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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebd8c6a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69545 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69545) diff --git a/old/69545-0.txt b/old/69545-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 39d016e..0000000 --- a/old/69545-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11664 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Oliver October, by George Barr -McCutcheon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Oliver October - -Author: George Barr McCutcheon - -Release Date: December 15, 2022 [eBook #69545] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines, John Routh & the online Distributed Proofreaders - Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLIVER OCTOBER *** - - - - - - - OLIVER - OCTOBER - - - BY - GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON - - AUTHOR OF - “BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK,” “SHERRY,” - “VIOLA GWYN,” ETC. - - - - NEW YORK - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - 1923 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1922, 1923, - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. - - - PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY - - The Quinn & Boden Company - BOOK MANUFACTURERS - RAHWAY NEW JERSEY - - - - - CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I OLIVER IS BORN IN OCTOBER 1 - II HIS RELATIVES AND HIS NEIGHBORS 15 - III WOMEN IN RED SHAWLS 36 - IV HIS FORTUNE—GOOD AND BAD 46 - V OLIVER IS FOUND TO HAVE A TEMPER 65 - VI A PASTOR PROMISES AID 85 - VII THE MINISTER’S WIFE 94 - VIII GLIDING OVER A FEW YEARS 109 - IX HOME FROM THE WAR 128 - X IDLE DAYS 140 - XI OLD OLIVER DISAPPEARS 155 - XII ONE WAY OF LOOKING AT IT 166 - XIII THE GOOD SAMARITAN PAYS 174 - XIV JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE 185 - XV THE THIRD FAIR LADY 196 - XVI MR. JOSEPH SIKES INTERVENES 201 - XVII MR. GOOCH DECLARES HIMSELF 212 - XVIII JOSEPHINE AND HENRY THE EIGHTH 228 - XIX OLIVER COMPLAINS 242 - XX DETECTIVE MALONE 252 - XXI LOVE WITHOUT JEALOUSY 265 - XXII THE CORPUS DELICTI 281 - XXIII THE BREWING OF THE STORM 294 - XXIV THE HANGING 308 - XXV MR. GOOCH SEES THINGS AT NIGHT 322 - - - - - Oliver October - - - - - CHAPTER I - - - OLIVER IS BORN IN OCTOBER - -Oliver Baxter, junior, was born on a vile October day in 1890—at seven -o’clock in the morning, to be exact. People were more concerned over the -plight of a band of gypsies, camped on the edge of the swamp below the -Baxter house, however, than they were over the birth of Oliver, although -he was a very important child. - -The gypsies, journeying southward, had been overtaken by an unexampled -and unseasonable blizzard, and citizens of Rumley, in whom curiosity -rather than pity had been excited by the misfortunes of the shivering -nomads, neglected for the moment that civic pride which heretofore had -never failed to respond to any increase in population as provided solely -by nature. - -First off, Rumley was a very small place at the beginning of the -’nineties. A birth or a death was a matter of profound importance. In -the case of the former, all Rumley knew about it months before it -happened, and rejoiced. A form of anticipatory interest, amounting -almost to impatience, centered upon any expectant mother who ultimately -was to add another inhabitant to the town. It was absolutely impossible -for a baby to be born in Rumley without the whole town knowing about it -within the hour. For that matter, it was equally impossible for any one -to die with any degree of privacy unless he went about it deliberately -as did Bob Cheever who stole off into the woods back in ’81 and hung -himself so cunningly that twenty-four hours passed before his body was -discovered. - -But, on the whole, the births were what counted most, for, with a true -philosophy, the people of Rumley, anticipating that every one had to die -some time or other, depended on nature to do its part toward repairing -all losses in population by producing a brand-new citizen for every old -one who happened to drop put. With a scant five hundred inhabitants, -Rumley could ill afford to have its birth rate surpassed by its death -rate. The year in which Oliver Baxter, junior, was born had been a lean -one; there had been thirteen deaths up to October and only seven births. -The surprising mortality was due to the surrender of five old men and -three old women who had hung on well beyond the age of ninety, and then, -with unbecoming perversity, had combined upon an unusually barren year -in which to die. - -In view of the fact that no one else could possibly be born in 1890, now -that October was at hand, it would seem that Oliver was entitled to a -great deal more consideration than he received on his natal day. But -when one considers the simultaneous arrival of a blizzard and a band of -wandering gypsies at a time of the year when neither was expected, and -offers in opposition the arrival of an infant that had been expected -ever since the preceding February, it is only fair to say that there -were extenuating circumstances and that Rumley was not entirely to blame -for its default in civic pride. - -Oliver’s parents were prominent in the commercial, social and spiritual -life of the town. His father was the proprietor of the hardware store, a -prominent member of the Presbyterian church, and a leader in the local -lodge of Odd Fellows. He was well on to forty-five when his namesake, -was born, and as this son and heir was the first and only child born to -the Baxters it is easy to understand the interest and concern that -accompanied his approach and arrival into the world—that is to say, up -to the distracting intervention of the October cold snap which came -apparently out of nowhere and confounded everybody. - -Baxter was a hard-cased bachelor of forty when he succumbed to the -charms of Mary Floyd, the daughter of the toll-gate keeper at the edge -of the village, and asked her to marry him. A full three years elapsed, -however, before they could be married. This was due to Mary’s stubborn -and somewhat questionable fidelity; her ancient father, it appears, was -irascibly certain that he could not manage the affairs of the toll-gate -without her assistance: how was he to keep house for himself, or get his -own meals, or do his own washing and ironing, or take care of the cow -and the pigs? In fact, he was the sort of man who did not believe in -trying to do anything for himself as long as there were able-bodied -women about the place to do it for him. For twenty years Mary had been -his right-hand woman, beginning at the tender age of ten, within fifteen -or twenty minutes after the death of her mother, who, by the way, had -taken care of Martin for a matter of twenty-five years without rest or -recompense. Two older brothers had exercised the masculine prerogative -and, having families of their own, left Mary to wither, so to speak, “on -the parent stem.” - -Old Martin died when Mary was thirty-two. Instead of observing the -customary year of mourning, she married Oliver inside of three months -after the joyous bereavement, much to the surprise and passing grief of -her neighbors, who were unable, for the life of them, to understand how -she could do such a thing when her father was hardly cold in the grave. -Joseph Sikes, who ran a feed store in connection with and back of -Baxter’s hardware establishment, and was a Godless man, set a good many -people straight by sardonically observing that anybody as mean as Martin -Floyd never would be cold in his grave, owing to the heat that was -getting at him from below. - -Now as for Oliver Baxter, the elder. He was a scrawny man with a -drooping sandy mustache and a thatch of straw-colored hair that always -appeared to be in need of trimming no matter how recently it had been -cut by Ves Bridges, the barber. In the matter of stature he was a trifle -above medium height on Sundays only, due to a studied regard for the -dignity that accrued to him as deacon in the church and passer of the -collection box at both services. Moreover, he wore a pair of Sabbath day -shoes that were not run down at the heel. On week days, in his well-worn -business suit and his comfortable old shoes, he was what you would call -a trifle under medium height. He was a shy, exceedingly bashful sort of -man, with a fiery complexion that cooled off only when he was asleep, -and he was given to laughing nervously—and kindly—at any and all -times, frequently with results that called for a confused apology on his -part and sometimes led to painful misunderstandings—for example, the -time he made tender and sympathetic inquiry concerning the health of -young Mrs. Hoxie’s mother and cackled cheerfully when informed that the -old lady was not expected to last the day out, she was that bad. - -How he ever screwed up the courage to propose to Mary Floyd was always a -mystery to the entire population of Rumley, including Mary herself, who -in accepting him was obliged to overlook the two perfectly inane spasms -of laughter with which his bewildered plea was punctuated. She took him, -nevertheless, for she was a prudent spinster and had got to the age -where people not only were beginning to pity her but were talking of -putting her in charge of the public library as soon as old Miss Lowtower -died. - -Mary at thirty-two was a comely, capable young woman, fairly well -educated in spite of Martin Floyd’s exactions, and was beloved by all. -If it had not been for the fact that Oliver Baxter was prosperous, -honest and a credit to the town, people no doubt would have said she was -throwing herself away on him, for it must be said that the Floyds, -despite their reduced circumstances, were of better stock than the -Baxters. Martin Floyd, in his younger days, had been a schoolmaster and -had studied for the law. Moreover, he had been thrice elected justice of -the peace and during Grant’s last administration was postmaster at -Rumley. Whereas, Oliver Baxter’s father had been a farmhand and Oliver -himself an itinerant tin-peddler before really getting on his feet. But -as the fortunes of the Floyds went down those of the frugal and -enterprising Baxter came up, so, on the whole, Mary was not making a bad -bargain when she got married—indeed, she was making a very good bargain -if one pauses to consider the somewhat astonishing fact that she really -loved the homely and unromantic little bachelor. - -When, after two years, it became known that on or about the twentieth of -October Mary Baxter was going to have a baby, the town of Rumley and the -country for miles about experienced a thrill of interest that continued -without abatement up to the very eve of the new Oliver’s natal day, -when, as before mentioned, it was stifled by a sudden change in the -weather and the belated descent of the gypsies. - -It must not be assumed that the gypsies were welcome. Far from it, they -were most unwelcome. Their appearance on the outskirts of Rumley was the -occasion of dire apprehensions and considerable uneasiness. The word -gypsy was synonymous with thievery, kidnaping, black magic and devilry. -More than one instance of curses being put upon respectable people by -these swarthy, black-eyed vagabonds could be mentioned, and no one felt -secure after foolishly subjecting herself to the dire influence of the -fortune-telling females of the tribe. Little children were kept indoors, -stables and cellars were locked, and backyards zealously watched during -the time the gypsies were in the neighborhood. - -Small wonder then that the young and tender Oliver failed to hold his -own against such overwhelming odds. Nearly twenty-four hours elapsed -before the town as a whole took notice of him. By nightfall it was -pretty generally known that he was a boy and that his name, -provisionally selected, was to be Oliver and not Olivet, as it might -have been had his sex been what everybody prophesied it was bound to be. -Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, in the second year of their married life, had gone -to a nearby city to see a performance of the comic opera “Olivet,” and -were so delighted with it—especially the song “In the North Sea Lived a -Whale”—that they decided then and there if a girl should ever be born -to them they would call her Olivet, that being as near to Oliver as they -could possibly come. - -They yearned for an Oliver, of course, but in the event he did not -materialize, it would be a rather satisfactory compromise to substitute -a “t” for the “r” which they would have preferred. - -So they called him Oliver and added October to that, as a tribute to the -month in which he was born. - -The Baxter residence, a two-story frame building, stood at the top of a -tree-covered knoll on the edge of the town, overlooking an extensive -swamp in the center of which lay a reed-encircled pond where at certain -seasons of the year migratory wild ducks and geese disported themselves -in perfect security, for so treacherous was the vast morass guarding -this little body of water that even the most daring and foolhardy of -hunters feared to cross it. These evil acres bore the name of Death -Swamp. They belonged to Oliver Baxter. He bought the whole tract, four -hundred acres or more, for twenty-five dollars, and with a droll sense -of humor described it as his back yard. - -The wild October gale had been blowing all day long, a bleak legacy of -the blizzard that swept over the land during the night. There were high, -white drifts in sheltered nooks and corners; a fine, sleety snow cut -mercilessly through the air, beating against window panes like sweeps of -bird shot, scuttling through reluctantly opened doors, swirling in -restless fury across porches, all to the tune of a shrill wind that came -whistling out of the north. In an upstairs corner room, warmed by a big, -carefully tended sheet-iron stove, young Oliver first saw the light of -day. No finer “young-un” had ever been born, according to Mrs. Serepta -Grimes, and Serepta was an authority on babies. It was she who took -command of Oliver, his mother and his father, the house itself, and all -that therein was. She was there hours ahead of Dr. Robinson, and she was -still there hours after his departure. Throughout the town of Rumley, -Serepta was known as a “blessing and a comfort.” Her word was law. Fond -mothers and frightened fathers submitted to her gentle but arbitrary -regulations without a murmur of protest. Joe Sikes claimed—and no one -disputed him—that you couldn’t come into or go out of the world -properly without being assisted by Serepta Grimes. She was that kind of -a woman. - -She saw to it that all the cracks around the window frames were securely -stuffed with paper to keep the wind from coming in; she kept Oliver’s -beaddled father from darting into the room every time he heard the baby -cry; she gave peremptory directions to neighbor-women who came in to see -what they could do; she kept the fire going, the kitchen running, and, -by virtue of her own vast experience and authority, she kept the doctor -in his place. Perhaps a hundred times during the day she had patiently -answered “Yes” to the senior Oliver’s tremulous question: “Is she going -to pull through, Serepty?” - -In this cozy little room and in the presence of the doctor and Serepta -Grimes, young Oliver was weighed by his father. For this purpose, a -brand-new, perfectly balanced meat-scales, selected from stock, was -brought up from the hardware store by Mr. Sikes, who, while being denied -the privilege of witnessing the ceremony, subsequently was able to -collect fifty cents from another bosom friend of the family, Mr. Silas -Link, undertaker and upholsterer. The infant weighed nine and a quarter -pounds, Joseph winning his wager by a scant quarter of a pound. The two -worthies also had made another bet as to the sex of the infant, Mr. -Sikes giving odds of two to one that it would be a boy. Up to seven -o’clock in the evening, fully twelve hours after the baby was born, -neither Mr. Sikes nor Mr. Link had the slightest idea who had won the -bet, for, try as they would, there seemed to be absolutely no way of -getting any authentic information from upstairs, owing to the speechless -condition of Oliver senior and the drastic reticence of Serepta Grimes. - -And so, as the story of Oliver October really begins at seven o’clock in -the evening, regardless of all that may have transpired in the preceding -twelve hours of his life, we will open the narrative with Mr. Joseph -Sikes hovering in solitary gloom over the base-burner in the -sitting-room to the right of the small vestibule hall whose door opened -upon the snow-covered, wind-swept front porch. For the better part of an -hour he had been sitting there, listening with tense, apprehensive ears -to the brisk footsteps in the room overhead. The sitting-room was cold, -for Joseph had neglected to close the front door tightly on entering the -house and the wind had blown it ajar, permitting quite an accumulation -of snow to carpet the hall. He had purposely left the sitting-room door -open in order to hear the better what was going on at the top of the -stairs. His attention was called to this almost criminal act some -fifteen or twenty minutes after its commission by the sound of a man’s -voice in the upper hall. It was an agitated voice and it was raised -considerably in the effort to make itself heard by some one on the other -side of a closed, intervening door. - -“Say, Serepty, I—I think the front door is open,” the voice was saying. -Joseph wasn’t sure, but he thought it belonged to Oliver Baxter. At any -rate, the speaker was in the upper hall. After a moment it continued. -“Like as not Mary and the baby will ketch cold and die if—” - -A door squeaked upstairs and then came the voice of Serepta Grimes. - -“My goodness! Of course, it’s open. Haven’t you got sense enough to go -down and shut it? Who left it open anyway? You?” - -“I thought I heard somebody come in a little while ago. Must have -been—” - -“Go down and shut it this instant. And stay downstairs, you goose.” - -The door closed sharply and Mr. Sikes, recovering from a temporary -paralysis, clumsily got to his feet and hurried into the hall. - -“Never mind, Ollie,” he whispered hoarsely to the figure descending the -stairs. “I’ll shut it. Some darned fool must have forgot to close it.” - -“Isn’t that snow on the floor?” demanded Mr. Baxter, pausing midway on -the stairs. The light from the sitting-room door fell upon his pinched, -worried face as he peered, blinking, over the banister. - -“Must have blowed in,” mumbled Joseph guiltily. “You don’t suppose she’s -taken cold, do you, Ollie?” - -“She probably has,” groaned Mr. Baxter. “She’s—she’s dying anyhow, -Joe—she hasn’t got more than half an hour to live. I—” - -“Is the doctor up there?” - -“No. He ain’t been here since five o’clock. Oh, the poor—” - -“I guess she’s all right or he wouldn’t have gone off and left her,” -said Mr. Sikes consolingly. “I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to sweep -all this snow out. Where’ll I find a broom?” - -“In the kitchen—in the kitchen, Joe. My God, what have I ever done that -we should have a blizzard like this on the one day that—” - -“Come on down, Ollie, and let me give you a swig at this bottle I -brought along with me. I can hear your teeth chatterin’ from here.” - -“I haven’t got any shoes on,” protested Mr. Baxter. “I’m trying not to -make any more noise than I can help. Besides I don’t want Mary to smell -liquor on me. No, I can’t come down. I’d never forgive myself if she was -to die and me not up here where I could hear her calling for me. Yes, -sir—she’s not going to pull through, Joe—she’s not going to get well. -I—” - -“What does Serepty say?” - -“Serepty? Oh, she says she’s all right and as fit as a fiddle—but I -know better. She’s just saying that to brace me up. She—” - -The door squeaked above him and Mrs. Grimes spoke. - -“Didn’t I tell you to close that door, Oliver Baxter? Who is that you’re -talking to?” - -“Don’t tell her,” whispered Mr. Sikes, springing nimbly to the door. -“She don’t like me anyhow, and—Oh, the danged thing’s stuck! I’ll have -to get the broom.” - -Mr. Sikes hurried to the kitchen and returned with the broom. Baxter was -still standing on the stairs, in a listening attitude. - -“Sh!” he hissed. “Don’t do that? I thought I heard—” He turned and -darted up the stairs, leaving Mr. Sikes to his task. Presently he came -half way down again and addressed the sweeper, who had just completed -his job and was closing the door against the pressing wind. “I’m up here -in the spare bedroom, Joe, if you need me for anything. I’ve just been -thinking that the house might catch fire with all these stoves going and -the wind blowing so hard. If you smell anything burning come up and let -me know.” - -“Just a second, Ollie,” whispered Joseph, from the bottom of the steps. -“Is it a boy or a girl?” - -But Oliver failed to answer. He had disappeared, tiptoeing in his -stocking feet past the closed and guarded door at the bend in the hall. - -His friend went back to his place by the base-burner and sat down. In -skirting the table in the center of the room he paused long enough to -take a cigar from the box of “Old Jim Crows” that Oliver had purchased -for distribution among congratulatory friends. He hesitated a long time -before lighting it, however. He knew from past experience that Serepta -Grimes objected to men smoking in the house, and, while this was not her -house, nevertheless for the time being she was complete mistress of it. - -To look at Joseph Sikes you would never believe that he could be afraid -of anything or anybody. He was a burly, rugged, middle-aged man with -broad shoulders, a battling face and a thick shock of black hair that -might well have supplied you with a corporeal picture of what Samson -must have looked like before he was shorn. He looked somewhat ill at -ease and uncomfortable in his Sunday suit of clothes and his starched -shirt and the bothersome collar that appeared to be giving him a great -deal of trouble, judging by the frequency with which he ran his -forefinger around the inside of it and twisted his puckered, uplifted -chin from time to time as if in dire need of help. Mr. Sikes was an -unmarried man. He was not used to tight collars. - -The combination sitting-and dining-room was on the side of the house -facing the main thoroughfare of the town. Its windows looked out across -the porch and down the wooded slope to the street, a hundred yards away. -Mr. Sikes on his arrival after a scant supper at his boarding-house in -Shiveley’s Lane had found the entire lower part of the house in darkness -except the kitchen. He took it upon himself to light the two kerosene -lamps in the sitting-room and subsequently—in some dismay—to draw down -the window shades. He replenished the fire from a scuttle of coal and -then, on second thought, went down into the cellar and replenished the -scuttle. After performing these small chores, he removed his overcoat -and hat and hung them over the back of a chair alongside the stove. He -forgot to remove his goloshes, and it was not until he became aware of -the smell of scorching rubber that he remembered where he had put them -on sitting down for the second time in front of the stove. He had put -them on the bright nickel-plated railing at the bottom of the -base-burner with only one thought in mind: to get his feet warm. - -He was aghast. That odor of calamity was bound to ransack the house from -bottom to top, with desolating consequences. Mary would think the house -was afire, Oliver would lose his head completely, Serepta would—and the -child? It didn’t take much to suffocate a baby. Mr. Sikes was not long -in deciding what to do. He opened a window, jerked off the offending -goloshes, and hurled them far out into the snowdrifts. - -It was while he was in the act of disposing of the damning evidence that -he heard the kitchen door slam with a bang. Somewhere back in his mind -lurked an impression that some one had been knocking at the front door -during the tail end of his profound cogitation. He had a faint, dim -recollection of muttering something like this to himself: - -“You can knock your fool head off, far as I’m concerned.” - -The slamming of the kitchen door irritated Mr. Sikes. His brow grew -dark. This was no time to be slamming doors. He strode over to -investigate. If the offender should happen to be Maggie Smith, Baxter’s -hired girl, she’d hear from him. What business had she to be away from -the house for more than an hour, just at supper time, and probably -catching cold or— - - - - - CHAPTER II - - - HIS RELATIVES AND HIS NEIGHBORS - -He opened the door and was confronted by a pair of total strangers—a -man and a woman, bundled up to the ears and tracking snow all over the -kitchen floor. A tall man with short black whiskers and a frail little -woman with red, wind-smitten cheeks and a nose from which depended a -globular bit of moisture. - -Mr. Sikes stared at the couple and they stared at him. - -“I’ve been knocking at the front door for ten minutes,” said the man, -thickly. - -“So we finally had to come to the kitchen door,” added the woman, eyeing -Mr. Sikes accusingly. - -“Isn’t there anybody here to answer the front door?” demanded her -companion. - -“I don’t seem to recollect locking it,” said Mr. Sikes, stiffening -perceptibly. He did not like the tone or the manner of these strangers. -“There wasn’t anything to stop you from turning the knob, was there, and -walkin’ right in—same as you did out here?” - -“We are not in the habit of walking into people’s houses like that,” -said the black-whiskered man, somewhat tartly. “Come on, Ida; let’s go -into the sitting-room.” - -“Just a second,” interposed Mr. Sikes. “I’m sort of in charge here and I -guess I’ll have to ask who you are.” - -“I am Oliver Baxter’s sister,” said the red-nosed woman, “and this is my -husband, Mr. Gooch. We drove all the way over here to take charge of -things for my brother during his—” - -“Seems to me I smell rubber burning,” broke in Mr. Gooch, sniffing -vigorously. His eye fell upon the cigar that Mr. Sikes was holding -between his thumb and forefinger. - -Mr. Sikes took umbrage. He stepped forward and held the cigar close to -Mr. Gooch’s nose. - -“Smell it,” he said, as the other jerked his head back in surprise. -“That’s as good a cigar as you can get anywhere on earth for ten -cents—and it only costs five.” - -“I—I am not a smoker,” Mr. Gooch made haste to explain, being a trifle -overcome by Joseph’s far from ingratiating manner. - -“Well, I’m just telling you,” announced Joseph, inserting the cigar -between his back teeth with a somewhat challenging abruptness. “You say -you’re Ollie’s relations?” - -“Yes; I am his sister. I want to see him at once. Where is he?” - -“Well, I guess if you are his sister you’d better come into the -sitting-room and take your things off,” said Mr. Sikes grudgingly. “I’ve -heard him speak of some folks of his living over in Hopkinsville.” He -led the way into the sitting-room. “Make yourselves to home. I guess -maybe Ollie will be down after while, unless he’s gone to bed. He’s all -wore out. And I might as well tell you first as last,” he went on -pointedly, “he’s occupying the only spare bedroom they’ve got in the -house, so I don’t see how I can ask you to stay the night.” - -Mrs. Gooch paused in the act of unwinding a thick scarf from her neck. -She gave Mr. Sikes a “look.” - -“Are you the undertaker?” she demanded. - -“The—the _what_? Good gosh, no!” - -“Well, how do you happen to be running things if you are not? You act as -if—” - -“When did Mary die?” asked Mr. Gooch, throwing his great ulster upon the -dining-table. - -“She ain’t dead,” was all the astonished Mr. Sikes could say. “Not by a -long sight.” - -“Well, of all the—” began Mr. Gooch, compressing his lips. “And we -drove nearly eighteen miles through all this dodgasted weather to be a -support and a comfort to Ollie Baxter in his trouble. You say she -_ain’t_ dead?” - -“Certainly not. Whatever put that notion in your head?” - -“We had a telegram along about noon signed by Oliver, saying his wife -was not expected to live through the day. All hope had been given up,” -said Mrs. Gooch, beginning to cry. - -“That’s just like the derned fool,” said Mr. Sikes. “He can’t believe -his own eyes, he’s so excited. Why, Mary and the baby are both as lively -as crickets. I heard—” - -“The _baby_?” fell simultaneously from the lips of Mr. and Mrs. Gooch. -Both mouths remained open. - -“What baby?” added Mrs. Gooch, spreading her tear-drenched eyes. - -“Why, her’s and Ollie’s—Say, didn’t you know they had a baby this -morning?” - -“A _baby_?” gasped the lady, incredulously. - -“But we didn’t know they were expecting one,” said her husband, -scowling. “Mighty strange Oliver never even mentioned—” - -“Are you telling the truth?” demanded Mrs. Gooch. “Or are you just -trying to be funny?” - -Mr. Sikes removed the cigar from his jaws. “It’s nothing to me, ma’am, -whether you believe it or not,” said he. - -Baxter’s brother-in-law allowed his gaze to roam around the room. “Maybe -we’re in the wrong house, Ida,” he said. “We haven’t been in Rumley -since Oliver set up housekeeping. Like as not, that feller down at the -drug store gave us the wrong—” - -“This is Oliver Baxter’s house,” said Sikes shortly. “He moved in here -the day after the wedding, and he ain’t moved out of it since, far as I -know.” - -“And who are you?” inquired Mr. Gooch. - -“Me? My name is Sikes, Joseph Sikes. I’m Ollie’s best friend, if you -want to know. I stood up with him when he was married, and I’ve been -standin’ up for him ever since. If you’ve got anything nasty to say -about Oliver Baxter, I guess you’d better not say it in my hearin’, Mr. -Gooch.” - -“I have no intention of saying anything nasty about my wife’s brother,” -retorted Mr. Gooch. - -“I know all about you,” said Mr. Sikes, replacing his cigar and scowling -darkly. “I’ve heard Ollie speak of you a hundred times. He ain’t got any -use for you.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch. - -“Well, I don’t mind telling you,” said Mr. Gooch, bridling, “I haven’t -any use for him. I never did take any stock in brother-in-laws, anyhow, -and that’s why I’ve never had anything to do with Baxter. You can tell -him—” - -“I guess you’re forgettin’ that you are a brother-in-law yourself, ain’t -you?” interrupted Mr. Sikes, with a most offensive snigger. - -“Are you trying to pick a quarrel with my husband?” - -“As I said before,” explained Mr. Sikes, “I am Ollie Baxter’s best -friend, and I certainly ain’t going to allow anybody like a -brother-in-law to come in here at a time like this and get off any -insinuations. This is the happiest day of Ollie Baxter’s life—that is, -it will be when he gets his right senses back—and it ain’t going to be -spoiled, not even behind his back, if I can help it. Especially by a -brother-in-law.” - -“The man has been drinking,” said Mrs. Gooch, sniffing the air. - -“You’re right,” confessed Joseph promptly. “I’ve had a couple of good -swigs out of this pint, and I’m proud of it. It helps me to say what I -think about people that Ollie Baxter don’t like. I’ve been waitin’ for -nearly ten years to tell you what I think of you, Mr. Gooch, for the way -you acted toward Ollie when he tried to get his sister here to help pay -for a tombstone for their father’s grave, and you—” - -“I’ll thank you to mind your own business,” exclaimed Mr. Gooch loudly. - -“I don’t want to be thanked for it,” shouted Mr. Sikes. “It’s my -business to tell you a few things about yourself, so don’t thank me.” - -“Oh, my goodness!” wailed Mrs. Gooch. “In my own brother’s house, too. I -never was so insulted in all my life. Oliver! Oliver, where are you? -Come down here and order this man out of your house.” - -“No use yellin’ for Oliver,” said Mr. Sikes. “He won’t hear you.” Then -he swallowed hard. “Come to think of it, I guess I ought to apologize, -ma’am. Which I hereby do. I haven’t had much sleep lately, worrying over -this joyous occasion, and I guess I’m a bit crusty. I hereby welcome you -to Ollie’s house, speaking in his place, and ask you to have a chair -over here by the stove. You can sit down too if you want to, Mr. Gooch. -To show you there’s no hard feelings on this joyous occasion, I’ll even -go so far as to ask you to have a drink out of this bottle. It’s—” - -“My husband does not drink,” said Mrs. Gooch, stiffly. - -“You might let him off just this once,” pleaded Mr. Sikes, tactlessly. - -Horace Gooch frowned. “I’ve never touched a drop of intoxicating liquid -in my life, sir.” - -Sikes opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, choked -the words off, and then offered the following substitute: “Terrible -weather for this time of year, ain’t it?” - -There was no response to this conciliating commonplace, nor to the -invitation to sit down. Mrs. Gooch, having divested herself of coat, -scarf, bonnet and overshoes, was straightening her hair before the -looking-glass, while her husband surveyed the room and its contents with -the disdainful air of one used to much better things. - -You could tell by the expression on his face that the floor of his -parlor was covered by a gorgeous Brussels instead of the many-hued rag -carpet that served Oliver Baxter and his wife; and where they had -old-fashioned horse-hair chairs and a sofa, he possessed articles so -handsomely done in plush that it was almost a sin to occupy them. If he -had not come directly from contact with a biting wind, one might have -been justified in construing his frequent and audible sniffs as of scorn -rather than of necessity. He was a tall, lank man with narrow shoulders, -narrow face, and a pair of extremely narrow black eyes. He typified -prosperity of the meaner kind. Over in Hopkinsville, Horace Gooch was -considered the richest and the stingiest man in town. He was what is -commonly called a “tax shark,” deriving a lucrative and obnoxious income -through his practice of buying up real estate at tax-sales and holding -it until it was redeemed by the hard-pressed owner, or, as it happened -in many instances, acquiring the property under a provision of the state -law then in operation, whereby after a prescribed lapse of time he was -enabled to secure a tax deed in his own name. He also trafficked in -chattel mortgages. - -No one, not even his fellow church members, had ever been known to get -the better of him. It must be said for him, however, he went to church -twice every Sunday and invariably did his share toward spreading the -gospel by dropping a noisy quarter into the collection plate at both -services. And so astute a business man was he that he never was without -the proper change. His brother-in-law called him a “blood-sucking -skinflint,” and it is not in the power of the teller of this tale to -improve upon that except by quoting from the unprintable opinions of his -victims. - -Mrs. Gooch was Oliver’s only sister, and had married Horace Gooch when -in her teens. At thirty-eight she was still wondering if she was really -good enough for him and if he had not made a mistake in marrying her -when there were so many other girls he might have had for the asking. -Sometimes Horace made her feel that he could have done better. At any -rate, she was never allowed to be in doubt as to what he thought of all -the other Baxters, living or dead. They were as “common as dirt.” At -first it was difficult for her to be ashamed of Oliver without being -equally disgusted with herself, but as time went on and she became more -and more of a Gooch this irritating sensitiveness eased off into a state -of contemptuous pity for her insignificant brother. His marriage to a -toll-gate keeper’s daughter sent him down several pegs in her -estimation, notwithstanding Mr. Gooch’s sarcastic contention that Oliver -had wedded far above his station—indeed, he went on to say, he didn’t -believe it possible for Oliver to find any one beneath his station, no -matter how hard he tried or how far he looked. - -And yet when word came by wire that there was to be a death in the -family, Ida Gooch overlooked everything and hastened to her brother’s -side, drawn not so much by sisterly affection as by the desire to take -an active and public part in any family sorrow or bereavement. Having -looked forward, over eighteen miles of wind-swept highways, to a house -of grief, she was not only shocked but secretly annoyed to find that -life instead of death had visited the humble home of her brother. She -knew she would never hear the last of it from Horace, who hated babies. -They had no children of their own. - -But now that she was here, she was determined to make the most of the -situation. - -“I shall take charge here,” she announced to Mr. Sikes. “Is this the way -upstairs?” - -Mr. Sikes nodded. “But if I was you,” he said, “I’d hold my horses.” - -“What do you mean by that?” - -“I guess you’d better ask Serepty Grimes before you begin to take charge -here,” said he grimly. - -“Serepty who?” - -“Grimes. She’s running this house at present. Her husband used to run -the Rumley sawmill before he died. Serepty’s running it now.” - -“That doesn’t cut any figure with me,” announced Mrs. Gooch firmly. “I -am going up to Mary’s room—her name is Mary, isn’t it?—to see what -there is to do for—” - -“Wait a minute, Ida,” interrupted her husband. “I wouldn’t go busting -into that room until I found out whether I was wanted or not.” - -“Let her go, man,” cried Mr. Sikes, eagerly. “But if she was my -wife—and thank God, I’m a single man—I’d stand at the foot of the -stairs to ketch her when she comes down.” - -“Do you mean to say that my own brother would lay violent hands—” - -“Ollie Baxter? I should say not. He ain’t got anything more to do with -running this house than I have. Why, Serepty wouldn’t let Napoleon -Bonaparte into Mrs. Baxter’s room if he was to come here in full -uniform. But don’t take my word for it. Go ahead. You might as well get -it over with. I wouldn’t any more think of going up them steps, big as I -am, without receiving orders from her, than I’d think of sticking my -head in this stove.” - -“I will soon get rid of Mrs. Grimes,” said she, tossing her head. - -As she started to leave the room, a loud knocking at the front door rose -above the howl of the wind. Sikes resuming his office as master of -ceremonies, pushed his way past Mrs. Gooch and opened the door to admit -a woman and two men. The first to enter the sitting-room was a tall man -wearing a thin black overcoat and a high silk hat. The former was -buttoned close about his shivering frame, the latter jammed well down -upon his ears to meet the vagaries of the tempestuous wind. This was the -Reverend Herbert Sage, pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Rumley. The -lady was his wife. - -The other member of the trio, a fat, red-faced, jolly looking man of -indeterminate age, was Silas Link, the undertaker, upholsterer and -livery-man of Rumley. We encounter him now in the last-mentioned -capacity, hence his cheery grin, his loud-checked trousers and his brown -derby set jauntily over his right ear. He wore a buffalo-skin overcoat. -In his capacity as upholsterer and furniture-repairer he affected a -dusty suit of overalls of a butternut hue and wore spectacles that gave -him a solemn, owl-like expression. As an undertaker he was -irreproachably lachrymose despite his rosy cheeks, and he never -“officiated” except in a tight-fitting Prince Albert coat, a plug hat, a -white cravat and a pair of black cotton gloves. In view of the fact that -he so rarely is called upon to appear in the character of undertaker, -owing to the infrequency of emergencies, and also that we are likely to -come in contact with him a dozen times a day as a livery-man, it is only -fair to introduce him here in the most cheerful of his three rôles, -especially as we may never have occasion to call upon him for repairs. - -The “Reverend” Sage—he was always spoken of as the “Reverend”—was a -good-looking young man of thirty, threadbare and a trifle wan, with -kindly brown eyes set deep under a broad, intelligent brow. He had a -wide, generous mouth and a pleasant smile; a fine nose, a square chin, -and a deep, gentle voice. For three years he had been shepherd of the -Presbyterians in Rumley, and he was as poor if not actually poorer than -the day he came to the town from the theological institute in Chicago. -His salary was eight hundred dollars a year, exclusive of “pickings,” as -Mr. Baxter called the pitiful extras derived from weddings, funerals and -“pound parties.” Come November, there was always a “pound party” for the -minister, and it was on such occasions that he received from his flock -all sorts and manner of donations. His wife in one of her letters to a -girl friend in Chicago mentioned twenty-six pairs of carpet slippers -“standing in a row,” seventeen respectfully knitted mufflers, numberless -mittens and wristlets, and she couldn’t tell what else until she had -gone through all the drawers and closets in the parsonage. - -Which brings us to the wife, and also to an absolutely unaccountable -anomaly. It is not difficult to explain how he came to fall in love with -her and why he married her. That might have happened to any man. -Likewise it is fairly easy to understand how she came to fall in love -with him, for he was dreamy-eyed and reluctant. But how she came to -marry him, knowing what it meant to be the wife of an impoverished -preacher, is past all understanding. She was a handsome, dashing young -woman of twenty-three: the type one meets on the streets of New York or -Chicago and is unable to decide whether she is rich or poor, good or -bad, idle or industrious, smart or common. Certainly one would never -find her counterpart in a town like Rumley except by the accident of -importation, and then only as a bird of passage. When she came to Rumley -as a bride in the June preceding the birth of Oliver October Baxter, -Rumley was aghast. It could not believe its thousand eyes. Small wonder, -then, that the precious Mrs. Gooch and her even more precious husband -gazed upon her as if their own slightly distended eyes were -untrustworthy. - -She was tall, willowy, and startling. She wore a sealskin coat—at least -it looked like seal—with sleeves that ballooned grandly at the -shoulders; a picture hat that sat rakishly—(no doubt the wind had -something to do with its angle)—upon a crown of black hair neatly -banged in front and so extensively puffed behind that it looked for all -the world like an intricate mass of sausages in peril of being dislodged -at every step she took; rather stunning coral ear-rings made up of -graduated globes; a slinky satin skirt of black with a long, sweeping -train that, being released from her well-gloved hand, dragged swishily -across the cheap rag carpet with a sort of contemptuous hiss. A roomy -pair of rubber boots, undoubtedly the property of her husband, completed -her costume. - -“Good evening, Mr. Sikes,” she drawled, as she scuffled past him into -the sitting-room. “Nice balmy weather to be born in, isn’t it?” - -Mr. Sikes, taken unawares, forgot himself so far as to wink at the -parson, and then, in some confusion, stammered: “St-step right in, Mrs. -Sage, and have a chair. Evening, Mr. Sage. How are ye, Silas? Help -yourself to a cigar. Take off your things, Mrs. Sage. Oliver will be -mighty glad to see—” - -“How is Mrs. Baxter, Joseph?” inquired the parson, removing his hat with -an effort. It had been jammed down rather low on his head. - -“The thing is,” put in Mr. Link, cheerily, as he began to shed his coat, -“is old Ollie likely to pull through? I’ve been up here six or seven -times to-day and dogged if I know whether to hitch up the hearse or the -band wagon.” - -Sikes scowled at the speaker and jerked his head significantly in the -direction of the Gooches. “Come right up to the stove, Mrs. Sage,” said -he, dragging a rocker forward. “You must be mighty chilly.” - -“Only my legs,” announced the preacher’s wife. - -Mrs. Gooch winced. In her circle, ladies never mentioned legs unless -alluding to dining-room tables, or fried chickens, or animate objects -such as dogs, horses, cows and sheep. And when she found out later on -that this startling person was a minister’s wife, she wondered what the -world was coming to. Somehow, it seemed to her, nothing could be so -incongruous or so disillusioning as the wife of a preacher having legs. - -“This is Oliver’s sister,” introduced Mr. Sikes, awkwardly. “From -Hopkinsville. Reverend Sage, Mrs. Gooch. Mr. Link, Mrs. Gooch. And this -is Oliver’s brother-in-law, her husband, also of Hopkinsville.” - -Everybody bowed. “I didn’t catch the lady’s name,” said Mrs. Gooch. - -“Permit me to introduce my wife,” said the Reverend Sage, advancing to -the stove, rubbing his extended palms together. “A bitter night, is it -not?” - -“Very,” said Mrs. Gooch. - -“Very,” said Mr. Gooch. - -“Tough on horses,” said Mr. Link. - -“Very,” said Mr. Sikes. - -General conversation, after this laconic start, died suddenly. Everybody -stood and looked at everybody else for a few moments, and then Mr. Sikes -had a happy inspiration. He began shoveling coal from the scuttle into -the already blushing stove, making a great deal of racket. The others -watched him intently, as if they never had seen anything so interesting -as a stove being stuffed with fuel. - -“And all sorts of live stock,” added Mr. Link, apparently startled into -speech by the closing of the stove door. - -“From Hopkinsville, did you say?” inquired Mr. Sage politely, turning to -Mr. Gooch. - -“Yes,” said Mr. Gooch succinctly. - -“Ah, a—er—very enterprising town—very enterprising. Ahem!” - -“Where is it?” asked Mrs. Sage, who by this time had seated herself in a -rocking-chair, with her rubber boots well advanced toward the stove. - -“I guess you haven’t lived in this part of the country very long,” said -Mr. Gooch condescendingly. - -“Oh, haven’t I? I’ve been here nearly six months—one hundred and -thirty-two days, to be exact.” She glanced at the clock on the bracket -between the windows. “Lacking two hours and twelve minutes,” she went -on. “We came down on the local that’s due here at 9:14, but it was -twenty-eight minutes late.” - -“Ahem!” coughed Mr. Sage, discreetly. - -“Well, if you will excuse me,” began Mrs. Gooch, withdrawing her gaze -from the lady’s boots, “I guess I’ll run upstairs and see my -sister-in-law.” - -“Ain’t Serepty up there?” asked Mr. Link quickly. - -“Yep,” replied Mr. Sikes. “You needn’t worry, Silas,” he added -significantly. - -“You stay right here, Ida,” ordered Mr. Gooch. “I’m not going to have -you insulted by this woman they’re talking so much about. You’d think -she was Queen Victoria or somebody like that.” - -“Ahem!” coughed Mr. Sage, this time in a suave, conciliatory manner—if -it is possible to cough suavely. “It is my practice, no matter what the -weather may be, to call at the earliest opportunity upon any stranger -who may arrive in our little community. Your nephew is the latest -stranger in town, I should say—eh, Mrs. Goops?” - -“My—my what?” - -“Gooch is my name,” broke in her husband tartly. “G, double o, c, h.” - -“I do wish, Herbert dear,” said Mrs. Sage languidly, “you would try to -remember Gooch.” - -“I beg pardon. A slip of the tongue. I was about to inquire about your -dear brother, Mrs. Gooch. How is he?” - -“I didn’t know there was anything the matter with Oliver.” - -“There isn’t anything the matter with him,” said Mrs. Sage, “that a -good, stiff drink of whiskey won’t cure.” Then catching the look in the -other woman’s eye, she explained: “Oh, I’m not a native, you know. I -come from Chicago—God bless it!” - -“Ahem!” coughed her husband. “I suppose Sister Grimes will be down in a -few minutes, Joseph?” - -“Just depends,” replied Mr. Sikes, somewhat grimly. - -“Wonderful woman, indeed. Quite indispensable at a time like this,” -continued the minister. - -“She’s just as handy at a funeral,” supplemented Mr. Link, in the hushed -voice of an undertaker. - -“We must remember how indispensable Mrs. Grimes is at a time like this, -Herbert,” said Mrs. Sage, with a yawn. - -“You won’t have to remember,” blurted out Mr. Sikes. “Serepty’ll do the -remembering.” - -“I adore babies, don’t you, Mrs. Gooch?” - -“Yes, indeed. Ah—I—how many children have you, Mrs. Sage?” - -“On pleasant Sundays I should say as many as twenty-five. They shrink -quite a bit if the weather’s bad.” - -“Good gracious me!” - -“She means her Sunday-school class,” explained Mr. Sage hurriedly. He -had the worried manner of one who never knows what is coming next. - -His wife looked up into his face and smiled—a lovely, good-humored -smile that was slowly transformed into a mischievous grimace. - -“I’m always making breaks, am I not, Herby dear? It’s a terrible strain, -Mr. Gooch, being a parson’s wife. I sometimes wish that Herbert—I mean -Mr. Sage—had been a policeman or a bartender or something like that.” - -“Umph!” grunted Mr. Gooch. - -“Well, I suppose it ain’t as hard to live up to a policeman or a -bartender as it is to live up to a minister of the gospel,” said Mrs. -Gooch, feeling of the tip of her nose as she turned away from the stove. - -Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link, having something of a private nature to say to -each other, had retired to a position near the door, which by design or -accident was pretty thoroughly blocked by their heavy figures. Mrs. -Gooch sniffed unnecessarily. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Sage over her shoulder; “you’re right, Mrs. Gooch. Live -and learn is my motto.” She winked at her husband. - -“My dear Josephine!” exclaimed Mr. Sage reproachfully. - -“Say, Ida,” burst out Mr. Gooch, who had been fretting almost audibly, -“I’m getting tired of hanging around here waiting for Oliver. Get your -things on. We’re going home.” - -“Oh, my dear friend,” cried the pastor, “you surely are not going away -without saying good-by to Brother Baxter. He will—” - -“I’m going away without even saying howdy-do to him,” rasped Mr. Gooch. -“Where are your overshoes, Ida?” - -At this juncture the sitting-room door was opened, somewhat to the -confusion of the two citizens of Rumley, and a small, plump, middle-aged -woman, bearing a couple of blankets in her arms, entered the room. - -“Hello, Serepty!” cried Mr. Link. “Everything all right?” - -Mrs. Grimes surveyed the group. Her pleasant, wholesome face was -beaming. Her gaze rested upon the astonishing hat of Mrs. Sage. - -“Why, how do you do, Sister Sage. How nice of you to come out on a night -like this. Mary will be pleased to hear you’ve been here. Oh, yes, -Silas, everything is all right. You can go home. Nobody is going to die. -How do you do, Mr. Sage. What a terrible night for you to be out, with -that wretched throat of yours. If you’ll wait till I take these blankets -out to warm them in the kitchen I will wrap a piece of flannel and a -strip of bacon around your throat. It’s the best—” - -“Don’t think of it, Sister Grimes. I am quite all right. I thought -perhaps I might—ah—cheer Sister Baxter up with a little—ah—spiritual -encouragement—er—a prayer of rejoicing—er—a—” - -“That’s all been attended to, thank you,” broke in Mrs. Grimes crisply. - -“I beg your pardon?” - -“Poor Oliver has done nothing but pray since daybreak. He’s worn himself -out with prayer. I had to go out in the hall a while ago and tell him to -shut up. Make yourselves at home, everybody. I’ll be back in—my land!” - -Mr. Baxter, coatless, disheveled and in a state of extreme anguish, came -plunging down the stairs and into the room. - -“Whe-where’s the doctor?” he gasped. “My God, where’s Doc Robinson? He’s -dying! Hurry up, Serepty! My infant is dying! Oh me, oh my—oh me—” - -“Where is your coat, Oliver Baxter?” demanded little Mrs. Grimes, -severely. “Do you want to catch your death of cold?” - -“Coat? Say, can’t you hear him? He is calling for help. Listen! Sh! -Listen, everybody.” Then after a long period of silence in which -everybody frowned and listened intently, and no sound came from aloft, -he groaned: “Oh, Lord! He’s dead! Dead as a door nail!” - -“I guess it was the wind you heard, Ollie,” said Mr. Link, brightly. - -For the first time, Mr. Baxter allowed his gaze to concentrate upon some -definite object. He stared at the undertaker-livery man, and his jaw -dropped lower than ever. - -“The—the undertaker,” he gulped. “How—how did you get here so soon, -Silas? He ain’t been dead more than thirty seconds. He didn’t die -till—” - -“Calm yourself, Oliver,” admonished Mrs. Grimes, but soothingly. “Sit -down. It’s nothing but a pin. I’ll go up to him as soon as I’ve fixed -you.” She thrust the blankets into Mr. Gooch’s arms. “Hold these,” she -said. “Come over here by the stove, Oliver. Sit down. I’ll go fix a hot -mustard bath for you to stick your feet in. Give me one of those -blankets—oh, excuse me, I didn’t notice you were a stranger. Who—” - -“This is Ollie’s brother-in-law, Serepty,” explained Mr. Sikes. “Say, -Ollie, I’ve got a great surprise for you. Your sister and her husband -have come over from Hopkinsville to wish you many happy returns of the -day.” - -Mr. Baxter got up from the chair into which Serepty had forced him and -shook hands with his relatives. - -“You’ve—you’ve been drinking, Oliver,” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch, horrified. - -“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had,” admitted Oliver. “It isn’t every day -a feller has a—Why, good evening, Mrs. Sage. I didn’t see you come in. -Where’s Mr. Sage? Ain’t he—” - -“Sit down in that chair, Oliver Baxter,” commanded Mrs. Grimes. “I’m -going to wrap this blanket around you.” She relieved Mr. Gooch of one of -the blankets and proceeded to tuck Mr. Baxter snugly into the rocking -chair. “Then I’ll get the mustard bath. Now, you sit still, do you hear -me? Mary and the baby are all right. Make yourselves at home, everybody. -And you, Joe Sikes, answer the door if anybody knocks.” - -She snatched the other blanket away from Gooch and hurried to the -kitchen. After an awkward pause, rendered painful by the presence of the -two Gooches, the company made a simultaneous effort to break the ice -that suddenly had clogged the flow of conversation. - -“Eighteen miles through all this—” - -“From your telegram we thought a death had—” - -“It’s an ill wind that blows no—” - -“That’s a mighty fine pair of mares you—” - -“Nobody likely to knock at the—” - -Young Mrs. Sage came in at the end with the following question: - -“What are you going to name it, Mr. Baxter?” - -“Eh? It? It ain’t an it, Mrs. Sage. It’s a masculine gender. We’re going -to call him Oliver October. Sh! Isn’t that somebody on the porch, Joe? -Doc Robinson, like as not. Go to the door, will you?” - -“It’s the wind,” said Mr. Sikes. Nevertheless he went over and looked -out of the window. - -Another silence, broken at last by Mr. Baxter. - -“He’s got the finest head you ever saw,” said he, with a beatific -expression on his face. “Got a head like a statesman.” - -“Oh, that is good news,” said the Reverend Sage, jovially. “We’re sadly -in need of statesmen these days, Brother Baxter.” - -“Statesmen, your granny,” exploded Mr. Gooch, now thoroughly out of -patience. “That’s the trouble with this country. It’s being run entirely -by statesmen. That’s what I’ve been saying since March ’89. What we need -is a good, sound business man in the White House. President Harrison is -a fine lawyer, but if ever we needed a good Democrat back in the -presidential chair it’s now. Get rid of the statesmen. That’s my motto. -They’ve been—” - -Mrs. Gooch touched his arm and whispered in his ear: “You mean -politicians, Horace—politicians, _not_ statesmen.” - -Mr. Gooch was flabbergasted. “Consarn it, I’m always getting those two -words mixed,” he snarled. “But anyhow, this country made the blamedest -fool mistake on earth when it turned Grover Cleveland out and put these -blood-sucking Republicans back in power.” - -“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Mr. Link, witheringly. - -A heated political argument ensued, Mr. Gooch holding out against the -Messrs. Link and Sikes, both of whom were what he finally succeeded in -characterizing as “black Republicans.” He also charged them with waving -the “bloody shirt,” and in return heard his party classified as “out and -out copperheads.” - -Through it all, the anxious parent of Oliver October sat staring at the -bright red isinglass in the stove door, oblivious to the storm of words -that raged about him. Mrs. Sage, seated close beside him, finally -reached out and took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it -sympathetically. - -“Don’t you worry,” she said gently. - -He looked up, and a slow smile settled upon his homely features. - -“You ought to see his feet,” he murmured. “Little bits of things about -that long. Cutest feet you ever saw.” - -“I’ll bet they are,” said she warmly, and he was happier than he had -been in hours. