quite dressed yet." + +"What difference does that make? Why doesn't she come, herself? +Didn't you tell her I was dying to hear about the election? She +must know I am." + +"She does; she knows that, Serena. But she thought--she thought +I'd better tell you first, myself." + +Serena leaned forward to look at him. His expression alarmed her. + +"Why don't you tell, then?" she asked. "Is it--oh, Daniel, it +isn't bad news, is it?" + +"It ain't very good, Serena." + +"You don't mean--why, you said that Annette was elected; you said +so last night." + +"Yes--yes, she was elected, Serena; but--" + +"But--but _I_ wasn't. Is that what you mean, Daniel?" + +"Well now, Serena--" + +"I wasn't. Yes, it is true, I can see it in your face. I was +defeated. Oh--oh, Daniel!" + +Captain Dan put his arm about her. + +"There! there! Serena," he said chokingly, "don't cry, don't. +Don't feel too bad about it. Politics is politics, inside Chapters +and out, I guess. I'm as much disappointed as you are, for your +sake, but--but don't care too much, will you? Don't make yourself +sick again. Don't cry no more than you can help." + +Serena raised her head from his shoulder. + +"I'm not crying," she said. "Really I'm not, Daniel. It is a +relief to me, in a way." + +"A RELIEF?" + +"Yes. If it had happened a month ago I should have felt it +terribly. I was crazy for office then. But lately I have dreaded +it so. If I were vice-president I should have so much care, so +much responsibility. Now, I shan't. The honor would have been +great, I appreciate that. But, for the rest of it, I don't really +care." + +"Don't CARE! My soul and body!" + +"No, I don't. And now," bravely, "tell me all about it. I don't +quite see how Annette could win if I did not; but Miss Canby is +popular, she has a great many friends. I hope," wistfully, "I hope +I got a good vote. Did I, Daniel?" + +Daniel's indignation burst forth. + +"You didn't get any votes, Serena," he cried angrily. + +"What? What? No votes? Why--" + +"Not a blessed one. They put up a low-down political trick on you, +Serena. They left you out to save themselves. They took advantage +of your bein' sick to--to--Here, I'll tell you just what they did." + +What they had done was this: Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Black, heads of +the opposing factions, each realizing how close the vote was likely +to be, had, with their lieutenants--Mrs. Dott excepted--gotten +together five days before the election and arranged a compromise, a +trade. By this arrangement, Annette was to receive the Lake +party's support for president; Miss Canby was to be given the Black +support for vice-president; and the united support of both factions +was to be behind Mrs. Lake in her struggle for office in the +National body. This arrangement was carried through. Serena, not +being on hand to protect her own interest, had been sacrificed, her +name had not even been brought before the members to be voted upon. + +Captain Dan told of this precious scheme, just as it had been told +him by his daughter. At first his wife interrupted with +exclamations and questions; then she listened in silence. + +"That's what they did," cried the captain angrily. "Chucked you +into the scrap heap to save themselves. And you sick abed! This +was the gang you worked yourself pretty nigh to death for. These +were the FRIENDS you thought you had. And Annette Black was the +worst of all. 'Twas her idea in the first place. Why, Serena--" + +But Serena could hear no more. She threw her arms about her +husband's neck and the tears, which she had so bravely repressed at +the tidings of her own disappointment, burst forth. + +"Oh--oh, Daniel," she sobbed, "take me away from here. I hate this +place; I hate Scarford and all the dreadful people in it! Take me +to Trumet, Daniel. Take me home! Take me home!" + +Half an hour later Captain Dan shouted his daughter's name over the +balusters. + +"Gertie!" he called; "Gertie! come up here, will you?" + +Gertrude came. She entered the room hastily. She had feared to +find her mother prostrate, suffering from a new attack of "nerves." +She was prepared to obey her father's order to 'phone for the +doctor. + +But Serena did not, apparently, need a doctor. She was not +prostrate, and, although she was nervous, it was rather the +nervousness of expectancy, coupled with determination. + +"Gertie," said the captain, "I've got some news for you. Your +mother and I have made up our minds to go back to Trumet, and we +want you to go along with us." + +The young lady did not answer at once. She looked first at Serena +and then at Daniel. The troubled expression left her face and was +succeeded by another, an odd one. When she spoke it was in a tone +of great surprise. + +"To Trumet?" she repeated. "Go back to Trumet? Not to live +there?" + +Captain Dan hesitated, but his wife did not. + +"Yes," she said decidedly, "to live. For the present, anyhow. At +least we shan't live here any longer." + +"Not live here? Not live in Scarford, Mother! Why, what do you +mean?" + +Her father answered. "She means what she says, I presume likely," +he observed impatiently. "Think she's talkin' for the fun of it? +This ain't April Fool Day." + +"But she can't mean it. She can't! Give up the Chapter, and all +our friends--" + +"Friends! They're a healthy lot of friends, they are!" + +"Hush, Daddy; I'm not talking to you. Do you realize what you are +saying, Mother? Give up the Chapter, and all your ambitions there? +Give up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake and Miss Canby--" + +"And that twist and squirm, antique Greece disgrace of a Dusante +woman--don't forget her. Gertie, you stop now. Your ma knows--" + +"Daddy, be still. Be still, I say! Mother, are you willing to +give them up? And all our society! You say yourself--I've heard +you often--that there is no society in Trumet. Give up our bridge +lessons, and our dancing, and our teas, and--" + +"For the land sakes! What is this; a catalogue you're givin' us? +Stop it! Serena, you tell her to stop." + +But Gertrude would not stop. She ignored her father utterly. + +"Think what it would mean," she protested. "Think of your social +position, Mother, the position we have worked so hard to attain." + +Serena shook her head. "I don't care," she said firmly. "Our +social position was good enough in Trumet." + +"WHAT! Why, Mother! how often I have heard you say--" + +"Never mind what I said. I have said a lot of foolish things, and +done a lot, too. But I'm through. I'm sick and disgusted with it +all. I'm going to be simple and comfortable and happy--yes, happy. +Oh, Gertie, DON'T talk to me about society! There isn't a real, +sincere person in it, not in the set we have been in. I hate +Scarford and I hate society." + +"Mother! how can you! And opportunity and advancement--" + +"I hate them, too." + +Gertrude gasped. "Why, Mother!" she exclaimed. "And it was you +who first showed me the way. Who showed me how common and dull and +unambitious I had been all my life? Think what leaving here would +mean to me. What would Miss Dusante think? I had almost arranged +to take dancing lessons of her. Think of Mr. Holway. Is there a +young man like him in Trumet? Think of Cousin Percy!" + +That was quite enough. Serena rose, her eyes flashing. + +"Stop!" she cried. "Stop this minute! Gertrude Dott, your father +and I are going back to Trumet and you are going with us." + +"Oh, no, I'm not. Why, Cousin Percy--" + +"Don't you dare mention his name to me." + +"Why not? He is very gentlemanly and very aristocratic. You told +me that when I first came, Mother. You were always talking about +him and praising him then. And I'm sure he moves in the highest +circles; he says he does, himself." + +"He is a good-for-nothing loafer. He has sponged upon your +father--" + +"You have often spoken of him as an honor to the family." + +"A good-for-nothing, dissipated, fast--" + +"Oh, a little dissipation is expected in society, isn't it?" + +"I should think you would be ashamed!" + +"Why? I haven't done a thing that you haven't done, Mother. That +is, nothing which your friends don't do every day. They are ever +so much more advanced than I am. I have only begun. No, indeed, I +am not going back to plain, common, everyday old Trumet. I shall +stay here and progress. You and your friends have shown me what is +expected of a girl in my position and I shall take advantage of my +opportunities. Why, Mrs. Black says that, if I play my cards well, +I may catch a millionaire, perhaps a foreign nobleman. How would +you like to be mother-in-law to a--well, to a count, for instance?" + +Mrs. Dott did not answer this question. Instead she turned to her +husband. + +"Daniel," she cried, "are you going to stand this? Are you that +girl's father, or aren't you? Are you going to make her mind, or +not?" + +Daniel would have spoken, but his daughter got ahead of him. + +"Oh, Father doesn't count," she observed lightly. "No one minds +what he says. He didn't want to move to Scarford at all. No one +minds him." + +Serena stamped her foot. "Daniel Dott," she cried, "do you hear +that? I call upon you, as the head of this family, to tell that +girl what she's got to do, and make her do it." + +Captain Dan stepped forward. Gertrude merely laughed. That laugh +settled the question. + +"Gertie," ordered the captain, his voice, the old quarter-deck +voice which had been law aboard the Bluebird, "you march your boots +to your room and pack up. We're goin' to Trumet and you're goin' +along with us. March! or, by the everlastin', I'll carry you there +and lock you in! You speak another word and I'll do it, anyway. +Serena, I'll 'tend to her. You're tired out; lie down and rest." + +"But, Daniel--" + +"Lie down and rest. I'm runnin' this craft. Well," wheeling upon +his daughter, "are you goin'? Or shall I carry you?" + +Gertrude looked at him and then at her mother. Her lips twitched. + +"I'll go, Daddy," she said meekly, and went. + +When Captain Dan descended to the lower floor he found Mr. Ginn in +the library. + +"Hello!" hailed the latter, "you look kind of set-up and sassy, +seems to me. YOU ain't had nothin' to drink, have you?" + +"Drink? What do you mean by that? Has anybody around here had +anything to drink?" + +"I don't know. Some of 'em act as if they had. When I came into +the kitchen a spell ago I found my wife and Gertie dancin' like a +couple of loons." + +"Dancin'?" + +"Yes, sir, holdin' hands and hoppin' around like sand fleas in a +clam bake. I asked 'em what set 'em goin' and they wouldn't tell +me. I couldn't think of anything but liquor that would start Zuby +Jane dancin'. I don't know's that would--I never tried it on her-- +but 'twas the only likely guess I could make." + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Captain Dan was seated in his old chair, at his old desk, behind +the counter of the Metropolitan Store. His pipe, the worn, charred +briar that he had left in the drawer of that very desk when he +started for the railway station and Scarford, was in his mouth. +Over the counter, beyond the showcases and the tables with their +piles of oilskins, mittens, sou'westers, and sweaters, through the +panes of the big front windows, he could see the road, the main +street of Trumet. The road was muddy, and the mud had frozen. +Beyond the road, between the shops and houses on the opposite side, +he saw the bare brown hills, the pond where the city people found +waterlilies in the summer--the pond was now a glare of ice--the +sand dunes, the beach, the closed and shuttered hotel and cottages, +and, beyond these, the cold gray and white of the wintry sea +rolling beneath a gloomy sky. To the average person the view would +have been desolation itself. To Captain Dan it was a section of +Paradise. It was the picture which had been in his mind for +months. And here it was in reality, unchanged, unspoiled, a part +of home, his home. And he, at last, was at home again. + +They had been in Trumet a week, the captain and Serena and +Gertrude. Azuba had been there two days longer, having been sent +on ahead of the family to open the house and get it ready. Laban +remained behind as caretaker of the Scarford mansion. His term of +service in that capacity was not likely to be a long one, for the +real estate dealer was in active negotiation with his client, and +the dealer's latest report stated that the said client was +considering hiring the house, furnished, for a few months and, in +the event of his liking it as well as he expected, would then, in +all probability, buy. + +Laban's remaining as caretaker was his own suggestion. + +"Me and the old gal--Zuby Jane, I mean--have talked it over," he +explained, "and it seems like the best thing to do. You've got to +have somebody here, Cap'n Dott, you've got to pay somebody, and it +might as well be me. I'm out of a job just now, anyway. As for me +and my wife bein' separated--well, we're different from most +married folks that way; it seems the natural thing for us to BE +separated. We're used to it, as you might say. I don't know as +we'd get along so well together if we wasn't separated. There's +nothin' like separation to keep husband and wife happy along with +one another. I've been with Zuby for most three weeks steady now; +that's the longest stretch we've had in a good many years. We +ain't quarreled once, neither." + +He seemed to consider the fact remarkable. Captain Dott grinned. + +"I suppose that shuttin' her up in the dish closet wasn't what +you'd call a quarrel, hey?" he observed. + +Mr. Ginn was momentarily embarrassed. + +"Oh, that!" he exclaimed. "Humph! I forgot that, for the minute. +But that wasn't a quarrel, rightly speakin'. 'Twas just a little +difference of opinion on account of my not understandin' her reason +for bein' so sot on havin' her own way. Soon's I understood 'twas +all right. And you see yourself how peaceable she's been ever +since." + +So, after consultation with Azuba, the arrangement was perfected. +Laban was to receive ten dollars a week, from which sum he was to +provide his own meals. He was to sleep in the house, but the meals +were to be obtained elsewhere. Mrs. Dott would not consider his +cooking in her kitchen. + +Serena bore the fatigue of the journey well and the sight of her +old home, with the table set for supper, plants in the dining-room +windows, and all the little familiar touches which Azuba's +thoughtfulness had supplied, served to bring her the contentment +and happiness she had been longing for. Each day she gained in +health and strength, and the rest and freedom from care, together +with the early hours--they retired at nine-thirty each night--were +doing wonders for her. Her husband was delighted at the +improvement. He was delighted with everything, the familiar +scenes, the smell of the salt marshes, and of the sea, the clear, +cold air, the meeting with friends and acquaintances, the freedom +from society--he had not even unpacked his dress suit, vowing to +Gertrude that it might stay buried till Judgment, he wouldn't +resurrect it--all these things delighted his soul. And now, on the +Saturday morning at the end of his first week at home, as he sat in +his arm chair behind the counter of the Metropolitan Store, looking +at the view through the windows and at the store itself, he was a +happy man. There was one flaw in his happiness, but that he had +forgotten for the moment. + +He glanced about him, took a long pull at his pipe, and said aloud: +"Well, if I didn't know 'twas the same place, I wouldn't have known +it. I never saw such a change in my life." + +Nathaniel Bangs, standing by the front window, turned. + +"I don't see much difference," he said. "The old town looks about +the same to me." + +The captain smilingly shook his head. + +"'Tain't the town," he observed. "It's this store. Nate, you're a +wonder, that's what you are, a wonder." + +For, if the view had not changed, if it was the same upon which +Daniel Dott had looked for many winters, through the windows of +that very store, the store itself had changed materially. Mr. +Bangs had wrought the change and it was distinctly a change for the +better. The stock, and there was a surprising deal of it, was new +and attractively displayed. The contents of the showcases were +varied and up-to-date. Neatly lettered placards calling attention +to special bargains hung in places where they were most likely to +be seen. There was a spruce, swept, and garnished look to the +establishment; as Azuba said when she first saw it after her +return, it looked as if it