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - - WOMEN IN RED SHAWLS - -The Reverend Sage, withdrawing his hallowed cloth from contact with even -baser politics, had moved over to one of the windows, and was gazing out -between the curtains across the gale-swept porch into the blackness -beyond. Through the window-light the fine snow swirled in shadowy -clouds, like an ever-moving screen beyond which lay mystery. He shivered -a little, poor chap, at the thought of going out again into the bitter, -unbelievable night—at the thought of his cold little home at the -farther end of the village where the drifts were high and the wind blew -fiercely over the treeless, unsheltered tract known as Sharp’s Field. He -was thinking, too, of the girl he had brought down with him as a bride -in the sunny days of June, when all the land was green and the air was -soft and warm and there was the tang of fresh earth and the scent of -flowers for grateful nostrils. - -He was thinking of her and the mile walk she would have to take with him -into the very teeth of the buffeting gale when this visit was over. He -sighed. She had come to this wretched little town from a great city -where there were horse-cars and cable-trains and hacks without number; -where houses and flats were warm and snug; where the shrieking storms -from off the lake were defied by staunch brick walls; where the nights -were short and the days were told by hours; where there were lights and -life, restaurants and theaters, music and dancing. He thought of the -cheap but respectable boarding-house on the cross-street just off -Lincoln Park and the warm little room on the third floor where he had -lived and studied for two full years. It was in this house that he had -met Josephine Judge. She was the daughter of the kindly widow who -conducted the boarding-house—a tall, slim girl who used slang and was -gay and blithesome, and had ambitions! - -Ambitions? She wanted to become an actress. She was stage-struck. It was -quite wonderful, the way she could mimic people, and “recite,” and sing -the sprightly songs from “Pinafore,” “La Mascotte,” “Fra Diavolo,” -“Fatinitza,” “The Bohemian Girl,” and could quote with real unction the -choicest lines of “Rosalind,” “Viola,” “Juliet” and other rare young -women of a flowery age. And she had made him and all the rest of the -boarders laugh when she “took off” Pat Rooney, Joe Murphy, the Kernells, -Gus Williams, “Oofty Gooft” and the immortal “Colonel Mulberry Sellers.” - -He was not a theatre-going youth. He had been brought up with an -abhorrence for the stage and all its iniquities. So he devoted himself, -heart and soul, to the saving of the misguided maiden, with astonishing -results. They fell in love with each other and were married. He often -smiled—and he smiled even now as he gazed pensively out into the -night—when he recalled the alternative she proposed and continued to -defend up to within a day or two of the wedding. She wanted him to give -up the pulpit and go on the stage with her! She argued that he was so -good-looking and had such a wonderful voice, that nothing—absolutely -nothing!—could keep him from becoming one of the most popular “leading -men” in the profession. She went so far as to declare that he would make -a much better actor than a preacher anyhow—and, besides, the stage -needed clean, upright young men quite as badly as the church needed -them! - -And now she was down here in this desolate little town, loyally doing -her best to be all that a country parson’s wife should be, working for -him, loving him,—and, if the truth must be told—surreptitiously -delighting him with frequent backslidings to Pat and Joe and Gus, -including occasional terpsichorean extravagances that would have got her -“churched” if any one else had witnessed them. - -He was always wondering what the people of Rumley thought of her. He -knew, alas, what she thought of the people of Rumley. His heart swelled -a little as he glanced over his shoulder and saw her patting the hand of -the distracted Baxter. She was his Josephine, and she was a -warm-hearted, beautiful creature who was bound to be misunderstood by -these—He was conscious of a sudden, unchristian-like hardening of his -jaws, and was instantly ashamed of the hot little spasm of resentment -that caused it. - -The political adversaries were now shouting at each other with all the -ridiculous intensity of mid-campaign lunatics, and there was a great -deal of finger-shaking and pounding of clenched fists upon open palms. -Young Mr. Sage cringed as he turned his face to the window again, and if -he had given utterance to his feelings he would have petrified the -arguers by roaring: - -“Oh, shut up, you jackasses!” - -He drew back with an exclamation. The light fell full upon a face close -to the window pane, a face so startling and so vivid that it did not -appear to be real. A pair of dark, gleaming eyes met his for a few -seconds; then swiftly the face was withdrawn, retreating mysteriously -into the shadowy wall beyond the circle of light. He leaned forward and -peered intently. Two indistinct figures took shape in the unrelieved -darkness at the corner of the porch—two women, he made out, huddled -close together, their faces barely discernible through the swirling veil -of snow. - -He experienced a queer little sensation of alarm, a foreboding of evil. -The face—that of a person he had never seen before, some one strange to -Rumley—was swarthy and as clean-cut as if fashioned with a chisel. It -was framed in scarlet—a bright scarlet speckled with vanishing blotches -of white. - -He turned quickly and spoke to Sikes. - -“There are two women out on the porch, Joseph. Strangers. Perhaps you’d -better see what they want.” - -“—and if Tilden _was_ elected, why in thunder did the majority of the -voters of this here United States allow the Republicans to—” - -“—and what’s more, if Hayes wasn’t honestly elected, why did the people -turn in and elect a Republican, James A. Garfield, in 1880? That’s proof -enough for me—” - -“—Tilden had nearly half a million more votes than—” - -“—And if the niggers had been allowed to vote in the South—” - -“Oh, cheese it!” - -Now this undignified exclamation was not uttered by either of the -arguers; nevertheless it terminated the discussion so abruptly that for -a moment or two it seemed that all three had suffered a simultaneous -stroke of paralysis. They turned to confront and to stare open-mouthed -at the wife of the minister, who had risen and was facing them with -blazing eyes. - -The horrified Mrs. Gooch, who had preserved a tremulous neutrality -throughout the windy discussion, believed—and continued to believe to -her dying day—that the brazen, overdressed young woman took the name of -the Savior in vain when she gave vent to that astonishing command. (In -witness whereof it is only necessary to record the declaration she made -to her husband, sotto voce, a little later on: “Horace, if I live to be -a thousand years old I’ll never get over the way that woman spoke the -Christian name of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was positively outrageous.”) - -Young Mrs. Sage, having thus impulsively reverted to slang, proceeded to -amplify its effectiveness. She went on: - -“Give us a rest, can’t you? Go chase yourselves! Where do you think you -are? In a beer saloon? If you want to shoot off your mouths about—” - -“My _dear_ Josephine!” cried Mr. Sage, screwing up his face as if in -pain. - -“Oh, Lord!” she breathed, staring bleakly at her husband. - -A close observer might have noted the sudden quivering of her lower lip, -instantly lost, however, in the shamed and penitent smile that wiped -away every trace of the irritation aroused by the argument. “There I go -again! Backsliding almost to Grand Crossing. In another minute I would -have been in Chicago. Good thing you stopped me, Herbert. And I sha’n’t -in the least mind if you give me a good thrashing when you get me home. -It’s the only way to break me of—” - -“Go for ’em—go for ’em, Mrs. Sage,” cried Mr. Baxter. “Give ’em hell! -They ain’t got any right to whoop and yell like that in this house. -They’ll wake the baby—if it ain’t dead—and—” - -“They’d wake it if it _was_ dead,” said Mrs. Grimes, coming from the -kitchen at that moment with a steaming pail in her hand. - -“Never mind, Josephine,” said Mr. Sage gently. “I am sure our good -friends will overlook—oh, by the by, Joseph, there are two strange -women on the porch. Perhaps you—” - -“Go see who it is, Joe,” commanded Mrs. Grimes crisply. “You come -upstairs now, Oliver, and put your feet in this pail of mustard and -water. Come on, now. Say good night to—” - -“But, doggone it, I don’t want to go upstairs. I don’t want to put my -feet in—” - -“Do you want that boy of yours to be an orphan before he’s hardly had -his eyes open?” demanded Mrs. Grimes, severely. “Well, that’s what he’ll -be if you catch lung fever.” - -“Better do what Serepty says, Ollie,” advised Mr. Link. - -“That’s right, Ollie,” added Mr. Sikes. “You go on upstairs. I’ll say -good night to everybody for you.” - -“You go and see who’s out there on the porch, Joe Sikes. Don’t let any -strangers in, do you hear? Oh, yes, Mr. Sage, I almost forgot. I fixed -up a nice gargle for you—salt and pepper and hot vinegar. It’s on the -kitchen table. There’s a strip of bacon laying there too. I’ll bring -down one of Mr. Baxter’s wool socks to tie around—For goodness’ sake, -Joe Sikes, shut that door before you open the front door. Do you want to -freeze us all to death?” - -“Wonderful manager, ain’t she?” confided Mr. Link in an aside to the -minister. - -“I see no reason why I should gargle a perfectly well throat and tie a -sock of Brother Baxter’s—” - -“You’d better do it,” broke in the other hastily. “She knows what’s -best.” - -“I tell you I’m not going upstairs, Serepty. I got a right to set here -and receive congratulations, and I’m going to do it. And I’m going to -set ’em up to cigars—and if anybody wants a drink of whiskey on me all -they got to do is to say so. You let me alone, Serepty. I’m all right. -You go up and see if everything’s all right with Mary and Oliver -October. I’m going to set right here and—” - -“I’ll put this mustard bath in the spare room, Oliver,” interrupted Mrs. -Grimes sternly. “It will be ready for you when you come up—before -long.” - -Mrs. Gooch whispered to her glowering husband: “I don’t see anything -about her to be afraid of. Why, she ain’t much bigger than a minute, is -she?” - -Tall Mr. Gooch eyed little Mrs. Grimes dubiously. “I don’t know,” said -he in reply. “They say Napoleon was a little feller.” - -“Did I spill the beans all over the shop, Herby dear?” murmured the -guilty Mrs. Sage, looking up at her husband much as a culprit looks up -at his judge. - -“I do wish, Josephine, you would be a _little_ more careful what you -say,” said he, lowering his voice as he bent over her. “Please try to -remember your—our position here. It is—” - -His mild admonition was interrupted by the abrupt return of Joseph -Sikes, who, in his excitement, neglected to close not only the -sitting-room door but the one opening on to the porch. Mrs. Gooch, as if -jumping at the opportunity, sneezed violently and transfixed him with an -accusing look. - -“Say, Ollie,” burst out Mr. Sikes, “there’s a couple of women out here -from that gypsy camp. They claim to be fortune-tellers. What’ll I do -about ’em?” - -“Fortune-tellers?” cried Mrs. Sage eagerly. “I adore fortune-tellers.” - -“Frauds, my dear—unholy frauds,” remonstrated Mr. Sage. - -“What do they want, Joe?” inquired Baxter. - -“Well, one of ’em wants to tell the baby’s fortune. Says she heard about -him a couple of weeks ago and she’s been talking to the stars ever—” - -“Good gracious! That proves what a liar she is,” cried Mrs. Grimes. - -“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Mr. Sikes. “Hold your horses, Serepty. She -says she knowed a couple of weeks ago that he was going to be born -to-day, that’s what she says. And if that ain’t reading the future, I’d -like to know what it is. Now here’s what she says she can do. She says -she can tell exactly what an infant’s future life is going to be if she -can get at him before his first two sunrises. Guarantees it.” - -“Well, I’m not going to allow any gypsy woman to go nigh that infant. I -never saw a gypsy in my life that looked as if she’d ever seen a cake of -soap. Send ’em away, Joe.” - -“But, Serepty,” argued Sikes, “don’t you know what might happen if we -make ’em mad? They put a curse on you that won’t ever come off. Now, I -don’t think we ought to take a chance—” - -“They sha’n’t go near that baby, so that settles it.” - -“Well, I should say not,” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch loudly. - -“Wait a minute,” said Sikes, struck by an idea. He hurried to the front -door. As he passed into the hall, Horace Gooch strode over and slammed -the sitting-room door after him. - -“Say, Serepty,” began Mr. Baxter, a pleading note in his voice, “I’d -kind of like to know whether my son is going to be President of the -United States some day.” - -“How would you like it if she was to tell you he’s going to turn out to -be a jail-bird or something like that, Oliver Baxter?” - -“Oh, but they never tell you anything unpleasant, you know,” said Mrs. -Sage, nudging Mr. Baxter. - -“My dear Josephine, please do not—” - -Once more Mr. Sikes burst into the room—and again he left the door -open. - -“She says it ain’t necessary to even see the baby. When they’re as young -as he is, it’s always her rule to tell their fortunes sight unseen. -What’s more, she says if all she says don’t come true she’ll refund the -money. Nothing could be fairer than that.” - -“Nothing,” agreed Mr. Baxter enthusiastically. - -“Absolutely fair,” put in Mr. Link. - -“How can she tell a fortune without seeing the object of it?” demanded -Mrs. Gooch. - -“Well,” began Mr. Sikes, and then was forced to scratch his head for -want of a convincing answer. “Wait a minute. I’ll see.” He hurried out -again. - -“Old Bob Hawkins that used to drive the hearse for me had his fortune -told just about two weeks after he got married, and every word of it -came true,” said Mr. Link. “He always claimed if he’d had it told two or -three weeks sooner he might have had enough sense to skip out or -something.” - -“It is all poppycock,” announced Mr. Sage. “The veriest poppycock.” - -“I had mine told,” said his wife, “when I was nineteen. It said I was -going to marry a dark-complexioned man and go on a long journey.” - -“Well, there you are,” said Mr. Baxter triumphantly. “The Reverend Sage -is a brunette and it’s considerably over a hundred miles from Chicago to -Rumley. There’s something in it, Serepty. Here’s proof that can’t be -denied.” - -“It’s all as simple as falling off a log,” announced Mr. Sikes, from the -door. “She says the only reliable and genuine way to tell a baby’s -fortune is by reading its father’s hand. That’s the way it’s been done -ever since—er—astronomy was invented.” - -Mr. Baxter arose. “Bring her in, Joe. Now, don’t kick, Serepty. My -mind’s made up. I’m going to have my way for once.” - -“Like as not she’ll tell you bad news, Oliver,” protested his sister. “I -wish you wouldn’t.” - -“Anyhow,” said Mr. Gooch surlily, “it’s a good way to get the door -closed.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - - HIS FORTUNE—GOOD AND BAD - -Mr. Sikes, taking no chance on having Baxter’s order vetoed by Serepta, -rushed from the room. A moment later he returned, followed by two -shivering women who stopped just inside the door and apologetically -smirked upon the waiting group. One of them, evidently the leader, was a -woman of middle-age—swarthy, keen-eyed, sardonic of expression. A thick -red shawl covered her hair, drawn close under the chin by a brown, -claw-like hand. She wore a man’s overcoat; the tips of a pair of heavy -boots peeped out from beneath the bottom of her dirty yellow petticoat. -Her companion, much younger and quite handsome in a bold, sullen way, -also wore a scarlet shawl about her head; she was dressed very much -after the pattern of her senior. - -“Here we are,” announced Mr. Sikes, with a wave of his hand. - -“Shut the door,” ordered Mrs. Grimes. - -The host, with a nervous sort of geniality, beckoned to the strangers. -“Better come down to the fire, Queen,” he said. - -They did not move. The elder woman fixed a curious look upon Mr. Baxter. - -“I am the queen of the gypsies, Mister, but how came you to know it?” -she asked in a hoarse, not unmusical voice. - -“Always best to be on the safe side,” said Baxter, with his jolliest -laugh. “There are so blamed many gypsy queens running around loose these -days that—” - -The gypsy silenced him with an imperious gesture. “There is but one true -queen of the gypsies. I am the true queen of all the Romanies. And you, -Mister, are the father of a noble, handsome son—a prince.” - -“Well, by gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Link in astonishment. “That does beat -all!” - -“Don’t tell me there’s nothing in fortune-telling,” said Mr. Baxter, -cackling again. “Come up by the fire, Queen. Warm yourself. And you too, -Miss.” - -The two women, after a glance at each other, slowly advanced to the -stove and held out their hands to the warmth. The younger of the two -fastened her gaze upon Mrs. Sage. A covetous light gleamed in her black -eyes as she took in the fur coat and the wondrous hat. - -“Bring in a couple of chairs from the kitchen, Joe,” ordered the host. -“Set down, everybody. Put on a little more coal, will you, Horace? How -did you know about me, Queen?” He seemed to expand a little with his own -rather vicarious importance. - -The gypsy waited impressively until the chairs were produced. - -“The stars brought me the news,” she said, and sat down, signaling her -companion that it was now permissible for her to do the same. “They make -no mistakes. I am the chosen mouthpiece of the stars. I speak only of -the things they tell me.” - -“Umph!” from Mr. Gooch. - -The two women looked at him so piercingly that he turned away, conscious -of a most uncomfortable feeling. - -“The stars, Mister, witnessed the birth of your son a hundred thousand -years ago—his birth and also his death,” said the “queen,” satisfied -with the squelching of the scoffer. “They also looked down upon your own -deathbed, Mister, a hundred thousand years ago.” - -There was an awed silence while the company sought mentally for a -solution to this tremendous and incomprehensible enigma. - -“Look here, Ollie,” said Mr. Link, blatantly jocular; “if you’ve been -dead as long as all that you ought to be buried. You stop in at my -office in the morning.” - -This remark properly was ignored by the gypsy queen. She paid no -attention to the strained laugh that followed the undertaker’s sally. -She sat hunched forward in the chair, her chin in her hands. - -“The stars travel through space at the rate of a million miles a -minute,” she said oracularly. “How long, Mister, would it take mortal -man to travel a million miles?” - -The question, addressed abruptly to Mr. Baxter, found him at a loss for -an answer. All he could do was to shake his head helplessly. - -“I see it is beyond you,” she went on. “So fast travel the stars that in -one day, such as ours, they have put behind them a hundred thousand of -the tiny things we call years.” - -No one present was prepared to dispute the statement. - -“Even as I speak to you now, Mister, my words are as ancient history to -the stars. So! I lift my hand. The stars are a thousand years older than -they were before I lifted it. Do you understand, Mister? Is it not clear -to you?” - -“Not very,” confessed Mr. Baxter, humbly. - -“See. I snap my fingers. Not in scorn for your ignorance, but to -illustrate. While I was snapping my fingers, some of the stars shot -through a million miles of space, taking thousands of our years to do -it.” - -“Mathematically—” began Mr. Sage, but got no further. The gypsy -proceeded, impressively: - -“They have witnessed all that is to transpire on this earth of ours -during the next thousand years or two.” - -“By gosh—it sounds reasonable,” said Mr. Link. “I never thought of it -in that way before.” - -“Will you permit me to inquire, my good woman, what college—what great -seat of learning—you attended?” inquired Mr. Sage ironically. - -“College?” she inquired, a trifle blankly. - -“You speak the language of a cultivated woman. You use good English. You -have colossal figures on the tip of your tongue. You—” - -“I speak many languages,” she broke in. “The language of the stars is -older than any of them. There were stars in the East when the Savior was -born. They were there when this world was made and peopled with ignorant -men and women. They saw from afar the birth of your Savior a million -years before he was—” - -“My dear Brother Baxter,” cried the parson, “this is perfect nonsense. -Have you the impudence, Madam, to imply that we mortals are so far -behind the times as all this?” - -“I know of nothing, Reverend Sir, that proves the fact more clearly than -the institution you represent,” said the gypsy, with a rare smile. - -“Goodness, what beautiful teeth!” murmured Mrs. Sage admiringly. - -“The best I can say for you, Madam,” said Mr. Sage, returning the smile, -“is that right or wrong, honest or dishonest, you are nobody’s fool.” - -“I can see beyond the end of my nose,” rejoined the woman cryptically. - -The parson laughed. “And so, according to your gospel, I am now treading -the streets of the Celestial City, and have been doing so for a million -years without knowing it?” - -With the utmost seriousness the gypsy replied: “If you will cross my -palm with a piece of silver, good Pastor, I may be able to state -positively whether you are there—or in the other place.” - -The parson’s wife clapped her hands. “Give her a quarter, Herbert,” she -cried, mischievously. “It certainly is worth that much to find out -whether we’re wasting our youth trying to—” - -“Ahem! My dear Josephine! In the first place, I do not have to be told -that I am going to heaven when I die. I live in faith. I have no doubt -as to the future.” - -At this point Mr. Baxter’s interest in the project got the better of his -politeness. - -“We’re wasting time. Let’s get down to business. Do you mean to say, -Queen, that you can look at my hand and tell what’s ahead of my boy -upstairs?” - -“First, you must cross my palm with silver. It is a bitter night, -Mister. I have come far through the storm to serve you. You are poor, -but so am I. I have earned more than one piece of silver, but I will be -content with what you may give.” - -“I believe I’ll take a chance on it,” said Baxter, with a defiant glance -at Mrs. Grimes and the supercilious Gooches. - -Mrs. Grimes was deeply though secretly impressed by the words and manner -of the gypsy. She nodded her head and Baxter brightened. Mr. Gooch, -however, exclaimed: - -“Don’t be a fool, Baxter. Money don’t grow on bushes.” - -Young Mrs. Sage jumped up from her chair. “I’ve got an idea,” she cried -briskly. “Suppose we all chip in a silver piece toward the fortune of -Oliver October. It’s his birthday, so let’s start him off right. You -pass the hat, Mr. Sikes. Chip in for me, Herbert. I left my purse on the -piano.” - -“I didn’t know you had a piano,” said Mrs. Grimes, pricking up her ears. - -“Figure of speech,” said Mrs. Sage, airily. “If I had a piano I would -have left my purse upon it if I had a purse.” - -There was a jingling of small coins in several pockets. The swarthy -faces of the two gypsies brightened. Horace Gooch glanced at his big -watch—a silver one—and said sharply: - -“Didn’t I tell you to get your things on, Ida? We’ve got a long, cold -drive ahead of us.” Then, somewhat defiantly: “Besides, I haven’t got -anything smaller than a silver dollar. No baby’s fortune is worth a -dollar.” - -“I guess the queen can change a dollar for you, Mr. Gooch,” said Mrs. -Grimes. “Joe, if you have a spare quarter, put it in for me. I’ll hand -it back to-morrow.” - -Sikes picked up the parson’s stove-pipe hat and, fishing some coins out -of his pocket, dropped two of them into the hollow depths of the “tile.” - -“That’s for me and Serepty. Come on, Silas. Shell out.” - -Link flipped a coin into the hat. “There’s a quarter. Now you can change -that dollar for—er—for Ollie’s brother-in-law.” - -“After all, it is a harmless experiment,” announced Mr. Sage, but -dubiously, “and it may prove diverting. In any case, my dear, we will -not miss the—er—the—the thirty-five cents.” As he dropped the coins -into the hat, he leaned over and whispered in her ear: “There goes the -jar of cold cream you were wanting, my dear.” - -Oliver October’s parent was embarrassed. “It ain’t right for you folks -to be squandering all this money on account of little Oliver October. -You can’t afford it. ’Specially Horace.” - -“What’s that?” snapped Mr. Gooch, reddening. “What do you think I am? A -pauper?” With that he tossed a silver dollar into the hat. “That’s the -kind of a sport I am.” - -“Oh, Horace!” cried his wife, starting. “That was a dollar.” - -“I know it was. Why?” - -“Oh—nothing. Only—only you acted as if it was a dime.” - -“How much you got, Joe?” inquired Silas. - -“Two-ten. Put your money back in your pocket, Ollie. She ought to tell -all our fortunes for two-ten.” - -But Baxter, ignoring him, dropped a dollar into the hat, an act of -vanity which drew from Mrs. Grimes a little squeak of dismay. - -“Goodness, Oliver Baxter! The child’s got to have clothes.” - -“How do you know it has to have clothes?” demanded Baxter. “Wait till -the queen gets through telling what’s going to happen to him before you -go to prophesying on your own account.” - -“I wish I’d put you to bed when I started to awhile ago,” was her -retort. - -Mrs. Gooch, who had been a silent and disapproving witness to all this -prodigality, piped up: “I was fool enough to have my fortune told at the -county fair once. By a trained canary bird. For ten cents only.” - -“You never told me about it, Ida,” said Mr. Gooch sourly. - -Sikes turned the money over to Baxter. “Cross her palm with it, Ollie,” -said he. - -“What guarantee is there that we get our money’s worth?” demanded Mr. -Gooch, crinkling his eyes a little as he listened to the jingle of the -coins which Baxter shifted noisily from one hand to the other while -Sikes was arranging the chairs in a semi-circle about the central -figures. - -The “queen” looked hard at the speaker. “We all come into the world by -chance, Mister,” she said. “We exist by chance and we are destroyed by -chance. The child’s future depends on chance. I can give no guarantee. -Who shall say whether I speak truly or falsely until time has given its -testimony?” - -“A remarkably clever woman,” murmured Mr. Sage, as he seated himself. - -“I’d hate to hear any bad news about little Oliver October,” said Baxter -anxiously. - -“You must accept the bad with the good, Mister. Our fortunes run over a -road of many turnings, through many snares and pitfalls. Fate directs -us. Each of us has a guiding star. We travel by the light it sheds. Your -baby was born under his own star. His fate is known to that star.” - -“Hold out your hand. I’ll say in advance that I don’t believe in -fortune-telling, so if you tell me anything bad it won’t make any -difference. Before you begin, I guess I’ll run upstairs and see if he is -still all right.” - -“You stay away from that baby, Oliver Baxter,” exclaimed Mrs. Grimes. -“Like as not these gypsies carry all sorts of awful diseases around with -’em. Sit down, I say. I won’t have any strangers busting in and -frightening that child.” - -“Great Scott, Serepty! You don’t call _me_ a stranger, do you?” - -“He don’t know you from Adam,” was the stern reply. - -“Or Eve, for that matter,” added Mrs. Sage, with a snicker. - -“I do wish, Josephine, you would remember—” - -“Sh! She’s ready to begin,” interrupted Baxter. - -The company drew their chairs closer as the coins were dropped one by -one into the gypsy’s palm. She deliberately drew up her thick skirt and -slipped them into a pocket of her petticoat. Then she seized one of -Baxter’s hands in her own and fixed him with her brilliant, searching -eyes. Silence pervaded the room. Every eye was on the dark, impassive -face of the fortune-teller. Presently, after a few strange passes with -her free hand, she lowered her eyes and began to study the creases in -the Baxter palm. - -A particularly violent blast of wind roared and whistled about the -corners of the house, rattling the windows in their frames and peppering -the panes with a fusillade of sleet. The younger gypsy drew her shawl -closer about her chin and slunk a little deeper into the chair. - -“A tough night on horses,” said Mr. Link, and then cleared his throat -hastily. - -“Maybe you’d sooner be alone, Ollie,” said Mr. Sikes, considerately. - -“I wouldn’t be left alone with her for anything, Joe.” - -The gypsy began, in a deep, monotonous, rather awesome tone. - -“I see a wonderful child. He is strong and sturdy. In the hand of his -father the stars have laid their prophecy. It is very clear. This babe -will grow up to be a fine—Ah, wait! Yes, a very remarkable man.” - -Another long silence, broken sacrilegiously by Mr. Sikes. - -“I could have told you that, Ollie, for nothing,” he said. - -“Sh!” - -“I can see this son of yours, Mister, as a leader of men. Great honor is -in store for him, and great wealth.” - -“They invariably say that,” said Mr. Sage, smiling. - -“Sh!” hissed Baxter fiercely. - -“He is in uniform. Of the military, I believe, although the vision is -not yet entirely clear. I do not recognize the uniform.” - -“Have you ever seen a general?” inquired Mr. Baxter, wistfully. - -Mr. Link interposed. “I know what it is. Many’s the time that infant’s -father has marched in a funeral procession wearing a Knights of Pythias -uniform. Does the hat appear to have a long white plume on it, Queen?” - -“There will be wars, Mister, bloody wars,” went on the gypsy, paying not -the slightest attention to the obliging undertaker. “I see men in -uniform following your son—many men, Mister, and all of them armed.” - -“Sounds like the police to me,” observed Mrs. Sage. - -“Do they catch him?” cried Mrs. Grimes breathlessly. - -“He puts away the trappings of war,” continued the imperturbable -seeress. “I see him as a successful man, at the head of great -undertakings. He is still young. He has been out of college but a few -years.” - -“That will please his mother,” said Baxter, sniffling. “She has always -wanted that boy to go to college.” - -“Sh!” put in Mr. Sikes testily. - -“Alas! He will have a great sorrow before he is ten. I can see death -standing beside him. He will lose some one who is very dear to him.” - -“Aha!” ejaculated Mr. Gooch, as if here was something to relish. - -Mr. Baxter laughed shrilly but mirthlessly. “Look close, Queen,” he -said. “I bet it’s me he’s going to lose.” - -“Nay. Some one nearer to him than his father.” - -“Stop!” said he soberly, trying to withdraw his hand. “I don’t want to -hear any more. If you mean his—his mother, why, you’ll have to stop.” - -Some coaxing and a little ridicule on the part of the spectators decided -Baxter. He laughed and, edging forward on his chair, ordered the gypsy -to continue. - -“Let me go back a little,” she droned. “The vision is clearer. He will -come out of college at the top of his class, with great honors. Then, -soon after, will come the wars. He will fight in foreign lands.” - -“That bears out what I’ve claimed for years,” said Mr. Link. “We’ve got -to lick England again.” - -“Your son will have many narrow escapes, Mister, but he will come home -to his mother, safe and sound.” - -“I thought you said she was going to die before he was ten,” said Mr. -Gooch. - -Covert glances passed between the two gypsies, the younger now being -wide awake. The fortune-teller bent low over the Baxter palm and studied -it more carefully. - -“I—I seem to see a strange woman,” she muttered. “Perhaps it is his -step-mother. It is possible that you will marry again, Mister.” - -“You’re off your base there, Queen,” said Mr. Baxter firmly. “It _ain’t_ -possible.” - -“This is all humbug, Brother Baxter.” - -“A great deal more is being revealed to me by the light of the star, -Mister,” urged the gypsy, now eager to give good measure. “Shall I go -on?” - -“After what you said about me being likely to get married again, all I -got to say is that I don’t believe a derned word of anything you’ve told -me. That boy’s never going to have a step-mother unless he has a -step-father first.” - -“You feel the same way about step-mothers that I do about -brother-in-laws,” put in Mr. Sikes. - -“Go on, Queen,” commanded Mr. Baxter. - -“I see a great white house and a building with a huge dome upon it. Your -son will sit in the halls of state, in the councils of his land. Ah, the -vision grows dim again. It may mean that he will decline the greatest -honor the people of this land could confer upon him.” - -“Oh, dear,” gulped Mrs. Grimes. “You don’t mean to say he will refuse to -be President?” - -“It’s more likely he’ll be running on the Republican ticket,” said Mr. -Gooch, grinning at Mr. Link. - -“Sh! How old is little Oliver by this time, Queen?” inquired Baxter. “I -mean how far have you got him by now?” - -“He is nearing thirty. Rich, respected and admired. He will have many -affairs of the heart. I see two dark women and—one, two—yes, three -fair women.” - -Mrs. Sage sighed. “At last it begins to look like real trouble.” - -“That would seem to show that he’s going to be a purty good-looking sort -of a feller, wouldn’t it?” said Baxter, proudly. - -“He will grow up to be the image of his father, Mister.” - -“Now she’s telling you the unpleasant things you were dreading, Oliver,” -said Gooch. - -The gypsy leaned back in her chair, spreading her hands in a gesture of -finality. - -“I see no more,” she said. “The light of the star has faded out. So! Are -you not pleased?” - -“Is that all? Well, all I got to say is that you got a good deal of -money for telling me something that I’ve been dreaming about for I don’t -know how long.” - -Mrs. Gooch sniffed. “She’s just like all the rest of these thieving -gypsies. They’re all frauds and liars. Telling fortunes and stealing -children is all they know how to do. If I had my way, they’d all be -locked up.” - -The two gypsies leaned forward, their hands close to the stove, their -heads almost touching. There was nothing in their actions or manner to -indicate that they heard the foregoing remarks. Nevertheless, they -scowled unseen and there was evil in their black eyes. - -“Anybody could have told you all that she did, Oliver,” complained Mrs. -Grimes, “but that wouldn’t make it true, would it? Three dollars and ten -cents for all that rubbish!” - -“And they’ll be robbing your hen roost before morning, Baxter,” said Mr. -Gooch. - -“Well,” mused Baxter, “the only really unpleasant thing that’s going to -happen to Oliver October, far as I can make out, is that he’s going to -look exactly like me. That _is_ purty rough, ain’t it, Mrs. Sage?” - -“At any rate,” said she, “he will have the satisfaction of being -unmistakably recognized as a wise son.” - -The gypsies were preparing to depart. Their shifty eyes wandered over -the heads of the company, taking in the meager contents of the room. -There was a pleased leer on the lips of the younger of the two. Mr. -Baxter arose. - -“Taking it by and large, Queen,” he said, “I guess you took us all in -purty neatly. I ain’t blaming you. It’s your business to pick out the -easiest kind of fools and then soak it to ’em.” - -The “queen” drew herself erect and gave him a look that would have done -credit to the most regal personage in the world. - -“Would you offer insult to the queen of the gypsies?” she demanded -coldly. - -“It ain’t insulting you, is it, to call ourselves fools?” - -For answer, outraged royalty reached into her pocket and drew out the -silver. - -“I could throw your accursed silver into your face,” she almost shouted. -As she drew back her arm as if to carry out the threat, her wrist was -seized by her companion, who whispered fiercely in her ear. “No, no!” -the “queen” answered, “I will not do as you say, Magda. I will not be -cruel. Let the fool be happy while he may. I have been kind to him. He -jeers at me because I have stopped when I might have gone on and told -him the dreadful things—” - -“Tell him!” cried the other. “Tell him everything.” - -“Open the door, Joe!” commanded Baxter. “Get out, both of you.” - -The “queen” turned on him furiously. “Stay! I am about to tell you all -that I saw in the hand of that baby’s father.” Her eyes were hard and -cruel, her voice raised in anger. “You scoff at me. For that you shall -have the truth. All that I have told you will come true. But I did not -tell you of the end that I saw for him. Hark ye! This son of yours will -go to the gallows. He will swing from the end of a rope.” She was now -speaking in a high shrill voice; her hearers sat open-mouthed, as if -under a spell that could not be shaken off. “It is all as plain as the -noonday sun. He will never reach the age of thirty. All good fortune -will desert him in the last year of his life. The very first vision I -had when I took your hand was the sight of a young man swinging in the -air with a rope around his neck. A solemn group of men look on. They -watch him swing to and fro. He jerks and writhes and then at last is -still. That is all. That is the end. I have spoken the truth. You forced -me to do so. I go. Come, Magda!” - -They were nearing the door before the silence caused by this staggering -revelation was shattered by Mr. Sikes, who was the first to recover from -the momentary paralysis that had gripped the entire company. The burly -feed store proprietor, superstitious but far from sentimental, sprang -forward and intercepted the two women. - -“Hold on, there! I don’t believe a damn’ word of it—and neither does -Mr. Baxter, no matter if he does look white about the gills. You’re -sore, and you’re saying all this for spite.” - -The queen lifted her chin haughtily. “You will see,” she proclaimed. -“Wait till the end of his twenty-ninth year before you say it is spite.” - -“Say,” broke in Mr. Link shrewdly, “he’s got to commit murder before -they can hang him, ain’t he?” - -“I have not said that he would be a murderer,” was the reply, but not -until after she had taken the time to deliberately button her coat and -readjust her headgear. - -“Did you not say you saw him swinging to and fro at the end of a rope?” -demanded Silas, accusingly. - -“Yes—I—I—that is what I said,” she stammered, and sent a malevolent, -challenging look at the smiling churchman. - -“The woman is a fraud,” said the latter, shrugging his shoulders. “Cheer -up, Brother Baxter. No such fate awaits your son.” - -“Well, what I was about to say,” went on Mr. Link, “is this. All we got -to do is to bring that boy up not to commit murder. We simply got to -educate him so’s he won’t ever think of doing anything like that. Learn -him to hold his temper down. Soon as he’s old enough to understand, -we’ll begin talking to him about the—er—wages of sin, and so forth. -That’ll fix it all right, Ollie. So don’t you believe a derned word she -said to you.” - -But Mr. Baxter was not so much dismayed as he was dejected. He stared -bleakly before him. “The trouble is,” said he, shaking his head -mournfully, “there’s a lot of it I want to believe. And if I believe any -of it, I’ve got to believe all of it. So what’s the sense of little -Oliver being one of the grandest men in the United States if he’s got to -be hung before the United States finds it out? Here! Where are you -going, Serepty? Don’t leave me.” - -“I am going out to get a kettle of boiling water and then I’m going to -make that woman wish she’d stayed out where it’s cold. The idea of that -poor little innocent baby being a bloodthirsty murderer! If you’re here -when I get back, I’ll scald you—” - -The gypsy made haste to intercept the bristling Serepta. - -“He will not be guilty of the crime for which he is to suffer,” was her -sententious conclusion. “Have I not said he would grow up to be a noble -and righteous man? He will never do evil. He will be unjustly accused of -slaying a fellow man. He will die on the gallows an innocent victim of -the law. That is all. I have spoken. I have told you his fate as the -stars have revealed it to me. You may believe me or not, as you like. -Hold! You need not bother, Mister. Magda will open the door.” - -It was a speechless, unsmiling group that watched the vagabond women -pass from the room. No one spoke until the front door closed with a -bang. The crunching of snow on the porch followed, and then for a brief -space, the loud ticking of the clock on the shelf. The sophisticated -Mrs. Sage was bereft of all inclination to banter; she was wide-eyed and -solemn. Even her husband was impressed; as for Baxter and the others one -might have been justified in suspecting that they were already -witnessing the horrible execution of the infant Oliver. - -A wild, prolonged shriek of the wind, yowling up from the black -stretches of Death Swamp, caused more than one person in the room to -shudder. The humane Mr. Link closed his eyes but opened them -immediately, and said, with less conviction however than on former -occasions: - -“It’s a tough night for horses.” - -Mr. Sikes bethought himself to poke up the fire. He did it with such -vigor that every one was grateful to him; the prodigious noise and -clatter he was making relieved the tension. - -Baxter screwed his face up into a wry grin, but for once forebore -cackling. He drew a singularly boisterous and unanimous laugh by -remarking dryly: - -“I wish we had a canary bird here, Ida, to cheer us up a bit.” - -“Keep that blanket up close around your neck and shoulders, Oliver -Baxter,” ordered Serepta Grimes briskly. “You’ll be having croup if you -ain’t careful. Mrs. Gooch, you and your husband can sleep in the spare -room to-night. Mr. Baxter will take the back bedroom over the kitchen. -It’s warmer than any other room in the house. Good night, everybody. -I’ll go up the back way with the warm blanket for Oliver October.” - -With her departure, Mr. Baxter seemed suddenly to realize that something -was expected of him as host. - -“Sit down, everybody,” he invited, and that was the extent of his -hospitality. He lapsed into a brooding silence, pulling feebly at the -drooping ends of his mustache. His mood was contagious. The company, one -and all, appeared to be thinking profoundly. At last the Reverend Sage -spoke. - -“There’s nothing in it—absolutely nothing.” - -Mrs. Sage came out of a dark reverie to inquire blandly of Mrs. Gooch if -she was intending to spend the night. - -“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Baxter’s sister. “I’ve had my things on -and off three times.” - -Mr. Link pondered aloud. “If little Oliver grows up to be as wise as -Solomon, as she seems to think, I’ll bet my last cent he’ll be able to -get around any law that ever was made.” - -Suddenly Baxter startled them all by slapping his leg resoundingly. His -face was beaming. - -“By ginger, I’ve thought of a way to upset that doggoned prophecy. I’ll -wait till little Oliver is purty well grown up and then I’ll up and move -to a state where they don’t have capital punishment. Gosh! I wish I’d -thought of that before she got away. It would have taken a lot of wind -out of her sails, wouldn’t it?” - -Mr. Gooch put a dampener on this. “I don’t see how that would help any -if a mob took him out of jail and lynched him. They say lynching is -getting worse all the time in this part of the country.” - -Whereupon Mr. Sikes arose and said something under his breath, adding an -instant later: - -“Don’t let me hear anything about Solomon being so dodgasted wise. Look -at all the brother-in-laws he must have taken unto himself—and with his -eyes open, too.” - - - - - CHAPTER V - - - OLIVER IS FOUND TO HAVE A TEMPER - -Ten years pass. The time has come when Oliver October Baxter is to be -told what is in store for him if he does not mend his ways. For, be it -here recorded, Oliver not only possesses a quick temper but a -surprisingly sanguinary way of making it felt. He is a rugged, -freckle-faced youngster with curly brown hair, a pair of stout legs, and -a couple of hard little fists. It is with these hard little fists that -he makes his temper felt. Ordinarily he retires behind a barn or down -into the grove back of the school-house to settle his quarrels, not -through any sense of delicacy but because both he and his adversary of -the moment realize that if they are caught at it the pride of victory or -the gloom of defeat would soon be forgotten in the sound thrashings -administered by teacher or parent, justice monstrously untempered by -mercy. - -But there came a day when Oliver’s valor got the better of his -discretion, and, sad to relate, Joseph Sikes and Silas Link took that -very day to accompany each other to the north end of town, where, just -beyond the school-house, was situated the home of a vacillating -Republican who had made up his mind to vote the Democratic ticket at the -coming county election. They were on their way, as a committee of two, -to convince him that he couldn’t commit a crime like that and still go -on enjoying the respect, the confidence, and to some extent, the credit, -that had been his up to that time. - -They arrived at the school-house just in time to witness a fierce but -bloodless fight between two panting, clawing youngsters. It was taking -place in the schoolyard, in plain view of passers-by, and was being -relished by a score or more of pupils of both sexes. - -Now, Mr. Sikes was a man who enjoyed a good fight. He was getting to the -age where he had to think twice and study his adversary cautiously -before engaging in one himself, for, notwithstanding his strength and -his pugnacity, he was not the man he used to be—witness: the awful -beating he sustained in his fifty-second year at the hands of Joe Fox, -the twenty-one year old shortstop on the Rumley base ball team. It was -he, therefore, who stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and gleefully -yelled “sic-em” to the battling youngsters. - -Mr. Link, nothing loth, turned back to join him at the fence. The broad -grins suddenly froze on their faces. The surge of battle caused the ring -of spectators to open up a little, exposing the combatants to plain view -from the excellent vantage point held by the Messrs. Sikes and Link. -They recognized Oliver October—but never had they seen him look like -this! His chubby face was white and set, his teeth were bared, his eyes -were blazing. He was the embodiment of fury. And he was fighting like a -demon! - -“Gosh!” fell from the lips of Joseph Sikes, and his cigar would have -done likewise had it not been so deeply inserted. - -“It’s—it’s little Oliver!” gasped Silas Link, gripping the top board of -the fence. - -“Fi-fighting!” muttered Mr. Sikes, aghast. - -“Like a wildcat,” groaned Mr. Link. - -“Why, he’s a reg’lar little devil.” - -“Looks as if he’d like to kill that boy of Sam Parr’s. We got to stop -’em, Joe—Hey, there! You boys quit that! Hear what I say? Quit it -this—” - -Suddenly there was a cry of “teacher,” and then a wild scattering of -spectators. The schoolmaster, Mr. Elwell, was advancing upon the -belligerents. The Parr boy, in no fear of Oliver, was stricken by the -most abject terror in the presence of an on-rushing doom, for well he -knew the sting of Mr. Elwell’s hand when punitively applied to the seat -of his breeches whilst he reposed in ungainly disorder across the -pedagogic knee. It was the Parr boy’s luck to be facing the teacher as -he swooped down upon them. He took advantage of that gracious bit of -luck, and, turning tail, sped swiftly away, leaving the astonished -Oliver to his fate. - -A firm hand fell upon the Baxter boy’s shoulder and closed in a grip -that brought a stifled yelp from the lips of the unvanquished warrior. -Then something happened that drew a simultaneous groan of dismay from -the elderly onlookers. Oliver October, still in a state of baffled fury -and wriggling in the clutch of the common enemy of all schoolboys, -delivered a vicious kick at an Elwell shin. So faultless was his aim -that Mr. Elwell’s grunt of pain was loud enough to be heard by timid -schoolgirls some twenty yards away—and as it was an articulate grunt -those who heard it plainly were shocked, as good little girls ought to -be. Oliver, blubbering with rage, kicked again and again, efforts -rendered futile by the length of the teacher’s arm. - -A little girl of six, in a brown coat and a red tam o’ shanter, stood -near by, shrieking with terror. She alone of all the scholars had failed -to leave the field of battle. - -The two lifelong friends of the Baxter family looked at each other. -Speech was unnecessary. Their expressions spoke plainer than words. They -faced calamity—desolating calamity. Oliver October had a temper, and it -was ungovernable! He was ferocious! He was a regular little devil! They -watched the teacher as he yanked the struggling lad across the yard and -into the school-house, and a great dread took possession of their souls. - -Said Mr. Sikes: “Don’t you think we’d better go in there and rescue him -while there’s time to—” - -“Not a bit of it,” protested Mr. Link. “Let him take his medicine.” - -“Who are you talking about?” - -“Oliver October. Who did you think I was talking about?” - -“Arthur Elwell, of course. That boy’s got a knife. I gave it to him last -Christmas—darn my fool soul! Chances are he’ll stick it into Arthur—” - -“Listen!” hissed Mr. Link. A series of sharp, staccato howls in the -shrill voice of a boy came from the interior of the school-house. “That -don’t sound much like Oliver was sticking a knife into anybody, does -it?” - -“But the way he kicked Arthur on the shin,” began Mr. Sikes forcibly. -“Why, that boy’s got murder in his heart, Silas. And the way he fought -that Parr boy. Gee whiz! He’s got a lot of hell in him and it’s just -beginning to break loose. I tell you, Silas, that gypsy was right. No -use trying to laugh it off. Now maybe you and Reverend Sage will pay -some attention to me. I’ve been saying for two or three years we ought -to take that boy in hand and train him to keep—” - -“Why, darn it, ain’t we been training him since he first began to walk? -Ain’t we been making him go to Sunday-school, and—” - -“Yes, but we never told him to fight or kick his teacher, did we?” - -“Certainly _not_.” - -“Well, he’s doing it, ain’t he? Going to Sunday-school ain’t helped him -a damn’ bit. I said it wouldn’t. It’s been a waste of money, that’s what -it’s been.” - -“Waste of—how do you make that out? Sunday-school’s free, ain’t it?” - -“Every Sunday for the last five years,” proceeded Mr. Sikes, “I’ve been -giving that boy a nickel to put in the collection box—and here he is, -behaving as bad as any boy in town. I—Gee whiz! Listen to him yell! -Say, we’d ought to go in there and put a stop to that dodgasted idiot. -He’ll kill the poor boy.” - -The wails indoors ceased abruptly, but, to the astonishment of the -highly exercised pair, they were taken up almost directly under their -noses. That is to say, their attention was drawn for the first time to -the little six-year-old girl, whose heart-rending squeals were now -piercing the silence that followed the awful uproar in which Oliver -October had been taking part. - -“Hello!” cried Mr. Sikes. “What are _you_ crying about, Janie?” - -“You ain’t been spanked,” supplemented Mr. Link. He reached over the -fence and put his hands under the arms of the weeping child. Lifting her -over, he held her close to his expansive breast. She buried her face on -his shoulder and sobbed. “There, there, now,” he whispered soothingly. -“Your Uncle Silas won’t let anybody hurt you.” - -“Your Uncle Joe will just everlastingly slaughter anybody that touches -you,” added Mr. Sikes fiercely. - -They waited, their eyes fixed on the school-house door. Presently they -were rewarded. A small figure, with tousled hair and a face screwed up -into a mask of pain and mortification, came slinking down the steps—a -thoroughly chastened gladiator who sniffled and was without glory. His -streaming eyes swept the yard and took in the staring group of pupils -clustered at the upper corner; and then the two “Uncles” at the fence. -He stopped short in his tracks—but only for an instant. His degradation -was complete. With an explosive sob, wrenched from his very soul, he -whirled and darted around the corner of the building and disappeared -from view. - -Mr. Link, bearing the sobbing Jane in his arms, turned and started back -in the direction from which he had come, his companion trailing close -behind. They had changed their minds about seeing the recalcitrant -Republican. As they strode swiftly away they heard the stern voice of -the schoolmaster calling out: - -“Where is Sammy Parr?” - -But Sammy was far, far away, streaking it for home; a chorus of treble -voices answered for him: - -“He ain’t here, teacher.” - -Now, the incident just related may appear to be of very small -consequence as viewed from the standpoint of the disinterested -spectator—who, it so happens, must be the reader of this narrative. As -a matter of fact, it has a great deal to do with the history of Oliver -October Baxter. It was that gallant afternoon’s engagement between the -supposedly pacific Oliver and his bosom friend, Sammy Parr, that aroused -the town as nothing else had stirred it in years. Certainly nothing had -stirred it in quite the same way. - -For nearly ten years every adult citizen of Rumley had looked upon -Oliver October as a sort of public liability. Within twenty-four hours -after it was uttered on that fierce October night, the sinister prophecy -of the gypsy queen was known from one end of the town to the other, and -while many scoffed and made light of it, not one was there among them -who felt confident that Oliver would be absolutely safe until he had -passed his thirtieth birthday. And now, after ten years of complacent -trust in Oliver October, the town was to discover that he had an -outlandish temper and a decided inclination to commit murder—in a small -way, to be sure, but none the less instinctive. - -If Oliver and Sammy had retired—as was the custom—to some secluded -battlefield, no doubt the crisis would have been delayed. But inasmuch -as Sammy had taken it into his head to torment little Jane Sage in so -public a place as the playground it was only natural that her champion -should offer battle on the spot. Moreover, he scorned Sammy’s invitation -to “come on down back of the warehouse,” and likewise was indifferent to -the warnings of peacemakers who urged them not to fight until they were -safely out of all danger of being interfered with by the teacher. It is -probable—aye, more than that, it is absolutely certain—that young -Oliver wished to “lick” the offender in the presence of the offended, -and that would have been quite out of the question had they repaired to -some familiar jousting-ground. At any rate, he valiantly pitched into -Sammy and was getting the better of him under the very eyes of his -“ladye faire” when the not unexpected catastrophe occurred. - -Juvenile Rumley knew him far better than its seniors. It had seen him -fight on more than one occasion—which was more than grown-up Rumley had -seen or even suspected—but so loyal is youth that not a word of his or -any other boy’s fistic exploits ever reached the ears of the blissfully -ignorant. - -Messrs. Sikes and Link, having abandoned their original mission, were -bent upon a new one. They were filled with a deep concern, and spoke but -few words to each other in the course of the half-mile walk to the home -of the Reverend Herbert Sage. Their reticence may have been due to the -presence of little Jane Sage, who walked between them; or, it may have -been due to the seriousness of their reflections. The statement that -Jane walked between them is not an accurate one. It is true that Mr. -Sikes held one of her hands while Mr. Link held the other, but her legs -were short and theirs were long, and so there were times when her feet -failed to touch the ground at all, or, in touching it, were sadly -without sustained purpose. - -Shortly before seven o’clock that evening, Oliver October, fearing the -worst, remarked three well-known figures coming up the path to the -Baxter house. He had just finished his supper and was on the point of -departing for the home of Sammy Parr down the road for a few minutes’ -play before darkness fell. Seeing the three visitors and sensing the -nature of their descent upon the home of his father, he stole out the -back way, and, even as a dog retreats with his tail between his legs, -made tracks toward the barn and its friendly hayloft. Something told him -that Sammy’s parents already had received a call from the dread -Committee of Three and perhaps were even now making it hot for Sammy—in -which case that bosom friend of his would be in no mood for play. - -“Where’s Oliver October?” inquired Mr. Sikes of Mr. Baxter, who opened -the door to admit his callers. - -Mr. Baxter is scrawnier than he was at forty-five, which is saying -something that challenges the credulity. He is still strong, and active, -and wiry, but he is a thing of knobs and joints and wrinkles. The -passing years seem deliberately to have neglected the rest of his person -in a shameless endeavor to develop for him a prize Adam’s apple; it has -become quite a fascinating though bewildering product, scarce what you -would call an adornment and yet not without its own peculiar charm. - -It is a shifting, unstable hump that appears to have no definite place -of lodgment; no sooner does it settle into a momentary state of repose -than something comes up—or down—to disturb its serenity and, in a -charmed sort of way, you watch it resume its spasmodic titillations. It -grips you. You can’t help wondering what it is going to do next. And as -it happens to be placed in the scrawniest part of Mr. Baxter’s -person—his neck—it is always visible. He makes a practice of removing -his collar the instant he reaches home of an evening, a provision that -affords great relief not only to himself but also to the vagrant -protuberance. - -Which accounts for his being quite collarless when he faced his three -visitors. He blinked at them uneasily, for their faces were long and -joyless. - -“He was here a minute ago,” he replied. “Why?” - -“Before we proceed any farther, Brother Baxter,” announced the Reverend -Sage, “I wish to state that I do not agree with our friends here.” - -“You never do agree with us,” said Mr. Link, but without a trace of -resentment. - -“I wouldn’t go quite so far as that if I were you, Silas,” protested the -minister affably. “It is only in the case of Oliver October that I -disagree with you. We heartily agree on almost everything else, I am -sure.” - -“But the time has come when we got to agree about Oliver October,” -declared Mr. Sikes dictatorially. “I said it would come, and here it is. -I only hope we ain’t too late. It seems to be the style not to pay a -damn’ bit of attention to anything I say nowadays. It’s a hell of a—” - -“My dear Brother Sikes,” broke in the parson, lifting his eyebrows. - -Joseph Sikes swallowed hard before speaking again. “It ain’t always my -fault when I cuss and blaspheme like this,” he muttered defensively. - -“The thing is,” began Mr. Link, compressing his lips and squinting -earnestly; “what is the best way to go about it?” - -“Go about what?” demanded the mystified Mr. Baxter. - -“Have you licked him yet?” inquired Sikes darkly. - -“Licked who?” - -“Oliver October.” - -“Not in the last three years. I promised I wouldn’t.” - -“Do you mean to tell me, Ollie Baxter, that you don’t know what that -boy’s been up to to-day?” - -Oliver’s parent regarded Mr. Sikes coldly. “Yes, I _do_ know,” he -snapped. - -“Well, what _has_ he been up to, if you know so much about it?” - -“None of your derned business. I’m not obliged to consult you or -anybody—” - -“Calm yourself, Brother Baxter,” admonished the parson gently. “As I was -saying before, I do not agree with Joe and Silas. They are making a -mountain out of a mole hill. The boy is all right. He is high-spirited, -he is mischievous—as all boys are if they’re any good at all—and he is -not a coward. Of course, it would be most reprehensible—er—and quite -unpardonable in me if I were to say that I approve of fighting, but when -I look back upon my own boyhood and recall the—er—rather barbarous joy -I took in bloodying some other boy’s nose, I—ahem!—well, I believe I -can understand why Oliver October preferred to stand up and fight rather -than run away. Ahem! Yes, in spite of my calling, I think I can -understand that in any real boy.” - -Mr. Baxter’s face lengthened. “Oh, Lordy! Has Oliver been fighting?” - -“Like a wildcat,” said Mr. Sikes sententiously. “Everybody in town knows -about it. Everybody but you, I mean.” - -The father groaned. “I thought he looked as if he’d done something he’d -oughtn’t—Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell me he used a knife or—” - -“Nothing but his fists, my dear Baxter—from all reports. I did not -witness the—” - -“How about the hide he peeled off of Arthur Elwell’s shin?” demanded Mr. -Sikes. “He didn’t do that with his fists, did he? Why, I’ve knowed blood -poisoning to set in on a feller’s shin bone from a scratch you couldn’t -hardly see. It’s almost sure to happen if you wear green socks like -Arthur does. The dye or something gets into the—” - -“Jeemes’s River! Has that fool boy been trying to lick Arthur Elwell?” -gasped Mr. Baxter, blinking rapidly. “Ain’t he got any more sense than -to tackle a six-foot man like—” - -“It seems that Oliver, in his rage, kicked Mr. Elwell after he had -separated—er—that is, when he took him in hand for fighting in the -playground after school,” said Mr. Sage. “That is something that -frequently happens to peacemakers, Joseph.” - -“The thing is,” said Mr. Link, “we got to do something about Oliver -October’s temper. We got to make him realize the awfulness of being hung -by the neck—” - -“Justly or unjustly,” put in Mr. Sikes. - -“Absolutely,” accepted Mr. Link. “The time has come when we got to head -that boy into the right path by telling him what the gypsy woman said.” - -“I must repeat—as I have repeated times without end—that I think it -would be the height of cruelty to tell the child any of that nonsense,” -protested Mr. Sage, rather vigorously for him. “Why, when I think of -little Oliver lying awake nights picturing himself on the gallows—” - -“It’s our duty to warn him,” insisted Sikes. “It’s our duty by Ollie -here and poor Mary to see that that boy has everything done for him that -can be done in the way of—er—advice. The first thing we got to do, now -that he’s old enough to understand—and, mind you, I claim he was old -enough three or four years ago—is to make him control his temper. We -got to bring him up so’s nobody on earth can truthfully say he’s got a -mean and cruel and bloodthirsty nature. So when his trial comes up -there’ll be plenty of witnesses to testify that he wouldn’t kill a fly, -much less a man. But, by criminy, if he goes on kicking school-teachers -and fighting like a bull dog, he’ll get such a reputation that he won’t -have a ghost of a chance when it comes to testifying as regards to his -character.” - -“Let’s go inside,” said Oliver’s father, wiping a little moisture from -his brow. - -He led the way into the sitting-room where a lamp was burning above the -center table—a brassy, ornate lamp suspended from the ceiling over a -glossy mahogany table. The former was a Christmas present from Oliver to -his wife and the latter was a present from Mary to her husband. All -about the refurbished room were to be seen other gifts from Oliver to -Mary, and Mary to Oliver—such as the comparatively new ingrain carpet; -a larger and more generous base-burner stove with very bright nickel -trimmings and a towering “dome”; a three-year old wall-paper in which -poppies and humming-birds abounded; a “Morris” chair of the mission -type; a hard, high-backed leather couch; two rocking-chairs, very -comfortable but of peripatetic habits; a new eight-day clock; several -framed “engravings” of a patriotic or sentimental character; a sectional -book case containing sets of Dickens, Thackeray and Charles Lever (two -dollars a month until paid for); chintz window curtains; and, last but -not least, a wall-telephone. (Party J, ring 4.) - -These were but a few of the symbols of prosperity that marked the -progress of the Baxters during the decade. The same mellowing influence -of a well-directed opulence prevailed throughout the house. For one -thing, a separate dining-room had been constructed off the sitting-room; -the porch and the house had undergone repairs and painting; the gravel -walk was replaced by one of soft red brick, and the fences were in -order. The only thing about the place that had not improved with the -times and the conditions was Oliver Baxter himself. He, alas, could not -be re-upholstered; he could not be painted or repaired; moreover, he -could not be stored away in the attic with all the other things -belonging to another day. - -“It’s more cheerful in here,” explained Mr. Baxter, in a most cheerless -voice. “Sit down. Had I better call Oliver in now—or wait a while?” - -His three visitors solemnly seated themselves. - -“Better wait a few minutes,” advised Mr. Link. - -“I—I kind of hate to whip him,” said Mr. Baxter forlornly. “He’s a good -little boy, and I—I promised his mother I’d never whip him unless I -actually caught him doing something bad.” - -“Who said you had to whip him?” demanded Mr. Link. - -“I wouldn’t let you whip him, even if you wanted to,” stated Mr. Sikes -flatly. “All I want is for us to talk to him about—well, about his -future.” - -“It has just occurred to me that it might be advisable for me to find -Oliver and have a talk with him privately before we drag him before -this—er—before his executioners,” said Mr. Sage, with kindly irony. “I -could explain gently and—” - -“I know just what you’d do, Parson,” broke in Mr. Sikes. “You’d explain -things to him by telling him there was a couple of blamed old fools in -here making up a story he oughtn’t to pay any attention to—just be -polite and say ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘No, sir’ and act like a little gentleman -no matter what we say, but not to worry, because there ain’t a damn’ -thing to worry about.” - -“I dare say you are right,” sighed the kind-hearted minister. “My little -girl, it appears, was the cause of this fight, Brother Baxter. I regret -to say that Jane—ah—sort of egged him on. It does not seem to me to be -quite just that Oliver should be penalized for his—shall we say an act -of chivalry? Naturally I am inclined to favor the boy. No doubt if Jane -had refrained from—” - -“That ain’t the point,” interrupted Mr. Link. “The thing is, did he lose -his temper or did he not—and if so, is it safe to let him go on losing -it like that? You can’t tell what it will lead to.” - -“What I want to know,” broke in Mr. Baxter, “is who he’s been fighting -with.” - -“Sammy Parr,” replied the three visitors. - -“Sammy Parr? Why, doggone it, it ain’t more than an hour ago they were -playing hopscotch out in my barn lot. I never saw two boys more friendly -and happy than they were.” - -“That’s the worst of it,” said Mr. Link solemnly: “It goes to prove that -when Oliver gets mad he don’t know what he’s doing. It’s these violent, -ungovernable tempers that raises thunder, Ollie. The kind that flares up -like a powder explosion, does a lot of damage, and then dies down like a -breeze. Fighting fit to kill one minute, smiling the next. They’re the -worst kind.” - -It was decided by Messrs. Sikes and Link, over the objections of Mr. -Sage, to have Oliver October up before the tribunal forthwith. The boy’s -father apparently had no voice in the matter. - -“Of course, I’ll admit he’s got a temper,” said the latter, as he arose -to go in search of his son. “I don’t know where he gets it from. Mary -usually had her own way, but it wasn’t because she insisted on having -it. And she never got mad if I opposed her. She just laughed and went -ahead and did things her way. In that way we always got along without a -sign of a quarrel. As for me, I haven’t got any more of a temper than a -sheep has. He don’t get it from either of us. My grandfather had an -uncle that he used to talk a good deal about—a feller that would fight -at the drop of the hat—but he always claimed he did it for fun and -because he enjoyed lickin’ somebody every once in awhile. Oliver seems -to take after me in a good many ways, and he’s like his Ma in others. -He’s got my freckles and nose and when he grows up I guess maybe he’ll -have my hair, but he’s got Mary’s eyes and ears and mouth and his legs -are more like hers—ha! ha!—I mean they ain’t skinny and crooked like -mine—er—Well, I guess I’ll go out and see if I can find him.” - -With that, he dashed hurriedly from the room. Presently they heard him -out in the yard calling Oliver’s name. That Oliver did not respond at -once was obvious. The shout was repeated several times, growing fainter -as the search took Mr. Baxter around to the back of the house and into -the region of the barn and outbuildings. - -“Everything that gypsy woman said has come true up to date,” announced -Mr. Sikes, after silence had reigned for many minutes in the -sitting-room. “In the first place, she said he was going to look like -his pa—and he does. He’s an improvement on big Ollie, I’ll admit—a big -improvement—but just the same he’s a lot like him. Then she said he’d -always be at the head of his class and as bright as a dollar, didn’t -she? Well, _that’s_ come true, ain’t it?” - -Here he paused, reluctant to go on with his justification of the gypsy’s -prophecy. He looked at Mr. Link, who at once accepted the unspoken -challenge by assuming the funereal air that always marked his -translation from livery-man to undertaker. - -“Yes,” said Silas, his gaze lifted toward the ceiling, “and we must not -forget that his beloved mother died before he was ten years old.” - -“True,” mused the minister, nodding his head slowly. “Doubly unfortunate -was that dear woman’s death. If God in his wisdom had seen fit to spare -her for a few days longer all this nonsense about the gypsy woman’s -prophecy would be—” - -“Sh! Here they come,” cautioned Silas, as steps were heard on the front -porch. - -“I hope Serepty Grimes don’t happen to drop in,” said Mr. Sikes -uneasily. - -“She won’t,” vouchsafed Mr. Link. “I happen to know that Ed Tucker’s -wife ain’t expected to live till morning.” - -“You don’t say so! I heard she was better to-day.” - -“False alarm,” said the undertaker, thoughtlessly. - -Mr. Baxter marshaled his son into the room on the tail of this remark, -and ordered him to take off his hat—a command instantly followed by -another that took him back to the door mat, where he sullenly performed -a forgotten obligation. - -And so it came to pass on this mild September evening, that young Oliver -October learned what was in store for him if his “fortune” came true. - -He sat very still and wide-eyed in the depths of the Morris chair—a -distinction conferred upon him by his compassionate elders—his sturdy -black-hosed legs sticking straight out before him, his grimy hands -stuck—for reasons of shame—into his already crowded trouser pockets. -His gray eyes, from which the cloud of obstinacy soon disappeared, went -quickly from speaker to speaker as the grewsome story of that remote -October night was unfolded in varying degrees of lucidity by the giants -who towered over him. He was a very small boy and they were very big and -very, very old monsters. And they were telling him all this, they said, -because they loved him and were going to do everything they could to -keep him from being hung some day! There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t -do! But a great deal depended on him. That was the thing, repeated Mr. -Link, over and over again. He must realize that a great deal depended on -him. - -First of all, it was imperative that he should never, never allow his -temper to get the better of him; he must never, never get mad at anybody -or anything; he must never get into fights; no matter what the -provocation, he must not get into fights; if there was no other way, he -must play with the little girls and avoid the boys—at least, until the -little girls grew up and were too big for him to play with. - -He revealed a most commendable temper when Mr. Link stipulated that he -should play with the little girls. - -“I won’t play with the girls,” he cried hotly. “I hate ’em. I’ll kill -’em if they try to play with me.” - -“My, my!” exclaimed Mr. Link in dismay. - -“Tut-tut!” said Mr. Sikes reproachfully. - -“Oliver!” cautioned his father, speaking for the first time since the -ordeal began. - -“Well, I won’t play with girls,” repeated Oliver. “You bet I won’t. I -hate ’em.” - -“I guess there’s no reason why you can’t play with the boys,” -compromised Mr. Link, “provided you’ll only remember that you mustn’t -fight with ’em.” - -“Well, I got to fight with ’em if they fight with me, don’t I?” cried -Oliver. - -“Spoken like a man,” said the minister, patting him on the shoulder. - -“Well, I’ll be doggoned!” gasped Mr. Sikes, staring in disgust at the -speaker. “And you a minister of the gospel!” - -“We must not make a coward of Oliver,” said the other, a trifle warmly. - -“That’s right,” said Oliver’s father. “Mary wouldn’t have liked to see a -son of hers grow up to be a—a feller who wouldn’t stand up for his -rights. And neither would I. What’s more, Joe Sikes, you’re a fine one -to talk. You’ve had more fights than anybody in—” - -“The thing is,” broke in Mr. Link, “if Oliver October can fight without -losing his temper, I’ll not say a word. Do you think you can, my lad?” - -“What’s the use of fighting if you ain’t mad?” reasoned Oliver October. -“It would be just like wrassling.” - -“Now, see here, Oliver,” spoke up Mr. Sikes severely, “all we ask of you -is to grow up to be a good, kind, peaceful man like your Pa here. He’s -getting along towards sixty years of age, and I don’t know as he ever -had a fight in his life. If he ever did, he probably wished he hadn’t. -Your Pa is a respected, upright citizen of this here town, and I want to -see you foller in his footsteps. And what’s more, your Pa ain’t a -coward. Not much! He’s as brave as I am—yes, siree, he’s a _braver_ man -than I am. I was always going around picking up fights, just because I -was big and strong and didn’t have any sense. That’s it. I didn’t have -the sense that God gives a hickory-nut. Your Pa had a lot of sense. He’s -got it yet. And why? I’ll tell you why, Oliver. He saw right smack in -the beginning that no matter how good a fighter you are when you’re -young, it ain’t going to do you any good when you’re old—because when -you’re old nobody gives a _dern_ how good a fighter you were when you -were young. They just say you used to be a tough customer—and sort of -shoulder you out of the way. But if you’ve got a reputation like your -Pa’s—for common sense, fair-dealing, kindness, good-nature -and—and—(with a conciliatory glance at Mr. Sage)—and religion, -why—er—why, you’re all right. Understand? But, on the other hand, if, -as you say, you’ve got to fight in case somebody picks on you, why, you -ought to have some lessons in boxing. I’ve been thinking it over. If -you’d like for me to do it, I’ll show you a lot about boxing. Boxing -lessons will prove to you how important it is to keep your temper. The -minute a boxer loses his temper and gets mad, he’s going to get licked. -That’s as sure as shooting. You never saw a prizefighter in your life -that got mad when he was in the ring. If you’ll come around to the feed -yard after school to-morrow, I’ll learn you how to—” - -“About what time, Uncle Joe?” broke in Oliver eagerly, his face lighting -up. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - - A PASTOR PROMISES AID - -Four mature throats were simultaneously cleared, and Mr. Sage, being a -very unusual sort of minister, abruptly put his hand over his mouth—not -quite soon enough, however, to smother a spasmodic chuckle. - -Notwithstanding this and other diverting passages, Master Oliver was -finally made to realize the vastness of the dark and terrifying shadow -that hung over him. He listened to the pronouncement of his own doom, -and his warm little heart was beating fast and hard in an ice-cold body -that trembled with awe. He suffered his “uncles” to pat him on the -shoulder and say they would “stand by” him through thick and thin, and -his lip quivered with something far removed from gratitude. He sat up -long past his bed-time, and his eyes were bright and shining where -ordinarily they would have been dull and heavy. - -At last the three hangmen arose to depart. They had frightened the poor -boy out of his boots, and now, well-satisfied with their work, were -going home to sleep the sleep of the just and beneficent whilst he was -doomed to a shivery night in which the gallows they had erected for him -was to stand out as if it were real and not a thing of the imagination. - -“And, now, Oliver,” said Mr. Sikes consolingly, “you needn’t be afraid -of the fortune coming true, because we’re going to see that it don’t. -We’re going to watch over you, and tend you, and guide you, and some day -we’ll all sit around and laugh ourselves sick over what that infernal -lying gypsy woman said. So don’t you worry. Me and your Uncle Silas and -Mr. Sage here are going to make it our business to see that you grow up -to be a fine, decent, absolutely model young man, and ’long about 1920 -or thereabouts we’ll have the doggonedest celebration you ever heard of. -We’ll paint the town—” - -“How old will I be then?” piped up Oliver wistfully. - -“You’ll be thirty and over,” announced Mr. Sikes. - -“And how old will you and Uncle Silas be?” - -“About the same age as your Pa—couple of years’ difference, maybe, one -way or the other.” - -“How old will that be?” - -Mr. Link, who was quick at figures, replied, but with a most singular -hush in his usually jovial voice. - -“Why—er—I’ll be seventy-eight, your Pa will be seventy-five, and your -Uncle Joe here will be—you’ll be eighty, Joe. By jiminy, I wonder if—” - -“I didn’t know anybody ever lived to be as old as that,” said Oliver, so -earnestly that three of his listeners frowned. “Except Methusalum. Maybe -you’ll all be dead and buried ’fore I’m thirty so what’s going to become -of me then?” - -“Why—er—we don’t intend to be dead for a long, long time,” explained -Mr. Sikes. “I’m figuring on living to be a hundred, and so’s your pa and -Uncle Silas. Don’t you worry about us, sonny. We’ll be hanging—I mean, -we’ll be moseying around this here town for forty or fifty years longer, -sure as you’re alive. Yes, sirree.” - -“What an awful thing it would be,” groaned Oliver’s father, “if all -three of us was to up and die inside the next eight or ten—” - -“If there’s an epidemic like that,” interrupted Mr. Link, scowling at -the tactless Mr. Baxter, “it’ll probably take Oliver off too, so don’t -be foolish.” - -Mr. Sage spoke up, dryly. “It will be quite all right for you to die, -gentlemen, whenever the good Lord thinks it most convenient. You seem to -forget that I am one of Oliver October’s self-appointed guardians. -Permit me to remind you that I will still be a mere youth of sixty when -he reaches the age of thirty. So you need not feel the slightest -compunction or hesitancy about dying.” - -He was stared at very hard by two of his listeners. - -“I wish my Ma was here,” said Oliver October, his lip trembling. Despite -the sincere if voluble protestations of the three visitors, he still -felt miserably in need of a friend and comforter. He could not conceive -of his father taking him in his arms and holding him tight; there wasn’t -anything soft and warm and cushiony about his father; only his mother -could whisper and croon in his ear and snuggle him up close when he was -sick or frightened, and she was gone. - -“Amen to that,” said Mr. Sage, fervently. - -“Amen!” repeated Mr. Link in his most professional voice. - -Mr. Sikes coughed uncomfortably and then put on his hat. - -“Well, good night,” said he. “Sleep tight, sonny.” - -“Say ‘thank you’ to your Uncle Joe, Oliver,” said Mr. Baxter huskily, -and then, without rime or reason, gave vent to his nervous cackle. - -“Thank you, Uncle Joe,” muttered Oliver. - -Mr. Sage laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do you say your prayers -every night, Oliver?” - -“Yes, sir—I do.” - -“Well—er—if Brother Baxter doesn’t mind and if you gentlemen will -excuse me, I think I will go upstairs with Oliver and—and listen to his -prayer.” - -A little later on, the tall, spare pastor sat on the side of young -Oliver’s trundle bed in the room across the hall from old Oliver’s and -next to the one in which Annie Sharp, the hired girl, was already sound -asleep. The boy had murmured his “Now I lay me” and, for good measure, -the Lord’s Prayer. Mr. Sage leaned over and, lowering his voice, -said—but not until he had satisfied himself that no one was listening -outside the door: - -“You believe I am a good man, don’t you, Oliver—a very good man?” - -“Yes, sir. You’re a preacher. You got to be good.” - -“Ahem! Quite so. You don’t believe I could tell a lie, do you?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Well, now I am going to tell you something and I want you to believe -it. Nobody on this earth can foretell the future. Nobody knows what is -going to happen to-morrow, much less what is going to happen years away. -It isn’t possible. God does not give any person that miraculous power. -Our Lord Jesus Christ could perform miracles, but he was the only one -who could do so. Do you think that God would give to all the thieving -gypsies in the world the same divine power that he gave to his only Son, -the Savior? No! Now, listen. There is not a word of truth in what that -old gypsy woman said—not one word, Oliver. You can believe me, you can -trust me. I am God’s minister, and I am telling you to pay no attention -to anything Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link said to you to-night. If God would -only allow me to do so, I would tell you that they are a pair of silly -old fools—but that wouldn’t be kind, so I will not say it. You need not -be afraid. All that talk about your being hung some day is -poppycock—pure poppycock. Don’t you believe a word of it. I came -upstairs with you just for the purpose of telling you this—not really -to hear your prayers. Now don’t you feel better?” - -“But you just said, Uncle Herbert, that nobody could see ahead. How do -you know I won’t be—be hung?” - -“I am not saying that, my lad. I am merely telling you that the gypsy -woman did not have the power to see ahead. There is no such thing as -true fortune-telling. She claimed to read the stars. Well, do you -suppose that all those millions and millions of stars—any one of them -much greater than the earth—are interested in little bits of things -like you and me? No, siree, Oliver. They don’t even know we exist. That -old gypsy was just lying. They all do. They take your money and then -they go away and laugh at you for being such a goose. So you need not -worry at all about what you were told to-night. And now I am going to -say something to you that will surprise you. It is wrong for me, a -minister of the gospel, to tell you this, but I love fighting Christians -just as much as I love praying Christians. I do not mean that a man -should go about looking for fights. That would be very, very wrong. -Wouldn’t it?” He asked the question abruptly. - -“Yes, sir,” said Oliver. “It would.” - -“You must keep out of fights whenever you can, but if the time comes -when you _must_ fight—do it as well as you know how and pray about it -afterwards. When your enemy smites you, turn the other cheek like a good -Christian boy—but do not let him hit your other cheek if you can help -it. Defend yourself. Put up your props, as your Uncle Joe says, and sail -into him. You will thus be turning the other cheek, but it does not mean -that he may smite it without resistance on your part. The Bible doesn’t -seem to be very clear on that point, so I am taking the liberty of -telling you just what I think _ought_ to be done when an enemy besets -you with his fists. You must not fight if you can help it, Oliver. A -soft answer turneth away wrath. Sometimes. When I was your age, I had a -good many fights—and you see what I am to-day. A minister of the -gospel. If I had an enemy to-day and he was to set upon me, I should -defend myself to the best of my strength and ability. Your Uncle Joe and -your Uncle Silas are right, however, in counseling you to avoid -conflict. No good ever comes of it. As you grow older you will acquire -wisdom, and wisdom is a very great thing, Oliver. A wise man does not go -about seeking for trouble. He tries to avoid it. And so will you when -you are older. But just at present you are no wiser than other boys of -your age. You were very foolish to fight with Sammy to-day because Jane -egged you on. It is most commendable, of course, to protect a lady in -distress. But Jane was not in distress. She did not need protection. -Sometimes a woman—But never mind. You understand what I mean, don’t -you, Oliver?” - -“No, sir,” said the truthful Oliver. - -“Well, what I want you to do, Oliver, is to go on leading a—er—regular -boy’s life. Do the things that are right and square, be honest and -fearless—and no harm will ever come to you. Now, turn over and go to -sleep, there’s a good boy. I will put out the light for you. Don’t lie -awake worrying about things—because there is nothing to worry about. -Good night, Oliver. I have a very great affection for you, my lad, and, -so long as God lets me live, I will always help you when—er—evil -besets you. As it did to-night.” - -He smiled dryly, perhaps a little guiltily, as he turned away and -lowered the wick in the lamp that stood on the table near by. - -“Don’t blow it out yet, please,” pleaded Oliver October. “I want to ast -you a question.” - -“Go ahead, my lad. What is it?” said the man, peering over the lamp -chimney, at the boy huddled up in the bed. - -“If you was me, would you take boxing lessons from Uncle Joe?” - -Mr. Sage considered, weighing his words. A little wave of color spread -over his pale, ascetic face, and a queer light gleamed in his kindly -eye. - -“No, I wouldn’t,” he answered after a moment. Then he blew out the -light. Instead of departing, he strode over and sat down on the edge of -the bed. “I doubt very much if Joe Sikes is a scientific boxer. He -strikes me as a rather rough and tumble sort of fellow. You wouldn’t -learn much from him, I’m afraid. But I’ll tell you what I will do. I -will give you a—er—a few instructions myself, if you will come over to -the house, say once a week—secretly, you understand. You must never -tell anybody that I am—er—giving you lessons in the manly art of -self-defense. It will have to be a very dark secret between us, Oliver. -For the present, at any rate.” - -He was glad that he had blown out the light. Somehow he knew that the -small boy’s eyes were upon him, and that they were filled with the sort -of amazement that makes one most uncomfortable. This was proved by the -very significant fact that Oliver did not speak. After a moment Mr. Sage -went on, a little hurriedly: - -“You see, Oliver, when I was in college—that was before I went to the -Theological Institute, you know—I went in for the various sports and -games. I was on the football team and the baseball team, and so forth. -Quite a number of us took up boxing. It is very fine exercise for both -the body and the mind. Yes, I will be happy to teach you a few of the -tricks of the—er—sport. Of course, I have not boxed since I became a -minister, but I—er—I dare say I haven’t forgotten how to feint and -block and sidestep and—ahem! Yes, yes—come and see me to-morrow and we -will talk it over.” - -As he slowly descended the stairs, he consoled himself with the thought -that he had given the poor lad something besides the gallows to think -about. - -The three old men were waiting for him on the porch, and none too -amiably it would appear, judging by the glum silence that greeted him as -he joined them. Mr. Link and Mr. Sikes spoke a gruff “good night” to -Baxter and started off toward the gate at the foot of the slope. The -minister paused at the top of the steps to shake hands with Oliver -October’s harassed parent. - -“Thank you for coming over and helping straighten things out,” said Mr. -Baxter. Then he proceeded to commit himself and his two cronies by -adding: “Have you heard anything from Josephine lately?” - -Now that was the one question that the people of Rumley religiously and -resolutely refrained from asking Mr. Sage. They persistently asked it of -each other—in an obviously modified form—and they did not hesitate to -bother the postmaster from time to time with inquiries; but they never -asked it of Josephine’s husband. It was a very delicate matter. - -Mrs. Sage, in the sixth year of her married life—her baby was then two -years old—surrendered to her ambition. She went on the stage. - -And so, it is no wonder that people hesitated about asking Mr. Sage how -she was getting along; to most of them it was almost the same as -inquiring if he knew how she was getting along in hell. - -Besides, it was hard to ask questions of a man whose eyes were dark with -unhappiness and whose face was drawn and sad and always wistful. - -For nearly four years that very question had been on the tip of Mr. -Baxter’s tongue, struggling for release. He had always succeeded in -holding it back. And now, before he knew what he was about, he let go -and out it came. He was petrified. - -“Not lately,” said Mr. Sage, quietly. - -Whereupon, for no reason at all, Mr. Baxter cackled inanely. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - - THE MINISTER’S WIFE - -Rumley had not stood still during the decade. It was the proud boast of -its most enterprising citizen, Silas Link, that it had done a great deal -better than Chicago: it had tripled its population. And, he proclaimed, -all “she” had to do was to keep on tripling her population every ten -years and “she” would be a city of nearly half a million souls in 1950. -It was all very simple, he explained. All you had to do was to multiply -fifteen hundred (the approximate population in 1900), by three and you -would have forty-five hundred in 1910. - -“Work it out yourself,” he was wont to say, “if you don’t believe me. If -we keep on multiplying we’ll have 364,500 population fifty years from -now.” - -The prize pupil in the South Rumley school, Freddy Chuck, aged thirteen, -went even further than Mr. Link in his calculations. He carried the -matter up to the year 2000 and proved conclusively that if the ratio -could be maintained for a hundred years, Rumley would have something -like 88,303,500 inhabitants at the beginning of the twenty-first -century. Freddy was looked upon as a mathematical “shark.” The North -Rumley school, presided over by Mr. Elwell, contained no such prodigy, -but it did have an exceedingly promising half-back in the person of -Oliver October Baxter. - -But this is beside the point. Rumley’s phenomenal growth over a period -of ten years was due to several causes. In the first place, it had -become a divisional railroad point, with shops, a roundhouse and -superintendent’s headquarters. It was now a “junction” as well, a new -branch line connecting there with the main line for points east and -south. This had brought nearly three hundred new citizens to the town. -Then had come the “strawboard works,” employing about thirty men, and -after that the “cellulose factory,” with some fifteen or eighteen people -on the pay-roll. Later on, in 1896, a “cannery” was added to the list of -industries. These extraordinary symptoms of prosperity drew capital of -another character to the town. Two saloons, with pool and billiard rooms -attached, were opened on Clay Street and did a thriving business from -the start, notwithstanding the opposition of the Presbyterian and -Methodist churches. New grocery stores, butcher shops, drygoods stores -and so forth were established by outside interests, each of them -bringing fresh enterprise and competition to the once drowsy hamlet. The -older stores were forced to expand in order to keep up with the times -and conditions. House building in all parts of town had boomed. Three -substantial new brick business “blocks” were erected—all three-story -affairs—and an addition of twelve rooms and a bath had been tacked onto -the old Bon Ton Restaurant, transforming it, quite properly, into the -Hubbard House, the leading hostelry of the town. - -Oliver Baxter owned one of the new business “blocks” on Clay Street. It -was known as the Baxter Block, erected in 1896. His own enlarged place -of business occupied one half of the ground floor, the other half being -leased to Silas Link, who conducted a furniture, cabinetmaking and -undertaking establishment there, with palms in the front windows. - -Link’s Livery Stable and the feed yard of Joseph Sikes had been -consolidated, the sign over the sidewalk on Webster Street reading “Link -& Sikes, Livery & Feed.” The second floor of the Baxter Block was -occupied by Dr. Slade, the dentist, and Simons & Sons, Tailors. The -third floor was known as Knights of Pythias Hall, and it was here that -all the “swellest” dances and receptions were held. Collapsible chairs -from Link’s Undertaking Parlors were rentable for all such festive -occasions, a very satisfactory arrangement in that cartage was never an -item of expense. Link’s three or four piece orchestra could also be -engaged by calling at or telephoning to the aforesaid parlors, where -Charlie Link, the embalmer, would be pleased to guarantee satisfaction. -Charlie was Silas’s nephew, and a trap-drummer of great dexterity. -Catering by Mrs. Hubbard, of the Hubbard House, terms on application. -Flowers for all occasions supplied from Link’s new greenhouse and -garden, Cemetery Lane. - -It is worthy of mention that there was no Main Street in Rumley. In -rechristening the principal thoroughfare, the board of trustees -deliberately violated all traditions by giving it the name of Clay -Street, not in honor of the celebrated Henry Clay but because for at -least two generations it had been known as the clay road on account of -the natural color and character of its soil. This reduced confusion -among the older and more settled inhabitants to a minimum; they very -cheerfully consented to spell clay with a capital C and declared it -wasn’t half as much trouble as they thought it would be to remember to -say Street instead of Road. But even so, it was still a clay road—and -in rainy weather a very _bad_ clay road. - -Mary Baxter died of typhoid fever when young Oliver was nearing seven. -Her untimely demise revived the half-forgotten prophecy of the gypsy -fortune-teller. People looked severely at each other and, in hushed -tones, discussed the inexorable ways of fate. Those acquainted with the -story of that October night told it to newcomers in Rumley; even the -doubters and scoffers were impressed. It was the first “sign” that young -Oliver’s fortune was coming true. Somehow people were kinder and gentler -to him after his mother died. - -As for Oliver the elder, there was a strange—one might almost believe, -triumphant—expression in his stricken, anxious eyes, as if back of them -in his mind he was crying: “Now will you laugh at me for believing what -that woman said?” - -Of an entirely different nature was the agitation created by the -unrighteous behavior of the preacher’s wife. It all came like a bolt out -of the blue. No one ever suspected that she had gone away to stay. Why, -half the women in town, on learning that she was going to Chicago for a -brief visit with her folks, went around to the parsonage to kiss her -good-by and to wish her a very pleasant time. Some of them accompanied -her to the railway depot and kissed her again, while two or three young -men almost came to blows over who should carry her suitcase into the day -coach and see that she was comfortably seated. They were all members of -Mr. Sage’s church. - -Josephine had a remarkable faculty for drawing young men into the fold. -Several who had been more or less criticized for their loose ways -suddenly got religion and went to church twice every Sabbath and to -prayer meeting on Wednesday nights with unbelievable perseverance until -they found out that it wasn’t doing them the least bit of good. - -Excoriation and a stream of “I told you so’s” were bestowed upon the -pretty young wife and mother when it became known that she was not -coming back. - -The Presbyterians made a great show of pitying their pastor, and the -Methodists made an even greater show of pitying the -Presbyterians—which, when all is said and done, was the thing that made -Josephine’s act an absolutely unpardonable one. - -She did not belong in Rumley. That was the long and the short of it. The -greatest compliment ever paid to the holy state of matrimony was her -ability to stick it out for six long years. In her own peculiar way she -loved and respected her husband. But the bonds of love were not strong -enough to hold her. She was gay and blithe and impious; she loved life -even more than she loved love. The shackles hurt. So she slipped out of -them one day and left their symbols lying by the wayside in the shape of -a broken, bewildered man and a child of her own flesh, while she went -back to the world that was calling her to its arms. - -Herbert Sage was stunned, bewildered.... She wrote him from Chicago at -the end of the first week of what was to have been a fortnight’s visit -to her mother. It was a long, fond letter in which she said she was not -coming back—at least, not for the present. She was leaving at once for -New York, where she had been promised a trial by one of the greatest of -American producers. A month later came a telegram from her saying she -was rehearsing a part in a new piece that was sure to be the “hit of the -season”—everybody said so, even the stage director who had the name of -being the biggest “gloom” in New York. It was a musical comedy, with a -popular comedian as the star, and she had a small part that was going to -be a big one before she got through with it—or so she said in her -joyous conceit. - -“With my good looks, my voice, my figure and my ambition, Herby, I -cannot fail to get over. Everybody says I’ve got talent, and that dance -I used to do for you on week days when it wasn’t necessary to be -sanctimonious—well, they are all crazy about it. Before you know it, my -dear, you’ll be the husband of one of the most celebrated young women in -the United States and I’ll be cashing checks every week that will make -your whole year’s salary in that burg look like the change out of a -silver half dollar after you’ve bought two ten cent sodas at Fry’s drug -store. You will be proud of me, Herby, because I will take mighty good -care that you never have any reason to be ashamed of me or for me to be -ashamed of myself. You know what I mean. I don’t suppose I will say my -prayers as often as I did when you were around to remind me of them but -I will be a good girl just the same. Also a wise one.” - -That was four years ago. Her confidence in herself had been justified, -and, for all we know, the same may be said of Herbert Sage’s confidence -in her. She had the talent, the voice, the beauty, and above all, the -magnetism, and so there was no holding her back. She was being -“featured” now, and there was talk of making a star of her. Her letters -to Herbert were not very frequent but they invariably were tender. Every -once in a while the press agent sent him a large batch of “notices,” -chiefly eulogistic; and regularly on little Jane’s birthday a good sized -check arrived for the youngster’s “nest egg.” - -At first she had undertaken to share her salary with Sage. He kindly but -firmly refused to accept the money. After three checks had been returned -to her she accepted the situation, although she wrote to him that he was -a “silly old thing” and “hoped to goodness he would see the error of his -ways before long.” - -For two successive seasons she appeared in a Chicago theater, following -long New York runs of the pieces in which she was playing, but not once -did Herbert Sage go up to see her. Some of the best people in Rumley saw -her, however—one of them, in fact, went three nights in succession to -the theater in which she was playing and tried to catch her eye from the -balcony—so it was pretty generally known throughout the town that she -really had the making of a pretty fair actress in her! - -Finally, in one of her letters announcing a prospective engagement in -London, she put the question to him: “Do you want to get a divorce from -me, Herby?” His reply was terse and brought from her the following -undignified but manifestly sincere telegram: “Neither do I, so we’ll -stick till the cows come home. I feel like a girl who has just been -kissed. Sailing Friday. Will cable. Much love.” - -She made a “hit” in London in the big musical success of that season. -They liked her so well over there that they wouldn’t let her go back to -the States. - -At the time of which I write she was playing her first engagement in -London, and half the town was in love with her. She wrote to Herbert: - -“My dear, you wouldn’t believe the number of matrimonial offers I’ve -had, and your hair would turn white in a single night if I was to tell -you how many homes I could wreck if I hadn’t brought my conscience along -with me. I am the toast of the town, as they say over here. Better than -a roast, isn’t it?” - -While Herbert Sage forbore speaking of the vagrant Josephine to his -friends in Rumley, nevertheless he preserved and re-read from time to -time the mass of press cuttings that he kept safely locked away in a -drawer of the bureau that once had held her cheap and meager belongings. -He looked long and hungrily at the countless photographs with which she -never failed to beleaguer him in his loneliness; and then there were the -magazines, the pictorial sections of the newspapers and the -reproductions of as many as a score of original drawings done by -celebrated artists and illustrators on both sides of the Atlantic. Some -of these caused him to frown and bite his lip—one in particular: the -rather startling picture of a very shapely young gentleman in a mild but -attractive state of inebriation caroling (by mistake, no doubt), to an -irate old man in a casement window above. - -Morning and night she was in his prayers; and little Jane, as soon as -she was able to prattle, was taught to say “and God bless and keep my -mamma forever and ever, Amen!” - -She was greatly missed by little Oliver October. For some -reason—perhaps she did not explain it herself—at any rate, she did not -go to the trouble of speculating—she had taken a tremendous fancy to -the child. He was a lively, amusing little chap who laughed gleefully at -her antics and was ever ready for more—a complimentary spirit that -constantly supplied kindling for her own unquenchable fires. She romped -with him, told marvelous stories to him, sang for him and danced for -him—and just about the time she was making ready to leave Rumley -guiltily showed him how to turn a “cartwheel”! He was very much -impressed by this astonishing bit of acrobatics, and as she faced him, -her face crimson and her eyes sparkling, he paid her a doubtful but -fulsome compliment by saying he’d bet his mother couldn’t do it, nor any -other lady in town, either. She made him promise not to tell -anybody—and he was never, _never_ to ask her to do it again, because -she was getting very old and the next time she might fall and break her -neck, and he wouldn’t like that, would he? - -This small boy of five or six was the only being in town with whom she -could play to her heart’s content, and she made the most of him. Her own -tiny baby interested but did not amuse her. In the first place, she had -not wanted a baby at all, and in the second place since she _had_ to -have one she could not understand why she had not had a boy. It wasn’t -quite fair. She liked boy babies. It was something to be the mother of a -man-child—something to be proud of. She even went so far as to say to -herself that she never could have run way and left her baby if it had -been a boy. She would have been ashamed to have a son of hers know that -his mother had not quite played the game. She was fond of Jane but it -was not as hard to leave her as it would have been had she been a boy. -Of that she was absolutely certain. - -Oliver October could not understand why he was not allowed to mention -“Aunt” Josephine’s name in the presence of “Uncle” Herbert. His mother -and Mrs. Serepta Grimes—who, by the way, was still an ever-present help -in time of trouble—gave him very strict orders and repeated them so -often that he never had a chance to forget them. But when he found out -in a roundabout way that Mrs. Sage had gone off to join a show, he at -once assumed—and quite naturally, too—that she was with Barnum’s -Biggest Show on Earth, and lived in joyous anticipation of seeing her -when the great three-ring circus came to the nearby county seat for its -biennial visit. Moreover, he was very firm in his determination to run -away from home and join the show, a secret decision that called for -unusual industry on his part in the matter of mastering the “cartwheel” -and other startling feats of skill, such as standing on his head, -walking on his hands, turning somersaults off of a sill in the haymow, -and standing upright on the capacious hindquarters of patient old Rosy -down at Uncle Silas Link’s livery stable. - -He also undertook to increase his suppleness by anointing himself with -fish worm oil, an absolutely infallible lubricant recommended by Bud -Lane, who solemnly averred that he had worked one whole season with the -Forepaugh circus as fish worm catcher for the Human Eel, the limberest -man alive. Oliver October’s mother gave him a sound spanking within -fifteen minutes after the initial application of this diligently -acquired lubricant, while Mrs. Grimes made a point of hurrying down to -the livery stable to tell the sheepish Bud Lane what she thought of him. - -Youth is ever fickle. Oliver October’s heart was soon mended. He was -always to have a warm corner in it for the gay Aunt Josephine but such -diverting games as “one old cat,” “blackman,” “I spy,” and “duck on the -rock” rather too promptly reduced his passionate longing for her to a -mild but pleasant memory. They also interfered with his acrobatic -aspirations, and it was not until little Jane Sage arrived at an age -when she was intelligent enough to be impressed and thrilled by manly -achievements that he again took up the “cartwheel,” the “hand spring,” -and other sensational feats of endurance—endurance being a better word -than agility in view of the fact that he practised them by the hour for -her especial benefit. - -For, be it here recorded, Janie Sage, at the age of six, was by far the -prettiest and the most sought after young lady in Rumley, and only the -most surpassing skill with the hands and feet was supposed to have any -effect upon her susceptibilities. - -What with having had past instructions in the art of cartwheel flipping -from a minister’s wife and the present promise of lessons in boxing from -the minister himself, Oliver October was indeed a favored lad! He was -very glad that he had gone to Sunday-school regularly, for therein lay -the secret of his good fortune. If he had not been a very good little -boy, Mr. and Mrs. Sage would not have been so kind to him. There wasn’t -the slightest doubt in his mind about that. And more than all this, Mr. -Sage acted like he was awfully pleased every time he walked home from -school with Jane, carrying her books and everything. He showed this by -invariably giving him a piece of bread and butter and sugar. No wonder, -then, that Oliver fought like a tiger for his lady love. Many a bigger -and stronger man than he has fought the whole wide world for his bread -and butter alone. - -Three or four days after the warning administered to Oliver by his -self-appointed guardians, one of the latter, Mr. Sikes, found himself in -an extremely awkward position. He was a man of dark and lasting hatreds. -His particular aversion was brothers-in-law. He had two of his own and -he hated both of them as men are seldom hated by their fellow man. His -opinion of them somewhat unjustly extended itself to the brothers-in-law -of practically every friend he possessed. It had got to be an obsession -with him. The husbands of his two sisters, it appears, had instituted -some sort of proceedings against him in court back in the dark and -stormy age that he called his youth, and while history does not reveal -the nature of the suit, it goes without saying that they won their case, -thereby providing him with an everlasting grudge against all -brothers-in-law. - -Horace Gooch had come over from Hopkinsville to see his wife’s brother -on a matter of business. Ten years had not improved Mr. Gooch. If you -had asked Mr. Sikes, however, whether they had improved him he would -have blasphemously answered in the affirmative. He would have stated—if -he had thought of it—that anything that shortened the life of Mr. Gooch -could not be otherwise than a most gratifying improvement. - -Now this is what happened—and any fair-minded person will sympathize -with Mr. Sikes in his dilemma. As Gooch was leaving the Baxter Hardware -Store, after a furious wrangle with his brother-in-law—Mr. Sikes had -heard most of it through an open window—he had the option of either -stepping over or around a half-grown puppy lying immediately in front of -the door. He did neither. Notwithstanding the friendly thumping of the -puppy’s tail on the board sidewalk and the hospitable smile in his big -brown eyes, Mr. Gooch proceeded to remove the obstruction with the toe -of his boot. He did not do it gently. A sharp yelp of pain was succeeded -by a series of ear-splitting howls as the gangling pup went tearing down -the street on three legs. - -Mr. Sikes turned the corner of the building just in time to witness this -incident. He was also a witness to what followed almost immediately. -Oliver October and Sammy Parr were playing “keeps” against the brick -wall a dozen paces or so away. Now, it so happened that the former, and -not Mr. Baxter, senior, was the sole owner of that sacred pup. Before -you could say Jack Robinson, Oliver October was blazing away at the -retreating figure of his uncle with marbles he had just won from Sammy. -He did not take the time to look for stones in the gutter. His face was -white with fury. Mr. Gooch uttered a sharp ejaculation and suddenly -clutched his left elbow with his right hand. An instant later the most -universally coveted “agate” in Rumley grazed his ear and went hurtling -down Clay Street. Mr. Sikes, forgetting himself for the moment, cried -out: - -“Good shot! Give it to him!” - -Another hastily fired “plaster” got Mr. Gooch on the leg, and then young -Oliver took to his heels—not because he was afraid of his uncle but -because he had caught sight of the far more terrifying figure of Mr. -Sikes. - -“Whose boy is that?” demanded the outraged Mr. Gooch, addressing Mr. -Sikes. - -“None of your damned business,” snarled Mr. Sikes, lowering his chin in -a menacing way. - -“I will make it my business,” roared the other. “I’ll have the little -scoundrel locked up for—” - -“You just go ahead and try it,” broke in Mr. Sikes, advancing slowly. -“Just you go ahead and try it. That’s all I got to say. Go ahead and try -it.” - -By this time Mr. Gooch had recognized the angry citizen. - -“Oho! Mr. Sikes, eh? Well, what cause have you got for losing your -temper like this, Mr. Sikes? What right have you to get mad because I -ask you the name of a dodgasted little—” - -“Mad? I’m not mad,” interrupted Mr. Sikes violently. “And I’ll tell you -who that boy is if you really want to know.” - -“I do,” said Mr. Gooch, feeling of his elbow. - -“Well, he is the owner of that pup you just kicked in the ribs. Good -day!” - -With that, Mr. Sikes stalked around the corner, a prey to conflicting -emotions. He stole down the alley, with many a furtive glance over his -shoulder. He felt very guilty. He had openly, vociferously encouraged -Oliver October in the commission of a deed of violence. Suppose, for -instance, one of those rocks—(he did not know they were marbles)—had -struck Horace Gooch at the base of the brain! He wiped his moist -forehead. Just suppose! And how was he to take Oliver to task for flying -into a rage and throwing stones, with murderous intent, when he himself -had been so overjoyed that he yelled to him to keep it up? Yes, he was -in a very awkward position. So he decided that unless somebody took him -to task for _not_ taking Oliver October to task, he would consider the -incident closed. But every time he thought of the way Horace Gooch -grabbed his elbow and subsequently clapped his hand to his “off” leg, he -gave way to inordinate mirth. - -At supper that evening Mr. Baxter asked his son if he knew who it was -that hit his Uncle Horace with a rock. Oliver had spent most of the -afternoon in hiding. Hunger and the approach of night were responsible -for his decision to give himself up, so to speak. Just before the supper -hour he ventured out of his place of hiding—a cornfield down the -road—prepared to face the town marshal and arrest. His dog had basely -deserted him an hour or so earlier. His spirits rose a little as he took -his seat at the table, for old Oliver appeared to be in an unusually -cheerful frame of mind. Just as he began to feel that, after all, there -was nothing to face, his father frowned severely and asked: - -“Oliver, do you know who hit your Uncle Horace with a stone this -afternoon?” - -There was a loophole. “I didn’t know anybody hit him with a stone, Pa.” - -Mr. Baxter reflected. “Well, what _was_ he hit with if it wasn’t a -stone?” - -“A marble.” - -“Do you know who threw it?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Who?” - -“Me,” replied Oliver October, and was suddenly thrilled by the thought -of George Washington and the cherry tree. - -“Well, you must never do it again,” said his father mildly. Then, in his -most jovial manner: “Pass up your plate, sonny, and let me give you some -more of this steak. It will make you strong.” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - - GLIDING OVER A FEW YEARS - -It is not the purpose of the narrator of this story to deal at length -with the deeds, exploits, mishaps and sensations of Oliver October as a -child. Pages, even reams, could be written—and certainly not wasted—in -recording the innumerable adventures that befell him between his tenth -and seventeenth years. - -If time and space permitted, it would be a pleasure to tell how he -learned to swim and dance, to drive an automobile, and to play the -mandolin and the allied instruments of torture comprising a trap -drummer’s outfit; how he felt when he put on his first pair of long -pants; how he earned his first dollar; how he headed an expedition to -dig for gold in the ravine reaching out from the upper end of Death -Swamp; how he organized the far-famed band of robbers that twice came to -grief before reforming—once in Mr. Higgins’s watermelon patch and later -on in the vicinity of Mr. Whistler’s bee hives; how he fell in love with -pretty Miss Somers, the high-school teacher, and couldn’t keep his mind -on his studies; how he performed the common miracle of changing himself -from an untidy, dirty-faced boy into a painfully immaculate personage -with plastered hair, well-brushed garments, soap-scoured hands, and an -astonishing tendency to turn scarlet when he most desired to be -complacently pallid; how he screwed up the courage to ask his best -girl—at that time a very tall and angular maiden named Jennie -Torbeck—to go with him to the theater up at the county seat, and how he -lost all affection for her and was miserably disillusioned when she -coughed all through the performance and caused people to crane their -necks and scowl at them. - -In short, how he grew up to be five feet eleven inches tall and stripped -at one hundred and seventy pounds of absolutely healthy bone and tissue. - -And then it would be an even greater satisfaction to tell of the time he -sucked the blood and poison out of the foot of a small boy who had been -bitten by a rattlesnake; of the memorable day when he grabbed and hung -on to the bit of a horse that was running away with Jane Sage, then -twelve years old, alone in the careening phaëton; of the midsummer -afternoon when he came near to losing his own life in saving that of a -drowning companion. These and many other things could be told of him, -but it would only be a case of history repeating itself inasmuch as the -untold stories of countless red-blooded American boys would contain, in -one form or another, all that befell Oliver October Baxter. - -On the other hand, it would be the disagreeable duty of the chronicler -to set down in black and white all the unpleasant and trying experiences -resulting from the ceaseless espionage that clouded his daily life and -doings. All that need be said about this unhappy phase of his -development may be confined to a single sentence: he was never free from -the advice, direction and criticism of four devoted old men. He had -advice from Mr. Sage, direction from the Messrs. Sikes and Link, and a -plaintive sort of criticism from his father. Serepta Grimes, who loved -him as she would have loved a son of her own, gave him the right kind of -advice, good soul that she was. She advised him to be patient; he would -be twenty-one before he knew it, and then he could tell ’em to mind -their own business. It would be necessary, she ruefully acknowledged, to -tell practically the entire population of Rumley to mind its own -business, but the ones that really mattered were Silas Link and Joe -Sikes. - -“But they are such corking old boys, Aunt Serepta,” he was wont to -lament; “and they are trying to be good to me. I wouldn’t hurt their -feelings for the world.” - -“They’re a couple of buzzards, Oliver.” - -“I get pretty sore at them sometimes,” he would confess, crinkling his -brows. “But I guess I’d better wait till I’m past thirty before I jump -on ’em, hadn’t I?” - -“I guess maybe you had,” Serepta would agree, for down in her heart she -too was afraid. - -He was seventeen when he left the Rumley high-school and became a -freshman at the State University. There had been some talk of sending -him to one of the big Eastern colleges, but when Mr. Sikes pointed out -to Mr. Link that he didn’t see how either one of them could give up his -business and go East to spend the winters, the latter flopped over and -took sides with him against Oliver senior, who was for sending him to -Princeton because Mary had taken a strong fancy to that distant seat of -learning after hearing Mr. Sage dilate upon its standards. - -He made the football and baseball teams in his sophomore year, and was -“spiked” by the most impenetrable Greek fraternity before he had been on -the campus twenty-four hours. His fame had preceded him. He also was -able to show his newly-made freshman friends so many of the fine points -about boxing that they proclaimed him a marvel and wanted to know where -he had picked it all up. He refused to divulge the long-kept secret. -Moreover, he astonished them with his unparalleled skill at turning -cartwheels. And besides all this, he astonished the faculty by being up -in his studies from the week he entered college to the day he left it -with a diploma in his hand. He took the full course in engineering, and -not without reason was the prediction of the Dean of the School that one -day Oliver Baxter would make his mark in the world. - -The last of the three decades allotted to him by the gypsy was shorn of -its first twelve months when he received his degree. As Mr. Sikes -announced to the Reverend Sage at the conclusion of the commencement -exercises, he had less than nine more years to live at the very -outside—a gloomy statement that drew from the proud and happy minister -ah unusually harsh rejoinder. - -“You ought to be kicked all the way home for saying such a thing as -that, Joe Sikes. To-day of all days! You ought to be ashamed of -yourself. Why can’t you be happy like all the rest of us?” - -“Happy?” exploded Mr. Sikes. “Why, I’m the happiest man alive. This is -the greatest day of my life.” - -“Well, then, for goodness’ sake, don’t spoil it for me,” complained the -tall, gray pastor. Turning to the slim, pretty girl who walked beside -him across the June-warmed campus, he spoke these words of comfort: -“Don’t mind this old croaker, Jane dear. He is still living back in the -dark ages, when they believed in witchcraft, ghosts and hobgoblins.” - -Mr. Sikes was not offended. His broad, seamed face, leathery with the -curing of many suns, was alight with his rare but whole-hearted grin. - -“You left out fairies, parson,” he said, and winked at Jane over his -shoulder. “The older she gets, the more I believe in ’em.” - -“Sometimes you can be silly enough to satisfy anybody, Uncle Joe,” said -she, gayly. - -“Second childhood,” declared Serepta Grimes, trudging several feet -behind Old Joe, who had a habit of keeping at least two paces ahead of -any one with whom he walked. - -Mr. Sikes accepted this with serenity. “Well,” he said, “if it’s second -childhood, Serepty, I hope I never get over it. But I’m all-fired glad -of one thing. He’s through playing football and I won’t have to act like -an idiot any more. I’m too blamed old to jump up and down and yell like -an Indian every time he makes a long run. People thought I was a lunatic -at that game last fall. The idea of a man sixty-nine years old—Hello, -here comes his pa. Say, what’s the matter, Ollie? What are you cryin’ -about?” - -“I’ve just been talking to the president of the University,” said Mr. -Baxter, the tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. - -“Well, what of it?” - -“He said Oliver was about the finest boy they ever had in the college.” - -“Is that anything to blubber about?” - -“You bet it is,” gulped old Oliver, smiling through his tears. “You just -bet your sweet life it is.” - -A word in passing about Jane Sage. She was a slender, graceful girl -slightly above medium height, just turning into young womanhood—that -alluring, mysterious stage that baffles the imagination and confounds -the emotions. Her gray eyes, set widely apart under a broad brow, were -clear and soft and wistful, and yet in their untrammeled depths stirred -the glow of an intelligence far beyond her slender years. She was an -extremely pretty girl. Her mouth was rather large and, like her -mother’s, humorous. Her hair, brown, wavy and abundant, grew low upon -her forehead. Her teeth were small, even and as white as snow; she -showed them when she smiled. There were faint dimples in her cheeks. - -She kept house for her father, and, at seventeen, made no secret of her -determination never to get married! That was settled. Never! She was -going to take care of her daddy as long as he lived, and, as she was -serenely confident that he would live to be a very old man—indeed, she -could not conjure up the thought of him dying at all as other mortals -are bound to do sooner or later—there wasn’t any way in the world for -her to avoid being an old maid. - -If she possessed any of her mother’s powers of mimicry, they were never -revealed by word or deed. She was singularly lacking in histrionic -ability and for that her father was thankful though secretly surprised. -Friends of the family, remembering Josephine’s propensities watched -closely for signs of an undesirable heritage, and were somewhat -disappointed when they failed to develop. If she had not borne such a -striking resemblance to her mother, everybody in town would have said -that she “took after her father”—and that would have explained -everything. That far-distant, almost mythical mother, was no more than a -dream to Jane. It was hard for her to believe that the famous actress, -Josephine Judge, was her mother; she was secretly proud of the -distinguished isolation in which it placed her among her less favored -companions. - -She adored Oliver October. There had been a time when she was his -sweetheart, but that was ages ago—when both of them were young! Now he -was supposed to be engaged to a girl in the graduating class—and Jane -was going to be an old maid—so the childish romance was over. She -wished she knew the girl, however, so that she could be sure that Oliver -was getting some one who was good enough for him. - -Late in the fall of 1911, young Oliver, having passed the age of -twenty-one and being a free and independent agent, packed his bag and -trunk and shook the dust of Rumley from his feet. Through the influence -of an older member of his “frat,” supported by the customary -recommendation from the college authorities, he was offered and accepted -a position in the construction department of a Chicago engineering and -investment concern interested in the financing and developing of water -power plants in the northwest. His work took him, in the course of time, -to the Rocky Mountain region, where concessions had been obtained and -plants were either being installed or projected. - -There was grave uneasiness in Rumley when he fared forth in quest of -fame and fortune. Many were the predictions that Chicago would be the -ruination of him; he was bound to fall in with evil companions in that -wicked city, and into evil ways. College had been bad enough—but -Chicago! - -Yes, he was working inevitably toward the end prophesied by the gypsy. -Next thing they would hear of his drinking and carousing and leading the -gay, riotous life of the ungodly, and then, sure as anything, he would -get mixed up in some disgraceful brawl—well, he might be innocent of -the actual murder but that wouldn’t save him if the circumstantial -evidence was strong enough—as it would be. - -And then, when old Oliver resignedly announced that his son was going up -into the wild and lawless northwest, where everybody carried guns and -lynchings were common, there was real consternation among the older -families in Rumley. One very ancient lady went so far in her senile -sympathy as to put into words the question that had been in her thoughts -for days. Chancing to meet old Oliver on the way home from church one -Sunday, she sadly inquired whether he would bring Oliver October’s body -all the way back to Rumley for burial or leave it out there in the -wilderness. - -Early in 1913 he was sent to China by his company on a mission that kept -him in the Orient for nearly a year and a half. A week before Christmas, -1914, the Rumley _Despatch_ came out with the announcement—under a -double head—that Oliver October Baxter was returning from the Far East, -where he had been engaged in the most stupendous enterprise ever -undertaken by American capital, and would arrive on the 22nd to spend -the Christmas holidays with his father and to renew acquaintances with -old friends—who were legion. - -“Samuel Parr, the well-known insurance agent,” said the _Despatch_, “who -is to be married on the 29th to Miss Laura Nickels, received a telegram -this morning from Mr. Baxter in which he states that he will be happy to -officiate as best man at the ceremony which, instead of being solemnized -at the home of the bride’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harvey Nickels, on -Grant Street, as originally planned, will take place in the Presbyterian -Church at eight o’clock in the evening. Miss Jane Sage will be the -maid-of-honor. Mr. Baxter’s many friends will be glad to welcome him to -the hustling city of his nativity. He has succeeded well in his -profession and has gone forward with remarkable rapidity for one of his -years. Few young men have achieved, etc., etc.” - -The word that he was back in the United States and on his way to Rumley -created quite a little excitement in town. It was the opinion of a good -many people that he now stood a pretty fair chance of escaping the fate -prescribed for him by the gypsy fortune-teller—provided, of course, he -could be persuaded to remain in Rumley for the next five years, ten -months, one week and five days. - -He arrived on the eleven-twenty from Chicago and was met at the depot by -a delegation. Samuel Parr was master of ceremonies. - -“Stand back just a minute, will you?” Sammy commanded, addressing those -in the front rank of the crowd. “Give his poor old father a chance to -shake hands with him, can’t you? Just a minute, Mr. Sikes. That means -you, too. Slow, now—_slow_, Mr. Link. This isn’t a funeral. Hello, -Oliver! How’s the boy? Here’s your father—over this way. Never mind -your suitcases. I’ll tend to ’em.” - -Young Oliver rushed up to his father, both hands extended. - -“Hello, dad! My old dad!” - -“I can’t believe my eyes—no, sir, I can’t,” cried the old man, -quaveringly. He was wringing his son’s hand. “You’re back again, alive -and sound. For nearly three years I’ve been sitting around waiting for a -telegram or something telling me—” - -“You bet I’m alive,” broke in Oliver October, laying his arm over the -old man’s shoulder and patting his back. “And you don’t look a day older -than when I left, ’pon my soul, you don’t. It’s mighty good to see you, -and it’s wonderful to be back in the old town again. Hello, Uncle Joe! -Well, you see they haven’t hung me yet.” - -“And they ain’t going to if I can help it,” roared Mr. Sikes, pumping -Oliver’s arm vigorously. “Not on your life! We got a few more years to -go, and, by glory, we’re going to keep you right here in this town from -now on. It’s all fixed, Oliver. We’ve got you the appointment of city -civil engineer for Rumley, population five thousand and over, salary -eighteen hundred a year. How’s that? The Common Council took action on -it last Monday night, unanimous vote, politics be damned. All of the -democrats voted for you. No opposition to—” - -“Give somebody else a chance, will you?” interrupted Sammy Parr, and -coolly shouldered the older man aside. “Come over here, Oliver, I want -to introduce you to the bride-elect. She came here to live after you -went away, and she’s crazy to meet you. Just a minute, Mr. Link. Plenty -of time—plenty of time. Don’t crowd! Ladies first—ladies first.” - -“Where is Jane, Mr. Sage?” inquired Oliver October, when he had a -breathing spell. He was searching the outer edge of the throng with -eager, happy eyes. - -“She is up at your father’s house, Oliver, helping Mrs. Grimes and Annie -with your home-coming dinner,” replied the minister, still gripping the -young man’s hand. “It is good to see you, my boy—God bless you.” - -“I’ve never forgotten the things you said to me the day I went away, -Uncle Herbert. I’ve led a pretty clean life, sir, and I’ve never done -anything I’m ashamed of. I’ve done a lot of things I’ve been sorry -for—but nothing to be ashamed of.” He leaned close to the other’s ear -and said in a low, whimsical tone: “Don’t let it get to the ears of my -other uncles, but I’d hate to tell you how many times I’ve thanked the -Lord and you for those sparring lessons you gave me.” - -“‘The Lord loveth a cheerful giver,’” quoth the Reverend Mr. Sage dryly. - -On the way up to the old home, Oliver’s father, waiting until he saw a -clear stretch of road ahead, turned from the steering wheel of his brand -new Ford, and, eyeing his son narrowly, said: - -“Yes, sir, you’ve surely got my nose, and you’ve almost got my hair. If -you was to let your mustache grow I guess it would be a good deal like -mine used to be. You’ve made a success of everything so far, from all -reports, and now, darn it all, they’ve got you started in politics with -this appointment. I fought it tooth and nail, but they argued me down, -claiming it can’t be a political job so long as both parties want you to -take—” - -“You needn’t worry about that, father. I’ll not accept the position.” - -Mr. Baxter brightened. “You won’t? Good for you! That’ll show Joe Sikes -and Silas Link they can’t run everything.” - -“I have other plans. I will tell you about them later on, father.” - -“Of course, you’re a good deal taller and heavier than I am,” went on -Mr. Baxter, staring ahead. “You don’t take after me when it comes to -size and build. Been out in the open a good bit, I see. It’s done you a -lot of good.” He shot a glance at his son’s rugged, tanned face. “Yes, -and your eyes are clear and bright. I guess you haven’t done much -drinking or staying up late o’ nights.” - -“I don’t drink very much—very little, in fact. Never have. In my -business a fellow has to have his wits about him. As for being up late -nights, I have seen many a night when I didn’t go to bed at all.” - -“That sounds bad,” said Mr. Baxter sourly. “I don’t see how it could -help interfering with your work.” - -“It didn’t interfere with it. You see, I was working all night.” - -“Extra pay?” - -“No, sir. Just extra work.” - -Mr. Baxter cackled, cutting it short to toot his horn viciously for the -benefit of a dog crossing the street two or three hundred feet away. - -“I’m just learning,” he explained. - -“So I see,” said his son, crimping his toes suddenly and then relaxing -them as his father swung safely around a corner. - -“Only had her about six weeks.” - -“What can you get out of her?” - -“She’s a racer.” - -“She is?” - -“You bet she is. Seventy-five miles an hour.” - -“Gee, it’s good to hear you lie so cheerfully, dad.” - -“If I’d had any idea you were going to believe me, I’d have claimed a -hundred,” said old Oliver, grinning. “See many changes in the town, -sonny?” - -“I thought Mr. Sage was looking a little older.” - -“Well, he is a little older. We all are, for that matter. I guess you’ll -find Jane has changed somewhat too. She’s twenty-one. They say she’s an -uncommonly pretty girl.” - -“They say? Don’t you see anything of her yourself?” - -“See her nearly every day. I don’t take much notice of girls these days, -blast the luck. She comes in every once in a while to read the letters -she gets from you. Seems as though I get a good deal more news out of -the letters you write to her than the ones I get from you. You never -wrote anything to me about the girl you was thinking of marrying out -there in Montana, or the one in China either.” - -“I was always careful not to write anything unpleasant to you,” said -Oliver October glibly. - -“Umph! Well, here we are. Don’t be uneasy now. I know how to stop her.” - -And stop “her” he did, a dozen feet or so beyond the front porch steps. - -“Set still. I’ll back her up. Sort of slipped on the ice, I guess. We’ve -had some mighty cold weather the last week or so.” - -The “uncommonly pretty girl” opened the front door. - -“Hello, Oliver!” she cried. - -“Hello, Jane!” he shouted back, as he ran up the steps. “Gee! it’s great -to see you. And, my goodness, what a big girl you are. You were just an -overgrown kid when I went away. Funny how a fellow never thinks of a -girl growing up just the same as he does.” - -He was holding her warm, strong hands in his own; they were looking -straight into each other’s eyes. In his there was wonder and -incredulity; in hers the expression of one startled by a sudden -indefinable sensation, something that came like a flash and left her -strangely puzzled. - -“You haven’t grown much,” she said slowly. “Except that you are a man -and not a boy.” - -“That’s it,” he cried. “The difference in you is that you’re a woman and -not a girl. And I was counting on seeing you just as you were four years -ago.” - -“Come in,” she said, with a queer dignity that she herself did not -understand. “Get out of that fur coat and—and give Aunt Serepta a big -hug and a dozen kisses. She’s waiting for you in the sitting-room.” - -He still held her hands. “Oh, I say, Jane, I—I used to kiss you when we -were little kids. I—” - -“But we are not little kids any longer, Oliver,” she cried, drawing -back. - -He stared hard at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got engaged to -somebody, old girl.” - -“I am not engaged to any one. I am not even in love with any one.” - -“Well, all I’ve got to say is that this burg must have more than its -share of blind men,” said he with conviction. - -“Hey!” shouted his father. “Do you expect me to carry in these valises -for you, you big lummix?” - -“Put ’em down, dad. I’ll be out for them in a minute.” - -“Well, see that you do.” - -“He is getting to be terribly cranky, Oliver,” said Jane, lowering her -voice. - -“Do you mean—he’s actually sore?” - -“Well, he’s—he’s very impatient sometimes,” she explained. “You’d -better hurry.” - -“Poor dad, he’s aged terribly in the last few years, hasn’t he? I was -quite shocked.” - -The welcome he received from Serepta Grimes was all that could be -desired. After she had hugged and kissed—and wept over him a -little—she ordered him to take his bags up stairs to his old room and -not to be all day about it, because dinner would soon be ready and they -were having company in his honor. - -“See here, Aunt Serepta,” he began gayly, “I’m getting too old to be -ordered around—and, what’s more, what right have you to come into a -house of gladness and cast a spell of gloom over it? You sha’n’t boss -the heir-apparent around as if he were a—” - -“You do as I tell you, or I’ll speak to Santa Claus about you,” she -broke in, with mock severity. “Don’t forget Christmas is coming.” - -When he came down stairs, after having unpacked his bags and scattered -the contents all over the room, he found the “company” already -assembled. As might have been expected, the guests included the Reverend -Mr. Sage, Mr. Sikes, and Mr. Link, and one outsider: the Mayor of -Rumley, Mr. Samuel Belding. - -“What’s this I hear?” demanded the latter sternly, as he shook hands -with the young man. “Your father’s just been telling us you won’t accept -the distinguished honor the city of Rumley has conferred upon you -through the unanimous vote of the Common Council. What’s the matter with -it? Ain’t the pay big enough for you? It’s the chance of a life time, my -boy. Rumley is going ahead like a house afire. We’re going to open up -and pave two or three new streets, put in a new sewerage system and a -crematory, build a bridge over the railroad tracks at Clay Street -crossing, and—” - -“I don’t believe a darned word of it,” broke in Mr. Sikes, almost -plaintively. - -“What’s that?” demanded the Mayor, going purple in the face. “You don’t -believe what I’m—” - -“I wasn’t thinking about you,” said Mr. Sikes. “I don’t believe Oliver -means what he says.” - -“Like as not he never said it,” put in Mr. Link, eyeing old Oliver -darkly. - -“Oh, yes, he did,” said the latter cheerfully, and not in the least -offended by the implication. “Didn’t you, Oliver?” - -Oliver’s and Jane’s eyes met. She was standing beside her father a -little apart from the garrulous group. He saw something in her dark, -unsmiling eyes that puzzled him—something he was a long, long time in -fathoming. - -“The truth of the matter is,” he said seriously, “I have other plans. I -appreciate the honor. The pay has nothing to do with my decision. I love -the old burg and I am proud to have been born here. I have just given up -a job that has been paying me nearly four times as much as what I would -be getting here, Mr. Belding. And it will be open to me whenever I -choose to go back with the company. That is understood. I—” - -“You say you’ve quit your job?” broke in his father, aghast. - -“Yes, sir,” quietly. “I gave it up last week.” - -“A job paying more than seven thousand a year?” - -“Just seven thousand, to be exact.” - -“Well, of all the idiotic—” - -“Wait a minute,” interrupted Mr. Link. “The thing is, he may be -resigning on account of ill health. Now that I’ve had a good look at -you, Oliver, I must say your eyes seem a little liverish. Not exactly -liverish, either, but sort of bright and feverish. If you—” - -“I am perfectly well, Uncle Silas,” said Oliver, smiling. Again his eyes -sought Jane’s. They seemed darker and deeper than before. “No, it isn’t -my health that’s caused me to give up my job. Needn’t worry about my -health, dad.” While he addressed his father he was subtly conscious of -speaking solely for Jane’s benefit. “But, come along; let’s have dinner. -I’m as hungry as a bear. We can talk about my affairs afterwards. With -the cigars. I brought you a box of the finest cigars I could find in -Chicago, father. You’ll hear the flapping of angels’ wings every time -you light one of ’em and take a few puffs.” - -“You’ve got no business buying expensive cigars when you’re out of a -job,” grumbled his father. “Giving up a place with seven—” - -“Maybe he’s going to get married,” burst out the Mayor, nudging the -young man in the ribs. “That accounts for his eyes being feverish -and—and sometimes when a feller is in love he does get to be a little -bit liverish.” - -“That accounts for it,” said Mr. Sikes, very much relieved. “He’s going -to marry a woman with plenty of money. He don’t have to work any more, -Ollie. I hope to goodness she ain’t got any brothers to make trouble for -him after the nuptials have worn off a little. One brother-in-law can do -more to make a feller—” - -“I am not going to be married,” said Oliver, blushing for no reason at -all, and thereby convincing the attentive Jane that if he wasn’t going -to be married it was through no fault of his own. “Nobody will have me,” -he added lamely. - -“Of course, if you’ve been going around telling everybody what’s ahead -of you,” said Mr. Sikes, “I don’t blame ’em for not wanting to risk -being tied up to a feller—” - -“Shut up!” cried Serepta Grimes, from the dining-room door. “You make me -sick, Joe Sikes, the way you go on. Dinner’s ready. You sit over here -next to Jane, Oliver. This is your place, Sam.” - -“There’s another thing,” said the Mayor, very profoundly. “If you take -this job we’re offering you, Oliver, it’s bound to lead to something -better. I don’t mind telling you that I’m not going to be a candidate -for re-election. I’ve got two years more to serve and then I’m through. -This here town needs a young, active, progressive man for mayor. Some of -us have been talking things over and we’ve about decided that we know -the feller that ought to step into my shoes. He is a young man of vast -experience, education, integrity, ability, and he’s a good -Republican—at least, his father is. My shoes are pretty good-sized, but -that’s a blessing. No matter who steps into ’em, they’re not likely to -pinch. What size shoes do you wear, Oliver?” - -“Sh!” hissed Mr. Baxter. “The parson’s waiting to bless the food.” - -The host did not speak again until near the end of the meal. He was -deeply pre-occupied. - -“What is this plan of yours?” he suddenly asked, breaking in on Mr. -Belding’s windy eulogy of the feast prepared by three of the “best cooks -in the universe.” - -Young Oliver started. “Hadn’t we better leave that till we’re alone—” - -“No; let’s have it now,” said old Oliver testily. “Unless it’s something -you’re ashamed of,” he amended, bending his gaze upon his son. - -“I certainly am not ashamed of it.” A trace of irony, unintentional to -be sure, crept into his voice. “I suppose you know there is a war going -on?” His eyes swept the circle of listeners. - -“Well, it’s kind of leaked out down our way,” spoke Mr. Link dryly. - -“Damn the Kaiser,” said Mr. Belding, with feeling. - -“Thank God, they turned him back at the Marne,” said Mr. Sage, speaking -for the first time in many minutes. - -“I know what you are planning to do, Oliver,” cried Jane, paling. - -“Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “You would know. You’re young enough -to know, Jane.” - -“You are going over there to fight,” she cried, a thrill in her voice. - -“Right you are. I’m going over in February with the Canadians. It’s all -settled. I’m to have my old job back when the war is over.” - -Deep silence followed the announcement. Mr. Baxter sat with his lips -working, his Adam’s apple rising and falling in quick spasmodic jerks. -Jane put her hand to her throat as if to release something that had got -caught there and was stifling her. - -“But it’s not our war,” said Mr. Sikes at last. - -“It’s everybody’s war,” spoke young Oliver out of the very depths of his -soul. “We will be in it some day. We can’t keep out of it. But I can’t -wait. I’m going over now. Oh, I’ll come back, never fear. No chance of -me being killed by a German bullet.” Here he grinned boyishly. “You see, -Uncle Joe, I’ve just got to pull through alive and well, so that I can -be hung when my time comes.” - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - - HOME FROM THE WAR - -The war was over. Oliver October Baxter came through without a scratch. -He saw two years of hard fighting with the glorious Canadians; when the -United States went in, he gave up his hard-earned commission as first -lieutenant and was transferred to the American Army. He learned a great -deal about red tape before his transfer was effected, and he discovered -to his disgust that he knew a great deal less about war than he might -reasonably have been supposed to know after two years of slogging along -at it under shot and shell from the German Armies. He had to go back to -America and enter a training camp, and even then, to employ his own -expression, he had the “devil of a time” getting a commission as second -lieutenant. - -There were so many able young business men and college graduates out for -commissions that he just barely managed to scrape through “by the skin -of his teeth” in the struggle for honors. The fact that he had had two -years of actual experience at the front, part of that time as an -officer, did not seem to help him very much with his studies at the -“Camp,” nor with the intensive drilling that was supposed to make a -soldier of him in three months. Two medals for distinguished service on -the field of battle were of absolutely no service to him in the contest -that was being waged in the training camp—in fact, he was advised by -the major in command that he would better not even speak of them, much -less expose them to view. - -Then, to his intense chagrin, he was sent from one camp to another—a -sort of floating officer—finally winding up in a mid-western division -that did not go over seas until the spring of 1918, only a few months -before the war ended. Once with the Army in France, however, things took -a belated change for the better. Far-sighted and fair-minded officers in -high places were not slow in transferring him from the camp far behind -the lines to a veteran division up in the battle zone. He went through -the Argonne and was close on the bloody heels of the German Army when -the last guns in the great conflict were fired. He came out a captain. - -In April, 1919, he sailed from Brest and on the tenth of May arrived in -Rumley, discharged from the Army and jobless. On the way home he stopped -over in Chicago to notify his employers that he would be ready to resume -work after a month’s much-needed rest and quiet down in the old town. He -was blandly informed that as soon as anything turned up they would be -pleased and happy to take him back into the concern, but at present -there wasn’t a vacancy in sight—in fact, they were cutting down the -operating force wherever it was possible, and so on and so forth. Yes, -they remembered perfectly that they had promised him his old place when -he returned, but how in God’s name were they to know that the war was -going to last as long as it did? He couldn’t expect them to hold a job -open for him for nearly four years, could he? Only too glad to take you -on again, Baxter, when things begin to pick up—and all that. - -Being a captain in the Army and used to plain speaking, he told the -astonished general manager what he thought of him and the whole works -besides, and airily went his way. - -The horrors of war had not affected his spirits. He went over in the -first place full of cheer and enthusiasm; he came back without the -latter, but indomitably possessed of the former. He had seen grim sights -and sickened under the spectacle; he had stood by the side of dying -comrades and wept as he would have wept over his own brother; he had -known times when life was far harder to bear than the thought of death; -and he had said what he believed to be his last prayer a hundred times -or more. But when the guns ceased their everlasting roar and the smoke -lifted to reveal a blue sky that smiled, he too smiled and was glad to -be alive. He had lived on hope through the carnage of what seemed a -thousand years; the hope which men, in their bewildered after-joy, were -prone to call their luck. It was hope that went over the top with them, -but it was luck that saw them through. - -And so when he was turned away, empty-handed, from the place where he -had proved his worth as a soldier of industry, he was not dismayed. He -experienced a lively sense of indignation, he felt outraged, but he did -not sit himself down over against the walls of Nineveh to devote a -single hour to lamentation. - -The injustice rankled. He had heard of other men coming back to find -their places occupied by indispensables, but it had never occurred to -him that _his_ bosses would “welch” on their promise. He had never for -an instant doubted, and yet when he was turned away he was not -surprised. It seemed odd to him that he was not surprised. Perhaps it -was because he had reached the point where nothing could surprise him. -In any case, he strode out of the old familiar offices with his chin -high, enjoying a very good opinion of himself and an extremely poor one -of his late employers. It did not occur to him to feel the slightest -uneasiness about the future. He would be no time at all in landing a -good job with any one of the half dozen big concerns that had tried in -vain to get him away from the V—— Company. He would take his month or -two of idleness down in the old town, where he could realize on the -dreams and the longings that had never ceased to attend him, awake or -asleep, through all the black ages spent in France. - -This time there was no delegation at the station to meet him. Too many -of Rumley’s young men had preceded him home from the war. He was no -better than the rest of them and deserved no more. His father and Sammy -Parr were waiting for him when the train pulled in. - -“By thunder, Oliver, it beats the dickens how you work into my plans so -neatly,” cried the latter. “You always seem to be coming home at the -right minute. You couldn’t have timed it better if you’d—oh, excuse me, -Mr. Baxter, I forgot you hadn’t—er, here’s your father, Oliver.” - -Old Oliver came shuffling up from the background. He eyed his son -narrowly. - -“What’s this, I hear about them not taking you back on your old job?” he -demanded. He extended his hand, which young Oliver gripped in both of -his. - -“Aren’t you glad to see me back, alive and well, dad?” he cried. “Not -even scratched, or gassed or shell-shocked or anything. You act as -though you—” - -“Of course, I’m glad you’re back, sonny—of course, I am. I’ve been -praying for this ever since you went away. I don’t see how on earth you -ever escaped being killed. I—I guess it wasn’t meant for you to die -that way. Seems so, at any rate. But what did I tell you about them -holding your job for you? What did I tell you? Didn’t I tell you just -what would happen? Didn’t I say you’d never get it back? Didn’t I say -you were a fool for giving up a seven thousand dollar job to go over and -mix up in a war that wasn’t any of our business? Well, you see what’s -happened. Just what I said would happen. Here you are, a grown man, out -of a job and probably won’t be able to get one in God knows how long. -I—” - -“Oh, I’m not down and out, you know, dad,” broke in young Oliver, -slapping his father on the shoulder. “I’ve got quite a bunch of money in -the bank and I’ve got my health and a few million dollars’ worth of -brains left. So, cheer up! I’m not worrying. I learned a long time ago -how to land on my feet—and that’s the way I’ll land this crack.” - -“Course you’re not worrying,” was his father’s sour retort. “You’ve got -me to fall back on, with a good home and grub and a darned fine business -to drop into when I’m dead and gone. Four-fifths of the fellers who -served in the army from this town alone are back here now, loafing and -living off of their folks, and kicking like a bay steer because the -government won’t do something for them. I hope you ain’t going to be one -of that kind, Oliver. I hope to God you ain’t.” - -His son could hardly believe his ears. He was bewildered, hurt. - -“If you mean, dad, that I am counting on living off of you—of sponging -on you—why, put it out of your mind. Nothing like that is going to -happen. I did plan to stay a month or two, just for a rest and to be -with you for a while—but if you’d rather have me beat it back to -Chicago to look for a job, I’ll only hang around a few days.” - -“I want you to stay here as long as you like, sonny,” cried old Oliver, -melting. “I don’t want you ever to go away again. Maybe I sounded as if -I did—but—but, I don’t. I’m getting purty old—seventy-four last -month—and I guess I’m not good for much longer. Don’t you get it into -your head that I don’t want you to stay here in Rumley. Nothing would -suit me better than to turn the business over to you right now and let -me retire, but I guess it’s not your idea to go into the retail hardware -business.” - -“If you need me, dad, I—I will stay,” said Oliver, swallowing hard. - -“Oh, I don’t need you yet,” said his father, crusty once more. “I can -get along, I guess. I’ve done it for a good many years, and I’m not all -in yet, as the feller says. There was a time when I thought of selling -out and moving into another state to live, but I’ve given that idea up.” - -“Still living in dread of what that darned old fraud said the day I was -born, eh? Well, the agony will soon be over. A year and a half more, -isn’t it? That will end the tale, and I will live happily forever -afterward.” - -Sammy Parr was consulting his vest-pocket note book. - -“Just one year, six months and twenty-one days,” said he. - -“Good Lord, Sam! Have _you_ gone off your nut, too?” - -“Vital statistics, old boy. It’s my business, you know. Come on; I’ve -got my car out here. Your father’s Ford died last fall and he’s been an -orphan ever since. Grab up some of this junk and I’ll bring the rest. -Never mind, Mr. Baxter. We can manage it.” - -“Drop me at the store,” said old Oliver crossly. - -Sammy gave young Oliver a significant look. “All right, Mr. Baxter. -We’ll wait outside for you. I’ve got nothing but time on my hands -to-day, and besides I want to talk to Oliver about a—er—something -private.” - -As the two young men hurried across the platform with the bags and -bundles, Sammy found opportunity to say to Oliver: - -“He’ll be in a good humor in a minute or two. It’s just a habit he’s -fallen into since you’ve been away. I guess it’s that infernal gypsy -business. He’s as peevish as blazes a good part of the time.” - -They stopped in front of the Baxter store and the old man reluctantly -got out of the car. It was plain to be seen that he had not intended to -stop there at all but was now obliged to do so to save his face. - -“I won’t be a minute,” he said, affecting a briskness that was -calculated to deceive his son. Then he darted into the store, where, -from a shadowy corner in the stove section, he shifted his uneasy gaze -from the clock on the wall to the car at the curb. - -“How’s your wife, Sam?” inquired Oliver. - -Sammy grinned. “Little premature, ain’t you?” - -“Premature?” - -“Sure. I’m not going to be married till next week.” - -“Oh, I say, old chap, I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard of Laura’s death. Her -name _was_ Laura, wasn’t it?” - -“Yep. And it still is. But her last name isn’t Parr any longer. It’s -Collins. We’ve been divorced for five or six months, Oliver. Don’t look -so darned serious. I’m not sensitive. It’s the way things are done these -days. Nobody gets married for keeps nowadays. It’s not supposed to be -proper. The idea is to try it out for a year or so and if it doesn’t -work, zing! You up and get divorced. Pretty much the same thing as an -armistice. The war has changed everything. Quite a few old married -people I know of are taking advantage of the new order of things. I’ve -had to change the beneficiaries in four or five policies already. -They’ve suddenly awoke to the fact that it’s easy. God knows where it -will end. But I haven’t time now to tell you how Laura and I came to -split up. Some other time, if you’ll just remind me of it. The question -of the hour is, will you be best man again for me next week, old boy? -I’m marrying the sweetest little woman that ever came down the pike, and -this time it’s for keeps. No monkey business. Her first husband was a -Lieutenant Higby—we were in the same camp for months and months. That’s -where I met her. Well, he didn’t appreciate her. That’s the long and -short of it. Got to running around after other women. She up and canned -him. Long and short of it. Laura, God bless her, fell in love with a -chap named Collins. I don’t blame her, mind you—not a bit of it. She’s -as square as anything. Of course, it hurt my pride a little when she ran -away with him—but it simplified matters. I’m sure you will like Muriel. -She’s as fine as they make ’em. We’re to be married next Thursday -afternoon. Up in the city. Her people live there. How about it? Will you -repeat for me? I promise you it will be the last time, Oliver. Never -again. We both know what we’re about this time. We’ve cut all our wisdom -teeth—and, by Gosh, if you ask me, I’ve had a couple pulled.” - -“We had a very jolly time at your first wedding, Sammy,” sighed Oliver. -“Jane was maid-of-honor and—well, I would have sworn that you two were -the kind who would stick.” - -“So would I,” agreed Sammy cheerfully. “We can’t very well ask Jane to -be maid-of-honor this time,” he went on. “Religious scruples, you see. -Minister’s daughter. Wouldn’t look right. I mean, wouldn’t look right -for her. But it’s different with you. You haven’t any religious -scruples. What say? Will you do it?” - -“Certainly. Rumley seems to be keeping up with the times, Sammy. When I -was a kid, nobody ever dreamed of getting a divorce. It was looked upon -as a—er—a sort of a crime.” - -“Still is by some of the old-timers,” confessed Sammy. “Here comes your -father. Don’t say anything about me being married next week. I’m closing -up a deal to renew his fire insurance to-morrow or next day, and if he -knew I was thinking of committing bigamy next week, he’d turn me down -cold. He calls it bigamy, you see.” - -“I see. By the way, where is Jane, Sammy?” - -He remembered having asked that very question when he returned after a -former protracted absence—and how many times had he asked it even -before that? Every time he came home from college for a brief visit, -every time he met Mr. Sage on the street—why, all his life he had been -asking: “Where is Jane?” - -“Jane Sage? Oh, she’s around, same as ever. Things are a lot easier for -Mr. Sage now. I guess maybe you haven’t heard about his brother dying -out in California and leaving him quite a bit of money. Yep. About a -hundred thousand dollars, they say—safely invested, mostly at six per -cent. The old boy still sticks to his job as preacher, though. He’s -getting eighteen hundred a year now from the church. I’m glad of it. He -gets a new suit of clothes every once in a while, and Jane doesn’t have -to make her own dresses as she used to. It looks like a pretty serious -affair between her and Doc Lansing. Been going on now for nearly a -year.” - -“What’s that?” demanded Oliver, startled. - -“I guess it’s all happened since you went away. Why, sure it has. Doc’s -only been practicing here since last summer. Got hurt over in France in -1917 and had to take his discharge. Went over early in ’Seventeen in the -Medical Corps. Leg smashed. Limps. Fine feller, though.” - -“I don’t seem to remember him,” said Oliver, dully. - -“His father is president of the new bank here—that brick building down -there at the corner of Clay and Pershing Streets.” - -“Pershing Street?” - -“Yep. Used to be Ridley’s Lane.” - -“Oh.” Oliver was feeling a little like Rip Van Winkle. “You say -she’s—er—in love with him?” - -“Looks that way,” said Sammy, indifferently. “He’s dead gone on her, -that’s sure. I had him in not long ago for the baby. He’s all right. I -forgot to tell you that the court gave the kid to me for eight months -every year—four months to Laura. All right, Mr. Baxter. Hop in. I’ll -snake you home in no time. Hang on to your hat.” - -The volatile, insouciant Mr. Parr employed the correct word when he said -“snake,” for he wriggled a swift and serpentinous way through the -traffic of Clay Street in his noisy red roadster, keeping up a running -fire of conversation all the time, much of it being drowned by the -louder fire of the muffler cut-out—which he used unsparingly in place -of his horn in tight pinches. - -“There’s Jane on ahead,” he sang out to Oliver as they whizzed across -Pershing Street. - -“Where?” cried Oliver, starting up. - -“Back there,” replied Sammy, with a jerk of his head. - -Oliver twisted in the seat and looked over his shoulder. Jane was -standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring after the red roadster. -He half-rose and waved his hand to her. She did not respond at once. The -car was swinging into a cross street before she recovered from her -astonishment. Then she waved her hand—and the last he saw of her she -was standing stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk. - -“Say, what the—what’s the rush?” he roared. “I want to speak to Jane. -Stop the damn thing, will you? Let me out. I’ll run back and—” - -“Keep your shirt on,” chirped Sammy. “I’ll run you clear around the -block and we’ll head her off. Quicker than backing and turning in -this—” - -“Go ahead!” commanded Mr. Baxter sharply. “Let’s get home. You can see -Jane to-morrow or next day,” he shouted to his son. - -“Oh, I say, dad!” - -“If you’d sooner see her than me—all right. All right! Turn around, -Sammy, and take him back. Let me out. I’ll walk the rest of the way -home.” - -“Drive on, Sam,” said Oliver, sinking back in the seat. - -Presently Mr. Baxter cackled. He was in high good humor again. “Say,” he -said, “I fooled the whole crowd of ’em. I told Joe and the rest of ’em -you wouldn’t be coming down till to-morrow. Pretty smart trick, eh? -Joe’ll be so mad he’ll pay me the twenty dollars he owes me, claiming he -don’t want to have anything more to do with me. He-he-he!” - -Oliver was silent. Sammy snorted and then got very red in the face. - -“I had to tell Serepty Grimes,” went on Mr. Baxter, as if apologizing to -himself. “She’s keeping house for me now, and so I had to tell her. I -didn’t tell her till just about an hour ago, though. She was as mad as a -wet hen.” - -“Aunt Serepta keeping house for you?” - -“Yes. Have you got any objections?” - -“None whatever, dad. I think it’s great.” - -“Well,” began the old man, slightly mollified, “I’m glad it suits you.” - -“I wouldn’t have thought she’d give up her own nice little house -to—Don’t tell she’s in financial difficulties, dad.” - -“She’s better off than she ever was. She sold her house and lot and the -Grimes sawmill two years ago, and now she’s living off the fat of the -land. She was the one who proposed the housekeeper scheme, not me. I -tried to argue her out of it. Wasn’t any use. I said that people would -be sure to talk if she came over and lived at my house. Make a regular -scandal out of it. But she just laughed and said nothing in the world -would tickle her so much as to have people say complimentary things -about her at her age. I was a long time figuring out what she meant. -She’s sixty-nine. She says I ought to feel the same way about it, me -being seventy-four. ‘Let ’em talk,’ says she, and after a while she got -me to saying ‘let ’em talk.’ But the cussed part of it is, nobody thinks -there’s anything scandalous about it. There hasn’t been a derned bit of -talk. The only thing people say, far as I can make out, is that it’s a -mighty nice arrangement. What the dickens are you laughing at, Sam?” - -“I just ran over a hen,” lied Samuel promptly. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - - IDLE DAYS - -June was well along before Oliver began seriously to contemplate -bringing his self-styled “vacation” to an end. May had been glorious. -Not since the year he left college had he known what it was to be idle -and, in a manner of speaking, independent. He revelled in privileges -that had been denied him for years—such as lying abed in the morning -till he felt good and ready to turn out; strolling aimlessly whither he -wished without troubling himself over the thought that he had to get -back at a given time; loafing;—Lord, he couldn’t remember that there -ever had been a time when he actually enjoyed the dishonorable luxury of -loafing!