had had a shave and a hair cut. In +other words, the Metropolitan Store appeared wide awake and +prosperous, as if it was making money--which it was. + +It was not making a great deal, of course, as yet. This was the +dullest season of the year. But the Christmas trade had been good +and, thanks to Nathaniel's enterprise and effort, the scallop +fishermen, the quahaug rakers, and the members of the life-saving +crews were once more buying their outfits at the Metropolitan Store +instead of patronizing Mr. J. Cohen and The Emporium. Mr. Bangs +was already selecting his summer stock; and his plans for the +disposal of that stock were definite and business-like. + +"If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott," he had explained, "I'm going to +try putting on a horse and wagon this summer. There's no reason +why we shouldn't get the cottage trade down at the Neck, and all +along shore. Jim Bartlett, Sam's older brother, would like the job +driving that wagon. He's smart as a whip, Jim is, and he's willing +to work on commission. Let him start out twice a week with a load +of hats and oilskins and belts and children's shovels and pails-- +all the sort of stuff the boarders and cottage folks buy and that +they'd buy more of if it was brought right to their doors--and +he'll catch a heap of trade that goes to Bayport or Wellmouth or +The Emporium now. What he don't carry he can take orders for and +deliver next trip. If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott, I'm going to +try it. And I'll bet a month's wages it's a go." + +Captain Dan had not said no. On the contrary he expressed +enthusiastic approval of his manager's plans and enterprise. Also, +he had been thinking of some adequate reward, some means of proving +his gratitude real. + +"You're a wonder, Nate," repeated Daniel. "I don't know how to get +even with you, but I've got an idea. I've talked it over with +Serena already and she's for it. I want to ask Gertie's opinion +and if she says yes, and she will, I'm almost sartin, I'll tell you +what it is." + +"All right, Cap'n. Don't you worry yourself trying to 'get even,' +as you call it, with me. I've enjoyed being in charge here. I +always said there was money in a store in Trumet, if it was run as +it should be. One year more and I can show you a few things, I'll +bet." + +"You've shown 'em already. Land of love! I should say you had." + +"Give me time and I'll show you more. We have only begun. . . . +Why, what's the matter? What made you look that way?" + +"Oh, nothin', nothin'. Only your sayin' we'd only begun reminded +me of--of other things. I don't suppose I'll ever hear 'only +begun' without shiverin'. Humph! there's some kind of beginnin's I +hope I'll never hear of again. Gertie been in this mornin', has +she? She isn't in the house." + +"No, I saw her go down street a little while ago. Gone for her +morning walk, perhaps. How is Mrs. Dott to-day?" + +"Fine. Tip top. I ain't seen her so satisfied with life for two +months or more. She's gettin' better every minute." + +"That's good. Contented to be back in Trumet, is she?" + +"Seems to be. _I_ am; you can bet high on that." + +"And--er--Gertie, is she contented, too?" + +This question touched directly the one uncertainty, the one +uncomfortable doubt in the captain's mind. He looked keenly at the +questioner. + +"What makes you ask that?" he demanded. + +"Oh, nothing much. She seems changed, that's all. She used to be +so full of spirits, and so bright and lively. Now she is quiet and +doesn't talk much. Looks thinner, too, and as if something was +troubling her. Perhaps it is my imagination. When's John Doane +coming down? 'Most time for him to be spending a Sunday with you, +ain't it? Engaged folks don't usually stay apart more than a week, +especially when the one is as near the other as Boston is to +Trumet." + +Daniel knocked the ashes from his pipe into the wastebasket. + +"Oh, oh, John'll be along pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder," he said +hastily. "He--he's pretty busy these days, I suppose." + +"Nice thing his bein' taken into the firm, after Mr. Griffin died, +wasn't it. Well, he's a pretty smart fellow, John is, and he +deserves to get ahead. Did he tell you the particulars about it?" + +"No. No, not all of 'em. Is that a customer in the other room?" + +Mr. Bangs hurried away to attend to the customer. The captain +seized the opportunity to make a timely exit. He went into the +house, remained a while with his wife, and then returned. +Nathaniel had gone on an order-taking trip and Sam Bartlett, the +boy, was in charge. Just as Daniel entered the store from the side +door Gertrude came in at the front. + +"Hello, Daddy," she said. "All alone?" + +"Not quite, but I'd just as soon be. Sam, go into the other room; +I'll hail you if I need you. Gertie, come here. I want to have a +talk with you." + +Gertrude came. She took her old position, perching upon the arm of +her father's chair, with her own arm about his neck. + +"Gertie," began the captain, "what would you think of my makin' +Nate Bangs a partner in this concern?" + +Gertrude uttered an exclamation of delight. + +"Splendid!" she cried. "Just what I wanted you to do. I thought +of it, but I said nothing because I wanted you to say it first. It +will be just the right thing." + +"Ye-es, so it seemed to me. All that's good here in this store is +due to Nathaniel. He's made a real, live business out of a remains +that was about ready for the undertaker. I ought to give him the +whole craft, but--but I hate to." + +"You could. You could sell out to him and still have sufficient +income to live upon in comfort here in Trumet. You might sell out, +retire, and be a gentleman of leisure, one of the town's rich men. +You could do that perfectly well." + +Daniel grunted in disgust. + +"Don't talk that way," he repeated. "I've had enough gentleman of +leisure foolishness to last me through. What do you think I am; a +second-hand copy of Cousin Percy, without the gilt edges? _I_ +might be kissin' Zuba by mistake if I did that." + +The story of that eventful evening and the "mistake" had been told +him by his daughter since the return home. Gertrude smiled. + +"I guess not," she declared. "You are not in the habit of 'dining +out'--in Trumet, at any rate. Have you told Mother?" + +"Yes, I told her. I don't think she was much surprised. She'd +guessed as much before, so I gathered from what she said." + +"No doubt; the explanation was obvious enough. Well, Daddy, I did +not expect you would be contented to retire and do nothing. That +is not your conception of happiness. But, if you do take Mr. Bangs +into partnership, let him manage the entire business. You can be +in the store as much as you wish, and be interested in it, so long +as you don't interfere. And you and Mother can be together and +take little trips together once in a while. You mustn't stay in +Trumet ALL the time; if you do you will grow discontented again." + +"No, no, I shan't. Serena may, perhaps, but I shan't." + +"Yes, you will. You both have seen a little of outside life now, +and it isn't all bad, though you may think so just at this time. +You mustn't settle down and grow narrow like some of the people +here in Trumet--Abigail Mayo, for instance." + +"Humph! I'd have to swallow a self-windin' talkin' machine before +I could get to be like Abigail Mayo. But you may be right, Gertie; +perhaps you are. See here, though, how about you, yourself? +You've seen a heap more of what you call outside life than your ma +and I have. How are YOU goin' to keep contented here in Trumet?" + +"Oh, I shall be contented. Don't worry about me." + +"But I do worry, and your mother is beginnin' to worry, too. +There's somethin' troublin' you; both of us see that plain enough. +See here, Gertie, you ain't--you ain't feelin' bad about--about +leavin' that Cousin Percy, are you?" + +The young lady's cheeks reddened, but with indignation, not +embarrassment. + +"DADDY!" she protested sharply. "Daddy, how can you! Cousin +Percy!" + +"Well, you know--" + +"I hate him. I've told you so. Or I should, if he was worth +hating; as it is I despise him thoroughly." + +"That's good! That's one load off my mind. But, you see, Gertie-- +well, when your mother and I first told you