—on street corners, in Fry’s drug store, in the public library, -on friendly lawns and front porches; fishing, tramping, motoring, -reading—all the things he had dreamed of in the black days across the -sea. - -The country was green and fresh and sparkling with the glories of a -summer just taking over the heritage of a blithe and bountiful spring. -The dust and grit of jaded August were still far enough away to be -unconsidered; the roadside bushes and hedges, the trees and the grass -were without the coat of gray that settles down upon them as summer -ages; the brooks and the creeks were cool and laughing in a world of -plenty, disdainful of the drought that was sure to fall upon and suck -them in the blistering “dog days.” - -Even the sinister stretches of Death Swamp, across which he looked from -the oak-shaded citadel that he would always call home, were not so -repelling as they had been in days of yore. The pools, the hummocks, the -patches of defiant reeds, the black shades of the quagmires seemed oddly -to have lost much of their ugliness; the vastness that used to appall -him was gone, just as the old church down the lane seemed to have shrunk -from an immense, overpowering structure into a pitiful little shanty -supporting a ridiculous little steeple. The swamp was green and almost -kindly in its serenity; the wall of willows that surrounded it was -greener still and no longer the horrifying barrier beyond which no man -dared to tread; the soft blue of the June sky lay upon the still and -supposedly bottomless pond in the middle of these useless acres. - -But at night—ah, that was different! The swamp turned grim and dismal -and forbidding. The grown man became once more the little boy as he -looked out over the moonlit waste or tried to pierce its black shadows -on a starless night; the same old creepy sensations of dread and terror -stole over him, and he who knew not the meaning of fear shivered. - -During the first week he spent many happy, care-free hours with Jane -Sage. They took long walks through country lanes, visited the old haunts -he had known as smuggler, pirate and brigand, and marveled to find that -they were still boy and girl. It was hard for him to believe that this -tall, beautiful, glowing creature was the Jane Sage of another day, hard -for him to realize that this ripe, mature, fully developed woman with -the calm, clear eyes of understanding and the soft, deep voice, had once -been a spindling, giggling girl in pinafores and pigtails, and later a -half-formed maid in unnoticeable shirt waists and ill-hanging skirts. -She reminded him that she was twenty-five. Why shouldn’t she be grown-up -at twenty-five? What was surprising in that? Everybody else grew up and -got old, didn’t they? - -“Yes,” said he, “but somehow you seem to have grown up differently from -other people. As if magic had something to do with it.” - -“I was as grown-up when you went off to France four years ago as I am -now. A girl doesn’t change much between twenty-one and twenty-five, you -know.” - -“Why, you were just out of short dresses when I went to France.” - -She laughed. “Shows what little notice you took of me,” she gurgled. -“And all the time you were over there you were thinking of me as an -overgrown schoolgirl, I suppose. That is, if you thought of me at all.” - -“Oh, I thought of you a great deal. But you’re right. I did think of you -as you were when I went to Chicago to work—just a pretty, big-eyed, -high-school girl with bony elbows and skinny arms—and you were as flat -as a board. Why, good Lord, Janie, hasn’t anybody ever told you that -you’re old enough to be married?” - -“I am not without confidential friends,” she replied demurely, a soft, -warm flush spreading from throat to cheek. - -This was in the first week of his visit. It was early evening and he -lounged contentedly among cushions at the foot of the steps leading up -to the parsonage veranda—an “improvement” that had followed close upon -Mr. Sage’s windfall. Jane sat on an upper step, her back against the -railing, her legs stretched out before her in graceful abandon. The -porch light behind cast its quite proper glow down upon the tranquil -picture; it fell upon the crown of Jane’s dark, wavy hair, scantily -touching with shadowy softness the partly lowered face which, with -seeming indifference, she kept turned away from him. She was looking -pensively down the dim-lit, cottage-lined street that cut through what -once had been the barren tract known as Sharp’s Field. - -Oliver had fastened a sort of proprietory claim upon her as soon as he -arrived in town. He took it for granted that old conditions had not been -altered by the lapse of years nor by the transformations of nature; it -did not occur to him that their relationship could or should be governed -by a new set of laws. - -And suddenly, on this quiet June evening, came the shock that put an end -to the old order of things: the astonishing realization that Jane was -old enough to be married! She was no longer a simple playmate. She was -old enough to be somebody’s wife—aye, more than that, she was old -enough to be the mother of children! - -He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye, as if at some strange -creature that baffled his understanding. A woman! Jane Sage a woman! -Yes, there was the woman’s look in her thoughtful eyes, the woman’s mold -of chin and cheek and temple, the graceful curves of a woman’s body, the -round throat and the firm, shapely breast of glorious womanhood. A queer -little thrill ran over him—the thrill of discovery. This was succeeded -by a smarting sense of mortification which found expression in an -apologetic murmur: - -“And I’ve been behaving right along just as if you were still a blooming -infant.” - -“Instead of a withering old maid,” she remarked, affecting a lugubrious -sigh. - -“Oh, I say, you—why, hang it all, Jane, if you turn out to be an old -maid I’ll—I swear I’ll not believe there’s a God or anything. It would -be monstrous—inhuman.” - -“Sometimes we can’t help it,” said she. - -“It’s darned hard for me to think of you as a grown woman, but it’s even -harder to conceive of you as an old maid.” - -“You’re getting on in years yourself, old boy,” said she tauntingly. -“Aren’t you afraid of becoming a crusty old bachelor?” - -He did not answer. Apparently he had not heard her. He was deep in -thought. After a long silence he spoke. - -“What sort of a chap is Lansing, Jane?” - -She started, and for a moment her eyes were fixed intently on his -half-averted face. There was an odd, startled expression in them. - -“He is very nice,” she answered. - -“So everybody says. He struck me as an uncommonly decent, high-minded -fellow. Knows a lot more to-day, of course, than he’ll know when he gets -a little older. Just out of medical college, isn’t he?” - -“He was overseas in 1917,” she replied, a trace of warmth in her voice. -“He had been an interne for more than a year when he enlisted. He’s -young, of course—but we are all young once, aren’t we? He is considered -a very able—” - -“Lord love you, Jane,” he broke in hastily, “I’m not questioning his -ability or his record. He’s got a smashed leg to show for his work over -there, and that’s more than I’ve got. As for his—” - -“You have two or three medals,” she broke in softly. “You got them for -bravery, didn’t you?” - -“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I got them for foolishness. Fools -rush in where angels fear to tread! I had a fool’s luck, that’s all. The -battlefields and trenches were full of dead men who ought to have had -ten medals to my one. Lansing, for instance—wasn’t he hurt in an air -raid over a field hospital a few kilometers back of the lines?” - -“Yes.” - -“I sometimes think, in fact, I know—that it takes more real courage to -fight with your back to the enemy than it does to face him—if you see -what I mean. It’s much easier to be brave in the light than it is in the -dark. Besides,” he went on in his dry, whimsical manner, “you know which -way to run if you can see the enemy coming toward you. And usually you -run away from him a lot faster than you run toward him. I know I did.” - -“You used to be a very good runner,” she said, smiling. “But that was -ages ago.” - -“Ages,” he agreed, and then both fell silent. - -They watched the approach of an automobile along the tree-lined street. -It slowed down as it neared the Sage home, coming to a stop at the front -gate. Jane shifted her position quickly. She uncrossed her legs, drew -them up into a less comfortable position, and attended to some slight -though perhaps unnecessary rearrangement of her skirt. This action did -not escape the notice of Oliver. It was significant. It established the -line she drew between him and other men. She didn’t mind him and she did -mind—well, say, Lansing, for it was the young doctor who clambered out -of the car and came up the walk. - -The house stood back a hundred feet or more from the street, so Oliver, -recognizing the newcomer, had ample time to say to Jane, with a -mischievous gleam in his eye as he looked up at her: - -“Hullo! Here comes the doctor. Why didn’t you tell me some one was sick -in the house?” - -“Sh! He will hear you,” cautioned Jane, frowning at him. - -“Bless your heart, Jane,” he whispered impulsively, and again she looked -at him in stark surprise. - -Young Lansing walked with a slight limp. He was a tall, shock-haired, -good-looking chap of twenty-five or six. He had the manner of one -absolutely cocksure of himself—no doubt an admirable trait in one of -his calling—and there were people who did not quite approve of him -because he seemed to know as much as if not more than the old and -time-tried practitioners of the town. He had new-fangled ideas, new -methods, and he never by any chance so far forgot himself as to allude -to an ailment or remedy in terms other than profoundly scientific. After -hearing him classify your symptoms, it was impossible for you to deny -that he was a young man of superlative attainments. But when you rushed -around to the drug store with your prescription, believing yourself to -be in the grip of a strange and horrific malady, and found that you had -an ordinary sore throat and were to let the same old potash tablets -dissolve in your mouth just as you had always done, you somehow felt -that young Dr. Lansing was a trifle over-educated. He was, at -twenty-six, what you would call bumptious. Nevertheless, he was a fine, -earnest, likeable fellow—and even the most ignorant of patients would -just as soon be ill in Latin as in plain English so long as he pulls -through. - -“Good evening, Jane,” said he, as he came up to the steps. “How are you, -Captain Baxter? Wonderful night, isn’t it?” - -“Wonderful,” said Oliver, who wasn’t thinking at all of the physical -aspects of the night. - -“Don’t be a pig, Oliver,” cried Jane. “Hand over a couple of those -cushions to Dr. Lansing. You look like a Sultan completely surrounded by -luxury.” - -“Don’t bother,” interposed Lansing hastily. “I shan’t mind sitting here -on the step. Doctors get used to—Oh, thanks, Captain. Since you force -them upon me.” - -Twenty minutes later, Oliver looked at his wrist-watch, uttered an -exclamation, and sprang to his feet. - -“I must be going, Jane,” he said. “Due at Sammy Parr’s house half an -hour ago. I’m standing up with him at his wedding to-morrow, Doctor. -Marriage is a complaint you can have more than once, it seems. It’s -Sammy’s second attack.” - -“No cure for it, I believe,” said Lansing, arising. “Not necessarily -fatal, however.” - -“If taken in time it can be prevented,” quoth Oliver, airily. “The -symptoms are unmistakable.” - -“Haven’t you ever been exposed to it?” inquired Lansing, with a grin. - -“Frequently. It takes two to catch it, though. That’s how I’ve managed -to escape. So long, Jane. I shan’t see you again for a few days. Going -up for the wedding to-morrow and expect to stay in the city for a day or -two. Good night, Doctor.” - -He took himself off in well-simulated haste. He had not been slow to -size up the situation. He was _de trop_. A certain constraint had fallen -upon the young couple at the opposite side of the steps. He had -sustained the brunt of conversation for some time, notwithstanding -several determined efforts on Jane’s part to do her share. Lansing -seemed to have become absolutely inarticulate. - -As he strode off down the street he was conscious of an extremely -uncomfortable feeling that they were glad to be rid of him. Indeed, now -that he thought of it, Jane had not seemed especially pleased when he -dropped in shortly after supper. He recalled her long silences and the -way she kept her gaze fixed on the street. Yes, they were glad to be rid -of him. Any one could see that with half an eye. He smarted a little. It -hurt him to think that Jane didn’t want him around. Now that she was a -woman she didn’t want him hanging around. She wanted somebody else. -Somehow it didn’t seem natural. - -But then, he philosophized, why wasn’t it natural? She was old enough to -be thinking seriously of getting married, old enough to have been in -love a half dozen times or more—only he couldn’t conceive of Jane being -so silly and vacillating as all that—and she certainly had a right to -be annoyed with him if he came meddling around—He stopped short in his -tracks, a queer little chill of dismay striking in upon him. For a -moment he felt utterly desolate and bewildered. He felt lost. Why, it -meant that he and Jane couldn’t be playmates or chums any longer. - -Without quite knowing what he was doing, he turned and looked back in -the direction from which he had come. He saw the little red tail-light -far up the street, standing guard, so to speak, in front of the -parsonage. A red light signified danger. It means “steer clear,” “go -slow,” “beware.” - -Jamming his hands into his pockets he resumed his way homeward, but now -he walked slowly, his head bent in thought. Presently his face began to -brighten, and soon he was grinning delightedly. - -“Bless her heart,” he was saying to himself. “It’s great! What a mucker -I am to begrudge her anything. I hope this guy is good enough for her, -that’s all. If he isn’t—” here his face darkened again—“if he doesn’t -treat her right after he gets her, I’ll make him wish he’d never been -born.” His cogitations became more expansive. After a while they led him -to strong decisions. “It’s up to me to give him a clear field. No -butting in as if I owned the house and Jane and everything. It’s all -right for me to say I’m an old friend, and all that, but old friends can -make damned nuisances of themselves. I know how I’d feel if I was in -love with a girl and some idiotic old friend kept on horning in on -everything. Why, I’ve been up at Jane’s every night since I got to -town—most of the afternoons, too. Monopolizing her. Making her unhappy. -Making him—Yes, I’ve got to cut it out. It isn’t fair. She’s in love -with him—at least, it looks that way. It’s going to spoil my visit down -here, but I’ve got to do it. The town won’t seem natural or like home if -I can’t play around with Jane—but, my Lord, our play days are over. He -seems like a decent chap. I wonder how Mr. Sage feels about it? -Heigh-ho! It certainly does beat the devil the way the war has turned -everything upside down. Nothing is the same. It never can be the same. -Let’s see—what did I say I had to do? Oh, yes—see Sammy Parr about -something or other.” - -And yet, with the best intentions in the world, he was not allowed to -carry them out. Jane had something to say about it. She met him face to -face in the street three days after Sammy Parr’s wedding, and looking -straight into his eyes, asked: - -“What is the matter, Oliver?” - -“Matter?” - -“Yes. What have I done?” - -“Done?” - -“Don’t be stupid. Have I offended you? Why haven’t you been up to see -me?” - -He decided to be quite frank about it. “I guess you know the reason.” - -“I don’t know of any reason why you shouldn’t come to see me, unless -it’s because you don’t care to.” - -“See here, Jane, we’ve always been pals. I know you like me just as much -as you ever did, and I’d jump off of that building over there head first -for your sake. I don’t know exactly how things stand with you and -Lansing. I don’t think you are engaged to be married. If that were the -case, I’m sure you would have told me so, but—” - -“We are not engaged to be married,” she said quietly. - -“I’m not going to ask whether you are in love with him. It’s none of my -business. It’s pretty generally understood that he is in love with you. -Let me finish. I will admit I’ve been making a few inquiries. I have -found out that up to the time he came upon the field you had any number -of young men calling on you—And I’ll bet my head they were all in love -with you. According to gossip, he seems to have the inside track—so -much so, in fact, that all of the others have dropped out of the -running. You see hardly any one now but Lansing. And so, while I’m not a -suitor, it’s only fair and square of me to keep out of the—” - -Her free, joyous laugh interrupted him. - -“Oh, you don’t know how relieved I am,” she cried. “I thought it was -something really serious. Something I had done to offend you. So that’s -the explanation, is it? You wanted to give me every chance in the world -to catch a beau—and to keep him. It’s awfully kind of you, Oliver. -Quixotic and silly and presumptuous—but kind. I am glad you’ve told me. -As you say, it is none of your business. So I shan’t burden you with my -affairs. There is no reason why you should make me miserable and -unhappy, however, just because you want to be what you call fair and -square. It’s just dirt mean of you, that’s what it is. So now you know -how I feel. Why, suppose I were in love with some one—even suppose I -were engaged—is that any reason why the oldest friend I have in the -world should turn his back on me and—” - -“Now, now! Don’t lose your temper, Jane!” - -“I’m not angry. I’m hurt. You’ve been in love with loads of -girls—heaven knows how many that I don’t know anything about—but has -that ever made any difference in my friendship for you? Indeed it -hasn’t. You—” - -“Then you _are_ in love with Lansing?” he broke in recklessly. - -“I haven’t said so, have I? Besides there is only one person who has a -right to ask me whether I’m in love with him or not and that is Doctor -Lansing himself.” - -“That was one straight to the point of the jaw,” cried he, with a -grimace. - -“So you needn’t feel you are doing me a good turn by avoiding me,” she -went on. “On the contrary, you are putting me in an extremely unenviable -position. What do you think people will say if you—of all persons—drop -me like a hot potato and—” - -“Now, listen, Jane,” he began defensively. “I thought I was doing the -right thing. You see, it isn’t the same as it would be if I were a -contender. Good Lord, can you see me standing aside in favor of another -fellow if I was in love with you? I should say not! I’d stay him out if -it took all night _every_ night for ten years. But I want to play the -game. Why, if I keep on coming to see you morning, noon and night, I’ll -scare Lansing off and he—he’ll take to drink or something like that,” -he wound up whimsically. - -“I don’t believe even as redoubtable a character as you could scare him -off, my dear Oliver,” said she, not without a trace of irony. - -“Well, anyhow—” began Oliver lamely—“anyhow, I’ve explained and it -doesn’t seem to have done a particle of good.” - -“Are you coming to see me?” - -“Certainly. If you want me to.” - -“Just as if there were no such person as Dr. Lansing?” - -“He isn’t easy to overlook, you know.” - -“I dare say if I were to ask him to overlook you, Oliver, he would do it -for my sake—with pleasure.” - -“Ouch!” - -“When are you coming to see me?” - -“This evening,” said he promptly. “Unless you have a previous -engagement,” he hurriedly qualified in justice to his good intentions. - -Jane smiled. “Doctor Lansing has quite an extensive practice,” she -remarked dryly. “He can’t devote every evening to me, you know.” - -And so June drew toward an end with Jane and Oliver back on the old -footing—not quite the same as before, owing to the latter’s secret -conviction that he was playing hob with the doctor’s peace of mind, -although that young gentleman failed surprisingly to reveal any signs of -an inward disturbance. On the contrary, he didn’t seem to mind Oliver at -all—an attitude that was not without its irritations. - -The “committee of three,” satisfied that he was safe for the time being, -adopted the welcome policy of letting Oliver alone. Joseph Sikes was so -vehemently concerned over the Eighteenth Amendment that he had little -time for anything else—not, he insisted, because he was a drinking man -or that he couldn’t get along without it, but because he had for once -abandoned his own party and had weakly helped to elect men to a -legislature that had betrayed the state into the hands of the “sissies.” -He invariably spoke of the “dry” advocates as “sissies.” - -Oliver’s otherwise agreeable and whilom stay in Rumley was marred by his -father’s increasing despondency and irritation over the fact that he not -only was out of a job but apparently was making no effort to obtain one. -There were times when the old man’s scolding became unbearable, and but -for the pleadings of Serepta Grimes and the counsel of Mr. Sage, Oliver -would have packed his bags and departed. - -“Don’t pay any attention to him, Oliver,” begged Serepta. “He’s cranky, -that’s all. He don’t mean what he says. It would break his heart if you -were to get mad and go off and leave him.” - -“But I can’t stand being called a loafer, and a good-for-nothing, and a -lazy hound, and—” - -“You must overlook it, Oliver. He’s old and he has worried so terribly -over what that gypsy said—” - -“All right—all right, Aunt Serepta,” he would say, patiently. “I’ll put -up with it. I know he’s fond of me. I wouldn’t hurt him for the world. -But sometimes it gets on my nerves so I have an awful time keeping my -temper. How would you like to be called a long-legged sponge?” - -He grinned and so did she. “I think I’d like it,” chuckled dumpy little -Serepta. “It would be stretchin’ something more than the imagination to -give me a pair of long legs, my boy.” - -“I’m not asking him for money,” grumbled Oliver. “I’ve got a little laid -by. Enough to tide me over for quite a while. He seems to think I’m -scheming to get my hands on some of his. In fact, he said so the other -day when I merely mentioned that if I could scrape up a few extra -thousand I could triple it in no time by draining all this end of the -swamp and turning it into as fine pasture land as you’d find in the -state. I even took him down to the swamp and showed him that it is -possible and feasible. He called me a rattle-brained idiot.” - -“Well,” said Serepta gently, “maybe you can carry out the plan after he -is gone, Oliver. He’s pretty old. He will leave everything he has to you -when he dies. He is a very thrifty man and he has prospered. So you will -be pretty well off.” - -“God knows I would like him to live to be a hundred, Aunt Serepta—so -let’s not talk of his dying.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - - OLD OLIVER DISAPPEARS - -Shortly before three o’clock on the afternoon of June 23rd; old Oliver -Baxter stepped into the bank at the corner of Clay and Pershing streets -and drew out thirty-five hundred dollars in currency. He gave no reason -to the teller or to the cashier for the withdrawal of so large an amount -in cash. He asked for a thousand in twenty dollar bills, the balance in -fifties and hundreds. Receiving and pocketing the money, he strode out -of the bank and turned his steps homeward. - -His balance at the bank was a fairly large one. Moreover, he owned -considerable stock in the institution. The Baxter Hardware Company was -no longer an insignificant concern dealing in tools, tinware, nails; it -was an “establishment.” You could buy plows there; reapers, binders and -mowers; furnaces and boilers, ice boxes and washing-machines; pots, -kettles and cauldrons; stoves, ranges and brass-headed tacks; cutlery, -crockery and stout hemp rope; step-ladders, wheel-barrows and glass -door-knobs; log-chains, dog-chains and fly-wheel belts; coffee-mills, -pepper-pots and bathroom scales; currycombs, skillets and housemaid’s -mops. - -The staff consisted of three clerks and a book-keeper, and, now that -farm machinery was included in the stock, an “annex” in the shape of a -long corrugated-iron shed reached out from the rear of the store and -took up all the available space between the Baxter Block and -Stufflebean’s Laundry on the north. People were right when they said -that young Oliver would fall into a very snug little fortune—and a -thriving, well-established business besides—when his father died. - -Oliver October, ten or fifteen minutes late for supper that evening, -found his father in a surprisingly amiable frame of mind. He was quite -jovial, more like himself than he had been at any time since his son’s -arrival. He joked about old Silas and Joseph, teased Oliver about the -extremely pretty Indianapolis girl who had come the week before to visit -the Lansings, and exchanged pleasant jibes with Mrs. Grimes at the -supper table, but said nothing about the money he had withdrawn from the -bank. - -It was a hot, still night, and there was a moon. On the front porch -after supper he brought up the subject of draining the swamp. He said -that he had given the matter a great deal of thought and was more or -less convinced that Oliver’s plan was a good one. Mrs. Grimes -triumphantly reminded Oliver that she had said, three weeks ago, that -all he had to do was to give the family mule plenty of rope and he would -quit balking in time—and hadn’t it turned out just as she said it -would? She left father and son seated on the porch and went off to spend -the night with an old friend whose husband was not expected to live till -morning. - -Mr. Baxter’s good humor did not endure. He revived a dispute they had -had in the store earlier in the day—a one-sided quarrel, by the way, -which his son had terminated by rushing out of the place with the words -“Oh, hell!” flung back over his shoulder. The old man had that day -offered him an interest in the business if he would remain in Rumley and -take full charge of the store. Oliver was grateful, he was touched, but -he declined the offer, saying he had a profession in which he wanted to -make good; staying in Rumley would mean the end of all his hopes and -ambitions. Mr. Baxter flew into a rage and his son, white with -mortification, left the store, with that single, unguarded exclamation -his only outward sign of revolt. - -Mr. Baxter’s reversion to the subject came when Oliver, looking at his -watch, announced that he must be running along, as he was due over at -the Sages to say good-by to Jane and her father. - -“Well, I’ll walk part of the way with you,” said his father crossly. “I -want to talk to you about the drainage scheme and—and, Oliver, I’d like -to see if I can’t coax you to change your mind about coming into the -store. If you don’t mind, we’ll take the lower road along the swamp. -It’s a short-cut for you—saves you a quarter of a mile or more. I’ve -been over the road several times lately, looking the land over, and I -want to get your idea fixed in my mind. It’s as bright as day almost. -This may be the last night we’ll ever spend together, so I—” - -“Don’t say anything like that, dad!” - -“Never can tell. You may be sent off to some out-of-the-way place in the -West—in case you get a job, which I doubt very much—and God knows -whether I’ll be here when you come back. Got to look these things in the -face, you know. I’m seventy-five. If I do say it myself, a pretty good -little man for my age—wiry as a piece of steel—but, as I say, you -never can tell.” - -A few minutes before nine o’clock, Oliver October appeared at the home -of the Reverend Mr. Sage, somewhat out of breath and visibly agitated. - -“I’m awfully sorry to be so late,” he apologized. “Father and I had a -long and trying confab and I—I couldn’t get away. He gave it to me hot -and heavy to-night, Uncle Herbert. The worst yet. God knows I hate to -say it, but I’m glad I’m going to-morrow, and the way I feel now, I hope -I’ll never see the place again.” - -“No, you shouldn’t say it, Oliver,” said Mr. Sage. “Poor man, he is -really not responsible these days. I wish you could see your way clear -to remain here.” - -“You don’t believe he is—unbalanced, do you? I mean out of his mind?” - -“By no means. He is as sound as a dollar, mentally. But his nerves, my -boy—his nerves are shattered. He thinks of nothing but the fate he -believes to be in store for you. Every day is an age to him. You will -not be thirty until a year from next October. Do you know how long that -seems to him? Endless! You see, Oliver, for nearly thirty years he has -lived in dread of—well, of the absurd thing that gypsy woman said. He -tries to laugh it off, but I know it has never been out of his thoughts. -Once you have passed your thirtieth birthday, he will be another man. He -sleeps on thorns now. It is no wonder that he is cross and irritable and -unreasonable. He is not deceived by the recent change of front on the -part of Joe Sikes and Silas Link, both of whom now loudly profess not to -believe a word of the fortune. He knows they are trying to cheer him -up.” - -“He really is afraid that I am going to be hanged before I’m thirty?” - -“I fear that is the case, Oliver.” - -“And that is why he wants me to stay here, so that he can watch over and -protect me?” - -“Exactly. Only he can not force himself to come out flatly and say so. -He is ashamed to say it to you, Oliver.” - -“If I really believed that to be the case, Uncle Herbert, I—I would -stay.” - -“It is the case, my lad,” said the minister earnestly. - -“I’ll—I’ll think it over to-night,” said Oliver. “To-morrow I will put -it up to him squarely. If he says he wants me to stay _for that reason_, -I will chuck everything and—and go into the store.” - -“A year or so out of your life, Oliver, is a very small matter. But a -year out of his is a great one, especially as it will seem like a -hundred to him. Yes, my boy, think it over. And think of him more than -of yourself while you are about it.” - -“I guess maybe I deserve that slap, Mr. Sage. It touched the quick, -but—I guess I deserve it.” - -He ran his fingers through his moist, disheveled hair—and then looked -at them curiously. With his other hand he fanned himself with his straw -hat. - -Jane, who had been silent during the brief colloquy between her father -and Oliver, was studying the young man’s face intently. She was puzzled -by his manner and by his expression. He spoke jerkily, as if under a -strain, and his lips twitched. She noticed that his shoes were very -muddy. - -“I came over by the back road, along the swamp,” he explained, catching -her in the act of staring at his feet. “Father walked part of the way -with me. He was pleasant enough to start off with, and I thought -everything was all right between us, but when I told him I couldn’t -reconsider—he went up in the air—and—Gee, what a panning he gave me! -It was terrible, Mr. Sage. I saw red. I felt like taking him by the -throat and choking him, just to make him stop abusing me. I—I had to -run—I couldn’t stand it. God, how miserable I am!” - -He put his hands over his eyes and his shoulders shook convulsively. -Jane and her father looked on, speechless. After a few moments, Mr. Sage -arose and, with a sign to his daughter, entered the house, leaving her -alone with Oliver. - -“Poor, poor Oliver,” she whispered, moving over close beside him on the -step. “It is all so strange and unreal. He loves you. You are everything -in the world to him. I can’t understand why he treats you like this. -I—I wonder if he isn’t just a little bit unbalanced. He must be. He—” - -“I don’t think he is,” groaned Oliver, lifting his head. “If I thought -it was that, I’d put up with anything—I’d overlook everything. But your -father is right. He’s as clear-minded as he ever was. He’s got it in for -me for some reason and he—” - -“If I were you, Oliver, I should tell him to-morrow that you intend to -stay here and go into the store.” - -“I don’t know that even that would help matters.” - -“Try it, Oliver,” she said gently. - -The clock on the town-hall struck twelve before Oliver reluctantly bade -Jane good night and started homeward. Looking over his shoulder from the -bottom of the lawn, he saw her standing on the steps in the glow of the -porch light. He waved his hand and blew a kiss to her. There were lights -in Mr. Sage’s study windows upstairs. - -On his way home, through the heart of the town, he passed the rather -pretentious house in which the Lansings lived. There were people on the -broad veranda. He recognized Sammy Parr’s boisterous laugh. He longed -for the companionship of friends—merry friends. His heart was heavy. He -was lonely. He turned in at the stone gate and walked swiftly up to the -house. - -“Hello, Ollie,” called out Sammy. “Just in time to say good night.” - -Young Lansing came to the top of the steps to greet him. - -“I’ve been up saying good-by to Mr. Sage and Jane. And the funny part of -it is that I may not go away to-morrow after all,” said Oliver. - -Lansing started and gave him a keen, startled look. - -“Has Jane persuaded you to stay?” he asked, after a slight hesitation. - -“Not for the reason you may have in mind, old chap,” replied Baxter, -laying his hand on the young doctor’s shoulder. “The Sages think I ought -not to leave my father.” He spoke in lowered tones, for Lansing’s ear -alone. - -“I quite agree with them,” said the other stiffly. “Jane has been -talking to me about it. She said she intended asking you to change your -plans.” - -“Mr. Sage opened my eyes to one or two things I haven’t been able to see -till now,” said Oliver simply. “My place is here in Rumley, Lansing. For -a year or two, at any rate.” - -They joined the group at the darkened end of the veranda. Sammy and his -bride—a fluffy little giggler—were there; Miss Johnson, the girl from -Indianapolis, and two other young men. - -“No, thanks, Doctor; I won’t sit down,” said Baxter. “Just ran in to see -if Sammy was behaving himself. And to tell you all that you will -probably have me on your hands for a while longer.” - -“Good boy,” cried Sammy. - -“Lovely—perfectly lovely,” shrieked the bride. - -“If you had told me this morning, Mr. Baxter,” said Miss Johnson coyly, -“I shouldn’t have telegraphed mother I’d be home day after to-morrow.” - -“Have a highball, Baxter?” asked Lansing suddenly. - -“Not to-night, thanks. I’ve got to be running along. Father may be -waiting up for me. Night, everybody.” - -And he was off. The group watched him stride swiftly down the cement -walk. Sammy was the first to speak. - -“Well, I call that sociability, don’t you? What the dickens is the -matter with him? First time I’ve ever seen Ollie Baxter with a grouch. A -grouch, that’s what it was.” - -“I don’t think it was very nice of him to come up here with a grouch,” -complained the bride. - -“I guess the crowd was too thick for him,” said one of the young men -solemnly, and then winked at the girl from Indianapolis. - -“He’s got something on his mind,” announced young Lansing, -professionally. - -“The old man, I guess,” said Sammy. “If my father behaved like old man -Baxter does, I’d take him across my knee and spank him.” - - * * * * * - -Early the next morning, Serepta Grimes called Joseph Sikes on the -telephone. - -“Did Oliver Baxter stay all night with you?” she inquired. “I mean old -Oliver.” - -“No.” - -“Have you seen anything of him this morning?” - -“No. What’s the matter, Serepty?” - -“Well, he didn’t sleep here last night, and there ain’t a sign of him -around the place. I—I guess maybe you’d better come up, Joe.” - - * * * * * - -Old Oliver was gone. - -“Off his base,” groaned Mr. Sikes, fifteen minutes after Serepta’s -agitated call. He and Silas Link had hurried up to the Baxter home, -where they found Mrs. Grimes waiting for them on the front porch. “I -knew it would come. Off his base completely.” - -“Wandered off somewheres,” groaned Mr. Link, very pale and shaky. “Maybe -down into the swamp. My God!” - -“Oliver October’s down there now,” said Serepta. “I got him out of bed a -little after seven. He didn’t wait to put on anything except his pants -and shoes. All I could get out of him was that the last he saw of his -father was down on the swamp road about nine o’clock last night. Old -Ollie walked a piece with him. Last Oliver saw of him, he was standing -down there in the middle of the road.” - -“Sure as shootin’!” gulped Mr. Sikes, sitting down heavily on the arm of -a chair. “Out of his head. Wandering around. In circles. Dead, maybe. My -God, Silas!” - -“My God!” echoed Mr. Link, wiping the moisture from his forehead with a -palsied hand. - -Both of them looked helplessly at Mrs. Grimes. She too was pale but she -was not helpless. - -“Well, for goodness’ sake, don’t sit there like a couple of corpses,” -she cried. “Do something. Get busy. Go look for him. Start—” - -“Sure he’s not around the house or barn anywhere?” broke in Mr. Link, -struggling to his feet. - -“Maybe he fell down the cellar,” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, hopefully. “Or the -cistern, or—” - -“I’ve looked everywhere. He ain’t in the cellar or the cistern or the -barn. I got here just about seven. Lizzie Meggs was getting breakfast. -She was singing, happy as a lark. Did I tell you that Abel Conroy is -still alive? Well, he is. I sat up with Kate Conroy all night, looking -for him to die any minute. He—” - -“Think he’ll pull through the day?” inquired Mr. Link, suddenly becoming -an undertaker. - -“Wouldn’t surprise me if he got well.” - -“Good deal depends on how his heart holds out. Doc’ Williams was -saying—” - -“Oh, for the Lord’s sake!” boomed Mr. Sikes. - -“As I was saying,” resumed Mrs. Grimes, “Lizzie was getting breakfast. I -said I thought I’d go upstairs and lie down for an hour or two, and she -says I’d better knock on Mr. Baxter’s door, ’cause she hadn’t heard him -moving ’round, and his breakfast would be cold if he didn’t get a move -on him. So I rapped on his door as I went by. Not a sound. I rapped -again, and then I tried the door. Then I went in. He wasn’t there. His -bed hadn’t been slept in. So I called Oliver October. It’s half-past -eight now, and the boy’s been down at the swamp for nearly an hour. Do -something! Go out and help him look—” - -“I’ll take a look in the barn first. He may have gone up to the haymow -to sleep,” said Sikes, and shuffled off, followed a moment later by -Silas Link, who had stayed behind long enough to instruct Mrs. Grimes to -telephone to the police and to the railway station. - -The long and the short of it was, Oliver Baxter had vanished as -completely as if swallowed by the earth—and it was the general opinion -that that was exactly what happened to him. There was not the slightest -doubt in the minds of his horrified friends that he had wandered out -upon the swamp and had met a ghastly fate in one of the countless pits -of mire whose depths no man knew or cared to fathom even in speculation. - -These soft, oozy, slimy holes were located at the lower end of the -swamp, nearly a mile from the Baxter home. The upper end had long been -looked upon as reclaimable through drainage, but that portion -surrounding the pond was a hopeless morass. Scientific men advanced the -opinion that ages ago a vast lake had existed in this region, covering -miles of territory. Death Swamp was all that was left of it; the rest -had dried up through the processes of nature. Tradition had it that the -pond was without bottom, but science in the shape of an adventurous -surveyor demonstrated that the water was not more than a few feet deep -at any point. However, this same surveyor was authority for the -statement that the mud at the bottom of the pond was so soft and -unresisting that he could not reach solid ground with the twenty-foot -fishing pole with which he was equipped. - -There were the usual stories, some verified, of horses and other animals -straying into the swamp and sinking out of sight before the eyes of -their owners—disappearing swiftly in what appeared to be a patch of -firm, reed-covered earth. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - - ONE WAY OF LOOKING AT IT - -Notwithstanding the almost universal belief that poor old Oliver Baxter -was buried in the black mire of the Swamp—there were some who said he -was still _sinking_—a state-wide search was at once instituted by his -distracted son, who, for one, did not believe that the missing man had -gone to his death in the loathesome tract. Before the sun had set on -that bleak though sunlit day, telephone and telegraph wires carried the -news to all nearby towns, villages and farms. Railway trains and -interurban cars were searched; the woods and the fields for miles around -were combed and the highways watched. - -The bank’s prompt announcement that Mr. Baxter had withdrawn thirty-five -hundred dollars convinced Oliver October and a few sound-headed -individuals that he had deliberately planned his departure from Rumley, -although they were totally in the dark as to his reason for leaving—if, -indeed, a reason existed in his disordered mind. - -No one could be found who saw him after he took leave of his son on the -swamp road. Oliver October related all that transpired between them on -that moonlit by-way. He did not spare himself in the recital. No one -blamed him, however. Much to his distress, Serepta Grimes came forward -with truthful descriptions of scenes in and about the Baxter home; she -told of old Oliver’s inexplicable conduct, of violent fits of anger that -grew out of nothing and died away in melancholy regret over the things -he had said to his beloved son. And she described Oliver October as an -angel possessing the patience of Job for having endured these outrageous -“tantrums.” - -While neither Serepta nor young Oliver could be positive, they were of -the opinion that Mr. Baxter wore his every-day business suit on the -evening of his disappearance. Of this, however, they could not be sure. -An inspection of his closet the following morning led to a puzzling -discovery. A comparatively new suit of a dark gray material—rather too -heavy for summer wear—was missing, while the wrinkled, well-worn -garments that he wore daily at the store were found hanging in the -closet alongside his venerable “Prince Albert.” Mrs. Grimes was -confident that he had on his old clothes at supper time; Oliver October -had not noticed what he was wearing. In the event that Mrs. Grimes was -right—and she couldn’t take oath on it—Mr. Baxter must have returned -to the house and changed his clothes after parting from his son. There -was no one at home. Lizzie, the most recent maid-of-all-work, was at the -“movies,” and Mrs. Grimes was “sitting up” with Abel Conroy. - -The excitement in Rumley was intense. The Baxter home became a magnet -that drew practically the entire population of the town to that section, -and there was not an hour of the day that did not see scores of people -trudging through the safer portions of the swamp or tramping along the -uplands that bordered it. Small children, accompanied by their parents, -stared wide-eyed and frightened across the loathesome tract, and -listened to solemn warnings which generally began with “poor old Mr. -Baxter wandered out there and that was the last of him.” Venturesome -young men approached a few of the “holes,” sounded them with poles and -saplings, and came away shaking their heads. - -Three or four days passed before towns far and near began to report that -old men answering the description sent out by the Chief of Police in -Rumley were being detained or kept under surveillance, pending the -arrival of some one who could identify them as Mr. Baxter. Oliver -October, Sammy Parr and other citizens sped in haste to these towns, -only to meet with disappointment. Finally the tenth day came and the -nine days of wonder were over. People began to think and talk about -something besides the Baxter mystery. Detectives from Chicago, brought -down by Oliver October, agreed with the young man that his father had -“skipped out,” to use the rather undignified expression of Mr. Michael -O’Rourke. It was Mr. O’Rourke who advanced the theory that the old man -had taken this amazing means of forcing his son to remain in Rumley. - -“Why,” said he, “it’s as plain as the nose on your face. He is dead set -on having you stick to this town. He chews it over with you for weeks. -You say ‘nix.’ Nothing doing. Well, what’s the smartest thing he can do? -What’s the surest way for him to bring you to time? He’s as slick as -grease, your father is. Out of his head? Not on your life. He’s an old -fox. Do you get me? The only way to make you stay in this town is for -him to leave it. - -“He draws a wad of money, puts on his best clothes, and—fare thee well! -He sneaks off without letting anybody know where he’s going. Why does he -do that? Simple as A B C. If you or anybody else knew where he was or -where he was even likely to be, you’d have him back here in no time, and -all his trouble for nothing. He thought it all out beforehand. Knew -exactly where he was going and how to get there without being headed -off. And that’s where he is right now, leaving you to hold the bag. He’s -had his own way. You’ve got to stay here until he gets good and ready to -come back. See what I mean? Somebody’s got to be in charge of his -affairs. The store and everything. There is a chance, of course, that he -wandered out in the swamp, as most of these people think, but I don’t -believe it. He wouldn’t draw out thirty-five hundred dollars if he had -any preconceived notion of doing away with himself. And he wouldn’t come -home and put on his best suit of clothes, either. It’s possible, to be -sure, that he was slugged by somebody who knew he had all that money and -his body chucked into the mire. It’s up to you, Mr. Baxter. If you want -us to go ahead and rake the country for him, we’ll do it. I don’t say -we’ll find him. We’re an honest concern. We don’t believe in robbing our -clients. It will cost you a lot of money to find him, Mr. Baxter. -Besides, there’s always the chance that he’ll lose his nerve and come -back home. Or he may get sick and send for you. We’ve had hundreds of -these mysterious disappearance cases and more than four-fifths of ’em -don’t amount to anything.” - -“I want to find him,” said Oliver firmly. “You may be right in your -surmise—I hope you are. But just the same I don’t intend to leave a -stone unturned, Mr. O’Rourke. As long as I’ve got a cent of my own, I’ll -keep up the search, and when my money runs out, I will use his. Good -God, when I think that he may have wandered off only to fall into the -hands of thieves and cutthroats, I—I—No, we must find him, do you -understand? Find him!” - -“He’s all right as long as he don’t let some guy sell him the Field -Museum or the Woolworth Building,” said the detective easily. “All -right, sir. We’ll get on the job at once. Hold yourself in readiness in -case we need you in a hurry. I suppose we can always get in touch with -you here, Mr. Baxter?” - -Oliver nodded. “Yes. You can always find me here in Rumley.” - -And so the days ran into weeks and the weeks into months, with the -mystery no nearer solution than in the beginning—no word, no sign from -the old man who had vanished, no clue that led to anything save -disappointment. There was something grim, uncanny about the silence of -old man Baxter—it was indeed the silence of the dead. “He might as well -be dead,” was a remark that became common in Rumley whenever his case -was discussed. Strangely enough, no one now believed him to be dead. -Everybody agreed with the detective that the cantankerous old man had -“skipped out” with the sole idea of frustrating his son’s plan to return -to Chicago. - -“What gets me,” said Joseph Sikes, “is the underhanded way he went about -it. Leaving Oliver and all the rest of us to worry ourselves sick and -him just calmly settling down somewheres in peace and comfort and maybe -snickerin’ to himself over the way he put it over on us. It wasn’t like -him, either. I never knew a more upright man, or anybody as square and -above-board as Ollie Baxter.” - -Not once but a dozen times a day Mr. Sikes held forth in some such -manner as this, ignoring Mr. Link’s contention that poor old Ollie may -not have been responsible for his act, “owing,” said he, “to a sudden -mental aberration.” Young Dr. Lansing spoke of it as “aphasia,” which -was doubted with scornful determination until the word was reduced to -“loss of memory” by several family doctors who stood well in the -community. - -Oliver October took charge of the store and, as self-appointed manager, -conducted the business to the best of his ability. He deferred to the -older clerks and the book-keeper in matters of policy, an attitude which -not only surprised but pleased them. Charlie Keep, the senior clerk—a -man who had been in the store for twenty years—was so inspired and -relieved by this self-effacement that he speedily proclaimed Oliver -October to be a better business man than his father. - -There was nothing in the young man’s manner to indicate that he rebelled -against the turn in his affairs. On the contrary, he took hold with an -enthusiasm that left nothing to be desired by those who at first shook -their heads dubiously over the situation. - -“I am to blame for all this,” he protested firmly. “If my father is -dead, I am accountable for his death. Whatever his present condition may -be, I am responsible for it. Don’t put all the blame on that gypsy -fortune-teller. I should have realized the state of mind he was in and I -should have given up everything else in the world to help him weather -the next year or so of doubt and distress. I laughed at his fears. I did -not understand how real they were to him. He wanted me here where he -could watch over me. Mr. Sage believes he has buried himself in some -out-of-the-way place where he can’t even hear what happens to me between -now and my thirtieth birthday. Uncle Joe Sikes says he got cold -feet—couldn’t stand the gaff. That’s another way of looking at it. In -either case, I honestly believe he will come back in his own good time. -And when he does come home he must find me here, carrying on the -business as well as I know how. I will do more than that. I’ll drain -part of our bally old swamp and make it worth fifty dollars an acre to -him instead of the dreary waste he bought for a song. And I sha’n’t stop -looking for him—not for a single minute. It’s all right to be -optimistic, it’s all right to assume that he is safe and well somewhere, -that he knows what he is about, and all that. The reverse may be the -case—so I mean to find him if it is humanly possible to do so.” - -Joseph Sikes and Silas Link lamented and at the same time excoriated old -Oliver Baxter. For a while the latter spoke of his old friend as “the -deceased,” being in no doubt at all as to his fate, but, as time went on -and the “remains” continued to elude the most diligent of searchers, he -was forced to admit that perhaps everybody else was right and he was -wrong. - -Accepting the increased burden of responsibility resulting from old -Oliver’s defection, the two “guardians” devoted themselves, without a -murmur of complaint, to the supervision of Oliver October’s private and -personal affairs. It was a duty that could not be shirked—a charge -bequeathed to them, so to speak, by the figuratively demised Mr. Baxter. -They had little or no support from Mr. Sage; and when they complained to -Serepta Grimes about the minister’s lack of interest in the young man, -that excellent manager shocked them by declaring that if they bothered -her with any more of that nonsense she would give them a piece of her -mind and a kettle full of boiling water besides. - -They turned to Jane Sage for comfort, and while that young lady -smilingly called them a couple of “dear old geese” it was so much more -poetic than Mrs. Grimes’s “idiotic old jackasses” that they forthwith -accepted her as an ally and from that time on went to her with all their -troubles—dubiously and shamefacedly at first, to be sure, but with a -confidence that soon developed into arrogant assurance. She confided to -Oliver October that they nearly bothered the life out of her, and begged -him, for her sake, to smile more frequently than he did—(Mr. Sikes -dwelt mournfully upon what he called Oliver’s “hang-dog” -expression)—and to stop haranguing the members of the common council -about the defects in the city drainage system—(Mr. Link said that it -wasn’t right, the way he lost his temper when discussing the conditions, -and besides nobody else had ever found any fault with the sewers in -Rumley); and never to so far forget himself as to again threaten to sue -George Henley if he didn’t settle his account of four years’ standing; -and by all means to refrain from arguing politics with Justice of the -Peace Winterbottom, because neither Mr. Sikes nor Mr. Link slept very -well after listening to these heated debates. - -“Poor old Janie,” Oliver would say, with his always engaging grin. “I’ll -bet you wish I was safely past thirty.” - -“I do that,” she would always respond, very much as Biddy McGuire, the -Irish washwoman, might have said it. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - - THE GOOD SAMARITAN PAYS - -The winter wore away, spring came and quickly melted into summer; the -first anniversary of the unexplained disappearance of Oliver Baxter -passed. Three months remained of the last year allotted to Oliver -October by the gypsy “queen” on that wild, shrieking night in ’ninety. -He was still alive and thriving, and the shadow of the scaffold was as -invisible as on the day the prophecy was uttered. - -But by this time practically everybody in Rumley was counting the days -and jokingly reminding Oliver that his chances got better every day! - -He grinned and suggested that the town ought to put up a stupendous -calendar in front of the city hall and check off each succeeding day, so -that the public could keep count with the least possible tax on the -mind. - -“I feel like a freak in a dime museum,” he said to Jane one evening. -“What you ought to do at the lawn fête next week, Jane, is to put me in -a little tent and charge ten cents admission to see the man that the -hangman is after. You’d raise enough money to wipe out the entire church -debt. Think it over.” - -He had just returned from a hurried trip to Nashville, Tennessee, where -an old man was being held—a queer old tramp with a prodigious Adam’s -apple, who refused to give any account of himself. This was but one of -the fruitless journeys he had taken during the twelve-month. - -“I see by the paper this evening that your Uncle Horace has announced -himself as a candidate for State senator,” said Mr. Sage, who was -enjoying his customary half-hour on the porch with them. - -“Well, I know one vote he will not get,” said Oliver, “even if he is my -uncle.” - -“I know of another,” said the minister dryly. - -“The nomination is equivalent to an election,” said Oliver. “There -hasn’t been a Republican elected in this county since the Civil War, -they say. If the old boy can buy the nomination he won’t have to spend a -dollar getting elected.” - -“It is not my habit to speak unkindly of my fellow man,” said Mr. Sage, -“but I find it quite a pleasure to say that I look upon Horace Gooch as -the meanest white man in all—er—I was on the point of saying -Christendom, but I will say Hopkinsville instead.” - -“Why, Daddy, I am really beginning to take quite a fancy to you,” cried -Jane delightedly. “Only last week you said he ought to be tarred and -feathered for turning those two old women out of their house over at -Pleasant Ridge.” - -“But he didn’t turn them out,” said Oliver quickly. “Somebody came along -at the last minute and lent them the money to redeem their little house -and farm. They’re as safe as bugs in a rug and as happy as clams.” - -“You don’t really mean it, Oliver?” cried Mr. Sage. “That is good -news—splendid news. It seemed such a heartless perversion of the law -that those poor, frail, old women—both over seventy, by the way—should -lose their all simply because they had to let their property go at tax -sale. Horace Gooch has become rich off of just such delinquent -tax-payers as these unfortunate old women. I am not saying it is -illegitimate business—but he has acquired quite a lot of good real -estate in this way. I rejoice to hear that some one has come to the -rescue of Mrs. Bannester and her sister. I suppose they had to give -their benefactor a mortgage on the property, however,—and that may -ultimately afford some one else a chance to squeeze them out of their -own.” - -“I understand it was a loan for something like twenty years, without -interest,” said Oliver. - -“Bless my soul! Practically a gift, in that case. It is unlikely that -they will live to be ninety.” - -“I wonder how Uncle Horace felt when they popped up the other day, just -as he thought he had the tax deed in his hand, and redeemed the -property,” mused Oliver, chuckling. “I’ll bet it hurt like sin. Even a -shark can suffer pain if you stick him in the right place. He had his -heart set on that property, Uncle Herbert. The Interurban line is -figuring on putting up an amusement park out that way, and I happen to -know they’ve had an eye on the Bannester place, with its big oak trees -and a wonderful place for an artificial lake. He could have cleaned up a -lot of money on it.” - -“I hate that old man,” cried Jane. - -“My dear child, you must not—” - -“When I think of how he behaved after Mr. Baxter went away, and the -things he said to Oliver when Oliver refused to help pay for the -monument his uncle had erected on his own cemetery lot up at -Hopkinsville, because Mr. Baxter’s sister was buried there—his own -wife, if you please, Daddy—well, when I think of it I nearly choke. I -won’t allow you to say I sha’n’t hate him. I just adore hating him and -I—” - -“My dear, I had no intention of saying you shouldn’t hate Mr. Gooch,” -broke in her father. “I was merely trying to say that you must not speak -so loud. Some one outside the family circle is likely to hear you.” - -“I’ve always said you were a corking preacher, Uncle Herbert,” announced -Oliver. - -“Thank you,” with the lift of an eyebrow. “No doubt I have improved -somewhat with age.” - -“I’d give a lot to know just what you said to old Gooch, Oliver, when he -came to see you about the monument last fall,” said Jane, invitingly. - -“I was mighty careful, I remember, to see that there were no ladies -present at the time,” chuckled Oliver. “And besides, I’ve been trying -ever since to forget what I said to him. But it’s absolutely impossible, -with Uncle Joe dropping in every day or so to remind me of it.” - -“I hope Mr. Gooch hasn’t been allowed to forget it.” - -“Jane, my dear, you really are becoming quite a vixen,” remonstrated her -father. - -An automobile came to a sudden stop in front of the house, and an agile -young man leaped out, leaving his engine running. He came up the walk -with long strides. - -“Say, Oliver, you old skate, I’ve been looking all over town for you,” -shouted Sammy Parr. “This isn’t your night to call on Jane—don’t you -know that? You’re supposed to be either at the Scotts’, billing with Amy -Scott, or at the Ridges’, cooing with that new girl from Boston, and -listening to her talk about Harvard all the time. Say, I’ve been over to -Pleasant Ridge this afternoon—good evening, Jane—to see Mrs. Bannester -and her sister about some fire insurance—Evening, Mr. Sage. Nice -evening—And, say, they told me all about you, you blamed old skate—I -mean Ollie, not you, Mr. Sage. Gee whiz, Ollie, you certainly did throw -the hooks into Uncle Horace this time, didn’t you? You certainly—” - -“Shut up!” growled Oliver, scowling fiercely at the excited Sammy. - -“Shut up? Why should I shut up? Why the hell should I—beg pardon, Mr. -Sage—excuse my slippery tongue. My Lord, boy, the boom has already been -started. You can’t head it off. I didn’t lose a minute getting over to -the County Chairman’s office and telling him the whole story. The boom’s -on! He nearly hit the ceiling for joy. My God, if we can only keep all -this quiet till after the Democratic convention—and old Gooch is -nominated—we’ll spring something—Gee whiz! Listen to me barking loud -enough to be heard in Hopkinsville. Fine guy, I am, to talk about -keeping it quiet. Say, we’ve got to talk in whispers from now -on—whispers, see?” - -As he planted himself down on the step, he delivered a mighty, -resounding slap upon Oliver’s knee. - -“Aw, cut it out—cut it out,” grated Oliver. “Keep your trap closed, -can’t you?” - -“What on earth are you talking about, Sammy?” cried Jane. - -“He’s talking through his hat—” - -“Out with it, Sammy, out with it,” counseled Mr. Sage, coming down the -steps. - -Oliver groaned: “Oh, good Lord, deliver me!” - -“Say, what do you think, Mr. Sage—what do you think? Why, this chump -here is the guy that lent Mrs. Bannester the money to—” - -“See here, Sam—this is my affair,” broke in Oliver gruffly. “It’s -nobody’s business but my own. I made ’em swear on a stack of Bibles -they’d never tell—” - -“Don’t blame them—don’t blame those nice old women,” broke in Sammy -sternly. “It was not their fault. I put one over on ’em. I told ’em -there was some talk of that check being phony and they’d better—” - -“It wasn’t a check,” said Oliver triumphantly. “It was cash—currency.” - -“That’s what they came back at me with, but I said I meant counterfeit -and not forgery—slip of the tongue and so forth. That got ’em. They up -and said they had known Oliver October Baxter since he was knee high to -a duck, and—” - -“Oh, Oliver!” cried Jane. “Did you really do it? I could squeeze you to -death for it. And you never told me—you never breathed a word—” - -“It was only about a thousand dollars,” mumbled Oliver. “And a little -over,” he added quickly, noting Sammy’s expression. “It was my own -money. I could do what I liked with it, couldn’t I? They used to bring -eggs and butter and chickens and everything to my mother, and when she -was sick they had me out to their farm and made me awfully happy -and—But that’s neither here nor there. It was a low-down trick of -yours, Sam, to—” - -“Sure it was,” agreed Sammy cheerfully. “But right there and then the -destiny of the great American nation was shaped along new lines. Right -then and there, Mr. Samuel Elias Parr saw a great light. The words were -no sooner out of the mouth of old Mrs. Bannester—or maybe it was her -sister—it doesn’t matter—when the boom was born! Yes, sir, the boom -was hatched and—but, my God, we mustn’t—oh, excuse me, Mr. Sage, I -keep forgetting that you—” - -“Pardon me, Sammy, but I am really quite curious to know why you -apologize to me for your profanity and not to Jane, who, I assure you, -is a young lady of considerable refinement and—” - -“That’s all right, sir,” Sammy assured him glibly. “I’ve got Jane -covered with a sort of blanket apology—something like a blanket policy. -Good for any time and any place. But as I was saying, we mustn’t let Joe -Sikes and Silas Link get wise to all this. They’d raise Cain—spoil -everything gabbing about that gypsy’s warning or whatever it was. Now, -if we are foxy, we’ll catch the Democrats napping and, gee whiz! what a -jolt we’ll give ’em next November! We’ll run four thousand votes ahead -of Harding himself and—” - -“Oh, for the Lord’s sake, Sammy, slow down! Put on your brakes! What the -dickens are you driving at, anyhow? Boom? What boom?” - -“Your boom, you idiot! The boom’s been started for you as Republican -candidate for State senator against old man Gooch. It’s under -way—nothing can head it off, absolutely nothing but death or an -earthquake. The County Chairman hit the ceiling. He told me he’d call a -meeting of—” - -“Why, you darned chump,” roared Oliver. “I’m not going to run for State -senator or anything else. You must be crazy. You’ve got a lot of nerve, -you have. What right have you to start a thing like this without -consulting me? You’ll just make a monkey of me, that’s all you’ll -do—and of yourself, too. I’ll head it off to-morrow. I’ll telephone—” - -“Won’t do you a darned bit of good,” cried Sammy exultingly. “They’ll -nominate you, anyhow. Why, my Lord, they’ve got to nominate _somebody_, -haven’t they? They do it every election year, don’t they? Just as a -matter of form? But, great Scott, here’s the chance for them to _elect_ -somebody in this county. You don’t suppose they’re going to miss a -chance like this, do you? Popular young soldier, medal man, celebrated -football player, renowned engineer, youthful philanthropist, successful -business man, unsmirched character—why, you’re the only Republican in -this county that would stand a ghost of a show, Ollie. And best of -all—popular nephew running against Shylock uncle! Gee whiz! Normal -Democratic majority of three thousand wiped out—in spite of -prohibition—and—Senator Baxter, of Rumley, ladies and gentlemen!” - -Even Oliver October laughed. - -“By jingo, Sammy, you’re doing your level best to have me put my neck in -the noose, aren’t you?” he exclaimed. - -“Noose nothing!” exploded Sammy. “I thought about all that. You can’t -possibly be elevated to a position in the halls of State or Nation until -next November, you chump—and you’ll be thirty in October, won’t you? -Well, that settles that. Puts the kibosh on that gypsy dope. Well, so -long! I’ve got to be on the jump. I just thought I’d run up and tell -you, so’s you’d know what’s what. I’m going down to see Al Wilson at the -_Despatch_ office. Put him wise and warn him not to let a word of it -leak out in the paper till he gets the word. Night, Mr. Sage—so long, -Jane.” - -“Wait a minute!” called out Oliver, springing to his feet as Sammy -darted down the walk. - -“Nix!” shouted Sammy over his shoulder. - -The three of them watched him in silence as he leaped into his car and -began his swift, reckless turn in the narrow street. - -“Sorry!” he yelled out to them. “Had to take off a little of the turf, -but this street needs widening, anyhow.” - -“What are you going to do about it?” inquired the minister, the first to -speak. - -Jane did not give Oliver a chance to reply. Her eyes were blazing with -excitement and there was a thrill in her voice that caused Oliver to -laugh outright. - -“Do about it?” she cried. “Why, he’s going to run against old Gooch and -beat the life out of him!” - -“Daughter!” - -“Oh, my goodness! I’m so excited! Oliver, you’re a darling for helping -those old women out—and you never intended to say a word about it! It -was heavenly! And you will go to the State Legislature, and then to -Congress, and—Goodness knows how high up you may go!” - -Oliver’s smile broadened. “And the Gypsy Queen be hanged,” quoth he. - -Jane caught her breath. A startled look flashed into her eyes and was -gone. - -“The Gypsy Queen be hanged!” she echoed stoutly. “Long live the King!” - -Oliver was still looking up at her. She stood at the top of the steps, -the light from the open door falling athwart her radiant face, half in -shadow, half in the warm, soft glow. Suddenly his heart began to -pound—heavy, smothering blows against his ribs that had the effect of -making him dizzy; as with vertigo. He continued to stare, possessed of a -strange wonder, as she turned to her tall, gray-haired parent and laid -both hands on his shoulders. - -“I wish I could say ‘gee whiz’ as Sammy says it,” she cried. “I feel all -over just like one great big ‘gee whiz.’ Don’t you, Daddy?” - -The man of God took his daughter’s firm, round chin between his thumb -and forefinger and shook it lovingly. “One ‘gee whiz’ in the family is -enough,” said he. “I am glad you feel like one, however. You take me -back twenty-five years, my dear. Your mother used to say ‘gee whiz’ when -she felt like it. It is, after all, a rather harmless way of exploding.” - -“I know—but don’t you think it is wonderful?” she cried. “I mean, -Oliver going to the Legislature and—” - -“Whoa, Jane!” interrupted Oliver, a trifle thickly. He wondered what was -the matter with his voice. “Steady! Sammy’s crazy. I wouldn’t any more -think of letting ’em put me up for—why, gee whiz! It’s too ridiculous -for words.” - -Her face fell. “I must say I like ‘gee whiz’ only when it expresses -enthusiasm,” she said. “It’s an awful joy-killer, the way you used it -just then, Oliver.” - -“I don’t want any politics in mine,” he stated, almost sullenly. Then -brightly: “If I had to choose between the two, I’d sooner go in for -religion.” - -Mr. Sage smiled. “If more clean-minded, honest fellows like you, Oliver, -were to go into politics, there wouldn’t have to be so many preachers in -the land.” - -“What chance has an honest man got in politics, I’d like to know?” - -“The same chance that he has in the church. The people want honest men -in politics, just as they demand honest men in their pulpits.” - -“That’s all right, sir, but it’s easier to be good in a church than it -is in a barroom—and that’s just about the distinction.” - -“You forget we’ve got prohibition now,” said Jane, ironically. “There -isn’t a barroom in the whole United States and there isn’t a single drop -of intoxicating liquor.” She laughed derisively. - -“Not a drop,” he agreed, rolling his eyes heavenward. Then he quoted -incorrectly. “‘Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.’ That’s -what the good and honest men did to politics. They fixed it so that -there isn’t anything in the country to drink except booze.” - -“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Sage. - -“Tell me how you came to go to the assistance of Mrs. Bannester and her -sister—tell me everything,” said Jane, resuming her seat on the step. - -“There isn’t anything to tell,” said Oliver. “I just went out to see -them and—that’s all there is to it.” - -“Oh, indeed!” she scoffed. “You just went out there and said ‘howdy-do, -ladies; here’s a couple of thousand dollars—and good-by, I must be -getting home.’” - -“I stayed for dinner,” he admitted. “They always have fried chicken and -white gravy when I go to see them. And waffles and honey. I’m very fond -of honey.” - -“Don’t you want to tell me, Oliver?” There was a hurt note in her voice -that shamed him. - -“Well,” he began awkwardly, “I’d been thinking about it for some -time—their troubles, I mean. I couldn’t stand seeing them kicked off -their place. I had the money, and I didn’t need it. So I—I made ’em -take it. Yep—I just _made_ ’em take it. They were awfully nice about -it. If Uncle Horace ever finds out that I lent them the money, he’ll—” -He broke off in a chuckle of sheer delight. His eyes were full of -mischief. “I’ll never forget the time I let him have it with my marbles. -Gee, it was great!” - -“Wouldn’t it be glorious if we could always stay young and throw marbles -at the people we don’t like?” cried Jane. - -“The only drawback is that sometimes you can’t find the marbles again. I -lost two of my finest agates that day.” - -“You young savages!” exclaimed Mr. Sage, with mock severity. He said -good night to Oliver and, murmuring something about next Sunday’s -sermon, entered the house. They heard him go slowly up the stairs. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - - JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE - -“Did you notice, Oliver, that he spoke of my mother a little while ago?” - -“Did he?” - -“Certainly. You must have heard him.” - -Oliver was silent. He was wondering how long that strange, unaccountable -blur had lasted. - -“It was the first time he has spoken of her in years,” she went on, her -brow puckering. “It seemed to slip out when he wasn’t thinking, when he -wasn’t on guard.” - -“It slipped out because he was thinking, Jane,” said Oliver. “That’s -just it. He is always thinking of her. What was it he said?” - -She told him. - -“I wonder if I remind him of her in lots of ways,” she mused. - -Oliver’s thoughts leaped backward a score of years and more. “I used to -think she was the most wonderful person in all the world,” he said. “I -was very desperately in love with your mother when I was six or seven, -Jane.” He hesitated and then went on clumsily, almost fatuously: “I am -beginning to think that you are like her in a lot of ways.” - -She gave him a quick, startled look. His face was turned away, and so he -did not see the tender, wistful little smile that flickered on her lips, -nor was he aware of the long, deep breath she took. From that moment a -queer, uneasy restraint fell upon them. There were long silences, dreamy -on her part, moody on his. He left shortly after ten; his “good night” -was strangely gruff and unnatural. - -He was jealous. He knew it for a fact, he confessed it to himself for -the first time openly and unreservedly. He was jealous of young Lansing. -There was no use trying to deny it. He did not go so far as to think of -himself as being in love with Jane—that would be ridiculous, after all -the years they had known each other—but he bitterly resented the -thought that she might be in love with some one else. Especially with -the superior, supercilious, cocksure Lansing! - -Why, if she were in love with Lansing—and married him!—good Lord, what -a fool he had been to think it would make no difference to him! It would -make a difference—an appalling difference. All nonsense to think she -wouldn’t go out of his life if she married Lansing or any one else. Of -course she would. He felt a cold, clammy moisture break out all over -him; a sickening sensation assailed the pit of his stomach. She would -have a home in which he could be nothing more than an old friend; he -would have to submit to being governed by certain conventions and by an -entirely new set of conditions; her husband would have a lot to say -about all that; it would mean that he couldn’t drop in every night or so -for an intimate chat, that he couldn’t go strolling freely and -contentedly into familiar haunts with Jane, that he couldn’t take her -off for rides in his car, or up to the city to see the plays. Lansing -wouldn’t stand for that! Nor would any one else! It would be the end of -everything, his life would have to be reordered, his very thoughts -subjected to a drastic course of inhibitions, he would have to stand -afar off and wait for some other man to beckon for him to approach! -Unbearable! - -What was it that Sammy said—in jest, of course, but now heavy with -portent? “This isn’t your night to call on Jane,” or something like -that. It was Lansing’s night! The whole town knew it was Lansing’s -night—and he was calling on Jane because Lansing happened to be off in -the country seeing a patient. - -This was what all his good offices had come to, this was what had come -of his idiotic, vainglorious desire to do the right thing by Jane! He -had simply let himself in for a lot of unhappiness. Strange, though, -that he should be so consumed with jealousy when he wasn’t the least bit -in love with Jane himself. It was absurd! Why, he had known her since -the day she was born—how could he possibly be in love with her when he -had known her all her life? He knew what love was—yes, indeed, he knew. -He had been in love half a dozen times. He ought to know what love -was—and certainly his feelings toward Jane were nothing like those he -had experienced in bygone affairs of the heart. Gee whiz! What had -suddenly got into him? - -Suddenly it came to him that he was selfish. That’s what it -was—selfishness. He did not want her himself and yet he couldn’t bear -the thought of letting some one else have her. Utter selfishness! Having -arrived at this conclusion he smote his conscience heroically and -proclaimed to the night that he would no more be jealous. Not even of -Lansing. He would go on being Jane’s friend, and Lansing’s friend, and -the friend of their children, and—This brought him up with a blinding -jolt. Jane’s children! And Lansing’s! Something red and strangely -sustained blurred his vision. - -He was oppressed by a feeling of almost intolerable loneliness as he -strode down the dimly lighted street; a soft breeze blowing through the -leaves of the young maples overhead suggested subdued, malicious -laughter; automobile horns sounded like raucous guffaws; some blithering -idiot was sounding taps on a mournful cornet far off in the night. He -was going to lose Jane—he was going to lose Jane—he was going to lose -Jane. Over and over again: he was going to lose Jane. Taps! - -Clay Street was almost deserted. The stores were closed for the night. A -few pedestrians strolled leisurely along the sidewalks; a small group of -loafers in front of Jackson’s cigar store, a detached policeman, three -young girls waiting on a corner, widely separated automobiles drawn up -to the curb, a man studying the billboards outside the closed door of -the Star Moving Picture Palace. The town clock began to strike eleven. - -“Gee whiz!” sighed Oliver October, for all the world seemed as bleak to -him as Clay Street was at midnight. - -Not since that night in June, over a year ago, had he taken the “short -cut” swamp road on his way home from Jane’s. He avoided it after dark as -if it were a graveyard—and he always hurried a little in passing a -graveyard at night. He had never gotten over childhood’s fear of the -ghosts that were supposed to come out and wander among the cold, white -tombstones. There were no tombstones along the lonely swamp road, but he -had a dread of it just the same. - -He sat on his porch until long past one o’clock, lonelier than he ever -had been in his life. The night was warm, somber; a light wind crossing -the expanse of swamp land brought a whiff of comfort and with it the -incessant chatter of frogs, the doleful hoot of owls and the squawk of -nightbirds prowling in the air. The house was dark, still. He felt very -sorry for himself, sitting there all alone. How different it was over at -Mr. Sage’s house—the friendly lights, the cozy comfort of everything, -the companionship—some one to talk to and laugh with, and some one to -feel sorry for him, instead of the other way about. To-morrow night -would be Lansing’s night—and soon, perhaps _every_ night. - -“I ought to get married,” he mused in his dejection. “It’s the only -thing. Have a wife and a home and children. But, good Lord, where am I -to find a girl I’d want to be tied to all my life? I’ve had it pretty -bad two or three times, but, here I am, not caring a darn about any one -of ’em. I might just as well never have known them. It wasn’t the real -article—not by a long shot. There are mighty few girls like Jane in -this world—mighty few. The man who gets her will get one in a million. -And where would a chap find a father-in-law like Uncle Herbert? It makes -me sick the way Lansing twists that beastly little mustache of his and -looks bored every time Uncle Herbert speaks. Funny Jane doesn’t see it -and call him down for it. And why the devil doesn’t Uncle Herbert see it -and tell Jane she’ll never be happy with a fellow like Lansing? Good -Lord, is everybody blind but me?” - -The next morning he was down at the swamp bright and early, inspecting -the work of the ditchers and tile layers. The task of reclaiming the -land had been under way for several months and was slowly nearing -completion. - -“I wish you’d change your mind about not going out any farther, Oliver,” -said old John Phillips, who was superintending the work. “We could go -out a quarter of a mile farther without a bit of risk, and you’d add -about twenty acres of good land to—” - -“We’ll have enough, John,” interrupted the young man. “We’ll stick to -the original survey. Don’t go a rod beyond the stakes I set up out -yonder. It may be safe but it isn’t worth while.” - -“Well, you’re the boss,” grumbled old John, and added somewhat -peevishly: “I’ll bet your father wouldn’t throw away twenty acres or -more just because—but, as I was saying, Oliver, you’re the boss. If you -say I’m not to go beyond them stakes, that settles it. But I can’t help -saying I think you’re making a mistake. There’s some mighty good land -there, ’spite of them mudholes a little further out.” - -“I’m not denying that,” said Oliver patiently. “But we’ll stop where the -stakes are, just the same.” - -A few minutes later old John confided to one of the ditchers that young -Baxter was considerable of a darned fool. Either that, or else he had -some thundering good reason of his own for not wanting to go out beyond -the stakes. - -“This here job has cost up’ards of three thousand dollars already, and -for a couple of hundred more he could clean up clear to the edge of the -mire, and when his pa comes back—if he ever does come back—he wouldn’t -have to take a tongue-lashin’ for doin’ the job half way. I used to look -upon that boy as a smart young feller. And him a civil engineer -besides.” - -“Maybe he’s a whole lot smarter than you think,” said the ditcher -significantly. - -“Oh, I don’t for a minute think it’s that,” said old John hastily. “Not -for a minute.” - -“I can’t help thinkin’ we’ll turn up that old man’s body some day. It -sort of gives me the creeps. Bringin’ up them horse’s bones last week -sort of upset me. God knows what else may be out there in the mire.” - -The two big ditches, fed by lateral lines of tile, held a straight -course across the upper end of the swamp and drained into Blacksnake -Creek, a sluggish little stream half a mile west of Rumley. Roughly -estimated, three hundred acres were being transformed into what in time -was bound to become valuable land. The time would come when it could be -successfully and profitably tilled. Farmers who had scoffed at the -outset now grudgingly admitted that “something might come of it.” A -far-seeing man from the adjoining county made an offer of ten dollars an -acre for the land before the work had been under way a month. He said he -was taking a gambler’s chance. - -Oliver was walking slowly back to the house, his head bent, his hands in -his pockets, when he observed an automobile approaching over the deeply -rutted, seldom traveled road. He recognized the car at once. Lansing’s -yellow roadster. - -He frowned. Lansing was the one person he did not want to see that -morning. He had lain awake for hours, seeking for some real, definite -reason for hating the man—and to save his life he couldn’t think of -one! And he knew that when he looked into the young doctor’s frank, -honest eyes this morning, and saw the genial, whole-hearted smile in -them, and heard his cheery greeting, the elusive reason would be farther -from his mental grasp than ever. He simply couldn’t help liking Lansing. - -The car came into plain view around a bend in the road, and he saw that -a woman sat beside the man at the wheel. His heart contracted—and as -suddenly expanded. It wasn’t Jane. - -“Hello, there!” called out Lansing, while still some distance away. - -Oliver, peering intently through the flickering shadows of the woodland -road, saw that the doctor’s companion was a stranger. A young woman—and -an uncommonly pretty one he was soon to discover. He stepped off into -the rank grass at the roadside and the car came to a stop. He took off -his “haymaker’s” straw hat, and revealed his white teeth in the smile -that no one could resist. The young woman smiled in return, and then -flushed slightly. - -“You’ve heard me speak of my sister, Oliver,” said Lansing, resting his -elbows on the wheel. “Well, here she is. Meet Mr. Baxter, Sylvia, as we -say out here. Mrs. Flame, Oliver. You needn’t be afraid of her, old man. -She’s quite flameless. Got rid of him last month in Paris. Come a little -closer.” - -“Don’t be silly, Paul,” scolded Mrs. Flame. “Mr. Baxter may have a -perfect horror of divorced women.” - -“I have,” said Oliver gallantly. “I shudder every time I see one. If I -hear about ’em in time, I shut my eyes so that I can’t see them. But -when I’m taken by surprise like this, I stare rudely, my knees quake and -I begin to pray for help. It’s queer I never feel that way about -divorced men. I don’t have the slightest fear of them, no matter how big -and strong and ferocious they may be. Strange, isn’t it?” - -“Very,” said she, still smiling down into his eyes. “I must say, -however, I don’t think you are staring rudely.” - -“It’s generally conceded that he stares very handsomely,” said Lansing. -“But, hop in, Oliver. I’ve been sent to fetch you over to Mr. Sage’s. He -had a cablegram early this morning and sort of went to pieces. Jane sent -for me. He’s all right now, but Jane says he wants to see you. She -telephoned while I was there, but you were not at home.” - -“A cablegram? His wife—is she dead?” - -“I should say not. She’s sailing for the United States to-morrow and is -coming here to live!” - -“Good God!” burst involuntarily from Oliver’s lips. - -“It’s knocked the old boy silly,” was Lansing’s brief and professional -explanation. “Climb in here beside Sylvia—plenty of room if we squeeze. -Get your leg over a little, Sylvia. That’s all right. Shall we stick to -this road, Oliver, or go back to the—” - -“It gets better a little farther on,” said Oliver, dazed. “All the -hauling has been at this end. My Lord! No wonder he’s knocked out. -Coming here to live? Why—why, he hasn’t seen her since Jane was a baby. -What’s the matter with her? Sick?” - -“I don’t think so. Unless you can see something ominous in the last line -of her cablegram. She winds it up with ‘dying to see you.’ Strikes me -she’s been a long time dying. They say she turned this burg upside down -when she first came here. Do you remember her, Oliver?” - -“I should say I do,” cried Oliver. “I adored her. I say, this must mean -that she’s going to leave the stage, give up acting. She was famous over -there. Why, only a couple of years ago, she made a great hit in a new -play over in London. I tried to get across from France to see her in it, -but it couldn’t be managed. Just after the Armistice, you see. I asked a -good many British officers about her. They said she was tophole, all of -’em crazy about her. I can’t understand it, Doc. Coming here to Rumley -to live? Gee whiz!” - -“I saw her in a play called ‘Rosalind,’” said Mrs. Flame. “Several years -ago. It’s by Shakespeare. My husband said she certainly was worth -seeing. Heavens, Paul, take these ruts slowly. You’re jolting my head -off.” - -After a long silence: “When did you get here, Mrs. Flame?” inquired -Oliver briskly. - -“Last night. Paul met me in Hopkinsville. I came direct from New York. -My home is in New York City, you know. I’ve never been in Rumley before. -We were living in Indianapolis when I was married. That was seven years -ago. Seems seven hundred. Now you know almost all there is to know about -me.” - -Oliver was staring straight ahead. He was wondering if “Aunt Josephine” -could still turn “cart wheels,” and make up funny songs, and dance on -the tips of her toes. Hardly. She must be over fifty. Then he came out -of his momentary abstraction and politely asked Mrs. Flame when she had -arrived in Rumley. - -“I mean,” he stammered, “how long do you expect to be here?” - -“Ten days, or two weeks at the longest,” she replied. “I am joining a -house party at Harbor Point.” - -“Good!” he exclaimed, and then as she looked at him quickly: “I mean, -I’m glad you’re going to be here that long. By George, this will make a -thundering difference in the lives of Mr. Sage and Jane. Is—is Jane -excited, Doc?” - -“Nothing like the old man. He keeps saying over and over again, with a -smile that won’t come off, that if you pray long enough and hard enough, -you’ll get your wish, or something like that.” - -“What does he want to see me about?” - -“Search me. Ouch! Excuse me, Sylvia. I didn’t see it.” - -“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m used to hard knocks,” gasped the young woman. - -Oliver turned his head to look at her. She was very pretty and very -smart looking in the little brown hat that sat jauntily upon her yellow, -beautifully coifed hair. Very trig, too. About thirty-two or-three, he -hazarded. Fine eyes—a trifle pained at present, but fine, just the -same. He found himself wondering if Jane was as pretty as Lansing’s -sister—and suddenly it occurred to him that Jane had her “lashed to the -mast”—absolutely! - -The road got better. “Your ears must have burned last night, Mr. -Baxter,” she said. - -He started guiltily. “How—what for?” he stammered. - -“Old Paul here did nothing but talk about you all the way down from -Hopkinsville. I don’t see how you’ve done it. He’s usually quite a snob, -you know. I’ve never known him to like anybody but himself before. You -must be either superlatively good or superlatively bad. Which is it?” - -“Depends entirely on which you prefer, Mrs. Flame,” said Oliver coolly. - -“I guess that’ll hold you, Syl,” cried Lansing. - -Oliver groaned inwardly. It was getting more difficult every minute to -hate the fellow. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - - THE THIRD FAIR LADY - -Two old men were crossing Maple Street as Lansing swung into it from the -dirt road. They quickened their steps and from the safety of the -sidewalk glanced at the occupants of the car. - -“Wasn’t that Oliver October?” demanded Mr. Sikes, pursuing the car with -an outraged gaze. - -“It was,” replied Mr. Link, putting his hand to his side. “He yelled at -us. Lordy, I’m too fat to hurry like that.” He strode on a few paces -before discovering that he walked alone. Mr. Sikes had stopped -stock-still and was gazing blankly after the receding roadster. “Come -on! What’s the matter with you?” - -“Say, did you notice? Did you notice that woman sitting on his lap?” - -“She wasn’t doing anything of the kind. She was sitting between ’em.” - -“Well, anyhow, this settles everything,” said Mr. Sikes weakly. “He’s as -good as hung right now. Absolutely.” - -“What the—” - -“Say, are you blind? Can’t you see _anything_ at all?” - -“I can see a darned sight better than you can, and you know it,” -retorted Mr. Link hotly. “You can’t see ten feet in front of you. How -many fingers am I holding up?” - -“Oh, go to thunder! What I’m asking you is, did you notice her?” - -“Certainly—that is, I noticed the back of her head.” - -“Well, what color was it?” demanded Mr. Sikes. - -“I didn’t notice,” said Mr. Link. - -“You didn’t, eh? Of course, you didn’t. The only way you ever notice -anything is when I tell you to notice it. It was yaller.” - -“Yaller? Well, what of it?” - -“Oh, nothing—nothing at all,” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, throwing up his -hands in a gesture of supreme disgust. “Nothing at all, except she’s the -third yaller-haired one to come into his life. The one that was here -last fall that he took such a shine to, and the one he confesses to -being gone on out in Idaho or somewheres. Two dark and three fair women, -is what she said. Didn’t she? Wait a minute! Answer me. Didn’t she?” - -“She did,” said Mr. Link, his brow clouding. “But he’s only had one dark -one, far as we know,” he added hopefully. “That girl he says he was -engaged to over in China.” - -“What do you call Jane Sage? You wouldn’t call her a blonde, would you?” - -“Certainly not. But what’s Jane got to do with it?” - -“She’s got a lot to do with it. She’s a dark woman, ain’t she?” - -“Not especially. Brown or chestnut, I’d say.” - -“Well, say _bay_, if you want to,” roared Mr. Sikes. “And I’ll tell you -something you don’t know about Jane. She’s in love with Oliver, and -always has been.” - -“Go on!” - -“That makes her one of the dark women, don’t it? And she makes two, -don’t she? And this here new one—the one that was setting in his -lap—she makes the third fair one, don’t she? Well, what you got to say -to that? This is the last straw. I been prayin’ to God that we could get -through the year without another light woman turning up. And here she -comes, right when everything was looking safe. I—” - -“He won’t take any notice of this yaller-haired girl,” said Mr. Link, -with an air of finality. “I can tell you something about Oliver that you -don’t know. He’s in love with Jane, as the saying is, and always has -been.” - -Mr. Sikes stopped again in his tracks and glowered at Mr. Link. “Who -told you that?” he demanded. - -Mr. Link took time to search several tree tops before answering. Then he -solemnly said: “I’m not sure it was the one I see perched over yonder at -the top of that second tree, but if it wasn’t that one it was one just -like it. A little bird told me.” - -“Talk sense! Who told you Oliver was in love with Jane?” - -“Doc Lansing. Not more than a week ago he told me Oliver was head over -heels in love with her. I guess he ought to know. He sees a good deal of -both of ’em.” - -“Well, I’ll be—Why, dod-gast it, he’s the one that told me Jane was in -love with Oliver.” - -“Well,” began Mr. Link after they had proceeded up Maple Street some -fifteen or twenty paces, “if he’s telling the truth, I guess you don’t -need to worry about this yaller-haired one any longer, Joe.” - -Mr. Sikes shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that. He’s partial to -blondes, seems to me. I’ll have to talk to that boy, Silas. I’ve told -him a hundred times to beware of light women, and here he goes—” - -“Come on! Oliver got out of the car up in front of the Reverend Sage’s -and it’s going on without him. That proves we’re right, Joe. That -telegram to Reverend Sage was—” - -“It wasn’t a telegram. It was a cable. Marmaduke Smith told me; not five -minutes after he delivered it.” - -“No matter. It’s from Ollie. He’s telegraphing Sage to break some kind -of news to Oliver. Dying somewheres maybe. That’s why they sent Doc -Lansing for Oliver October. Come on—step along a little, Joe. I think -I’ve sized the thing up. The minute I heard Sage had got a telegram I -says to myself, it’s from Ollie. I—” - -“If you save your breath you can walk faster,” interrupted Mr. Sikes, -stepping forth with renewed vigor. Mr. Link was half a block in the rear -when his companion turned in at the parsonage. - -It was true that Josephine Sage was coming home. The beatific minister -thrust the cablegram into Oliver’s hand as that young man came bounding -up the veranda steps. - -“She’s coming on the _Baltic_. I have decided to go to New York to meet -her. Jane will accompany me. I wish you would find out for me, Oliver, -when the _Baltic_ is due to arrive at New York. I am so upset, so -distracted I do not seem to know just which way to turn. Please help me -out, lad. Perhaps I should have telegraphed myself—or had Jane do -it—but we—I mean _I_—er—” - -“Don’t you give it another thought, Uncle Herbert,” cried Oliver, -returning the bit of paper which Mr. Sage carefully folded and placed in -his notebook. “I will arrange everything for you. You must be beside -yourself with joy, sir. It’s great, isn’t it? Where is Jane?” - -Mr. Sage looked a trifle dazed. “Why—er—oh, yes, she is upstairs -putting a few of my things into a suitcase. I—” - -Oliver laughed. “For the love of—Why, Uncle Herbert, you’ve got five or -six days to spare. The _Baltic_ won’t reach New York for a week anyhow.” - -“A week?” in dismay. “Of course! I must be losing my mind. Of course! I -seem to remember Jane saying something of the kind a little while ago. -Yes, yes! But I do wish you would run along and send the telegram. Do -you happen to know of a nice quiet hotel there? Perhaps you wouldn’t -mind telegraphing for accommodations for Jane and me. And will you see -about reserving something on the train for us? I have done so little -traveling of late years, I—” - -“Say, you ought to come out in the back yard and put the gloves on with -me, Uncle Herbert,” cried Oliver, with sparkling eyes. “I’ll bet you’re -twenty years younger than you were yesterday, and I’ve an idea you could -plaster it all over me.” - -“I—I believe I could,” said Mr. Sage, squaring his thin shoulders and -drawing a deep breath. “I—I feel like a—a fighting-cock!” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - - MR. JOSEPH SIKES INTERVENES - -Now, while Mr. Joseph Sikes was one of the first citizens of Rumley, a -good Republican, and a man whose opinions were considered if not always -respected, he had no social position, using the term in its present -accepted sense. In simple, he was not by way of knowing the “best” -people. There had been a time when Joe Sikes was a figure in the social -life of Rumley, but that was in the days when “society” functioned, so -to speak, in the corner grocery, or on the porch of the toll-gate, or at -K. of P. Hall. Conditions in Rumley had changed, but old Joe hadn’t. He -was still a “feed store” man, fairly prosperous, blatantly independent, -and on speaking terms with “fashion” only in connection with business or -politics. - -The day was past in Rumley when Joe Sikes could stroll up to anybody’s -house, night or day, walk in without knocking, and feel at home with his -friends. There were eight or ten thousand people in Rumley now and there -was a distinct though somewhat heterogeneous element known to some as -the “smart set” and to others as the “stuck-ups.” They were the people -whose names and activities filled the society columns of the Rumley -_Daily Despatch_. - -To them, old Joe Sikes was a “character.” He knew Banker Lansing, and -Banker Koontzwiler, and the President of the Excelsior Woodenware Works, -and others of their ilk, but he did not know their wives or their -daughters. Mr. Link, on the other hand, had a very wide acquaintance -with the “newer rich,” as he learnedly called them in placating Mr. -Sikes on occasion. He had buried a lot of them, for one thing. - -Mr. Sikes was troubled. Not once but half a score of times in the week -following his first glimpse of “yaller-headed” Mrs. Flame, he had seen -her with Oliver October. She wasn’t, of course, sitting in Oliver’s lap -on any of these occasions, but—well, it is enough to say that Mr. Sikes -was sorely troubled. He saw Oliver going straight to his doom. - -With Jane’s departure for New York he lost all hope. - -He had lectured Oliver severely, and, to his grief and astonishment, was -laughed at for his pains. So he went to Serepta Grimes. - -He rang the Baxter doorbell—and instantly wondered why he had done so. -It seemed like a confession of weakness on his part. He sat down on the -veranda and waited. It was late in the afternoon of a hot July day, well -along toward the end of the month. He sniffed the sultry air, gazed -frowningly at the western sky where clouds were gathering in the black -pregnancy of storm, and chewed hard on the macerated stub of an -unlighted cigar. - -Mrs. Grimes came to the door. - -“Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought maybe it was Marmaduke Smith back with -another telegram.” - -“Another what?” demanded Mr. Sikes, with interest. - -“He’s brought two up on his bicycle since four o’clock, and he said -maybe there’d be more. Two telegrams for Oliver.” - -“Why didn’t he take ’em to the store, the little fool? Oliver may have -to ketch the six o’clock train. What’s in ’em?” - -“How should I know? I don’t open his letters or telegrams.” - -“Well, you’d ought to. Ten chances to one they’re from Ollie, asking for -help or money or—Where is Oliver, if he ain’t at the store?” - -“He’s out automobile riding with Mr. Lansing’s daughter.” - -“Oh; he is, is he?” snapped Mr. Sikes, getting up. “I might have knowed -it. Darn his eyes, he’s getting worse and worse every day. If I’ve -warned that boy once about light women, I’ve done it a hundred times. -He’s got to—” - -“She’s letting it come in dark again,” said Mrs. Grimes calmly. - -“Letting it what?” - -“Come in dark. Her hair, I mean. She wouldn’t be any more of a blonde -than you are, Joe Sikes, if she’d quit bleaching her hair, or hennering -it, or whatever it is they do. Like Saul Higbee’s daughter Kate—you -remember her, don’t you? Turned blonde over night, and said God had -performed a miracle.” - -“You mean to say this here Lansing woman ain’t a real blonde?” exclaimed -Mr. Sikes, sitting down again. - -“You heard what I said, didn’t you?” - -“I don’t know whether to believe you or my own eyes.” - -“Looks as if we’d get the storm before dark, doesn’t it?” said Mrs. -Grimes, sweeping the cloud banks with a casual eye. - -Mr. Sikes appeared to be thinking. After a long pause he said: “I guess -maybe you’re insinuatin’ that I better be moving along towards home if I -don’t want to get caught in it.” - -“You can sit here as long as you like, Joe,” said she. “And you can stay -to dinner, too, if you feel like it,” she added, her conscience smiting -her suddenly. - -“Have you swept the porch to-day, Serepty?” he inquired, after another -pause. - -“Certainly. Why?” - -“Because I never seem to come up here and sit down on it but what either -you or Lizzie Meggs rush out and begin sweeping all around me. No matter -what time of day I come, I always have to get out of the way of one of -you women sweepin’.” - -“Well, you won’t have to to-day,” said she good-naturedly. “So set -still.” - -“I guess I’ll wait for Oliver to come home,” said he guiltily. “I want -to see what’s in them telegrams. You—you’re sure about that woman -having dark hair?” - -“Absolutely.” - -“Well, that’s a comfort. I—Hello! Here comes Oliver now—but, by -thunder, he’s got that yaller-haired woman with him,” he concluded in -dismay. “No, thank you, Serepty—I can’t stay for supper. I—I—” He got -up quickly, pulled his straw hat down low over his eyes, and started -hurriedly down the walk. - -“Hello, Uncle Joe,” called out Oliver, swinging the car into the drive. -“Wait a minute and I’ll give you a lift home. I’m going back just as -soon as I’ve changed my collar and—” - -“There’s a lot of telegrams here from your father,” said Joseph gruffly. -He halted half way down the walk and stared intently at Mrs. Flame. - -Oliver brought the car to a stop in front of the porch. “I’ll be out in -a couple of minutes, Sylvia,” he said as he slid out from behind the -wheel. “Hey, Uncle Joe! Come here, please. I want to introduce you to -the lady you’ve been raising such a rumpus about. She swears she won’t -scratch your eyes out or pull your hair. You needn’t look so scared. -She’s perfectly harmless. Take my word for it. I’ve had experience with -fair women, as you well know, and I don’t find ’em any more devilish -than dark women.” - -Mr. Sikes was scandalized. He turned purple in the face—not with anger -but with mortification. He told Mr. Link afterwards that he felt like a -fool, and Mr. Link brought a lot of wrath down upon himself by remarking -that it must have been wonderful for him to feel natural for once in his -life. - -He approached the dazzling, radiant Mrs. Flame reluctantly, stammering -something about “horse play” and “poppycock.” - -“Do you think there is going to be a storm, Mr. Sikes?” she inquired, as -Oliver, grinning maliciously, dashed up the steps and followed Mrs. -Grimes into the house. - -Mr. Sikes did not answer at once. He was squinting narrowly at Mrs. -Flame’s back hair—or more particularly at a spot just below the left -ear. - -“By jiminy,” he muttered softly, “she’s right.” Then recovering himself, -he said: “Eh?” - -“Mr. Baxter is a great tease, isn’t he?” she substituted. - -“He’s a darned nuisance,” said Mr. Sikes sharply. “Makes me tired.” -Suddenly it occurred to him that here was a chance not to be overlooked, -so he added very firmly: “I pity the woman that gets him for a husband.” - -“You do? Why, I should say that the woman who gets him is about the -luckiest person in the world.” - -He looked at her piercingly. “How long did you say you’ve knowed him?” -he inquired. - -“I didn’t say—but there’s no harm in telling you, I suppose.” She began -counting on her fingers. “Nine days, Mr. Sikes.” - -“It takes him just about that long,” was his cryptic rejoinder. - -She laughed merrily. “Do they fall for him as easily as all that?” - -“The married ones do,” said he darkly and daringly. - -“Oh, that lets me out,” she said. “You see, I’m not married, Mr. Sikes.” - -“Excuse me, I thought he said Missus,” floundered Mr. Sikes, a trifle -dashed. - -“He did. I am Mrs. Flame.” - -“Er—ahem! Oh, I see. Widow.” - -“In a detached sort of way.” - -This was beyond Mr. Sikes. “In the war, I suppose.” - -“Do I look like a woman who lost a husband in the war, Mr. Sikes?” - -“You don’t look like you’d lost one anywhere,” said he, beginning to -feel a trifle nettled. “You certainly don’t look like a widow to me.” - -“What do I look like to you?” she inquired amiably. - -“You look as if it wouldn’t distress you very much if I was to ask how -long he’s been dead,” was his unexpected reply. - -She flushed. “A very good answer to a very stupid question,” said she. -“He isn’t dead. He is very much alive. He didn’t go to the war. I am one -of those horrible, unspeakable things known as a grass widow, Mr. -Sikes.” - -“As I was saying,” he began after he had taken as much as thirty seconds -to recover from the shock of this disclosure, “it wouldn’t surprise me -if we got the storm inside of ten or fifteen minutes. I guess I’ll be -moving along. Glad to have met you, Mrs.—” - -“Do wait,” she cried. “Oliver won’t be a minute. We’ll take you wherever -you wish to go, Mr. Sikes.” - -“No, I won’t wait,” said he firmly. “But before I go, I want to—er—as -I was saying, it ain’t any of my business—you understand that, don’t -you?—er—I was just thinking it’s only fair to tell you that Oliver -is—er—what you might call engaged, Mrs. Flame. Generally speaking, I -mean.” - -“I see,” said she brightly. “And you want to warn me not to make a fool -of myself, is that it? It’s awfully kind of you.” - -Mr. Sikes was a poor dissembler. “Well, I was thinking more about Oliver -making a fool of himself,” said he bluntly. - -“But why, Mr. Sikes, do you keep all this a secret from him?” she cried, -biting her lip to keep from laughing. “I think you ought to tell him he -is engaged and not keep the poor boy in suspense. He hasn’t the remotest -inkling of it.” - -“Don’t you fool yourself,” said he stoutly. - -“And who is the fortunate young lady?” - -“We ain’t quite ready to make it public yet,” said Mr. Sikes, casting a -sharp look toward the house and cocking his ear for sounds of Oliver’s -footsteps on the stairs. “Which reminds me,” he went on hurriedly, -lowering his voice, “I guess you’d better not mention it to him.” - -“I sha’n’t, Mr. Sikes, if it will make you feel any more comfortable. -But at least you can tell me this. Does the young lady know she is -engaged?” - -He had got in deeper than he intended. - -“Did I say she was young?” he demanded craftily, trying to recall just -how far he had already committed himself. “No, siree! You bet I didn’t. -I’m too smart for that.” - -“But does she know she is engaged?” persisted this disconcerting young -woman. - -“Not what you would call exactly,” he confessed, lamely. - -“I see. You are keeping it a secret from both of them.” - -He heard Oliver in the hall, speaking to Mrs. Grimes. It was no time to -choose words, so he blurted out: - -“Yes, and you’ll do me an everlastin’ favor, ma’am, if you’ll keep it -secret from him for a week or two. He’s awfully touchy. It might spoil -everything if he got wind of it.” - -“Is she a blonde or a brunette?” - -This was his chance. “It’s purty hard to tell these days,” he said, -fastening his gaze on her hair in a most disconcerting manner. - -She laughed outright, joyously, frankly. Oliver, coming out of the house -at this juncture, paused in amazement at the top of the steps. - -“See here, Uncle Joe, you quit your flirting,” he cried. “Next thing you -know you’ll have a breach of promise suit on your hands.” - -“Don’t get fresh!” exclaimed Mr. Sikes in some exasperation. Then, to -cover his confusion: “What’s the news from your pa, Oliver? What’s he -say in them telegrams?” - -“They’re not from father, Uncle Joe,” said the young man, softening. -“Jump in behind there. I’ll run you uptown before the storm.” - -“I’m not going uptown,” said Mr. Sikes obstinately. “I’m stayin’ here -for supper with Serepta. I just remembered it,” he went on, with a -guilty, apologetic look at Mrs. Flame. “Oh, before I forget it, Oliver, -is there anything serious in them telegrams?” - -“Yes, sir! It certainly begins to look serious. I had six at the store -this morning, and a dozen telephone calls besides. That’s one reason why -I took the afternoon off. Nearly every man on the County Central -Committee has telephoned or telegraphed me to-day. The pressure is -getting pretty strong, Uncle Joe, and I’m beginning to weaken.” - -“Pressure? Weaken? What the devil are you talking about now?” demanded -Mr. Sikes, placing one foot on the running-board and grasping the -door-handle. - -“They want me to make the race for State Senator against Uncle Horace,” -said Oliver. “Hop in! I’m going to start.” Then, as the old man -scrambled hurriedly into the car, he added: “And I’ve about reached the -conclusion to go out and skin Uncle Horace alive.” - -“My God!” gasped Mr. Sikes, leaning forward and gripping the back of the -front seat with both hands. “You—you don’t mean to tell me you’re going -to run for office, Oliver October Baxter!” - -“Hang onto your hat, Uncle Joe! I’m going to let her out a little,” sang -out Oliver, and “let her out” he did as the car swept out of the -driveway into the street. - -Mr. Sikes was standing up in the tonneau, grasping the forward seat with -one hand, and his hat with the other. He leaned over and shouted in -Oliver’s ear. - -“You can’t do it! You mustn’t do it! It’s against my wishes, and your -pa’s, and—why, how many times have I told you what the gypsy said -about—Say! Slow down a little, confound you! Have you told Serepty -Grimes about this fool notion of yours?” - -“I have. And she’s tickled to death. She says to go ahead and skin him -alive. That’s the kind of a hairpin she is!” - -Mr. Sikes clung rigidly to the back of the seat for a couple of hundred -yards, speechless with a combination of concern and exasperation. Then -he sank down into the side chair and bellowed: - -“I’m through! I’m done! There’s no use trying to save you—not a damn -bit of use. Go ahead and run! I’m through! Stick your neck right into it -if you want to. I’ve done my best—I’ve done all a man could do. I no -sooner see you safely out of a scrape with a light woman than you start -hell-bent for the halls of state. You—” - -“Don’t you worry, Uncle Joe,” called out Oliver cheerily. “Uncle Horace -will probably snow me under a mile deep.” - -Mr. Sikes was silent for a few moments, contemplating this calamity. -Suddenly he banged the back of the seat with his clenched fist. - -“Not on your life!” he roared. “We’ll skin him alive. You’ll carry every -darned precinct in the county. He won’t—” - -“Hang onto your hat, Uncle Joe!” - -“My what? Good Lord! I forgot—but never mind! Don’t go back after it! -It’s an old one anyhow. Yes, sir; we’ll peel the hide off of old Gooch -next November—every inch of it. Let me out at the Hubbard House, -Oliver. Silas Link drops in there about this time every evening to cool -off under the electric fans. Does he know about this?” - -“I don’t think he does,” said Oliver, drawing up to the curb in front of -the hotel. - -“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, with satisfaction. He clambered out of the -car. “Good day, ma’am. I hope you don’t get wet.” He eyed her hair -narrowly, even apprehensively. “Hurry along, Oliver. You mustn’t keep -her out in the rain.” - -“Good-by, Mr. Sikes. Thank you for warning me,” said Mrs. Flame, -favoring him with a smile so enchanting that instead of blurting out the -latest news to Mr. Link when he encountered him in the lobby of the -hotel a few moments later, he gloomily announced that a fellow as young -as Oliver didn’t have a ghost of a chance. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - - MR. GOOCH DECLARES HIMSELF - -The Republicans of the county in convention a week later went through -the formality of nominating a ticket, a heretofore useless procedure -attended by vainglorious claims, bombastic oratory, unbridled -denunciation and a grim sort of jauntiness that passed for confidence -and died as soon as the meeting was over. Ever since the Civil War the -party had stoutly and steadfastly put up a ticket and just as regularly -had abandoned it to its fate. The candidates themselves, accepting -defeat at the outset, took little or no interest in the campaign aside -from the slight satisfaction they eked out of seeing their names on the -printed ballot. It was, so to speak, like reading one’s own obituary -notice—or, as one hardy, perennial office-seeker remarked—attending -one’s own funeral and getting back home in time for supper. - -But the campaign of 1920 in this hide-bound Democratic stronghold -possessed strange, new elements; the under-dog bounced up with -surprising animation and showed his teeth, prepared at last to fight for -the bone that so long had been denied him. In the first place, the -administration at Washington was standing with its back to the wall; it -was almost certain to be swept out of power by the resistless force of -public opinion. Faint-hearted Republican politicians lost in the depths -of Democratic jungles saw light ahead and, rubbing their eyes, started -toward it, realizing it was no longer Will-o’-the-wisp or -Jack-o’-lantern that led them on. Their eyes glittered, their fingers -itched, and they became very strong in the legs. If Harding and Coolidge -were to be swept in by the avalanche, why shouldn’t they hang on behind -and be sucked into office by the same gigantic wave? In the second -place, the Democrats of Applegate County, fat and sluggish after years -of plenty, had overslept a little in their security. Too late they awoke -to the fact that they had four or five weak spots in their county -ticket, and while there was small danger of the normal plurality being -wiped out at the coming election they were in very grave danger of -having it reduced to a humiliating extent. - -Mr. Horace Gooch, of Hopkinsville, heretofore a miserly aspirant for -legislative honors but persistently denied the distinction for which he -was loath to pay, “came across” so handsomely—and so desperately—that -the bosses foolishly permitted him to be nominated for the State Senate. -The people did not want him; but that made little or no difference to -the party leaders; the people had to take him whether they liked him or -not. Mr. Gooch’s astonishing contribution to the campaign fund was not -to be “passed up” merely because the people didn’t approve of him. It is -not good politics to allow the people a voice in such matters. Old Gooch -would run behind the rest of the ticket, to be sure, but he would -“squeeze through” safely, and that was all that was necessary. - -The report that young Oliver Baxter, of Rumley, was being urged to make -the race against his uncle caused no uneasiness among the bosses. It was -not until after the young man was nominated and actually in the field, -that misgivings beset the bosses. Young Baxter was popular in the -southern section of the county, he was a war hero, and he was an -upstanding figure in a community where the voters were as likely as not -to “jump the traces.” And when the emboldened Republican press of the -county began to speak of their candidate as a “shark,” there was active -and acute dismay. They sent for Mr. Gooch and suggested that it wouldn’t -be a bad idea for him to withdraw from the race—on account of his age, -or his health. - -“But I’m not an old man,” protested Mr. Gooch irascibly, “and I’ve never -been sick a day in my life. I’m sixty-four. You wouldn’t call that old, -would you?” - -No, the chairman wouldn’t call that old, but from what he could gather -this was destined to be “a young man’s year.” Young men were in the -saddle; you couldn’t shake ’em out. - -“Do you mean to tell me,” began Horace, genuinely amazed, “that you -think this young whipper-snapper of a nephew of mine is liable to defeat -me?” - -“Oh, I guess perhaps we can pull you through,” said the chairman, rather -unfeelingly. - -“My dear sir, we have a safe majority of four thousand votes in this -county. Why do you say you ‘guess perhaps’ you can pull me through? If -you are joking, I wish to state to you right here and now that I do not -approve of jokes. If you are in earnest, all I can say is that you must -be crazy. The people of this county want a sound, solid, able business -man to represent them in the legislature. They don’t want a young, -inexperienced, untried whipper-snapper—” - -“Nobody knows what the people want,” said the chairman sententiously. -“Now, this young Baxter. He’s a fine feller. He’s got lots of friends. -Everybody likes him. He has a clear record. There isn’t a thing we can -say against him. On the other hand, he can say a lot of nasty things -about you, Mr. Gooch. We can’t come back at him when he begins stumping -the county and talking about tax-sales, foreclosures, ten per cent -interest, people having to go to the poorhouse, and all that kind of -stuff. What kind of a comeback have we? What are we to—” - -“No man can accuse me of being dishonest; no man can question my -integrity—” - -“Lord bless you, Mr. Gooch, nobody’s going to accuse you of being -dishonest. All they’re going to say about you is that you’re a rich man, -a skinflint, a tax shark, a gouger, a hypocrite, a wolf in sheep’s -clothing, a snake in the grass, a Shylock, and a good many other -things,” said the county chairman, with brutal frankness. - -Mr. Gooch was not greatly disturbed by the prospect. He had heard all -these terms of opprobrium before; he was used to them. He said something -about “water off of a duck’s back,” and fell to twisting his wiry gray -beard with steady, claw-like fingers. - -“We can’t afford to lose a single seat in the legislature,” went on the -chairman. “That’s why we thought best to put it up to you straight, Mr. -Gooch. I’m not saying you’ll be licked next November, but you stand a -blamed good chance of it, let me tell you, if this young Baxter goes -after you without gloves.” - -“I’ve just been thinking,” said Mr. Gooch, leaning forward in his chair, -“suppose I go down to Rumley and have a talk with Oliver.” - -“What about?” demanded the other, sharply. - -“I may be able to reason with him. I understand he has not definitely -decided to make the race. I have an idea I can persuade him to decline.” - -“No chance,” said the other, shaking his head. “He’s got it in for you, -I hear.” - -Mr. Gooch got up and began pacing the floor. His lean, mean face was set -in even harder lines than usual; his mouth was drawn down at the -corners, the lower lip protruding like a thin liver-colored cushion into -which his shaved upper lip seemed to sink rigidly. - -“See here, Smith,” he began, halting in front of the “boss,” “I may as -well come out flat-footed and tell you I’ve never been satisfied with -all these stories and speculations concerning the disappearance of my -brother-in-law a year ago.” - -“You mean this young feller’s father?” - -“Yes. I married his sister. I don’t know as you’ve heard that young -Oliver Baxter and his father were not on very good terms. They quarreled -a great deal. This nephew of mine has got murderous instincts. He threw -rocks at me once. He’s got an ungovernable temper. He—” - -“I’ve heard all that bunk about a gypsy or somebody like that -prophesying he’d be hung. It’s bunk.” - -“I agree with you. I took no stock in that gypsy’s prophecy at the time, -and I never have. But, as I say, I’m not satisfied with things. It’s -mighty queer that a man like Oliver Baxter could disappear off of the -face of the earth and never be heard of again. Most people believe he’s -alive—hiding somewhere—but I don’t believe it for a minute. He’s dead. -He died that night a year ago when he had his last row with his son. -And, what’s more to the point, I am here to say I don’t believe his son -has told all he knows about the—er—the matter.” - -He waited to see what effect this statement would have on the chairman. -Mr. Smith’s eyes narrowed. - -“Say, what are you trying to get at, Mr. Gooch? Are you thinking of -charging that boy with—with having had a hand in—” - -“I’m not charging anything,” snapped Mr. Gooch. “I’m only saying what I -believe, and that is that Oliver is holding something back. If my poor -brother-in-law is dead, I want to know it. I’m not saying there was foul -play, mind you. But I do say it’s possible he might have made way with -himself that night, and that Oliver may know when and how he did it.” - -“Well,” said Smith slowly, “that comes pretty near to being a charge, -doesn’t it, Mr. Gooch?” - -“You can call it what you please. All I’ve got to say is that I’m not -satisfied, and I’m going to the bottom of this business if it’s possible -to do so.” He sat down again. - -“So that’s what you’re going to see young Baxter about, is it? You’re -going to threaten him with an investigation if he doesn’t withdraw from -the race, eh? Well, what are you going to do if he up and tells you to -go to hell?” - -Mr. Gooch winced. - -“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been told to go to hell,” he said, -with a wintry smile. “However, it is not my intention to threaten my -nephew, Mr. Smith. Nothing is farther from my thoughts. I’m simply going -to let him understand that I am not satisfied with things as they are. I -don’t mind telling you that I’ve already made a few inquiries and—well, -there is something peculiar about the whole business, that’s all I’ve -got to say. It won’t hurt my nephew to know that I’m interested, will -it?” he wound up, a sly, crafty twinkle in his eye. - -“You take a tip from me, Mr. Gooch,” said the chairman, somewhat -forcibly. “Let sleeping dogs lie. If you go to making any cracks about -this young feller that you can’t prove, he’ll wipe the earth up with you -next November. I’ve been in politics a long time and I know something -about the human race. You are banking on the big Democratic majority we -usually have in this county. I want to tell you right here and now that -if you start any ugly talk about young Baxter and can’t back it up with -facts, there won’t be a decent Democrat in the county that’ll vote for -you. And I guess we’re far enough south to be able to say that most of -us are decent.” - -Mr. Gooch arose. “You said a while ago that he would stump this county -from end to end, calling me everything he can lay his tongue to. Well, -all I’ve got to say to you, Mr. Smith, is that he sha’n’t have it all -his own way.” - -“There’s