we'd made up our minds +to come back here, you--you stood up for him, and said he was +aristocratic and--and I don't know what all. That's what you said; +and 'twas after the Zuba business, too." + +Gertrude regarded him wonderingly. "Said!" she repeated. "I said +and did all sorts of things. Daddy--Daddy, DEAR, is it possible +you don't understand yet that it was all make-believe?" + +"All make-believe? What; your likin' Cousin Percy?" + +"Yes, that and Mr. Holway and everything else--the whole of it. +Haven't you guessed it yet? It was all a sham; don't you see? +When I came back from college and found out exactly how things were +going, I realized at once that something must be done. You were +miserable and neglected, and Mother was under the influence of Mrs. +Black and that empty-headed, ridiculous Chapter and would-be +society crowd of hers. I tried at first to reason with her, but +that was useless. She was too far gone for reason. So I thought +and thought until I had a plan. I believed if I could show her, by +my own example, how silly and ridiculous the kind of people she +associated with were, if I pretended to be as bad as the worst of +them, she would begin by seeing how ridiculous _I_ was, and be +frightened into realizing her own position. At any rate, she would +be forced into giving it all up to save me. Of course I didn't +expect her to be taken ill. When THAT happened I was SO +conscience-stricken. I thought I never should forgive myself. But +it has turned out so well, that even that is--" + +"Gertie! Gertie Dott! stop where you are. Do you mean to tell me +that all your--your advancin' and dancin' and bridgin' and tea-in' +and Chapterin' was just--" + +"Just make-believe, that's all. I hated it as much as you did; as +much as Mother does now." + +"My SOUL! but--but it can't be! Cousin Percy--" + +"Oh, do forget Cousin Percy! I was sure he was exactly what he was +and that he was using you and Mother as conveniences for providing +him with a home and luxuries which he was too worthless to work +for. I was sure of it, morally sure, but I made up my mind to find +out. So I cultivated him, and I cultivated his particular friends, +and I did find out. I pretended to like him--" + +"Hold on! for mercy sakes, hold on! YOU pretended, but--but HE +didn't. If ever a feller was gone on a young woman he was, towards +the last of it. Why, he--" + +"Hush! hush! Don't speak of it. It makes me disgusted with myself +even to think of him. If he was--was as you say, it is all the +better. It serves him right. And I think that it was with my-- +with your money, Daddy, much more than your daughter, he was +infatuated. I had the satisfaction of telling him my opinion of +him and his conduct before he left." + +"Ho! you did, hey? Humph! I wish I might have heard it. But, +Gertie," his incredulity not entirely crushed, "it wasn't ALL make- +believe; all of it couldn't have been. Even Zuba, she got the +advancin' craziness. She joined a--a 'Band,' or somethin'." + +"No, she didn't. She pretended to, but she didn't. There wasn't +any such 'Band.' She was helping me to cure Mother, that's all. +It was all part of the plan. Her husband understands now, +although," with a laugh, "he didn't when he first came." + +Daniel drew his hand across his forehead. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "WELL! and I--and I--" + +"I treated you dreadfully, didn't I? Scolded you, and told you to +go away, and--and everything. I COULDN'T tell you the truth, +because you cannot keep a secret, but I was sorry, so sorry for +you, even when you were most provoking. You WOULD interfere, you +know. Two or three times you almost spoiled it all." + +"Did I? I shouldn't wonder. And--and to think I never suspicioned +a bit of it!" + +"I don't see why you didn't. It was so plain. I'm sure Mother +suspects--now." + +"Probably she does. If I wasn't what I've called myself so much +lately, an old fool, I'd have suspected, too. I AM an old fool." + +"No, you're not. You are YOU, and that is why I love you--why, +everyone who knows you loves you. I wouldn't have you changed one +iota. You are the dearest, best father in the world. And you are +going to be happy now, aren't you?" + +"I--I don't know. I ought to be, I suppose. I guess I shall be-- +if I ever get over thinkin' what a foolhead I was. So Zuba was +part of it all, hey? And John, too? He was in it, I presume +likely." + +Gertrude's expression changed; so did her tone. + +"We won't talk about John, Daddy," she said. "Please don't." + +"Why not? I want to talk about him. In a way--yes, sir! in a way +I ain't sure that--that I didn't have a hand in spoilin' that, too. +Considerin' what you've just told me, I wouldn't wonder if I did." + +His daughter had risen to go. Now she turned back. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. "What do you mean? Spoiling-- +what?" + +"Why--why, you and John, you know. Whatever happened between you +and him happened that night when he come to Scarford. And he +wouldn't have come--not then--if I hadn't written for him." + +Gertrude was speechless. Her father went on. + +"Long's we're confessin'," he said, "we might as well make a clean +job of it. I wrote him, all on my own hook. You see, Gertie, +'twas on your account mainly. I was gettin' pretty desperate about +you. Instead of straightenin' out your ma's course you were +followin' in her wake, runnin' ahead of her, if anything. It +looked as if you'd have her hull down and out of the race, if you +kept on. _I_ couldn't hold you back, and, bein' desperate, as I +say, I wrote John to come and see if he could. And I told him to +come quick. . . . Hey? What did you say?" + +The young lady had said nothing; she had been listening, however, +and now she seemed to have found an answer to a puzzle. + +"So that was why he came?" she said, in a low tone, as if thinking +aloud. "That was why. But--but without a word to me." + +"Oh, I 'specially wrote him not to tell you he was comin'. I +didn't want you to know. I wanted to have a talk with him first +and tell him just how matters stood. After you'd gone to Chapter +meetin' that night--I always thought 'twas queer, your bein' so +determined to go, but I see why now; 'twas part of your plan, +wasn't it?" + +"Yes, yes, of course. Go on." + +"Well, I judge John thought 'twas funny, too--but never mind. +After you'd gone, he and I had our talk. I told him everything. +He was kind of troubled; I could see that; but he stood up for you +through thick and thin. He only laughed when I told him--told him +some things, those that worried me most." + +Gertrude noticed his hesitation. + +"What were those things?" she asked. + +"Oh, nothin'. They seem so foolish now; but at that time--" + +"Daddy, did you tell him of my--my supposed friendship for Mr. +Hungerford?" + +Daniel reluctantly nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "I told him some. +Maybe I told him more than was absolutely true. Perhaps I +exaggerated a little. But he was so stubborn in not believin', +that. . . . Hey? By Godfreys!" as the thought struck him for the +first time, "THAT wasn't what ailed John, was it? He wasn't +JEALOUS of that consarned Percy?" + +Gertrude did not answer. + +"It couldn't be," continued Daniel. "He's got more sense than +that. Besides, you told him, when you and he were alone together, +why you was actin' so, didn't you? Or did he know it beforehand? +I presume likely he did. Your mother and I seem to have been the +only animals left outside the show tent." + +Again there was no answer. When the young lady spoke it was to ask +another question. + +"Daddy," she said, not looking at him, but folding and unfolding a +bit of paper on the counter, "are you SURE you mailed that letter I +gave you the morning after--after he went away?" + +"What? That letter to John that you gave me to mail? I'm sure as +I can be of anything. I put it right in amongst the bills and +checks I had ready, and when the postman came I gave 'em all to him +with my own hands. Yes, it was mailed all right." + +"And no letters--letters for me--came afterwards, which I didn't +receive? You didn't put one in your pocket and forget it?" + +"No. I'm sure of that. Why, your mother's cleaned out all my +pockets a dozen times since. She says I use my clothes for +wastebaskets, and she has to empty 'em pretty nigh as often. No, I +didn't forget any letter for you, Gertie. But why? What made you +think I might have?" + +"Oh, nothing; nothing, Daddy. Then, throwing down the bit of paper +and moving toward the door, "I must go in and see Mother. I have +scarcely seen her all the morning." + +"But hold on, Gertie! Don't go. I haven't found out what--Stop! +Gertie, look at me! Why don't you look at me?" + +She would not look and she would not stop. The door closed behind +her. Captain Dan threw himself back in the chair. When Mr. Bangs, +returning from his trip after orders, entered the store he found +his employer just where he had left him. Now, however, the +expression of high, good humor was no longer upon the captain's +face. + +"Well, Cap'n," hailed Nathaniel cheerfully. "Still on deck, I see. +What are you doing; exercising your mind?" + +"Humph! What little mind I'VE got has been exercised too blessed +much. It needs rest more'n anything, but it don't seem likely to +get a great deal. Nate, this world reminds me of a worn-out +schooner, it's as full of troubles as that is full of leaks; and +you no sooner get one patched up than another breaks out in a new +place. Ah hum! . . . What you got there? The mail, is it? +Anything for me?" + +There was one letter bearing the captain's name. Nathaniel handed +it to the owner of that name and the latter inspected the envelope +and the postmark. + +"From Labe Ginn," he observed. "Nobody else in Scarford that I +know would spell Daniel with two 'l's and no 'i.' What's troublin' +Laban? Somethin' about the house, I presume likely." + +He leisurely tore open the envelope. The letter was a lengthy one, +scrawled upon a half dozen sheets of cheap note paper. The +handwriting was almost as unique as the spelling, which is saying +considerable. + +"From Laban, is it?" asked Mr. Bangs casually. + +"Yup, it's from Labe." + +"There was another from him, then. At any rate there was one +addressed in the same hen-tracks to Azuba. I met her as I was +coming out of the post-office and gave it to her; she was on her +way to the grocery store, she said." + +Daniel nodded, but made no comment. He was doing his best to +decipher Mr. Ginn's hieroglyphics. Occasionally he chuckled. + +Laban began by saying that he expected his term as caretaker of the +Scarford property to be of short duration. He had dropped in at +the real estate office and had there been told that arrangements +for the leasing of the mansion, furniture, and all, were +practically completed. The new tenant would move in within a +fortnight, he was almost sure. Mr. Ginn, personally, would be glad +of it, for it was "lonesomer than a meeting-house on a week day." + +"I spend the heft of my daytimes out in the Back yard," he wrote. +"I've lokated a bordin house handy by, but the Grub thare is tuffer +than the mug on a Whailer two year out. I don't offen meet anybody +I know, but tother day I met barney Black. He asked about you and +your fokes and I told him. He was prety down on his Luck I thort +and acted Blue. His wife is hed neck and heles in Chapter goins +on. I see her name in the Newspaper about evry day. + +"He said give you his Regards and tell you you was a dam lukky +Man." + +Captain Dan's chuckle developed into a hearty laugh. He +sympathized with and understood the feelings of B. Phelps. + +"He has sold his summer Plase at Trumet," the letter went on. +"Mrs. Black don't want to come thare no more. He wuddent say why +but I shuddent wonder if it was becos she ain't hankering to mete +your Wife after the way she treted her. He has sold the Plase to +some fokes name of Fenholtz. I know thats the rite name becos I +made him spel it for me. Do you know them?" + +Daniel uttered an exclamation of delight and struck his thigh a +resounding slap. + +"What's up?" asked Nathaniel. "Got some good news?" + +"You bet! Mighty good! Some people I knew and liked in Scarford +have bought the Black cottage here in Trumet. I rather guess I am +responsible in a way; I preached Cape Cod to 'em pretty steady. +The Fenholtzes! Well, well!" + +"What I realy wrote you for," continued Mr. Ginn, at the top of +page four, "was to tell you that I had a feller come to see me +Yesterday. It was that forriner Hapgood who used to work for you. +He looked prety run to seed. He haddent got anny Job since he left +you, he sed, and he was flat Broke. I gave him a Square meel or +what they call one at the bordin' house and he and me had a long +talk. He told me a lot of things but manely all he wanted to talk +about was that Swab of a Coussin of yours, that Hungerford. +Hapgood was down on him like a Gull on a sand ele. He sed +Hungerford was a mene sneak and had treted him bad. He told me a +Lot about how Hungerford worked you fokes for sukkers and how he +helped. Seems him and Hungerford was old shipmates and chums and +had worked your ant Laviny the same way. Hungerford used to pay +him, but now that he is flat Broke and can't help no more, he won't +give him a cent. Hapgood says if you knew what he knows you'd be +intterested. He says Hungerford pade him to get a hold of +Tellygrams and letters that he thort you had better not see. He +had one Coppy of a tellygram that he says come to him over the +Tellyfone 3 days after John Doane left your house. I lent him a +cupple of dollars and he gave me the Coppy. It is from John to +Gertie, but she never got it becos Hapgood never told her. I send +it in this letter." + +Captain Dan, who had read the latter part of this long paragraph +with increasing excitement, now stopped his reading and began a +hurried search for the "Coppy." He found it, on a separate sheet. +It was written in pencil in Hapgood's neat, exact handwriting and +was, compared to Mr. Ginn's labored scrawl, very easy to read. And +this was what the captain read: + + +"MISS GERTRUDE DOTT, + +"No. -- Blank Avenue, +"Scarford, Mass. + +"Why haven't you written? Did you receive my letters? The firm +are sending me on urgent business to San Francisco. I leave to- +night. If you write me there I shall know all is well and you have +not changed. If not I shall know the other thing. I shall hope +for a letter. San Francisco address is--" + + +Then followed the address and the signature, "John Doane." + +The "Coppy" dropped in Daniel's lap. He closed his eyes. Nate +Bangs, glancing at him, judged that he was falling asleep, but Mr. +Bangs's usually acute judgment was, in this instance, entirely +wrong. So far from sleeping, the captain was just beginning to +wake up. + +"Why haven't you written?" That meant that John had never received +the letter which Gertrude wrote, the letter which she had given +him--her father--to post. Why had it not been received? It had +been posted. He gave it to the carrier with his own hands. + +Before the captain's closed eyes that scene in the library passed +in review. He was at his desk, Gertrude entered and handed him the +letter. He commented upon its address and placed it with the +others, the envelopes containing bills and checks, upon the table. +Then the postman came and-- + +No--wait. The postman had not come immediately. Serena had called +and he, Daniel, had gone up to her room in answer to the call. But +he had come down when the postman rang and. . . . Wait again! +There had been someone in the library when he was called away. He +dimly remembered. . . . What? . . . Why, yes! Cousin Percy had +come in and-- + +Daniel leaped to his feet. His chair slid back on its castors and +struck the safe behind him. Mr. Bangs looked up. + +"Why, what's the matter?" he cried, in alarm. "Is--Where are you +going?" + +Captain Dan did not answer. He was running, actually running, +toward the door. Bareheaded he dashed across the yard. His foot +was on the threshold of the back porch of the house, when he +stopped short. For a moment he stood still; then he turned and ran +back to the store again. + +Nathaniel, who had followed him to the side entrance of The +Metropolitan, met him there. + +"For mercy sakes, Cap'n Dott!" he began. "What IS it?" + +Daniel did not answer. He pushed past his perturbed manager and, +rushing to the closet in which the telephone instrument hung, +closed the door behind him. He jerked the receiver from the hook, +placed it at his ear, and shouted into the transmitter. + +"Hello! Hello there, Central!" he bellowed. "I want a long +distance call. I want to talk to Saunders, Griffin and Company, +Pearl Street, Boston. . . . Hey? . . . Yes, I want to talk to Mr. +Doane. . . . NO, not Cone! Doane--Doane--Mr. John Doane. . . . +Hey? . . . You'll call me? . . . All right, then; be as quick as +you can, that's all." + +He hung up the receiver and, flinging the door open, dashed out +into the store again, and began pacing up and down. + +Nathaniel ventured one more question. + +"Of course it ain't any of my business, Cap'n Dott," he stammered, +"but--" + +Daniel waved his hand. + +"Sshh! shh!" he commanded. "It's all right. I'll tell you by and +by. But now I want to think. To think, by time!" + +Ten minutes later the telephone bell rang. + +"Hello! Here is your Boston call," announced Central. + +"All right! all right! Is this Saunders, Griffin and Company? . . . +Hey? . . . Is Mr. Doane there? . . . What? I want to know! +Is that you, John? . . . This is Dott, speakin'. . . . Yes, Dan +Dott. . . . No, no, of Trumet, not Scarford. . . . Yes. . . . +YES. . . . Here! you let me do the talkin'; you listen." + + + +Captain Dan ate scarcely any luncheon that day. He seemed to have +lost his appetite. This was a good deal of a loss and his wife +commented upon it. + +"What does ail you, Daniel?" she asked anxiously. "Why don't you +eat?" + +"Hey? Oh, I don't know, Serena. Don't feel hungry, somehow." + +"Well, it's the first time you haven't been hungry since you came +back to Trumet. I was beginning to think Azuba and I couldn't get +enough for you TO eat. And now, all at once, you're not hungry. +What does ail you?" + +"Ail me? Nothin' ails me." + +"Don't you feel well?" + +"Never felt better in my life. Don't believe I ever felt quite so +good." + +"You act awfully queer." + +"Do I? Don't you worry about me, Serena. My appetite'll be back +all right by dinner time. You want to lay in an extra stock for +dinner. I'll probably eat you out of house and home then. Better +figure on as much as if you was goin' to have company. Ain't that +so, Zuba?" + +He winked at the housekeeper. His wife noticed the wink. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "There's something going on that I +don't know about. Are you and Azuba planning some sort of +surprise?" + +"Surprise! What sort of surprise would Zuba and I plan? She's had +one surprise in the last six weeks and that ought to be enough. +Laban's droppin' in unexpected was surprise enough to keep you +satisfied, wasn't it, Zuba? I never saw anybody more surprised +than you was that night in the kitchen. Ho! ho!" + +Azuba smiled grimly. "A few more surprises like that," she +observed, "and I'll be surprised to death. Don't talk to ME about +surprises." + +"_I_ wasn't talkin' about 'em, 'twas Serena that started it." + +Mrs. Dott was still suspicious. She turned to her daughter. + +"Gertie," she asked, "do YOU know what your father is acting so +ridiculous about? Is there a secret between you three?" + +Gertrude had been very quiet and grave during the meal. + +"No," she said. "There is no secret that I know of. Father is +happy because we are back here in his beloved Trumet, I suppose." + +"Humph! Well, his happiness hasn't interfered with his appetite +before. There's something else; I'm sure of it. Why, Gertie! +aren't you going to eat, either? You're not through luncheon!" + +The young lady had risen from the table. + +"You've eaten scarcely anything, Gertie," protested her mother. "I +never saw such people. Are YOU so happy that you can't eat. Sit +down." + +Gertrude did not look happy. She did not sit down. Instead she +hastily declared that she was not hungry, and left the room. + +Serena stared after her. + +"Was she crying, Daniel?" she asked. "She looked as if she was +just going to. Ever since she came in from her walk she has been +so downcast and sad. She won't talk and she hasn't smiled once. +Daniel, has she said anything to you? Do you know what ails her?" + +The captain shook his head. + +"She and I had a little talk out in the store," he admitted. "I +shouldn't wonder if she was thinkin' about--about--" + +"About John, do you mean?" + +"Maybe so." + +"Did she talk with you about HIM? She won't let me mention his +name. Daniel, I feel SO bad about that. I'm afraid I was to +blame, somehow. If we hadn't gone to Scarford--if . . . Daniel, +I'm going to her." + +She rose. Her husband laid a hand on her arm. + +"Sit down, Serena," he urged. "Sit down." + +"But, Daniel, let me go. I must go to her. The poor girl! +Perhaps I can comfort her, though how, I don't know. John Doane!" +with a burst of indignation. "If I ever meet that young man I'll +give him my opinion of his--" + +"Sshh! shh! Serena! You sit down and finish your luncheon. Don't +you worry about Gertie. And you needn't worry about her appetite +or mine. I tell you what I'll do: If she and I don't have +appetite enough for dinner to-night--or breakfast to-morrow +mornin', anyhow--I'll swallow that platter whole. There! A sight +like that ought to be worth waitin' for. Cheer up, old lady, and +possess your soul in patience. This craft is just gettin' out of +the doldrums. There's a fair wind and clear weather comin' for the +Dott frigate, or I'm no sailor. You just trust me and wait. Yes, +and let Gertie alone." + +He positively refused to explain what he meant by this optimistic +prophecy, or to permit his wife to go to their daughter. Gertrude +went out soon afterward--for another walk, she said--and Serena +retired to her room for the afternoon nap which the doctor had +prescribed as part of her rest cure. For a time she could not +sleep, but lay there wondering and speculating concerning her +husband's strange words and his equally strange attitude of +confident and excited happiness. What did it mean? There was some +secret she was sure; some good news for Gertrude; there must be. +She, too, began to share the excitement and feel the confidence. +Daniel had asked her to trust him, and she did trust him. He, and +not she, had been right in judging Mrs. Black and Cousin Percy, and +Scarford, and all the rest. He had been right all through. She +had reason to trust him; he was always right. With this comforting +conclusion--one indication of the mental revolution which her +Scarford experience had brought about--she ceased wondering and +dropped to sleep. + +Captain Dan and Azuba had a short conference in the kitchen. + +"Understand, do you, Zuba?" queried the captain. "A late dinner +and plenty of it." + +"I understand. Land sakes! I ain't altogether a numskull or a +young-one, even if I do have to be shut up in the closet to make me +behave." + +"Ho! ho! I expect you could have knocked my head off for bein' in +the way just at that time." + +"Humph!" with a one-sided smile, "I could have knocked my own off +for not listenin' afore I come downstairs. If I'd heard Laban's +voice I bet you I wouldn't have come. All I needed was a chance to +be alone with him and explain what Gertie and I were up to." + +"Well, I'm glad you didn't have the chance. I wouldn't have missed +that show for somethin'. It beat all my goin' to sea, that did. +How you did holler!" + +He roared with laughter. Azuba watched him with growing +impatience. + +"Got through actin' like a Bedlamite?" she inquired tartly, when he +stopped for breath. "If you have you can clear out and let me get +to my dish-washin'." + +"I'm through. Oh, by the way, what did Labe say in your letter? +I've told you what he wrote me, but I forgot that he wrote you, +too." + +Mrs. Ginn looked troubled. "I don't know what to do with that +man," she declared. "I expect any minute to get word that he's +been put in the lock-up. If that house of yours ain't rented or +sold pretty quick, so he can get to sea again, he will be. Do you +know what he's done to that Hungerford critter?" + +"DONE to him! What do you mean? He hasn't seen him, has he?" + +"No, he ain't seen him, thank goodness, but Labe is so wrought up +over what that Hapgood thief told him, about your precious cousin +stealin' your telegrams and so on, that he and Hapgood have gone in +cahoots to play a trick on Mr. Percy. Labe says Hapgood told him +that Percy was keepin' company now with another woman there in +Scarford, a young woman with money, of course--he wouldn't chase +any other kind. Well, Hapgood--he's a healthy specimen for my +husband to be in with, he is--Hapgood knows a lot about Hungerford +and his goin's on in the past, and he's got a lot of the Percy +man's old letters from other girls. Don't ask ME how he got 'em; +stole 'em, I suppose, same as he stole that telegram from John. +Anyhow, Labe and Hapgood have sent those letters to the present +young woman's pa." + +Daniel whistled. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "That's interestin'." + +"Ain't it, now! Laban says the old commodore--meanin' the pa, I +suppose--is a holy terror and sets more store by his daughter than +he does by his hopes of salvation, enough sight. Good reason, too, +I presume likely; he's toler'ble sure of the daughter. Well, +anyhow, the letters are gone and Labe says he's willin' to bet that +Cousin Percy'll be GOIN'--out of the window and out of Scarford-- +when papa gets after him. Nice mess, ain't it!" + +Captain Dan whistled again. "Well, Zuba," he observed, "we can't +help it, as I see. What's done's done and chickens do come home to +roost, don't they?" + +"Humph! I wish my husband would come home and roost where I can +keep my eye on him. He says he's gettin' sick of bein' a land +lubber. He'll be aboard some ship and off again afore long, that's +some comfort. The only time I know that man is safe is when he's a +thousand miles from dry land." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Serena and Daniel were together in the parlor. It was past dinner +time, but Azuba, for some reason or other, had not gotten dinner +ready. This was unusual for, if there was one thing upon which the +housekeeper prided herself, it was in being "prompt at meal times." +She was setting the table now, however, and they could hear her +rattling the knives and forks and singing, actually singing. + +"Azuba is in good spirits, isn't she," observed Serena. "I haven't +heard her sing before for a long time. I suppose, like the rest of +us, she has been too troubled to sing." + +Captain Dan listened to the singing, shook his head, and remarked +whimsically, "There's some comfort to be got out of trouble, then. +Say, the 'Sweet By and By' would turn sour if it could hear her +sing about it, wouldn't it?" + +"Hush, Daniel, don't be irreverent. Why don't you light the lamp, +or let me light it? It's getting so dark I can hardly see you." + +"Never mind; let's sit in the dark a spell. Gertie comin' down +pretty soon, is she?" + +"Yes. She's changing her dress, because you asked her to. Why did +you ask her? Why should she dress up just for you and me?" + +"Oh, just a notion of mine. I like that red dress of hers, anyway; +the one with the fringe trimmin's along the upper riggin'." + +"That dress isn't red, it's pink." + +"I don't care. I thought 'twas about the color of my nose, and if +that's pink then I'm losin' my complexion." + +"Daniel!" with a laugh, "how you do talk and act to-day! At +luncheon you were as queer as could be and now you're worse. I +never saw you so fidgety and excited. What IS going to happen? +Something, I know. You wouldn't tell me this noon; will you tell +me now?" + +"Pretty soon, Serena; pretty soon. Now let's talk about somethin' +interestin'; about ourselves, for instance. How do you like bein' +back here in Trumet? Ain't gettin' tired of it, are you? The old +town doesn't seem stupid; hey?" + +"No, indeed! Don't speak that way, Daniel." + +"Well, I just mentioned it, that's all. Soon as you do get tired +and want to see somethin' new, we'll take that cruise to Washin'ton +or the Falls or somewheres. Never mind the price. Way I feel now +I'd go to the moon if 'twould please you. Say the word and I'll +hire the balloon to-morrow--or Monday, anyway; no business done in +Trumet on Sunday." + +Serena laughed again. "I shan't say it for a long while," she +declared. "I am having such a good time. The house seems so snug +and homey. And all our old friends and neighbors have been so +kind. They seemed so glad to see us when we came, as if they were +real friends, not the make-believe sort." + +"Not the Annette kind, you mean. That particular breed of cats is +scarce on the Cape--at least I hope it is." + +"So do I. I never want to see her again. I am so glad they have +sold their cottage here, and that the Fenholtzes have bought it--if +they have bought it, as you say you heard. You always liked the +Fenholtzes, Daniel. I did, too, or I should if Annette hadn't told +me--" + +"I know, I know. Some day that woman will tell the truth by +accident and the Ladies of Honor crowd'll be mournin' a leadin' +light that went out sudden. But never mind her. The folks here +HAVE been nice to us, haven't they?" + +"Indeed they have! And so thoughtful! Why, Sophronia Smalley even +came to ask me if I wouldn't consider taking my old place as +president of Trumet Chapter. She is president now, but she +declared she would resign in a minute in my favor." + +For an instant Captain Dan's exuberant spirits were dashed. + +"She did!" he cried. "Well, if that woman ain't. . . . Humph! +Are you thinkin' of lettin' her resign, Serena?" + +"No." + +"I--I wouldn't stand in your way if you did, you know. I mustn't +be selfish. Trumet ain't Scarford, and if you want to--" + +"I don't, I don't. I may attend a meeting once in a while, later +on, but I never shall hold office again. I have had all the +'advancement' I want." + +"Advancin' backwards, some folks would call what you're doin' now, +Serena, I cal'late. There! I've said 'cal'late' again. I haven't +said it before for a long time. This Cape sand has got into my +grammar, I guess. I must be careful." + +"You needn't be. Say 'cal'late' if you want to, I am not going to +fret you about your grammar any more, Daniel. I've got over that, +too. I'd rather have you, just as you are, than any other man in +the world, grammar or no grammar." + +"Whew! Hold on, old lady! If you talk that way I'll get so puffed +up I'll bust into smoke when you touch me, like a dry toadstool. +I--Hello! what was that? The train whistle, was it?" + +"Yes. Here is the night train in; it is almost mail time, and no +dinner yet. What IS the matter with Azuba? I'll speak to her." + +She was rising to go to the dining-room, but her husband detained +her. + +"No, you wait; no, you mustn't," he said, hastily. "Sit right +down, Serena. Speakin' of dinners, this talk of ours is like that +everlastin' long meal that you and I went to at Barney Black's +house just after we landed in Scarford. You remember it took half +an hour to get to anything solid in that dinner, don't you? Yes, +well, I'm just gettin' to the meat of my talk. And I want Gertie +to come in on that course. She is on her way downstairs now; I +hear her. Hi! Gertie! come in here, won't you!" + +Gertrude entered the room. + +"Where are you, Daddy?" she asked. + +"Here I am, over here by the window." + +"But why haven't you lighted the lamp? Why are you sitting here in +the dark?" + +Serena answered. "Goodness knows," she replied. "Your father +would insist on it. I think he is going crazy; he has acted that +way ever since lunch." + +The demented one chuckled. + +"You see, Gertie," he explained, "'twas on account of my +bashfulness. Your mother, she wanted to sit along with me and hold +hands, so--. Oh, all right; all right. You can show a glim now, +Serena, if you want to. I'll cover up my blushes." + +The maligned Mrs. Dott announced that she had a good mind to box +his ears. "That's what I should do to a child," she added, "and +nobody could act more childish than you have this afternoon." + +"Second childhood, Serena. Second childhood and dodderin' old age +are creepin' over me fast. There!" as the lamp blazed and the +parlor was illuminated, "now you can see for yourself. Do I dodder +much?" + +Even Gertrude was obliged to laugh. + +"Daddy!" she cried; "you silly thing! I believe you ARE getting +childish." + +"Am I? All right, I'm willing to be, at the price. My! Gertie, +you look awfully pretty. Don't she look 'specially pretty to you +to-night, Serena?" + +Serena smiled. "That gown was always becoming," she said. + +"I know it was; that's why I wanted her to put it on. And she's +fixed her hair the way I like, too. My! my! if some folks I know +could see you now, Gertie, they'd. . . . Ahem! Well, never mind. +She looks as if she was expectin' company and had rigged up for it, +doesn't she, Serena?" + +Gertrude paid little attention to this rather strained attempt at a +joke. She merely smiled and turned away. But her mother appeared +to suspect a hidden meaning in the words. She leaned forward and +gazed at her husband. + +"Daniel," she cried, sharply and with increasing excitement; +"Daniel Dott, what are you--" + +The captain waved her to silence. She would have spoken in spite +of it, but his second wave and shake of the head were so emphatic +that she hesitated. Before the moment of hesitation was at an end +Captain Dan himself began to speak. He spoke in a new tone now and +more and more rapidly. + +"Serena, don't interrupt me," he ordered. "Gertie, listen. I'm +goin' to tell you both a story. Once there was a couple of married +folks that had a daughter. . . . Hush, I tell you! Listen, both +of you. I AIN'T crazy. If ever I talked sense in my life I'm +talkin' it now. . . . This couple, as I say, had a daughter. This +daughter was engaged to be married. The old folks moved away from +the place they had always lived and went somewhere else. There +they both commenced to make fools of themselves. The place was all +right enough, maybe, but they didn't belong in it. The daughter, +she came there and she saw how things were goin' and, says she: +'I'll fix 'em. I'll cure 'em and save 'em, too, by showin' 'em an +example, my example. I'll--'" + +Gertrude broke in. + +"Daddy," she cried, with a warning glance at her mother, "be +careful. Don't be silly. What is the use--" + +"Hush! Hush and be still! Never mind what she did. All is, she +showed 'em and she cured 'em and she saved 'em. But meanwhile her +meddlesome old father had got worried, not understandin' what was +goin' on, and he put his oar in. He wrote for the young chap she +was engaged to to come down and help cure HER. The father meant +all right. He--" + +Again the young lady interrupted. + +"Mother," she said, "this is nonsense, the way father is telling +it. I meant to tell you, myself, by and by. I'm sure you have +guessed it, anyway, but--" + +"There's one part she hasn't guessed," shouted Captain Dan; "or +that you haven't guessed either, Gertie, God bless you. _I_ +guessed it myself, this very day, and I guessed it because I had a +letter from Labe Ginn up at Scarford that put me on the right +track. Gertie, that letter you wrote to John WASN'T mailed; the +postman DIDN'T get it; John himself never got it." + +"Daddy! Daddy, what--" + +"Wait! wait! How do I know? you were goin' to say. I know because +I know who did get it. Cousin Percy Hungerford--confound his +miserable, worthless hulk! HE got it; he stole it from my table, +where it laid along with my other letters, when I was out of the +room. And--wait! that isn't all. John DID write you, Gertie. He +wrote you two or three times and he telegraphed you once. And you +didn't get either letters or telegram because that Hapgood butler-- +Oh, if I had only known this when I chased him out of the back +yard! He'd have gone over the fence instead of through the gate-- +he was helpin' our dear cousin and gettin' paid for it, and HE +stole 'em. There! that's the truth and. . . . My soul! I believe +I've scared the girl to death." + +He sprang forward. Serena, too, although she was almost as much +surprised and agitated as her daughter, hastened to the latter's +side. + +But Gertrude, although white and shaken, was far from being "scared +to death." She was very much alive. + +"Are you sure, Daddy?" she cried. "Are you SURE? How do you +know?" + +"I know because Labe wrote that Hapgood told him. That's how I +know about the telegram. And I know that's what happened to your +letter because John didn't get it." + +"How do you know he didn't get it? Please, Mother, don't worry +about me. I am all right. How do you know John didn't get my +letter, Father?" + +"I know because. . . . Is that a wagon stoppin' at our gate, +Serena?" + +"Never mind if it is. Answer Gertie's question. HOW do you know?" + +Steps sounded on the front porch. Captain Dan strode to the hall +and stood with one hand on the knob of the front door. + +"I know," he declared triumphantly, "because I telephoned John this +very day and he told me so. And now, by the everlastin', he'll +tell you so himself!" + +He flung the door wide. + +"Come in, John!" he shouted, in a roar which was heard even by deaf +old Ebenezer Simpkins, driver of the depot wagon, who was just +piloting his ancient steed from the Dott gate. "Come in, John!" +roared Captain Dan. "There she is, in there, waitin' for you." + +And Mr. Doane came, you may be sure. + +Serena and Daniel waited in the dining-room. They were obliged to +wait for some time. The captain's triumphant exuberance continued +to bubble over. He chuckled and laughed and crowed vaingloriously +over his success in keeping the secret ever since noon. + +"I was bound I wouldn't tell, Serena," he declared. "I was bound I +wouldn't. I told John over the 'phone; I said: 'I won't tell a +soul you're comin', John. We'll give 'em one surprise, won't we.' +And, ho! ho! he didn't believe I could keep it to myself; he said +he didn't. But I did, I did--though I felt all afternoon as if I +had a bombshell under my jacket." + +Serena laughed; she was as pleased as he. "You certainly exploded +it like a bombshell," she declared. "I didn't know at first but +that you really had gone crazy. And poor Gertie! you didn't +prepare her at all. You blurted it out all at once. The words +fairly tumbled over each other. I wonder she didn't faint." + +"She isn't the faintin' kind. Serena, we never can be grateful +enough to Gertie for what she's done for us. And she sacrificed +her own happiness--or thought she did--for you and me and didn't +whimper or complain once." + +"I know, Daniel, I know. And pretty soon now we must give her up +to someone else. That's the way of the world, though. WE'LL have +to be brave then, won't we." + +"So we will. But I'd rather give her to John than any other man on +earth. The thought that it was all off between them and that she +was grievin' over it was about the hardest thing of all." + +"So it was. Well, now we can be completely happy, every one of +us." + +Azuba flounced in from the kitchen. "Ain't they come out of that +parlor YET?" she demanded. "I can't keep roast chicken waitin' +forever, even for engaged folks." + +But the "engaged folks" themselves appeared at that moment. As one +of those who, according to Mrs. Dott, were to be completely happy, +Mr. Doane looked his part. Gertrude, too, although her eyes were +wet, was smiling. + +John and the Dotts shook hands. Daniel turned to his daughter. + +"Well, Gertie," he asked, "are you ready to forgive me for what +happened on account of my sendin' that summons to John--that one up +in Scarford, I mean?" + +"I think so, Daddy." + +"I thought maybe you would be, considerin'," with a wink at Mr. +Doane, "the answer you got to my telephone to-day. But, see here, +young lady, I want to ask you somethin' and I expect a straight +answer. Can I keep a secret, or can't I?" + +"You can, Daddy, dear. You kept this one almost seven hours." + +"Eight! eight, by Godfreys! 'Twas a strain, but I kept it." + +"You managed it all beautifully, Daniel," declared Serena. "I am +proud of you." + +"We're all proud of you, Captain Dan," said John. + +The captain smiled happily. + +"Much obliged," he said, "but I ain't the one you ought to be proud +of. When it comes to real managin' I ain't knee-high to the ship's +cat alongside of Gertie there. She's the one who pulled this +family through. No sir-ee! if you've got any time to spare bein' +proud of folks, don't be proud of Cap'n Dan, but of Cap'n Dan's +daughter. Sit down, all hands. Here comes dinner--at last." + + + +THE END + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER *** + +This file should be named cpdan10.txt or cpdan10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, cpdan11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, cpdan10a.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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