just this difference, Mr. Gooch. The voters will believe what -he says about you, and they won’t believe a blamed word you say about -him.” - -“Good day, Mr. Smith!” - -“Good day, Mr. Gooch.” - -Two days later, Horace Gooch stopped his ancient automobile in front of -the Baxter Block in Rumley and inquired of a man in the doorway: - -“Is young Oliver Baxter here?” - -The loiterer turned his head lazily without changing the position of his -body, squinted searchingly into the store, and then replied that he was. - -“Will you ask him to step out here? I want a word or two with him.” - -Another searching look into the store. “He seems to be busy, Mister. -Leastwise, he’s talkin’ to a couple of men.” - -“Tell him his uncle is out here.” - -The citizen of Rumley started. - -“The one he’s runnin’ against?” he demanded. - -“Yes. His Uncle Horace.” - -“Well, I guess I can do that much for you, Mr. Gooch,” drawled the other -generously, and shuffled slowly into the store. Presently he returned. - -“He says to hitch your Ford to that telephone pole and come right in. -He’ll be disengaged in a couple of minutes.” - -Mr. Gooch glared. “You tell him I swore never to enter that store again. -If he wants to see me he will have to come out here.” - -The citizen disappeared. He was back in a jiffy, grinning broadly. - -“Well?” demanded Mr. Gooch, as the messenger remained silent. “What did -he say?” - -The citizen chuckled. “It ain’t fit to print,” said he. - -“Well,” said Mr. Gooch, after a moment’s reflection, “I don’t mind -waiting a while. He’ll have to come out some time, I reckon.” - -The citizen shrugged his shoulders and spread his palms in a gesture -disclaiming all responsibility. - -Mr. Gooch shut off his engine and settled back in the seat, the -personification of grim and dogged patience. - -Fifteen minutes passed. Passers-by, sensing something unusual, found an -excuse for loitering in front of nearby showwindows; several persons -entered Silas Link’s undertaking parlors next door and seemed deeply -interested in the rubber plants that adorned the windows; Marmaduke -Smith, the messenger-boy, with two telegrams in his book, pedaled his -bicycle up to the curb and, anchoring it with one thin and spidery leg, -sagged limply upon the handlebar and waited for something to happen. Mr. -Link came out of his office, and after taking one look at the hard-faced -old man in the automobile, hurried to the rear of his establishment. A -few seconds later he returned, accompanied by Joseph Sikes. They took up -a position in the doorway and, ignoring Mr. Gooch, gazed disinterestedly -down the street in the opposite direction. - -At last Oliver October appeared. He glanced at his watch as he crossed -the sidewalk. - -“Hello, Uncle Horace,” was his greeting. “Sorry to have kept you -waiting. And I’m in a bit of a hurry, too. Some friends coming down on -Number Seventeen. Mr. and Mrs. Sage—you remember them, no doubt. And -their daughter. The train’s due at 4:10—and it’s three minutes of four -now. Anything in particular you wanted to see me about?” - -“Yes, there is,” said Mr. Gooch harshly. “I came over here to demand an -apology from you, young man—a public apology, printed over your -signature in the newspapers.” - -“What’s the joke, Uncle Horace?” asked Oliver calmly. - -“Joke? There’s no joke about it. You know what I mean. I demand an -apology for what you said in the letter you wrote in reply to mine of -the twenty-seventh inst.” - -“Do you expect me to print my letter in the newspapers together with the -apology?” - -“That isn’t necessary, young man.” - -“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Oliver, unruffled. “I’ll agree to -publish your letter to me and my reply, and I’ll follow them up with an -apology for mine if you’ll apologize to me for yours. That’s fair, isn’t -it?” - -“Don’t beat about the bush,” snapped Mr. Gooch. “Don’t get fresh, young -man. I’m not here to bandy words with you. I wrote you a very plain and -dignified letter in which I told you what I thought of the underhanded -way you acted in regard to those dear old ladies, Mrs. Bannester and her -sister. You know as well as I do that it was my intention to restore -their property to them, absolutely tax free and without a single claim -against it. You simply sneaked in and got ahead of me, and now you are -giving people to understand that I meant to foreclose on ’em and turn -them out of house and home. You—” - -“Yes, yes,” interrupted Oliver, looking at his watch again, “I know -that’s what you said in your letter—that and a lot of other things, -Uncle Horace.” - -“And what did you say in reply to my simple, straightforward letter? You -said you wouldn’t trust me as far as you could throw a locomotive with -one hand, or something like that. You said—” - -“Yes, I know I said that—and a lot of other things too. You don’t have -to repeat what I said. I’ve got a copy of the letter in my desk. It -wasn’t a very long letter, for that matter, and I can recall every word -of it. Do you want to continue this discussion, Uncle Horace? If you’ll -look around you will see that quite a little crowd is collecting. Don’t -you think you’d better drop the matter right here and now?” - -“No, I don’t. I don’t care how big a crowd there is. The bigger the -better, far as I’m concerned. If I don’t have a written and published -acknowledgment from you that you deliberately misrepresented me, that -you played me an underhanded trick simply for political purposes, -I’ll—I’ll—” - -“Well, what?” - -“I’ll make it so blamed hot for you you’ll wish you’d never been born,” -grated Mr. Gooch, shaking his bony finger in his nephew’s face. - -Observing this physical symptom of animosity, the Messrs. Sikes and Link -hastily stepped forth from the doorway and advanced toward the car. - -“Keep your temper, Oliver,” called out the former warningly. “Hang on to -it!” - -“Don’t forget yourself, boy,” cried Mr. Link. - -Mr. Gooch glanced at the two old men. - -“You stay away from here, you meddling old—” he started to shout. - -“Blow your police whistle, Silas,” urged Mr. Sikes. “Blow it! We’ll see -if—” - -“Never mind, Uncle Joe,” interrupted Oliver, with an airy wave of his -hand. “No need of a cop, is there, Uncle Horace?” - -“Not at present,” replied his uncle grimly. “Later on we may need -one—but not just now.” - -“Then we can end the discussion in two seconds. I decline to apologize, -I refuse to accept an apology from you, and I’ll see you in Jericho -before I’ll retract a word I’ve said about the Bannester affair. The -only thing I will say to you is that I hadn’t the faintest idea of -running for office when I helped those poor old ladies out of their -trouble. You can lump it if you—” - -“And what’s more,” broke in Mr. Sikes, heatedly, “this nomination was -forced on Oliver against the wishes of his friends and family. When his -poor old father sees in the newspapers that Oliver is headed for the -halls of state, he’ll break his heart. No matter where Ollie is, he -grabs up the newspaper every morning of his life to see what the news is -from Rumley—” - -“Is _that_ so?” snarled Mr. Gooch. “Well, I’m not so sure of that, Mr. -Swipes—I’m not so sure of it, and neither are a great many other -people. There are people in this county—yes, right here in this -town—that would like to know a lot more about what has become of my -poor brother-in-law than they know at present.” - -“I am one of those people, Uncle Horace,” said Oliver quietly. - -“And don’t you go calling Ollie Baxter a brother-in-law,” snorted Mr. -Sikes. “I won’t stand here and let you slander my lifelong friend by -calling him a brother-in-law. If you’ll get out of that automobile, -I’ll—” - -“Hold your horses, Joe,” put in Mr. Link, clutching his crony’s arm. - -“Oh, he can’t bulldoze me,” said Mr. Gooch loftily. - -“Smash him, Mr. Sikes,” whispered young Marmaduke Smith, excitedly. - -Horace turned to his nephew. “It rests with you, young man, whether a -certain investigation takes place or not,” he said, threateningly. - -“What do you mean by investigation?” demanded Oliver, his eyes -narrowing. “Just what are you driving at?” - -His uncle leaned forward and spoke slowly, distinctly. “Is there any -evidence that your father ever left this place at all?” - -Oliver looked his uncle straight in the eye for many seconds, a curious -pallor stealing over his face. When he spoke it was with a visible -effort; and his voice was low and tense. - -“There is no evidence to the contrary.” - -“There’s no evidence at all,” said Gooch, “either one way or the other. -There has never been anything like a thorough search for him—in the -neighborhood of his own home. From all I can learn, you have run things -to suit yourself so far as the search around here is concerned. Well, I -am here to say that I’m not satisfied. I don’t believe Oliver Baxter -ever ran away from home. I believe he’s out there in that swamp of -yours. Now you know what I mean by an investigation, young man—and if -it is ever undertaken I want to say to you it won’t be under your -direction and it won’t be a half-hearted job. And the swamp won’t be the -only place to be searched. There are other places he might be besides -that swamp.” - -“I think I get your meaning, Uncle Horace,” said Oliver, now cool and -self-possessed. “If I don’t do what you ask, you’ll start something, eh? -Your idea, I take it, is to impress the voters of the county with the -idea that my father may have met with foul play, and that I know more -about the circumstances than I’ve—” - -“I am not saying or claiming anything of the sort,” broke in Mr. Gooch -hastily, with visions of a suit for slander looming up before him. “I am -not accusing you of anything, Oliver. All I want and all I shall insist -on is a thorough examination.” - -“And if I agree to withdraw from the race and perjure myself in the -matter of the Bannester tax scandal, you will drop the investigation and -forget all about it—is that the idea?” - -“I hate to take any drastic step that might involve my own nephew -in—er—in fact, I’d a good deal sooner not ask the authorities to take -a hand in the matter.” - -“I see. The point I’m trying to get at is this, Uncle Horace,” went on -Oliver, relentlessly. “If I do what you ask, you will agree to let me -off scot-free even though I may have killed my own father? You can -answer that question, can’t you?” - -“I am not here to argue with you,” snapped Mr. Gooch, his gaze sweeping -the ever-increasing group of spectators. “Your candidacy has nothing to -do with my determination to sift this business to the bottom,” he went -on, suddenly realizing that he was now committed to definite action. “I -shall appeal to the proper authorities and nothing you do or say, young -man, can head off the investigation. That’s final. I’m going to find out -what became of the money he drew out of the bank and where you got the -money to pay up for Mrs. Bannester and her sister. I’m going to find out -why you refuse to let the dredgers go farther out into the swamp, and -I’m going to—Oh, you needn’t grin! There are plenty of witnesses who -will swear that you and him were not on good terms, and that one day you -threatened to hire an aeroplane and take him up five miles and drop him -overboard if he didn’t quit pestering you with that story about the -gypsy. A lot of people heard you say that and—” - -“It begins to look as though you were actually accusing me of murder, -Uncle Horace.” - -“Good boy!” cried Mr. Sikes, appeasingly. “That’s the way to hold your -temper. He’s wonderful, ain’t he, Silas?” - -“Wonderful, nothing!” said Mr. Link. “He ain’t had anything to get mad -about, far as I can see. The thing is, why ain’t he laughin’ himself -sick at the darned old nanny goat?” - -“You go to grass!” shouted Mr. Gooch furiously. - -Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link joined in the gale of laughter that went up from -the crowd. - -Mr. Gooch, crimson with rage, shook his finger at Oliver. “That’s -right—that’s right! Laugh while you can, you young scoundrel. You think -you’re safe and that you got everything covered up, but you’ll be -laughing on the other side of the face before I get through with you. -I’m going to find out what happened to Oliver Baxter if it takes all the -rest of my life. You won’t be laughing so darned idiotically when the -prosecuting attorney begins asking questions of you. You bet you won’t. -Because he’ll be getting at the truth and the real facts, and that’s -what you don’t want, my laddie buck. I’m going to demand a complete -investigation before I’m a day older, and I’m going to show the people -of this here town that I mean business. The grand jury’s in session now. -I’ll have this business up before them to-morrow and I’ll demand a -complete investi—” - -He broke off in the middle of the oft-repeated word and jerked his head -back. Oliver had taken that instant to snap his fingers under Mr. -Gooch’s nose, not once but thrice in rapid succession. - -“Investigate and be damned!” cried the young man angrily. “You infernal -old buzzard! Go ahead and—” - -“Whoa, Oliver!” shouted Mr. Sikes, in a panic. “Don’t lose your—” - -“All right, Uncle Joe,” gulped Oliver—“all right! I came near letting -go of myself for a—” - -“He would have killed me in cold blood if I’d been alone with him,” -exclaimed Mr. Gooch. “My God, when I think of poor old Oliver out there -on that lonely back road, trying to reason with him, I—” - -“See here, Uncle Horace,” interrupted Oliver, in a calm, matter-of-fact -tone, “I’ll tell you what I will do. I will give you five thousand -dollars in cash if you find my father for me. It has cost me twice that -amount already—my own money, mind you—but I’ll give you—” - -“Dead or alive?” demanded Mr. Gooch sternly, accusingly. - -“Yes, dead or alive. Now, wait a second. I’ve got something more to say -to you. My father always said you were the meanest creature that God -ever let live, and I used to dispute it once in a while. I claimed that -a hyena was worse. Now I know he was right and I was wrong. Go ahead -with your investigation. Go as far as you like. You can’t bluff me. I am -in this race to stay and I’m going after you tooth and nail. Now I guess -we understand each other. I’m going after you because of the way you -treated my father and I’m—” - -“And I’m going after you for the way _you_ treated him,” bawled Mr. -Gooch, throwing in the clutch viciously. Then he muttered an execration. - -“If you’ll give Marmaduke Smith a dime he’ll crank it for you,” said -Oliver, turning on his heel. He glanced up at the clock on the bank down -the street. “Oh, thunder!” he exclaimed in dismay. “You’ve made me miss -the train!” - -“If you crank that car, Marmaduke,” said Mr. Sikes menacingly, “I’ll -boot you all over town.” - -So Mr. Gooch got out and cranked the car, and drove away to a chorus of -undesirable invitations. - -“Where’s Oliver?” demanded Mr. Sikes, as the car turned the corner. “We -got to stick purty close to him from now on, Silas.” - -“What for, Joe?” - -“So’s we can be ready to establish an alibi in case anything happens to -Horace Gooch. Supposin’ some poor devil he’s made a beggar of takes it -into his head to put a bullet into—What say, Marmy?” - -“Oliver took my wheel and beat it for the depot,” said Marmaduke Smith -happily. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - - JOSEPHINE AND HENRY THE EIGHTH - -The return of Mrs. Sage after an absence of twenty-three years was an -“event” far surpassing in interest anything that had transpired in -Rumley since the strange disappearance of old Oliver Baxter. - -Hundreds of people, eager to see the famous Josephine Judge, crowded the -station platform, long before the train from Chicago was due to arrive; -they filled the depot windows; they were packed like sardines atop the -spare baggage and express trucks; they ranged in overflow disorder along -the sidewalks on both sides of the street adjacent. In this curious -throng were acquaintances of another day, those who remembered her as -the incomprehensible wife of Parson Sage when Sharp’s Field was a barren -outskirt and the trains for Chicago passed through Rumley at forty miles -an hour—a whistle, a rising and diminishing roar, a disdainful clanging -of bells, and then the tail end of a coach that left a whirlwind of dust -in its wake as it thundered away. The _Morning Despatch_ dug up an -ancient and totally featureless picture of Josephine Judge as she was at -the time of her last appearance in Chicago, some twenty years before, -and printed it, with rare tact on the part of the editor, in that -department of the paper devoted exclusively on Saturdays—and this was -Saturday—to church news and a directory of divine services. Inasmuch as -this sadly blurred two-column “cut” represented Miss Judge as a svelte -Salvation Army lassie, the editor may have been pardoned for giving it a -prominent position on the “Church page,” notwithstanding the fact that -said lassie was depicted in the act of tickling a tambourine with the -toe of her left foot. In any case, a great many people who were not in -the habit of reading the church section studied it with interest this -morning, and planned to take half an hour or so off in the afternoon. - -The train pulled in. The crowd tiptoed and gaped, craned its thousand -necks, and then surged to the right. Above the hissing of steam and the -grinding of wheels rose the voice of Sammy Parr far down the platform. - -“Keep back, everybody! Don’t crowd up so close. Right this way, Mr. -Sage—How are you? Open up there, will you? Let ’em through. Got my new -car over here, Mr. Sage—lots of room. Hello, Jane! Great honor to have -the pleasure of taking Mrs. Sage home in my car. Right over this way. -Grab those suitcases, boys. Open up, please!” - -Mr. Sage paused aghast half way down the steps of the last coach but -one. He stared, open-mouthed, out over the sea of faces; his knees -seemed about to give way under him; his nerveless fingers came near -relaxing their grip on the suitcase handles; he was bewildered, stunned. - -“In heaven’s name—” he groaned, and then, poor man, over his shoulder -in helpless distress to the girl behind him—“Oh, Jane, why didn’t we -wait for the midnight—” - -But some one had seized the bags and with them he was dragged -ingloriously to the platform. Jane came next, crimson with -embarrassment. She hurried down the steps and waited at the bottom for -her mother to appear. As might have been expected of one so truly -theatric, Josephine delayed her appearance until the stage was clear, so -to speak. She even went so far as to keep her audience waiting. Preceded -by the Pullman porter, who up to this time had remained invisible but -now appeared as a proud and shining minion bearing boxes and traveling -cases, wraps and furs, she at length appeared, stopping on the last step -to survey, with well-affected surprise and a charming assumption of -consternation, the crowd that packed the platform. Recovering herself -with admirable aplomb, she rested her hand gracefully upon the brass -rail and bowed to the right and the left and straight before her; the -rigid smile with which every successful actress nightly envelops her -audience in response to curtain calls parted her carmine lips while her -big eyes ranged with sightless intensity over a void studded with what -their fatuous owners were prone to call faces. Just as she was on the -point of stepping down to the platform, her attention seemed suddenly to -have been caught and held by an object off to the left at an elevation -of perhaps ten feet above the heads of the spectators. She studied this -object smilingly for thirty or forty seconds. As many as a dozen kodaks -clicked during this brief though providential period of inactivity on -her part. - -Now, a great many—perhaps all—of those who made up the eager, curious -crowd, expected to behold a young and radiant Josephine Judge; they had -seen her in the illustrated Sunday supplements and in the pictorial -magazines; always she was sprightly and vivid and alluring. They were -confronted, instead, by a tall, angular woman of fifty-two or-three, -carelessly—even “sloppily”—dressed in a slouchy two-piece pepper and -salt tweed walking costume, a glistening black straw hat that sat well -down upon a mass of bright auburn hair—(old-timers in the crowd -remembered her jet black tresses)—stout English oxfords somewhat run -down at the heel, and a neck piece of white fur. What most of the -observers at first took to be a wad of light brown fur tucked under her -right arm was discovered later to be a beady-eyed “Pekinese.” - -But the minister’s wife was still a vividly handsome woman; the years -had put their lines at the corners of her eyes, to be sure, and had -pressed the fullness out of her cheeks, but they had not dimmed the -luster of her eyes nor sobered the smile that played about her mirthful -lips. She had taken good care of herself; she had made a business of -keeping young in looks as well as in spirit. - -She had gone away from Rumley with a cheap and unlovely suitcase; she -came back with twenty trunks, her traveling bags of seal, her jewel box -and toilet case, hat boxes, shoe boxes, a pedigreed “Peke” named Henry -the Eighth, and an accent that could have come from nowhere save the -heart of London-town. In a clear, full voice, trained to reach remote -perches in lofty theaters, she spoke to her husband from the coach -steps: - -“Herbert, dear, have you the checks for my luggage, or have I?” - -“I—I will attend to the trunks—” he began huskily, only to be -interrupted by the indefatigable Sammy. - -“Don’t give ’em another thought, Mr. Sage. I’ll see to everything. Give -me the checks and—right this way, please, Mrs. Sage.” - -“Thank you—thank you so much,” said Mrs. Sage graciously, and, as Sammy -bustled on ahead, inquired in an undertone of Jane at whose side she -walked: “Is that the wonderful Oliver October I’ve been hearing so much -about?” - -“No, Mother—that is Sammy Parr. I—I don’t see Oliver anywhere. I wrote -him the train we were coming—” - -A few paces ahead Sammy was explaining loudly to Mr. Sage: “I guess -something important of a political nature must have turned up to keep -Oliver from meeting the train. We had it all fixed up to meet you with -my car and he was to be here at four sharp. Doc Lansing’s up at Harbor -Point, Michigan, for a little vacation. Won’t be back till Sunday week. -Muriel’s out here in the car, Mr. Sage. She’ll drive you home while I -see about the baggage.” - -Mr. Sage had recovered his composure by this time. He leaned close to -Sammy’s ear and said gravely: - -“Luggage, Sammy—luggage.” - -“Sure—I get you,” said Sammy, winking. “But just the same I’ll call it -baggage till I’ve got it safely out of the hands of Jim O’Brien, the -baggage master. He doesn’t like me any too well as it is, and if I -called it—Here we are! Hop right in, Jane. Permit me to introduce -myself, Mrs. Sage. I am—” - -“I remember you quite well,” interrupted the great actress (pronouncing -it “quate”). “You are Sammy Parr—little Sammy Parr who used to -live—ah—let me see, where was it you were living when I left Rumley, -Sammy?” - -Sammy flushed with joy to the roots of his hair. - -“I didn’t think you’d remember me, Mrs.—” - -“Pairfectly,” said she. “Oh, thank you so much. What a lovely car you -have. Don’t come too close to Henry the Eighth—he has a vile way of -snapping at people, whether he likes them or not. My word, Sammy! Jane! -Herbert! Can I believe my eyes? Is this Rumley? Is this—” - -“This is my wife, Mrs. Sage,” introduced Sammy, indicating the -bare-headed young lady at the wheel. - -“How do you do, Mrs. Sage. I’m awfully thrilled to meet you. I saw you -act in London during the war. My first husband was an officer in the -American Army, you see. You were perfectly lovely. I shall never -forget—oh, dear, what was the name of the play? I ought to remember—” - -“Don’t try,” interrupted Mrs. Sage. “I want to forget it myself. I say, -Herbert, old thing, you can’t make me believe this is Rumley. You are -deceiving me. I don’t recognize a single—Oh, yes, I do! I take it all -back. I would know that man if I saw him in Timbuktu. The old Johnnie in -the car we just passed. It was Gooch—the amiable Gooch—and, my word, -what a dust he was raising!” - -Oliver, pedaling furiously, arrived at the parsonage ten minutes behind -the Sages. The minister greeted him as he came clattering up the front -steps. - -“Sh!” he cautioned, his finger to his lips. “Don’t make such a noise, -Oliver—if you please. She’s—she’s resting. Sh! Do you mind tiptoeing, -lad? Jane and I have got quite in the habit of it the past two weeks. I -am happy to see you, my boy. She always rests about this time of the -day. You have come out for the senatorship, I hear. Especially if she’s -had a train trip or anything like that. Well, well, I hope you will go -in with flying colors. If she doesn’t get her rest right on the minute, -she has a headache and—” - -“Where is Jane, Uncle Herbert?” broke in Oliver, twiddling his hat. He -was struck by the dazed, beatific, and yet harassed expression in the -minister’s eyes—as if he were still in a maze of wonder and perplexity -from which he was vainly trying to extricate himself. - -“Jane? Oh, yes, Jane. Why, Jane is upstairs with her dear -mother—helping her with her hair, I think. I am sure she will not be -down for some time, Oliver. After the hair I think she rubs her back or -something of that sort. Do you mind toddling—I mean strolling—around -the yard with me, Oliver? I was on the point of taking Henry the Eighth -out for a little exercise—ten minutes is the allotted time, ten to the -second. He—” - -“Henry the what?” inquired Oliver, still gripping the pastor’s hand. - -“The Eighth,” said Mr. Sage, looking about the porch and shifting the -position of his feet in some trepidation. “Bless my soul, what can have -become of him? I hope I haven’t been standing on him. I should have -squashed him—Ah, I remember! The hatrack!” - -He dashed into the hall, followed by Oliver, and there was Henry the -Eighth suspended from the hatrack by his leash in such a precarious -fashion that only by standing on his hind legs was he able to avoid -strangulation. - -“I am so absent-minded,” murmured Mr. Sage, rather plaintively. “Poor -doggie! Was he being hanged like a horrid old murderer? Was he—” - -“Hey!” cried Oliver. “He’s nipping your ankle, Uncle Herbert.” - -“I know he is,” said Mr. Sage, smiling patiently. “He does it every time -he gets a chance. I’m quite used to it by now.” - -“I’d kick his ugly little head off,” said Oliver. - -“Oh, dear, no! You wouldn’t kick Henry the Eighth, I’m sure you -wouldn’t.” - -They were out on the porch now, Mr. Sage holding the leash at arm’s -length and walking in a lopsided, overhanging sort of manner in order to -keep his ankles out of reach of Henry the Eighth’s sharp little -snappers. Oliver followed down the steps and out upon the sunburnt lawn. - -“Does he snap at you like that all the time?” he inquired, sending a -swift, searching glance up at the second floor windows. - -“I am afraid he does,” said Mr. Sage, dejectedly. “He doesn’t like me.” - -“I’ll tell you what, Uncle Herbert,” began Oliver mendaciously; “you -just lead him around toward the back of the house, out of sight of those -windows up there, and I’ll show you how to break him of that. I love -dogs, and I know how to make ’em love me.” - -“He will not allow you to pet him, Oliver,” said Mr. Sage hastily. - -“I’m not going to pet him,” said Oliver grimly. “You want to break him -of biting, don’t you?” - -“I should very much like to be on—er—friendly terms with him.” - -“All right then. Bring him back this way. We’ll give him his first -lesson in politeness. The trouble with Henry the Eighth is he’s been -spoiled by women. What he needs is a good sound spanking.” - -“Bless my soul, Oliver! You—” - -“I guess it’s safe over there back of the woodshed, Uncle Herbert. They -can’t see or hear from the house. Many’s the time I’ve been taken out to -the woodshed, and I don’t believe Henry the Eighth is any better than I -was.” - -“My dear boy, I—” - -“Now, let him snap at you a couple of times—let him think he’s got you -trembling all over with fright. That’s the stuff! Gee, he’s a mean -little beast, isn’t he? He’s got the idea he’s a lion or a tiger. Now, -yank him up by the leash and take hold of the back of his neck with your -left hand—” - -“You do it, Oliver. Really, I—I—can’t,” pleaded Mr. Sage. - -“Go ahead! Yank him up—look out, sir! He came close to getting you that -time. That’s the way. You taught me the art of self-defense a long time -ago. Turn about is fair play, sir. I’m going to teach you the art of -self-protection. Now take the end of the leash and give him ten sharp -cuts with it. Go on! I’ll keep watch.” - -And so, to the immeasurable astonishment of Henry the Eighth, ten -chastening lashes were administered to his squirming hindquarters, each -succeeding one being a little harder than its predecessor as the -minister abandoned himself to a most unseemly though delightful state of -malevolence. Half way through he decided to drag the performance out a -little by increasing the length of the intervals between lashes, thus -deceiving Henry the Eighth into the belief that each blow was the last -only to find himself lamentably mistaken a few seconds later. - -“Keep a sharp watch, Oliver,” whispered Mr. Sage, between his teeth -somewhere along about the seventh lash. - -“I will,” said Oliver, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of the west window -in what he knew to be Jane’s bed-chamber. “Don’t you worry.” - -“For goodness’ sake, don’t—don’t let her catch me at it.” - -“I’m awfully sorry I wasn’t at the station when Jane—when you got in, -Uncle Herbert. Did you have a comfortable trip down from—” - -“Nine,” counted Mr. Sage, and then fifteen seconds later: “Ten. Now, -what shall I do with him, Oliver? If I let him down he’ll jump at me -like a rattlesnake and—” - -“Oh, no, he won’t,” said Oliver, reluctantly withdrawing his gaze from -the window and joining the other beyond the corner of the woodshed. -“He’ll lick your hand if you hold it close enough to his nose. Let him -down. See that? He’s got his tail between his legs—or as much of it as -he can get there—and he’ll keep it there till he thinks you want him to -wag it.” - -“I feel like a brute,” muttered Mr. Sage, but not as contritely as might -have been expected. “I hope I haven’t really injured the poor little -fellow.” Henry the Eighth, cringing flat on his little belly, peeped -anxiously but evilly up at his new master. “He doesn’t appear to be able -to stand on his feet, Oliver.” - -“Does he know any tricks?” - -“Oh my, yes. He’s really quite clever. He does quite a few for -Josephine. Rolls over, plays dead, jumps over her foot, sits up and -begs, and—” - -“Tell him to roll over,” said Oliver sternly. - -“Oh, he won’t do them for me. He growls at me whenever I attempt to—” - -“Tell him to roll over.” - -“Roll over, Henry—roll over, sir! Why—why, bless my soul, he’s doing -it.” - -“Tell him to play dead.” - -Henry the Eighth “played dead”—with his beady eyes wide open, -however—and then sat up on his haunches and begged. - -“Now, see what he’ll do if you try to pat his head.” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t like to risk—er—he is quite likely to nip my fingers -if I—” - -“If he tries it, spank him once or twice.” - -Henry the Eighth plucked up the courage to growl when the minister’s -left hand neared his head. An instant later, the flat of Mr. Sage’s -right hand came in contact with a portion of Henry’s anatomy that -already had suffered considerable pain and indignity. Whereupon he -squeezed out an apologetic little yelp and turned over on his back to -play dead again. Mr. Sage solemnly shook both of the feathery front paws -and called him a nice doggie. He had to call him a nice doggie three -times, and, besides that, had to show his teeth in a broad, ingratiating -smile before Henry was willing to trust his own eyes and ears. He wagged -his bushy tail weakly, experimentally. - -“Nice doggie,” said Mr. Sage again. - -“Don’t overdo it,” warned Oliver. “Don’t be too polite to him. He’ll be -thinking he’s a lion again, Uncle Herbert.” - -“I wouldn’t have Mrs. Sage know that I’ve thrashed him for anything in -the world,” said the minister guiltily. “You won’t mention it, my lad?” - -“I can’t promise not to tell Jane about it.” - -“Oh, I don’t mind your telling Jane. She’s been at me for a week to -paddle him—” - -“I say, Uncle Herbert, don’t you think Jane may have -finished—er—rubbing Mrs. Sage’s back by this time?” inquired the -impatient Oliver. - -“Possibly,” said the other. “Come along, doggie—let’s romp a bit. Oh, -by the way, before I forget it, Oliver, Mrs. Sage prefers to -be—er—called Miss Judge.” - -Oliver’s face fell. “Oh, thunder! Am I not to call her Aunt Josephine?” - -“Certainly—certainly, my boy. I mean, Miss Judge in public. It seems to -be a—er—a theatrical custom. On the train coming down a gentleman from -Hopkinsville joined us for a few moments and I was obliged to introduce -her as ‘my wife, Miss Judge.’ Come along, Henry—there’s a nice dog! -Jump over my foot! Good! He did it splendidly, didn’t he, Oliver?” - -Meanwhile, Jane, having brushed her mother’s hair, was now employed in -the more laborious task of rubbing the lady’s back—a task attended by -grateful little grunts and sighs on the part of the patient and a rather -expressive tightening of the lips and crinkling of the brow on the part -of the impatient daughter. - -“You have a great deal of magnetism in your hands, my dear,” droned Mrs. -Sage, luxuriously—the sort of thing one invariably purrs when one’s -head is being rubbed. “As I say, my maid always did it for me in London, -but God bless my soul, she never had the touch that you have. Really, my -dear, it was like being scraped with sandpaper. The right shoulder now, -please.” - -“I think Oliver is downstairs with father,” began Jane wistfully. - -“She was my dresser, too,” went on Mrs. Sage drowsily. “Really, I wonder -now that I endured her as long as I did. And I shouldn’t, you may be -sure, if she hadn’t—a little lower down, dear—if she hadn’t—ah—what -was I going to say? Oh, yes; if she hadn’t been so kind to Henry the -Eighth. I do hope your father is giving him a nice little romp in the -front—” - -“Shall I run down and see, Mother?” broke in Jane eagerly. - -“Presently, my dear, presently. I shall be taking my tub in a few—you -say we have a bathroom now? Dear me, how the house has grown. It used to -be a sort of stand-up process in a wash-tub half full of warm water and -suds. Ah me! What a change time has wrought. You must take me all over -the house to-morrow, Jane dear. I sha’n’t be quite up to it this -evening, don’t you know. How many servants have we?” - -“One,” said Jane succinctly. - -“One?” gasped Josephine. “I never heard of such a thing.” - -“One is all we need, and besides one is all we can afford. I am afraid -you will have a lot to put up with, Mother dear.” - -Josephine was silent for a long time. Suddenly she lifted her head and -looked up into her daughter’s face. - -“My dear,” she said, with a wry little twist at the corner of her -generous mouth, “I’ve come home to stay. I daresay you will find me -capable of taking things as they are. I did it once before and I can do -it again. Now, if you will draw me a nice warm tub; I’ll—I’ll—” she -yawned voluptuously—“I’ll get in and sozzle a bit. And that reminds me, -Jane. I shall never in any way interfere with you as housekeeper here. -Your father assures me that you are a perfect manager. I was a very poor -one in my day. I daresay we’d better let well enough alone. Don’t make -it too hot, my dear—and do see if you can find my bath slippers in that -bag over there by the door.” - -The express wagon with Mrs. Sage’s trunks arrived as Oliver, in despair, -was preparing to depart as he had come, on Marmaduke Smith’s bicycle. He -took fresh hope. Here was a chance to see Jane after all. With joyous -avidity he offered to help Joe O’Brien lug the trunks upstairs. - -“Where do you want ’em, Jane?” he shouted from the bottom of the stairs. -There was no answer. “Where shall we put them, Uncle Herbert?” he asked, -his hands jammed deep in his pockets. - -“Bless my soul, I—I haven’t an idea,” groaned Mr. Sage, passing his -hand over his brow. This act seemed to have cleared some of the fog from -his brain. “Unless you put them in my study,” he suggested brightly. -“They will fill it to overflowing, but—but I can think of no other -place. Dear me, what a lot of them there are.” - -Fifteen minutes later, the trunks being piled high in the pastor’s -little study, Oliver mopped his brow and expressed himself feelingly to -Mr. Sage from the bottom of the porch steps. - -“I’ll make Uncle Horace sweat for this,” he growled. “If he hadn’t come -nosing around this afternoon, I would have—At the same time, Uncle -Herbert, I think Jane might have been allowed a minute or two to say -hello to a fellow. Good Lord, sir, is—is this to be Jane’s job from now -on?” - -“Sh! The windows are open, Oliver.” - -“Is she to be nothing but a lady’s maid to Aunt Josephine?” - -“We are so happy to have her with us, my dear boy, -that—er—nothing—er—” - -“I understand, Uncle Herbert,” broke in Oliver contritely, noting the -pastor’s distress. “I’m sorry I spoke as I did. Tell Jane I’ll call her -up this evening. And please tell Aunt Josephine I am awfully keen to see -her. I used to love her better than anything going, you know.” - -“It’s different now,” said Mr. Sage. “You are both considerably older -than you were. Will you come up to-night?” - -“Yes, sir. I’ll come up and move the trunks for you, Uncle Herbert. So -that you can have room to write next Sunday’s sermon,” he said, with his -gay, whimsical smile. - -Then he pedaled slowly away on Marmaduke’s wheel, looking over his -shoulder until the windows of the parsonage were no longer visible. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - - OLIVER COMPLAINS - -Three days later, the Sheriff of the County served papers on Oliver -October. The prosecuting attorney had refused to lay the matter before -the grand jury, as requested by Horace Gooch, but had grudgingly acceded -to his demand that an official investigation be instituted and carried -to a definite conclusion by the authorities. - -“I want you to understand, Oliver,” explained the Sheriff, “that this is -none of my doing. Gooch has obtained an order from the court, calling -for a search of the swamp and your premises, basing his affidavit on the -suspicion that his brother-in-law came to his death by foul means -and—er—so on. He doesn’t charge anybody with the crime, as you will -see by reading a copy of the order. I guess it won’t amount to much. You -will have to submit to an examination, answer a lot of questions, and -refrain from any interference whatsoever with the search that is to be -conducted. In plain English, the order means that you are to have no -voice in the matter and that you are to take no part in the search. It’s -in the hands of the law now. I am authorized to begin the investigation -at once and not to stop until old Gooch is thoroughly satisfied that a -crime has not been committed. As I was saying a few minutes ago, he -agrees to pay all the costs arising from this investigation in case -nothing comes of it. On the other hand, if your father’s body is found -and there is any evidence of foul play, the county naturally is to -assume all the costs. The court made him sign a bond to that effect—a -regular indemnifying bond. The old man has hired two detectives from -Chicago to come down here and take active charge of the work. I hope you -won’t have any hard feelings toward me, Baxter. I am only doing my duty -as ordered by the court.” - -“Not the slightest feeling in the world, Sheriff,” said Oliver warmly. -“I wish you would do me a favor, however. The next time you see my -uncle, please remind him that my offer to give him five thousand dollars -if he finds my poor father—dead or alive—still holds. You can start -digging whenever you are ready, Sheriff. You are at liberty to ransack -the house and outbuildings, dig up the cellars, pull up the floors, -drain the cistern and well—do anything you like, sir; I sha’n’t -interfere. If any damage is done to the property, however, I shall be -obliged to compel my uncle to pay for it. Don’t forget to tell him that, -will you?” - -The sheriff grinned. “I wonder if this old bird knows how many votes -he’s going to lose by this sort of thing.” - -Oliver frowned. “His scheme is to throw suspicion on me, Sheriff. That’s -what he is after. It is possible that a good many people will hesitate -about voting for a man who is suspected of killing his own father.” - -“Don’t you worry, Baxter,” cried the sheriff, slapping the young man on -the back. “My wife was talking to a prominent county official this -morning—a good Democrat and a candidate for reëlection—and she made -him promise not to vote for old Horace Gooch next November. She made him -swear on his sacred word of honor not to do it. He went even further and -swore he would vote for you, and it will be the first time he has ever -voted for a Republican. Well, so long. Here’s a reporter for the -_Evening Tribune_ waiting to interview you. He came down with me. He’s a -nice feller and he’ll give you a square deal in spite of the fact his -paper is opposed to you politically. Of course, he’ll have to play this -business up, so don’t get sore if you see your name in the headlines -to-night.” - -“I sha’n’t,” said Oliver, but more soberly than before. “I suppose there -won’t be a day from now on that there isn’t something in the papers -about the sensational Baxter case. I tell you, Sheriff, it hurts. I may -act as if it doesn’t hurt—but it does.” - -“I know it does, Baxter,” said the sheriff sympathetically. “I’m -sorry—mighty sorry.” - -Fully a week passed before a move was made by the authorities. The -newspapers devoted considerable first page space to the new angle in the -unsolved Baxter mystery, but not one of them took the matter up -editorially. The principal Democratic organ, _The Tribune_, hinted at a -possible disclosure, but went no farther; the Republican sheets withheld -their fire until the time seemed ripe to open up on old man Gooch. - -Notwithstanding the reticence of the press, the news spread like -wildfire that Horace Gooch was actually charging his nephew with the -murder of his father. The town of Rumley went wild with anger and -indignation. A few hotheads talked of tar and feathers for old man -Gooch. - -And yet deep down in the soul of every one who cried out against Horace -Gooch’s malevolence lurked a strange uneasiness that could not be shaken -off. The excitement over the return of Mrs. Sage was short-lived on -account of the new and startling turn in the Baxter mystery. Acute -interest in the pastor’s wife dwindled into a mild, almost innocuous -form of curiosity. At best, she was a three days’ wonder. If she had -lived up to expectations by appearing on the streets in startling gowns -and hats, or if she had behaved in public as actresses are supposed to -behave, she might have held her own against the odds; but she did none -of these. She wore what the women of the town called very unstylish -clothes; she behaved with sickening propriety; she was a real -disappointment. People began to wonder what on earth all those trunks -contained that Joe O’Brien had hauled up to the parsonage. If they -contained clothes, where was she keeping them and why didn’t she put -them on once in a while? - -Ladies of the congregation, after a dignified season of hesitation, -called on her—that is to say, after forty-eight hours—and were told by -the servant that Miss Judge was not at home. She would be at home only -on Thursdays from three to six. Some little confusion was caused by the -name, but this was satisfactorily straightened out by the servant who -explained that Miss Judge and Mrs. Sage were one and the same person, -and that she was married all right and proper except, as you might say, -in name. Mrs. Serepta Grimes, being an old friend, was one of the first -to call. And this is what she said to Oliver October that same evening: - -“You ask me, did I see her? I did. I saw her sitting at a window -upstairs as I came up the walk. She didn’t try to hide. She just sat -there reading a book. I told the hired girl to say who it was and that -I’d just as soon come upstairs as not if she didn’t feel like coming -down. The girl said she wasn’t home—and wouldn’t be till Thursday. So I -says, ‘You go up and tell her it’s me.’ In a minute or two she came back -and told me the bare-facedest lie I ever heard. She knew she was lying, -because I never saw a human being turn as red in the face as she did. -She said Mrs. Sage wasn’t at home. She said Mrs. Sage asked her to say -would I please come on Thursday next and have tea with her. She said -Thursday was her day. Well, do you know what I did, Oliver? I just said -‘pooh’ and walked right up the stairs and into her room. She got right -up and kissed me five or six times and—well, that’s about all, except I -stayed so long I was afraid I’d be late for supper. She’s a caution, -isn’t she? I declare I don’t know when I’ve had a better time. She -didn’t talk of anything else but you, Oliver. She thinks you’re the -finest—” - -“Did you see Jane?” broke in Oliver. - -“Certainly. Don’t you want to hear what Josephine said about you?” - -“No, I can’t say that I do. By the way, Aunt Serepta, there is something -I’ve been wanting to ask you for quite awhile. Do you think Jane is -pretty?” - -Mrs. Grimes pondered. “Well,” she said judicially, “it depends on what -you mean by pretty. Do you mean, is she beautiful?” - -“I suppose that’s what I mean.” - -“What do you want to know for?” - -“Eh?” - -“I mean, what’s the sense of asking me that question? You wouldn’t -believe me if I said she wasn’t pretty, would you?” - -“Well, I’d just like to know whether you agree with me or not.” - -“Yes, sir,” said she, fixing him with an accusing eye; “I do agree with -you—absolutely.” - -“The strange thing about it,” he pursued defensively, “is that I never -thought of her as being especially good-looking until recently. Funny, -isn’t it?” - -“There are a lot of things we don’t notice,” said she, “until some one -else pinches us. Then we open our eyes. I guess some one must have -pinched you. It hurts more when a man pinches you—’specially a big -strong fellow like Doc Lansing.” - -A pained expression came into Oliver’s eyes. “The trouble is, I’ve -always looked upon her as a—well, as a sort of sister or something like -that. We grew up just like brother and sister. How was I to know that -she was pretty? A fellow never thinks of his sister as being pretty, -does he?” - -“I suppose not. But, on the other hand, he never loses his appetite and -mopes and has the blues if his sister happens to take a fancy to a man -who isn’t her brother. That’s what you’ve been doing for two or three -weeks. If you had the least bit of gumption you’d up and tell her you -can’t stand being a brother to her any longer and you’d like to be -something else—if it isn’t too late.” - -“Gee!” exclaimed he, ruefully. “But suppose she was to say it is too -late?” - -“That’s a nice way for a soldier to talk,” said Mrs. Grimes scathingly. - -He saw very little of Jane during the days that followed Mrs. Sage’s -return. Her mother demanded much of her; she was constantly in -attendance upon the pampered lady. Oliver chafed. He complained to Jane -on one of the rare occasions when they were alone together. - -“Why, you’re nothing but a lady’s maid, Jane. You’ve been home five days -and I haven’t had a chance to say ten words to you. Now, don’t -misunderstand me. I’m fond of Aunt Josephine. She’s great fun, but, hang -it all, she’s right smack in the center of the stage all the time. It -isn’t fair, Jane. You can’t go on being a slave to her. She—” - -“She has always had some one to wait on her, Oliver,” said Jane. “I -don’t mind. I am really very fond of her. And she is just beginning to -care for me. At first, I think she was a little afraid of me. She -couldn’t believe that I was real. The other day—in Chicago—she -suddenly reached out and touched my arm and said: ‘It doesn’t seem -possible that you ever squalled and made the night hideous for me and -your poor father. I can’t believe that you are the same little baby I -used to fondle and spank when I wasn’t any older than you are now.’ -Besides, Oliver, I like doing things for her. It makes father happy.” - -“But it doesn’t make me happy,” he grumbled. Then his face brightened. -“Wasn’t she great last night when she got started on Uncle Horace -and—and all this hullabaloo he’s stirring up?” - -The fourth day after his wife’s return to Rumley, Mr. Sage blurted out -the question that had lain captive in his mind for weeks. - -“If it is a fair question, my dear, would you mind telling me just why -you came back to me?” - -She leaned back in her chair and studied the ceiling for a few minutes -before answering. - -“I may as well be honest about it, Herby,” she said, changing her -position to meet his perplexed gaze with one that was absolutely free -from guile. “I came back because they were through with me over there. I -was getting passé—in fact, I was quite passé. They were beginning to -cast me for old women and character parts. Two or three years ago they -started my funeral services by seeing what I could do with Shakespeare. -I played Rosalind and Viola with considerable success. The next season -they had me do Lady Macbeth, and last season there was talk of reviving -Camille with me in the title rôle. I was through. My musical comedy days -were over. The stage was crowded with young women who could dance -without wheezing like a horse with the heaves and whose voices didn’t -crack in the middle register. People didn’t want to see me in musical -comedy any longer and they _wouldn’t_ see me in anything else. I’m -fifty-three, Herbert—between you and me, mind you—and just the right -age to be a preacher’s wife. So I made up my mind to retire. I used to -have a hundred pounds a week. Good pay over there. I was offered twenty -pounds a week for this season to tour the provinces in a revival of -Peter Pan—and that was the last straw. Peter Pan! When an actress gets -so old that she can’t stand on one leg without expecting people to -applaud her for a feat of daring, they send her out into the woods to -revive poor Peter, the boy who isn’t allowed to grow old. You notice, -Herby, I didn’t cable to ask if I could come home—I cabled that I was -on the way. Now, you know the secret of my home-coming. The time has -come when I must submit to being buried alive, and I’d sooner be buried -alive in Rumley than in London. It’s greener here. Besides you are a -human Rock of Ages, Herby. I’m going to cling to you like a barnacle. I -haven’t forgotten what lovers and sweethearts we were in the old days. -I’ve been faithful to you, old dear. If I hadn’t been faithful to you I -would never have come back. By the way, I’ve put by a little -money—quite a sum, in fact—so you mustn’t regard me as a charity -patient. We’ll pool our resources. And when the time comes for you to -step down and out of the pulpit for the same reason that I chucked the -stage—you see, Herby, audiences and congregations are a good deal -alike—why, we’ll have enough to live on for the rest of our days. You -won’t have to write sermons and preach ’em, and I sha’n’t have to listen -to them. It’s an awful thing to say, but we’ll both have to mend our -ways if we want our grandchildren to love us.” - -He laid his arm over her shoulder and gently caressed her cheek. - -“You are still pretty much of a pagan, Jo,” was all that he said, but he -was smiling. - -“But you are jolly well pleased to have me back, aren’t you?” - -“More overjoyed than I can tell you.” - -“No doubts, no misgivings, no uneasiness over what I may do or say to -shock the worshipers?” - -“I have confidence in your ability as an actress, Josephine,” he said. -“I am sure you can play the part of a lady as well as anything else.” - -She flushed. “Score one,” she said. Then she sprang to her feet, the old -light of mischief in her wonderful eyes. “But, my God, Herby, what’s -going to happen when I spring all my spangles on the innocent public?” - -“I shudder when I think of it,” said he, lifting his eyes heavenward. - -“I saved every respectable costume I’ve worn in the last ten years—and -some that are shocking. Twelve trunks full of them. I’ll knock their -eyes out when I come on as the Princess Jalinka—last act -glorification—and as for the gold and turquoise gown that caused old -London to blink its weary eyes and catch its jaded breath—my word, -Herby, old thing, they’ll have me up for wholesale murder. They’ll die -all over the place.” - -“I really ought to caution you, Josephine—” - -“Never mind, old dear. I sha’n’t disgrace you. I’ve got a few costumes I -will put on in private for you—and I wouldn’t feel safe in putting ’em -on privately for any one except a preacher in whom I had the most -unusual confidence. Bless your heart, Herby, don’t look so horrified. -I’ve still got my marriage certificate—though God only knows where it -is.” - -He cleared his throat. “I’ve got it, my dear. You neglected to take it -away with you when you left.” - -She smiled. “Well, I daresay it was safer with you than it would have -been with me.” - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - - DETECTIVE MALONE - -It was the fourth week in September when the detectives arrived in -Rumley; Oliver’s dredgers had completed their contract; the swamp was -clear of men, machines and horses. - -The city editor of the _Despatch_ interviewed Detective Malone, the -chief operative in charge of what the newspaper man and others, -including Oliver October, were jocosely inclined to classify as the -“expedition.” - -“Where do you intend to begin excavating, Mr. Malone?” inquired the -editor, notebook in hand. They were in the lobby of the Hubbard House. -“And when?” he added. - -Mr. Malone was very frank about it. “In China,” said he. “We’re going to -work from the bottom up. If you’ll go out to the swamp to-morrow or next -day and put your ear to the ground—and hold it there long -enough—you’ll hear men’s voices but you won’t understand a word they -say. They’ll be speakin’ Chinese. We’ve got thirty-five thousand coolies -digging their way up from Shanghai, and according to schedule they ought -to be here by to-morrow morning unless they’ve had a cave-in or stopped -off in hell for breakfast.” - -The editor eyed him in a cold, inimical manner. “Umph!” he grunted, -flopping his notebook shut. “It’s a good thing you’ve got your Chinese -army, because you won’t be able to get anybody to work for you in this -town. That’s how we feel about this business, Mr. Malone—rich and poor, -high and low. There isn’t a dago here who will lift a spade to help -you.” - -“I guess that’s up to the authorities,” said the detective coolly. “I’m -here to boss the job, that’s all.” - -“You won’t find anything.” - -Mr. Malone grinned. “Exactly what those two old codgers out there on the -sidewalk said to me not ten minutes ago.” - -That afternoon the sheriff and the prosecuting attorney stopped -electioneering long enough to pay a hasty visit to Rumley. They found -Oliver waiting for them at his home. - -“Of course, Mr. Baxter,” said the prosecutor, “you have a right to -refuse to answer every question I put to you. So far as I am concerned, -I merely intend to examine you as I would examine any disinterested -witness. As I say, you may decline to answer.” - -“I will answer any question you may choose to put to me, Mr. Johnson.” - -The sheriff interposed. “Better have your lawyer here, Baxter. I am -obliged to warn you that anything you say may be used against you in -case—er—in case—” - -“I understand. In case I am charged with crime.” - -“Exactly,” said the sheriff. - -“You can refuse to answer on the ground that it may tend to incriminate -you,” explained the prosecutor. - -“I have consulted a lawyer,” said Oliver. “He advises me to help you in -every way possible, Mr. Johnson. He wanted to be here this afternoon, -but I told him I knew of no surer way to incriminate myself than to hire -a lawyer to see that I didn’t. Go ahead; ask all the questions you like. -No one wants to see this mystery cleared up more than I do.” - -Half an hour later, the sheriff looked at his watch and reminded his -companion that they would be late for the meeting at Monrovia if they -didn’t start at once—and off they sped in haste. Detective Malone and -his partner, who had joined the county officials at the Baxter house, -remained behind. They were smoking Oliver’s cigars. - -“How long do you figure it will take you, Mr. Malone, to finish up the -job?” inquired the young man. - -Malone squinted at the tree-tops. “Our instructions are to work slowly -and surely. We are not to leave a stone unturned. It may take six or -eight weeks.” - -“In other words, you are not expected to be through before election -day.” - -“Unless we find what we are after before that time, Mr. Baxter,” said -the other. He had been out at the back of the house, surveying with his -eye the stretch of swamp land. “It is a big job, as you can see for -yourself. Like looking for a needle in a haystack, eh, Charlie?” - -His partner nodded his head in silent assent. - -“We’ll go out and take a walk around the swamp to-morrow,” said Malone. -“If you’ve got the time to spare, Mr. Baxter, you might stroll out with -us now to the place where you last saw your father. That will have to be -our starting point. Then I’ll want to question your servants. It seems -that he is supposed to have come home to change his clothes after he -said good-by to you.” - -“He did not say good-by to me,” corrected Oliver. “He didn’t even say -good night. Please get that straight, Mr. Malone. He was angry with -me—and I do not deny that I was angry myself. We parted in anger.” - -“Do you know a man named Peter Hines, Mr. Baxter?” asked Malone -abruptly. - -“Pete Hines? Certainly. He is a tenant of my father’s. Lives in a shack -up at the other end of the swamp. He has done odd jobs for us ever since -I can remember. Wood-chopping, rail-splitting and all that. He also does -most of the drinking for the estate,” he concluded dryly. - -“A souse, eh?” - -“I’ve never known him to be completely sober—and I’ve never heard of -him being completely drunk. He’s that kind.” - -“Do you remember seeing him the night your father disappeared?” - -“No. I did not see him.” - -“By the way, have you ever seen me before to-day?” - -“Not to my knowledge.” - -“Well,” said Malone, with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve been hanging -around this burg since last Monday—five days, in all. I’ve done quite a -bit of sleuthing, as they say in the dime novels. I’m the fellow that -sold your housekeeper, Mrs. Grimes, the beautifully illustrated set of -Jane Austen’s works day before yesterday. I also sold an unexpurgated -set of the Arabian Nights to Mr. Samuel Parr, the insurance agent. He -tells me your father carried a fifteen thousand dollar life policy. I -tried to sell a set of Dickens to the Reverend Mr. Sage, and succeeded -in having a long talk with his daughter about the book entitled ‘The -Mystery of Edwin Drood.’ That led up, quite naturally, to the mystery of -Oliver Baxter. I’ve had dealings with Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link, Banker -Lansing, John Phillips and a number of other citizens, male and female.” -He laughed quietly. “Of course, the books will never be delivered, Mr. -Baxter—but as it is understood that no payments are to be made until -the first two volumes are delivered, I can’t be charged with swindling. -I can face my victims with perfect equanimity—but I don’t believe -they’ll recognize me. I was in your store last Tuesday, but you were off -on political business. Shall we stroll down to the swamp, Mr. Baxter, or -would you rather wait a day or two? Suit your own convenience. We’re in -no hurry, you see.” - -“That is obvious,” said Oliver curtly. “I must notify you, Mr. Malone, -that if you or any of your workmen slip into one of those pits of mire -out there and never come up again, I am not to be held accountable. If -you venture out beyond the safety zone you do so at your own risk.” - -“Right-o!” said Malone cheerily. They were well around the corner of the -house on their way to the swamp road before he spoke again. “How many -people have lost their lives out there?” he inquired. - -“None, so far as I know.” - -“But there must have been any number of men who have ventured out -there.” - -“What makes you think so? I don’t know of a single soul who has had the -courage—or the folly—to go anywhere near those sink-holes.” - -“Then, how do you know that those so-called bottomless holes exist?” - -“I suppose it’s tradition,” said Oliver. “I have heard of animals—such -as horses and cattle—sinking out of sight. My father has often told me -of such things.” - -“Maybe he was just scaring you, so’s you’d keep out of the swamp.” - -“Well, he scared me all right.” - -“You are a trained civil engineer, I understand.” - -“Yes.” - -“And you’ve never gone out there to satisfy yourself whether those pits -are real or just something people like to talk about?” - -“I’ve never been out beyond that row of posts you see over there,” said -Oliver, pointing. “I had a wire fence stretched along those posts last -spring, Mr. Malone. You are at liberty to go as far out as you please, -however.” - -“I shall,” said Malone crisply. “I am an old hand at this business. I -don’t believe such a thing exists as a bottomless pit. Before I get -through with this job, you will find, Mr. Baxter, that there isn’t a -spot in that slough out there that is more than six or eight feet deep. -Of course, that is deep enough to bury a man, or a horse or a cow. So, -you needn’t expect me to step into every mud puddle I come across out -there, just to see if it’s over my shoe tops. Now, just where was it -that you and your father parted company that night? As I understand it, -you and he sat for some time on that log over there. It was a clear -night and the road was very dusty. There had been no rain in over three -weeks. Am I right?” - -Oliver stared at him in amazement. The other detective had turned down -the slope and was striding off toward the nearest ditch. - -“You seem to be pretty well posted,” said he, his eyes narrowing. - -“Well, I am an inquisitive sort of cuss,” drawled Malone. “And I’m not -what you’d call an idle person.” - -“Who told you we were sitting on that log? I don’t remember ever having -mentioned it. As a matter of fact, I’d forgotten it completely. We did -sit there for ten or fifteen minutes. That was before we began to -quarrel. Then we got up and walked on a little farther down the road. To -the bend on ahead about fifty yards. We stood there arguing for nearly -half an hour. I left him standing there. I went on to Mr. Sage’s. But -who told you we sat on that log?” - -“If you don’t mind, I’ll not answer that question,” said Malone. - -“You asked me a while ago if I had seen Pete Hines that night. Was it -Pete Hines?” - -Malone hesitated. “Well, it was Pete Hines who is supposed to have seen -you, Mr. Baxter, but it was not he who told me about it. I went out to -see him yesterday, but his shack was boarded up and there was no sign of -him anywhere. Now this may interest you. There was—and still is, as far -as I know—a piece of pasteboard tacked on his front door, with these -words printed on it in lead pencil: ‘Beware. This house is full of -snakes.’ That bears out your statement that he is never completely -sober, Mr. Baxter. Now, you say this is the place where you parted that -night—here at the turn. You left him standing here, you say. In the -middle of the road?” - -“Yes.” - -“And you walked off in this direction. Did you look back?” - -“I did not.” - -“Just kept right on—in the middle of the road, eh?” - -“That’s right.” - -Malone changed the subject abruptly. “That’s a great fish story they -tell about the gypsy prophesying you’d be hung before you were thirty. -Of all the bunk I ever heard, that’s the worst. Mr. Gooch says he was -present when she told your fortune that night.” - -“If you will excuse me, Mr. Malone, I must be getting back to the house. -It’s nearly seven o’clock and I am expecting people to dine with me,” -said Oliver a little coldly. - -“I’m sorry I’ve detained you,” said the detective apologetically. “I -wish you had mentioned it, Mr. Baxter. This could have waited till -another day. I’ll stroll back with you, if you don’t mind.” - -“Where is your partner?” inquired Oliver, looking out over the swamp. - -“Charlie? Oh, he’ll be along directly. There he is, over near the wire -fence. He is seeing about how long it would take a man to walk out to -the edge of the mire and back,” said Malone coolly. - -Oliver looked at him sharply. “So that’s the idea, eh?” he remarked, -after a moment. - -“We intend to conduct this investigation in an open and above-board -manner, Mr. Baxter. Cards on the table, sir, all the way through. We’re -looking for a dead man, not a live one, if you see what I mean.” - -“And I shall be open and above-board with you, Mr. Malone,” said Oliver, -a trace of irony in his voice. “I hope, therefore, that you won’t take -it amiss if I suggest that the sensible thing for your man to do would -be to make his calculations at night, when progress would naturally be a -great deal slower and infinitely more hazardous. Besides, you ought to -take into account the fact that this part of the swamp was not drained -at the time my father disappeared. There were a lot of chuck-holes and -mud flats between here and that wire fence.” - -“I’ve taken that into account—mud and everything,” announced the -detective, looking straight ahead. “I was about to say that it’s going -to take a good deal of tight squeezing, Mr. Baxter, to get you indicted, -tried and executed inside of the next thirty days. The time is pretty -short, eh?” He laughed jovially. - -Oliver turned on him. “I’ll knock your damned head off, Malone, if you -make any more cracks like that. Remember that, will you?” he cried -hotly. - -Malone was genuinely surprised. He went very red in the face. - -“Yes,” he said thickly, “I’ll be sure to remember it.” - -Oliver apologized to Malone as they were on the point of separating in -front of the house. They had traversed the hundred yards or more in -silence. - -“I am sorry I spoke to you as I did, Mr. Malone. I hope you will -overlook it.” - -Malone held out his hand. “I’ve been spoken to a good bit rougher than -that in my time, Mr. Baxter, and never turned a hair,” he said -good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you for calling me down. I guess I was -fresh. But I assure you I didn’t mean to be.” - -“It’s my infernal temper,” explained Oliver, taking the man’s hand. “You -would think that after twenty years’ training of the most drastic -character I might be able to control it, wouldn’t you? But every once in -a while it slips.” - -“Well, there’s no hard feelings on my part. Still I hope you don’t mind -my saying that a lot of men have tried to knock my block off without -success.” - -“All the more reason why I should apologize,” said Oliver, with his old, -disarming smile. - -“Forget it,” said Mr. Malone magnanimously. - -A little later on Oliver sat on his front porch waiting for his guests -to arrive. Mrs. Grimes, in her snug-fitting black silk dress, rocked -impatiently in a chair nearby. The guests were late. - -“It’s Josephine Sage,” she observed crossly, breaking a long silence. -Oliver was startled out of his reflections. “She’s the one that’s making -’em late. Mr. Sage was telling me the other day that actresses are -always late to a party. He’s just got onto it, he says. He says it’s -what they call an entrance, though what that means I don’t know.” - -He looked at his watch. “It’s only half-past seven, Aunt Serepta. -They’re only fifteen minutes late. I’ve been losing my temper again,” he -said gloomily. “Probably made an enemy of that detective, Malone.” - -“What difference does that make? He’s not a voter in this county,” said -the old lady composedly. - -“Did you know that Pete Hines has gone away?” - -“I didn’t even know he’d come back,” said she. - -“Come back? What do you mean?” - -“He was away all last week. They say he’s making corn whisky somewhere -up in the hills back of Crow Center. At any rate, he’s been peddling it -around town for a couple of months.” - -“I thought it was gasolene he’s been selling.” - -“Maybe that’s why Abel Conroy calls it fire-water. Here they come. -Goodness! The way that Parr boy drives! He ought to be locked up for—” - -But Oliver was at the bottom of the steps waiting for the automobile. It -swung around the curve in the drive and came to an unbelievably gentle -stop—almost what might be called a tender stop—in precisely the right -spot. Oliver reached out his hand and opened the front door of the car -without changing his position so much as an inch. - -“Perfect!” said Mrs. Sage, who sat beside the driver. - -“The best trained automobile in America,” said Sammy, with his customary -modesty. “Kindness is what does it.” - -“So sorry to be late,” said she, as Oliver ceremoniously handed her out -of the car. “Good evening, Mrs. Grimes. Is the soup cold?” - -“It was all Sammy’s fault,” cried Sammy’s wife. “He poked along at only -forty miles an hour.” - -“Bless my soul,” said Mr. Sage, drawing his first full, free breath; “we -were exactly three minutes coming from my house to—” - -“Had to slow down a bit on Clay Street,” explained Sammy. “Evening, Mrs. -Grimes. Step lively, Muriel! You’re holding up the procession.” He gave -two short, imperative honks. “That means full speed ahead.” - -“What is this I hear, Oliver?” said the minister as he stepped out of -the car. Jane and Mrs. Sammy had preceded him. “Is it true the -detectives are here and expect to start this ridiculous search -to-morrow?” - -“They’re here all right,” replied Oliver. “One of them tried to sell you -a set of Dickens the other day.” - -“What!” cried Jane, gripping Oliver’s arm. “Was that man a detective?” -She was startled. - -“No less a person than Mr. Sherlock Hawkshaw Malone, the renowned -sleuth,” said Oliver, smiling. - -“The—the beast!” she cried hotly. “Good heavens! That accounts for the -interest he took in your father’s disappearance. Oh, dear me, I—I -wonder what I said to him! He was so pleasant and so interested.” - -“You’re not the only one he fooled, Jane. He got Sammy for a set of -books and Aunt Serepta and Mr. Lansing—and I daresay he talked about -the case with every one of them. I haven’t had the nerve to spring it on -Aunt Serepta. She’s so happy over the prospect of getting Jane Austen -with illustrations, that she’ll die when she hears she’s been tricked.” - -“At any rate,” said Mr. Sage, complacently, “he did not succeed in -selling us a set of Dickens.” - -Jane started to say something, but, instead, abruptly turned away and -joined the other women on the porch. A queer little chill as of -misgiving stole over her. - -“Hey, Oliver!” called out Sammy from down the drive where he was parking -the car. “Come here a minute, will you? Say,” he went on, lowering his -voice as Oliver came up, “I’ve just picked up something rich. Fellow -came in day before yesterday and showed me a volume of the Arabian -Nights, absolutely unexpurgated, with some of the gosh-darnedest -illustrations you ever—” - -“I know. And you fell for it, didn’t you?” - -“Sh! Not so loud. My wife doesn’t know a thing about it. I’ll have to -keep ’em at the office. In the safe. But say, who told you about it?” - -“It’s all over town,” said Oliver mendaciously. - -“Gee whiz!” gulped Sammy. “Impossible! It’s a dead secret. He said he -could be arrested for selling ’em—” - -“Aha!” broke in Oliver. “That explains everything. The man who told me -is a detective.” - -“Oh, for the Lord’s sake!” whispered Sammy in great agitation. Then in a -tone of relief: “Oh, but I’m all right. All I’ve got to do is to cancel -the order. I wasn’t to pay anything until—What’s the joke?” - -Then Oliver told him. Sammy leaned against the mudguard and swore -softly. - -“Say, I wish I could remember what I said to that guy about—about your -father. Lord, he had me talking a blue streak. Darn my fool eyes! You’d -think I’d have sense enough to—Oh, well, go ahead and kick me, Ollie. -Right here. Just as hard as you like.” - -“Come on. They’re waiting for us. You needn’t worry about the books, old -boy. You’ll never get them. I say, have you ever seen anything as -gorgeous as Mrs. Sage is to-night?” - -“Knocked me cold when she came down the parsonage steps,” said Sammy. -“The Queen of Sheba never had anything on her, Ollie. I was standing at -the bottom of the steps with Jane. Mr. Sage was out on the sidewalk -chinning with Muriel. Jane and I joshed along for ten or twelve minutes, -waiting for Mrs. Sage—I mean, Miss Judge. Suddenly the servant popped -out and held the screen door open. She was carrying that blue opera wrap -you saw on Mrs. Sage just now. Half a minute later, out strolled Mrs. -Sage, walking as slowly as if she were following a coffin filled with -royalty. I lost consciousness—honest to God I did. Wait till you see -her! She’s dressed in pure silver from head to foot. When I came to she -was standing right under the porch light, holding out her arms for the -girl to slip on the opera coat, and she was bowing to Jane and me all -over the place besides. ‘Good evening, Samuel,’ she said in a voice such -as I’ve never heard before—it was so deep and musical. And say, boy! -She’s got a figure! I don’t know how old she is, but all the same she’s -got Venus backed off the boards. I’ll bet my last dollar if you was to -put a dress on Venus she’d look like a cripple alongside of Mrs. S. Wait -a second. There’s no rush, and I want to prepare you. Well, sir, she -starts down the steps—me standing there with my mouth open and batting -my eyes. She reaches down and lifts her skirt up to her knees and wraps -it around them, and, by gosh, Ollie, she’s got on silver slippers and -light blue stockings with diamond garters—” - -“Sammy!” piped a shrill, commanding voice from the doorway above. -“Hustle along! Don’t be all night. You can talk politics with Oliver -after dinner.” - -“Politics!” muttered Sammy, rolling his eyes. “And to see her in her -street clothes you’d swear she hadn’t as much shape or style as—all -right, Muriel! Coming!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - - LOVE WITHOUT JEALOUSY - -The young men entered the sitting-room. Mrs. Sage was standing almost -directly under the chandelier, talking to dumpy little Mrs. Grimes; the -light from above fell upon her auburn crown, flooded her magnificent -shoulders and arms, and then wavered timidly, almost helplessly, as it -first came in contact with resplendent opposition. The actress was a -head taller than Mrs. Grimes, who nevertheless bravely stood her ground -and faced comparison with all the hardihood of the righteous. Oliver’s -housekeeper succeeded in disguising the astonishment occasioned by the -gown of silver spangles, but she could not master the wonder and the -admiration that filled her eyes as she gazed upon the smooth, alabaster -arms and neck and bosom of the magnificent Josephine. Nor could she -understand the soft, warm cheeks, or the dusky shadows under the -sparkling eyes, or the moist black lashes that sometimes veiled them. - -Mr. Sage, with a distinctly bewildered and somewhat embarrassed -expression keeping company with the proud and doting smile that seemed -to be stamped upon his lean visage, stood across the room with his -daughter and Mrs. Sammy, his hands behind his back, his feet spread -slightly apart the better to allow him the unctuous relaxation of -frequently rising on his toes and then slowly settling back upon his -heels again—another and simple means of indicating partnership in -pulchritude. - -“I can remember when there wasn’t a dinner jacket or a dress suit in -Rumley,” said Josephine as the two tall young men approached. “And the -only men who parted their hair in the middle were the ones who didn’t -have any hair in the middle at all, at all. Most of the male member’s of -Herbert’s congregation left the price tags on their Sunday suits for a -whole winter so that people could tell when they were dressed up. Do you -mean to tell me, Oliver, that those blighters intend to begin digging up -your place to-morrow?” - -The mere thought of it caused her to waft her handkerchief in front of -her nose, stirring the air with the rare, pungent odor of _nuit de -chine_. - -Oliver laughed. “I think we’ll all rather enjoy the excitement, Aunt -Josephine,” he said. “Besides, now that I am in politics, I want to keep -as much in the limelight as possible. I suppose they’ll begin prying up -the kitchen floor to-morrow, or digging trenches in the cellar, or -tearing up the flower-beds. It will be worth coming miles to see.” - -She looked at him narrowly. “What utter rot! Do they expect to find your -father buried in the cellar or under the kitchen floor?” - -“They don’t expect to find him at all,” replied Oliver, with -unintentional shortness. - -“There will be trouble,” said Mrs. Grimes, the light of battle in her -eye, “if they make a mess around this house.” - -“Aunt Serepta will fix ’em,” said Oliver, putting his arm around the -little woman’s shoulders. “Won’t you, Auntie?” - -“She’ll boil ’em in oil,” said Sammy, very gravely. - -Oliver glanced over his shoulder at Jane. Their eyes met and their gaze -held for some seconds. He detected the clouded, troubled look in hers -and was suddenly conscious of what must have seemed to her a serious -intensity in his own. Without a word, he left Mrs. Sage and went to -Jane. - -“Don’t worry,” he said to her in a low tone. “You couldn’t have said -anything to Malone that—” - -“It isn’t that,” she interrupted nervously. “It is the feeling that we -are all being spied upon.” She hesitated a moment. “I remember one -thing. He asked me what kind of a night it was.” - -“Well, there wasn’t any harm in telling him, was there?” he chided. -“That is, if you remembered.” - -“I do remember. He said that some one had told him it was a rainy, -stormy night. I assured him he had been misinformed—that it hadn’t -rained for weeks. He—he seemed surprised.” - -“Well, what of that?” - -Her wide-set gray eyes wavered. They steadied instantly, however, and -she smiled—a confident, disarming smile. - -“I suppose it’s the finding out that he was a detective and that he was -pumping me,” she explained. - -“Anyhow, you are smiling again,” he half whispered, “and that makes me -want to sing and dance for joy.” He was once more aware that his voice -was throaty and unsteady. - -A faint wave of color spread to her cheek and brow, but she did not look -away. When she spoke again it was at the conclusion of a long, deep -exhalation; the sentence ended in a fluttering, breathless murmur. - -“Don’t you think mother is perfectly wonderful, Oliver?” - -He nodded. He felt that he could not trust his voice. He knew now that -he was in love—that he always had been in love with Jane, that he -always would be in love with her. He compressed his lips and fought -against the strange, mad impulse to shout that he was in love with her, -that she was his—all his—and that no man should take her away from -him. - -And she? She was thinking of that dry, hot night when he came to see her -after leaving his father, out of breath, his shoes covered with fresh -black mud. There had been no rain for weeks. The roads were thick with -dust. And Lansing too had noticed that his shoes were muddy. He had -spoken to her about them, he had wondered where Oliver had been to get -into mud up to his shoe tops! And she, herself, had never ceased to -wonder. - -Mr. Sage was speaking to Mrs. Sammy. “Yes, my dear Muriel, I can’t quite -believe I am awake. It all seems like a dream.” - -His wife not only overheard this remark but obviously the one that led -up to it. - -“Oh, I say, old dear,” she exclaimed, “you must get over the notion that -you are asleep. It’s not complimentary to me to have you going about -everywhere pinching yourself to see whether you’re awake or not. And the -worst of it is, he pinches me every now and then to see whether I am -flesh and blood or merely a hallucination.” - -Sammy cleared his throat gallantly. “Permit me to say, Miss Judge, that -you _are_ a dream, and if I was Mr. Sage I’d _never_ wake up.” - -She lifted her lorgnon and regarded him with languid interest. “After -that, my dear Sammy, I am sure your wife will like me much better if you -call me Aunt Josephine. Even though I am old enough to be your mother, -I—Why, when I look at Jane I doubt my own eyes. That I, Josephine -Judge, should have a daughter as big as Jane is more than I can grasp. I -am filled with wonder. I—” - -“It’s more of a wonder, Josephine Sage,” broke in Mrs. Grimes tartly, -“that you haven’t got any grandchildren.” - -“My dear Mrs. Grimes, don’t blame me for that,” said Josephine. - -“Supper’s ready,” shouted Lizzie Meggs, the “help” from the center of -the dining-room. Lizzie had a strong voice and she believed in using it. -It saved her many a needless step. She was nearly thirty and thought she -was good enough for Oliver, or any other young man in Rumley. Her -parents brought her up in just that way—with the aid of the movies. - -At table the conversation quite naturally dealt with the advent of the -detectives and the task that had been set for them by the universally -despised Mr. Gooch. - -“It’s all bally nonsense,” said Mrs. Sage, at Oliver’s right. “Your -father will turn up one day and—Why, look at me. Didn’t I turn up? -Didn’t I come back? Here am I as big as life, after twenty-three years, -and dear old Herbert goes about the house all day long saying that -nothing—absolutely nothing is impossible.” - -“Well, you see, Aunt Josephine,” began Oliver, in his good-humored -drawl, “Uncle Herbert did an awful lot of praying.” - -“Morning and night I prayed,” said Mr. Sage earnestly. “I prayed, and -then I prayed that my prayers might be answered. God saw fit to—” - -“My dear Herbert, when a woman reaches my age she begins to appreciate -the advantages of a husband. If she hasn’t got one, she begins -desperately to look for one. I could have had a dozen or more if I’d -been of a mind, but those were in the days when husbands were looking -for me. I mean other women’s husbands. When it so happens, as in my -case, that a perfectly good and reliable husband has been mislaid in the -haste and confusion of youth, why, Fortune smiles, that’s all. It wasn’t -your praying. I should have come back if you hadn’t prayed a lick.” - -“Do not say that, Josephine. I have already begun to pray that you will -never go away again.” - -“Don’t let me catch you at it, old dear,” she warned. “I dare say I -shall get jolly well fed up with Rumley, especially after Jane is -married. Besides, I am living in the hope that you may get a call to -Chicago or New York.” - -“I shall never leave Rumley, Josephine.” - -“That’s what I said about London.” - -“What was that you said about Jane?” demanded Oliver. - -“Jane? Oh, yes; about her getting married? She absolutely refuses to -tell me who she is going to marry. I fancy I can make a fairly good -guess, however.” - -“So can I,” cried Mrs. Sammy. “Oh, you Jane!” - -Oliver swallowed hard. “How about it, Jane? Come on! ’Fess up. You’re -among friends.” - -Jane smiled mischievously. “I promise, Oliver, to tell you first of all. -I sha’n’t keep you in suspense any longer than I can help.” - -“Before you tell your own mother,” cried Josephine. - -“Much as I love you, Mother dear, I feel that I must tell Oliver first. -He is my oldest and best friend.” - -“I have just been thinking, Josephine,” began Mr. Sage, guiltily and -irrelevantly, “that I quite forgot to take Henry the Eighth out for his -walk this evening. And even worse, I fear I left him hanging by his lead -from the top peg of the hatrack.” - -“I really shouldn’t mind, my dear, if he were to expire before we get -home,” said she. “He is a traitor. Would you believe it, Oliver, the -little beast has taken such a fancy to your Uncle Herbert that he has -completely turned against me. Snaps at me, growls at me, barks at me -every time I try to pat him. Hanging is too good for him.” - -“Speaking of hanging,” said Sammy, “old Joe Sikes says he’s got a -perfect alibi for you, Ollie, in connection with that murder up in Grand -Rapids. I mean the chap who was found in a hotel room last night with -his throat cut. Joe says he can prove by thirty reputable witnesses that -you were not within four hundred miles of Grand Rapids last night.” - -Oliver grinned. “That’s all he and Silas Link think about these -days—fixing up alibis for me. They grab up the morning paper to see -where the latest murder has occurred and then they hustle out and -establish an alibi for me.” - -“How perfectly delicious,” cried little Mrs. Sammy. “Don’t you think it -is really perfectly delicious, Mr. Sage?” - -“I beg your pardon?” stammered the pastor apologetically. “I am afraid I -was thinking about Henry the Eighth.” - -“Oh, you are _so_ literary, Mr. Sage,” shrieked Mrs. Sammy admiringly. - -Oliver was strangely restless during dinner, and immediately after the -company arose from the table at its conclusion he asked Jane to come -with him for a little stroll in the open air. - -“I want to speak to you about something,” he urged. “Better throw -something over your shoulders. The night air—” - -“Ought you to go off and leave the others, Oliver?” she began, a queer -little catch, as of alarm, in her voice. “Muriel and Sammy—” - -“Come along,” he pleaded. “They won’t mind. I must see you alone for a -few minutes, Jane.” - -“I will get my wrap,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “It may be -chilly outside.” - -“Why, you’re shivering now, Janie,” he whispered anxiously, as he threw -her wrap over her shoulders. “Are you cold?” - -She did not reply. He followed her out upon the porch and down the -steps. No word passed between them until they had turned the bend in the -drive and were outside the radius of light shed from the windows. He was -the first to speak. - -“See here, Jane,” he blurted out, “I’m—I’m terribly troubled and -upset.” That was as far as he got, speech seeming to fail him. - -She laid her hand on his arm. - -“Is it about—about the detective, Oliver?” she asked tremulously. - -“No,” he answered, almost roughly. “It’s about you, Jane. You’ve just -got to answer me. Are you going to be married?” - -“Yes,” she said, her voice so low he could scarcely hear the -monosyllable. - -They walked on in silence for twenty paces or more, turning down the -path that led to the swamp road. - -“I—I was afraid so,” he muttered. Then fiercely: “Who are you going to -marry?” - -She sighed. “I am going to marry the first man who asks me,” she -replied, and, having cast the die, was instantly mistress of herself. -“Have you any objections?” she asked, almost mockingly. - -If he heard the question he paid no heed to it. She felt the muscles of -his strong forearm grow taut, and she heard the quick intake of his -breath. She waited. She began to hum a vagrant little air. It seemed an -age to her before he spoke. - -“Jane,” he said gently and steadily, “if you were a man and in my -place—I mean in my predicament—would you go so far as to ask the girl -you love better than anything in all the world to marry you?” - -“I don’t know just what you mean.” - -“I mean, supposing they find my father out there in the swamp and there -are indications that he met with foul play, and I stand the chance of -being accused—” - -“Don’t be silly,” she cried. - -“Well—would you ask her?” - -“There couldn’t be any harm in asking her. She could refuse you, you -know.” - -“That’s so. She could, couldn’t she. I—I hadn’t thought of that. Still -you said you were going to marry the first man who asks you.” - -“Yes, Oliver, I am—but, of course, I am expecting the man I love to ask -me.” - -“There’s the gypsy’s prophecy,” he murmured thickly. “It—it may come -true, Jane.” - -“It—it cannot come true,” she cried. “It cannot, Oliver.” - -“Still it is something to be considered,” he said heavily and -judicially. His hand closed over hers and gripped it tightly. “If you -were in my place wouldn’t you hesitate about inviting her to—to become -a widow?” - -“Oh, I love you, Oliver, when your voice sounds as if it had a laugh in -it,” she whispered. - -“In a month I will be thirty,” he went on, his heart as light as air. “I -might ask her to give me a thirty day option, or something like that.” - -“You goose!” - -He pressed her arm to his side, and was serious when he spoke again, -after a moment’s pause. - -“I have never asked a girl to marry me, Jane. Never in all my life. Do -you know why?” - -She buried her face against his shoulder. A vast, overwhelming thrill -raced through him. Her warm, supple body suddenly and mysteriously -became that of another woman—a strange woman so unlike Jane that his -senses swam with wonder. What magic was this? This was not Jane—not the -Jane he had known forever! Something incredibly feminine, sensuous, -intoxicating—His arms went about her and drew her close. - -“God! Is—is this you, Jane?” he whispered. “Is it really you?” - -She lifted her head. A little sob of joy broke on her lips. Gazing up -into his eyes, bright even in the darkness, she murmured a bewildered -question. - -“Yes—you are some other girl,” he replied, dazed by ecstasy. “You can’t -be Jane Sage. You don’t feel like Jane Sage. You don’t—” - -She laughed softly. “Do you think you ought to be holding a strange girl -in your arms—and do you think I could possibly allow you to do it if I -were not Jane Sage?” A pause, then, faintly: “Oh, Oliver—dear Oliver!” - -“You—you are sure there isn’t any one else, Janie? I—I am not too -late? Tell me.” - -“There never has been any one else, Oliver. It has always been you.” - -“I never realized it, Jane—I never even thought of it till just a -little while ago—but now I know that I have always loved you. That’s -why I’ve never asked any one else to—to marry me. I understand now why -I couldn’t possibly have asked any one else. All these years it has been -you—and I never knew. It was settled long ago—ages ago, without my -knowing it, that there was but one girl I could ever ask to be my -wife—only one girl that I could ever really love.” He drew in a deep, -long, quivering breath. - -Her arm stole up about his neck, she raised her chin. - -“I began calling myself your wife, Oliver, when I was a very little -girl—when we first began playing house together, and you were my -husband and the dolls were our children. That was twenty years ago. I -have been true to you ever since—all these years I have been a true and -faithful wife.” Their lips met—their first kiss of passion, of love -exalted. Then, a little later on, breathlessly: “Do you realize that -this is the first time you have kissed your wife since she was ten years -old?” - -He kissed her again, rapturously. “It—it wasn’t like this when you were -ten, Janie darling—nothing like this! Oh, my God!” he burst out. -“You’ll never know how miserable I have been these last few weeks—how -horribly jealous I’ve been.” - -She stroked his cheek—possessively. “I haven’t been very happy myself,” -she sighed. “I—I wasn’t quite sure you would ever give me the chance to -say I loved you, Oliver—I wasn’t sure you would ever ask me to be your -wife.” - -“That reminds me,” he cried boyishly. “Will you marry me, Miss Sage?” - -“Of course I will. Didn’t I say I would marry the first—What was that?” - -As she uttered the exclamation under her breath, she drew away from him -quickly, looking over her shoulder at the thick, shadowy underbrush that -lined the road below them. - -“I didn’t hear anything,” said he, turning with her. “It must have been -my heart trying to burst out of its—” - -“I heard some one—or some thing,” she said, in a voice of dismay. “Oh, -Oliver, some one saw you kiss me, some one heard what we—” - -“Suppose he did,” cried he jubilantly. “Why should we care? I’d like the -whole world to know how happy—how absolutely happy—I am, Jane. I’ve -half a notion to start out right now and run through the streets -shouting that I’m in love with you and am going to marry you. When will -you marry me, Jane? _When?_” - -The woman in her replied. “I must have time to get some clothes and—” - -“You don’t need any,” he broke in. “I mean any more than you have now. -I’m not marrying your clothes, dear—I’m marrying _you_. Sh! Listen! -There _is_ some one over there in the brush. Damn his sneaking eyes! -I’ll—” - -“Don’t! Don’t go down there!” she cried, clutching his arm. “You must -not leave me alone. I’m—I’m afraid, Ollie. I am always afraid when I am -near that awful swamp. No matter if some one did see us. Let him go. -Besides, it may have been a dog or some other animal—” - -“Let’s walk down the road a little way, Jane,” said he stubbornly. -“Don’t be afraid. I’ll stick close beside you.” - -“You won’t go down into the swamp?” she cried anxiously. - -“No. Just along the road.” - -They ran down the little embankment into the road. She clung tightly to -his arm, feeling strangely secure in the rigid strength of it—and proud -of it, as well. The night was dark, the road among the trees darker -still. After fifteen or twenty paces, Oliver pressed her arm warningly -and stopped to listen. Ahead of them, some distance away, they heard -footfalls—the slow, regular tread of a man walking in the road. - -“I will not go a step farther,” she whispered, holding back as he -started to go forward. - -He submitted. They stood still, listening. Suddenly the footfalls -ceased. - -“He knows we have stopped,” said Oliver. “He’s listening to see if we -are following.” - -She was silent for a moment. “You remember what I said about being spied -upon, Oliver. I feel it, I feel it all about me. You are being watched -all the time, Oliver. Oh, how hateful, how unfair!” - -He put his arm around her. “Jane dear, I am just beginning to -understand. They really suspect me. They really think I may have had a -hand in—Why, curse them, they—” - -“Hush, Oliver!” she cried softly. “The very worst thing you can do is to -fly into a rage over this silly—” - -“Oh, my Lord!” he gasped, drawing back in sheer astonishment. “_You_ -too, Jane? I’ve heard nothing for twenty years but—Hang it all, dear, I -_want_ to get mad! I want to rage like a lion and tear things to pieces. -Every time I frown the whole blamed town smooths my back and says -‘Now-now!’ And Joe Sikes and Silas Link—” - -“I know, I know,” she interrupted gently. “But you mustn’t, just the -same. You must treat this thing as a—a sort of joke.” - -Many seconds passed before he spoke. “It’s pretty difficult to see -anything humorous in being suspected of—Oh, I can’t even say it! It’s -too awful—too unspeakable!” - -“We’d better be going back to the house, Oliver,” she began. - -“See here, Jane, I’ve been thinking. It’s wrong for me to ask you to -marry me till all this mess is over. It’s wrong for me to even ask you -to consider yourself engaged to me. We must wait. I mean it, dear. I’m -under a cloud. There’s no getting around that fact. The—” - -“Nobody believes you had anything to do with—” - -“My dear girl, nobody knows _what_ to believe,” said he seriously. -“That’s the worst of it. My father is gone. I was, so far as any one -knows, the last to see him. As you say, no one may believe that I had -anything to do with it, but—_where is he?_ That’s the question they are -all asking—and no one answers. He is somewhere, living or dead. That’s -sure. He may be out there in that swamp. And, Jane, here’s the horrible -part of it. If he is out there, no one will believe he committed -suicide. No one will believe that he made way with himself deliberately. -He may have wandered into the swamp while out of his head—but he was -not contemplating suicide. If that had been his intention, why did he -draw all that money out of the bank? A queer thing has just happened. -You know Peter Hines—that queer old bird who has always lived in the -cabin at the lower end of the swamp? You can see it from the road in the -daytime. He has skipped out. Boarded up the door and windows and—” - -He started violently, the words dying on his lips. Off to the south, -beyond the almost impenetrable wall of night, gleamed far-off lights in -the windows of Peter Hines’s shack. - -“He must have returned,” he said, in an odd voice. “Those lights—” - -“Let us go in, dear,” she pleaded. “I—I hear something moving among the -weeds down there. It’s grisly, Oliver—creepy.” - -They were at the foot of the porch steps when he kissed her tenderly. -“We must wait a little while, Janie, before telling them about—us. Till -all this is cleared up and I am—” - -She faced him, her hands on his shoulders. - -“I shall tell them to-night,” she said resolutely. “To-morrow I shall -tell everybody I know. What do you think I am? A fraidy-cat?” - -He laughed quietly. “Have your own way, dear. You always have had it -where I am concerned. But,” and here he dropped into his dry, whimsical -drawl, “if I were you I wouldn’t begin getting a trousseau together -until after my birthday next month. You might be wasting a lot of time -and money.” - -“Oh, Oliver, don’t say such things!” she cried hotly. “I wish that old -gypsy were here. I’d wring her neck!” - -Mrs. Sage was holding forth in her most effective English as they -entered the sitting-room. She may have eyed them narrowly for a second -or two, but that was all. She had an attentive audience; the division of -interest due to the return of absentees was of extremely short duration; -she knew how to hold the center of the stage once she got it. - -“As a matter of fact, they’re shorter in Rumley than they are in London. -I’ve seen more knees since I got back to Rumley than I saw all the time -I was in London. And that, my dear Mrs. Grimes, despite the fact that -London has more knees than any other city in the world. My daughter has -provided me with a hundred surprises since—I don’t mean that she has a -hundred knees, of course—what I mean to say is that Jane merely yawns -when I begin in a hushed voice to tell her of the very latest crazes and -vices of London. She yawns, I say, and proceeds to inform me that they -are all old in Rumley—_old_, mind you. It really seems that just about -the time poor old London is struggling to learn a new dance, Rumley is -completely fed up with it. I go about in a sort of daze. I wish—I -devoutly wish—I could remember all the things I’ve learned since I got -back to Rumley. Poor Herbert maintains that—” - -At this juncture Sammy Parr, who had been observing Oliver very closely, -got up from his chair and marched across the room, his hand extended. - -“Congratulations, old man!” he shouted joyously. - -And little old Mrs. Grimes, from her place on the sofa, remarked as she -leaned back with a sigh of content: - -“Well, goodness knows it’s about time.” - -Proving that since the entrance of the lovers the great Josephine had -failed signally to hold her audience spellbound. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - - THE CORPUS DELICTI - -The ensuing three weeks were busy ones for Oliver. He was off -“electioneering” by day and out speechmaking by night in district -schoolhouses, in town-halls, and at mass meetings held at the county -seat. The opposition press, stirred to action by the harassed Mr. Gooch, -printed frequent reports of the progress made by the authorities in -their search for old Oliver Baxter. They made sensation out of two or -three minor discoveries—such as the finding of an old straw hat in one -of the pools; the unearthing of a stout spade handle at the edge of the -swamp not far from where the old man and his son parted company; the -turning up among the weeds at the roadside of a small notebook which, -despite months of exposure to rain, snow and sun, was identified as the -property of the missing man. It was Oliver October who unhesitatingly -identified this notebook. He recalled that his father had made notations -in it before they left the house on that all-important night. The -weather had rendered these and other notes illegible. - -Strange to say, Peter Hines’s cabin was still boarded up. The morning -after Oliver and Jane observed the motionless lights across the swamp, -the former motored over to the shack. He was amazed to find the door and -the windows nailed up securely; there was nothing to indicate that they -had been opened or tampered with during the night. He went to Malone -with the puzzle. The detective promptly declared that neither he nor his -partner had been down at the shack the night before and could offer no -explanation. The cabin was watched every night for a week, but the -lights did not reappear. - -Oliver was astonished to find that no one in Rumley was surprised by the -announcement that he and Jane were engaged to be married. Apparently the -whole town knew about it weeks before he himself was aware of it! Quite -a number of people seemed to be frankly annoyed because they had not -announced their engagement a year ago. - -Meanwhile, Malone and his gang of Italian laborers were leisurely -conducting the quest. The chief operative was bored. He admitted that he -was bored—admitted it to Oliver and Mrs. Grimes and Lizzie Meggs and to -the high heavens besides. - -Mid-afternoon of a windy day in October—it was the 19th to be exact—he -sat in the shelter of the kitchen-wing, his chair propped against the -wall, reading a book. He yawned frequently and seemed to be having great -difficulty in keeping his pipe going. From time to time he dozed. Some -one had told him he ought to read this book. It had been recommended to -him as a rattling good detective story. The only thing that kept him -awake was the thud of pick-axes under the kitchen porch just beyond -where he was sitting—not that he wasn’t accustomed to the thuds and -could have slept soundly in spite of them, but there was always the -possibility that Lizzie Meggs might carry out her threat to “douse” -everybody with hot water if the noise got to be more than she could -bear. - -His partner, Charlie What’s-his-name, was out in the swamp directing the -efforts of eight or ten men who were sounding the scattered “mudholes” -with long poles or digging at random in sections where the earth was -sufficiently solid to bear the weight of man or beast. These men were -now far out beyond the wire fence, within a hundred yards or so of the -pond. They had advanced across the dangerous terrain with the aid of -planks, and they worked with such extreme caution that even Horace -Gooch, on the one surreptitious visit he paid to the locality, was -satisfied with the progress they were making: they could not possibly -complete the job before election day. - -Mr. Malone’s rest was disturbed shortly before three o’clock by the -arrival of Oliver October. The two had become quite good friends. - -“Say, Malone, would you mind calling off these gravediggers of yours for -half an hour or so? I am expecting a committee here at three o’clock.” - -“Sure,” said Malone. He got up slowly. “Hey!” he shouted over his -shoulder. “Come out o’ that! Knock off! It’s four o’clock. In New York,” -he added in an aside to Oliver. “As I’ve said before, Mr. Baxter, it’s -all damned foolishness digging up your place like this.” - -“Mrs. Grimes says the house is likely to fall down on our heads at any -minute,” said Oliver. “How is your lumbago, Malone?” - -“Better. Mrs. Grimes almost succeeded in putting a mustard plaster on me -yesterday. She had me gargling my throat last week. I’m never going to -complain again as long as I’m around where she is.” - -“By the way, she notified me this noon that our hired girl, Lizzie -Meggs, has decided to give up her place unless your men fill up some of -the graves they’ve dug in my cellar. She says that every time she goes -down for a pan of potatoes or a jar of pickles she has to jump over a -grave or two, and it’s getting on her nerves.” - -“I’ll have ’em put some planks over those holes,” said the detective. -“That reminds me. Now that they’ve stopped work under the porch, you -might call off your watch-dog. Give the old boy a little much needed -rest. He’s been sitting back there on the kitchen steps ever since one -o’clock—and he’s here every morning before we begin work.” - -Oliver walked to the corner. Joseph Sikes was sitting on the back steps, -his coat collar turned up about his throat, his aged back bent almost -double, his chin resting on the mittened hands that gripped the head of -his cane, his wrinkled face screwed up into a dogged scowl. - -“Better step into the kitchen, Uncle Joe, and ask Lizzie for a cup of -hot coffee. Work’s over for to-day.” - -“The hell it is,” growled Mr. Sikes, without changing his position. - -“Let him alone,” said Malone, good-naturedly. “He’s hatching out some -new trouble for me. Reminds me of a crabbed old hen setting on a basket -of eggs. As for the other one—the chubby undertaker—he’s down there in -the swamp from morning till night, supervising the whole blamed job.” - -“They are the best friends I’ve got in the world, Malone,” said Oliver -earnestly. - -“Well, we’ll clear out so’s you can have your committee meeting in -peace,” said the detective. - -Two soiled Italians had crawled out from beneath the porch and were -making off with their coats and dinner-pails in the direction of the -barn. - -“I have put it up to County Headquarters, Malone,” said Oliver, in an -emotionless tone, “as to whether I should stay in the race or withdraw.” - -“What do you mean withdraw?” asked the detective sharply. - -“Well, it’s only fair to give them a chance to put some one else on the -ticket in my place if they feel—” - -“Come off! In the first place, they can’t put anybody in your place now. -It’s too late. And in the second place, you’ve got old Gooch licked to a -standstill, so what the devil’s got into you? You must be off your nut. -We’re not going to find your father’s body, my boy. Why? Because it -isn’t—” - -“How do you know you are not going to find it?” was Oliver’s surprising -question. - -Malone stared. “What has caused you to change your tone like this, -Baxter?” - -“It’s getting on my nerves, Malone—I don’t mind saying so,” said the -younger man, frowning. “At first I laughed at all this fuss, but lately -I’ve been lying awake thinking that maybe we’ve been wrong all the time -and that he is out there—My God, Malone, it—it turns the blood cold in -my veins.” - -“I get you,” said Malone, sympathetically. “It does give a fellow the -shivers. But now about this getting off the ticket. Don’t you do -anything of the sort, Baxter. Don’t lay down. You’ve got this election -sewed up—and say, what if we do accidentally find your old man—what’s -that got to do with it? Haven’t you been looking for him for over a -year? Supposing he did wander off into the swamp that night—” - -“Malone, I can feel it in the air that a great many people believe I -know what became of him. It’s in the air, I say. There may be people who -believe that I had something to do with putting him out of the way. -People like to believe the worst. The Democratic speakers are mighty -decent and so are the newspapers. They haven’t uttered a word or printed -one that isn’t fair and square. But back in the minds of a lot of people -is the thought that perhaps, after all, I did murder my father. You -can’t blame—” - -Mr. Sikes, who had shuffled around the corner, overheard the remark. He -fairly barked: - -“It don’t make a particle of difference what they believe provided -nobody is able to find the corpus delicti. I don’t want to hear you say -another word about murder, young man—not another damned word. They’ve -got to dig up your father’s corpus delicti before—What in thunder are -you laughing at, sir?” - -Malone, to whom this question was addressed in Mr. Sikes’s most -aggressive manner, put his hand to his mouth and, after a brief -struggle, succeeded in replying with as straight a face as possible: - -“I’ve been reading an awfully funny book, Mr. Sikes. It’s about -detectives.” - -Now, for the past two weeks Mr. Sikes and other overripe citizens of -Rumley had made frequent and profound allusions to the corpus delicti. -They didn’t know what it was at first but Mr. Link soon found out. He -said it was French for “body.” Corpus delicti sounded so well—after -considerable practice—that most people preferred to use it instead of -“remains”; besides, it wasn’t quite so personal. - -There is no telling what Mr. Sikes would have said to Mr. Malone about -detectives in general if the delegation from Republican headquarters had -arrived a minute or two later. He could have said a great deal in a -minute or two. - -The automobile came swinging up the drive on the tail of Mr. Malone’s -defensive explanation. Oliver hurried off to greet the occupants of the -car, Mr. Sikes hobbling along in his wake. Malone refilled his pipe as -he strode across the stable yard. In the lee of the barn he scorched his -fingers. His gaze was fixed on the swamp. Far out in the “danger zone” a -number of men were compactly grouped. A solitary figure was running -toward the Baxter house, while from the main highway to the right of the -slough a dozen or more scattered people were picking their way gingerly -across the intervening space. The detective dropped the charred match -and started briskly down to meet the runner. He was no longer bored. He -was an alert, vital, keen-sensed hunter of men. - -Mrs. Grimes appeared on the front porch as the three committee-men -stepped out of the car. She knew one of them, James Parsons, a lawyer. - -“Good afternoon, Mrs. Grimes,” said he, coming up the steps. “Baxter -here?” - -“He’s around back. I’ll call—” - -“Just a second. I’d like a word with you in private. Hello, here he is.” -There were handshakings, and then Parsons motioned with his head for -Serepta to remain behind as the others entered the house. “Say, have you -got any influence over him, Mrs. Grimes?” - -“Not a bit,” said Serepta. “What have you men decided he ought to do? -Drop out?” - -“We’ve decided—the whole Central Committee—that he’d be a damned fool -to drop out of the race. Excuse my French.” - -“With pleasure. Now, let me give you a piece of advice.” She looked over -her shoulder to make sure that Oliver was out of hearing. “Don’t plead -with him. Act as mad as you know how. Don’t go in there and tell him -he’d be a damned fool to drop out—excuse _my_ French—don’t go at him -that way. Tell him he’d be an ornery, low-lifed skunk if he left you in -the lurch like that. Make it strong. Nobody on earth minds being called -a damned fool, Mr. Parsons, but it is something awful to be called a -skunk. He is really serious about withdrawing. You mustn’t let him. All -he needs is your encouragement and he’ll—” - -“You think it will encourage him if we call him a skunk?” - -“I didn’t say you were to call him one,” said she tartly. “I said you -were to tell him he’d _be_ one.” - -“If you have the slightest influence—” - -“I told you I haven’t a bit. You men got him into this race and it’s -your business to keep him in it. I guess you’d better go in. They’re -calling you.” - -Mr. Sikes ambled up as Parsons disappeared through the door. He stopped -short in the gravel walk just below where Mrs. Grimes was standing. -After an instant’s hesitation, he drew nearer to the rail, treading -ruthlessly upon the frost-ravaged peony bed that skirted the porch. He -felt that it was necessary to lower his voice. - -“We’ve only six more days to go, Serepty,” he said. “This is the -nineteenth.” - -“Yes. He will be thirty on the twenty-fifth. I hope you’ll be satisfied, -Joe Sikes.” - -He pondered gloomily. “Setting back there on the kitchen steps I got to -thinkin’ about the last time I was up here before old Ollie disappeared. -I wonder if you remember what he said to me and Silas, setting right -here on this porch.” - -“He said a lot of things, Joe.” - -“Do you remember him telling us he was getting so he hated to go to -sleep at night in this house? Maybe he said he was afraid to go to -sleep, but no matter. Do you remember?” - -“I remember the poor old thing saying he couldn’t go to sleep nights -because he was afraid a mob would come up to the house and take Oliver -October out and hang him for something he’d never done.” - -“I guess maybe that was it. And another thing. Didn’t he say he wouldn’t -blame Oliver if he up and beat his brains out for letting that gypsy -queen lift the veil and cause all this worry?” - -“What are you trying to get at, Joe Sikes?” - -“Oh—nothin’ particular. Only somehow I’ve got the queerest feelin’ that -something’s going to happen, Serepty—and I—I just thought I’d warn you -not to say anything about our talk that night, ’specially what he said -about Oliver beatin’ his brains out.” - -“Good gracious, man! Why should I say anything—” - -“I mean,” began Mr. Sikes solemnly, “if—if you was called as a -witness—in court. If you was put under oath and had to testify. That’s -what I mean. I mean,” he repeated sternly, “that you and me and Silas -never heard him say anything like that—then or any other time.” - -“What’s got into you, Joe? What do you mean by a trial in court and—” - -“I’m just giving you a few instructions, Serepty, in case anything -_does_ happen. I’ve been a little worried over you, anyhow.” - -“Worried over me?” - -“Yes. You’re so darned good and conscientious, as the saying is, that -I’ve worried myself sick over you. I mean about swearing to a lie. Of -course Silas and I would swear to a thousand of ’em if necessary, but -would you? That’s what’s worryin’ me. Would—” - -“I would swear to a million of them,” she cried, “if it would be any -help to Oliver October.” - -“Birds of a feather,” said Mr. Sikes, rather proudly. - -An automobile, packed with men and running at a high rate of speed, -flashed past the Baxter house and was almost instantly lost to sight -around the bend. - -“They ought to be locked up,” cried Mrs. Grimes, scandalized. - -Mr. Sikes seized the opportunity to utter one withering word—and on his -lips it had all the ferocity of a curse. - -“Prohibition!” he snarled, his voice cracking on the last syllable. - -Mrs. Grimes drew her shawl a little closer about her throat. - -“Seems to me it’s turning a lot colder, Joe,” she said. - -“Better go in the house, Serepty,” he advised quickly. - -“Come in and have a cup of coffee, Joe,” said she. - -“I guess I’d better go ’round the back way, Serepty, so’s not to disturb -Ollie and the committee. Has he set the day for the wedding?” - -She came down from the porch and together they started for the rear of -the house. - -“No, he ain’t,” said she. - -“I thought he had. He’d ought to.” - -“He’s not the one to do the setting, Joe Sikes. It’s none of his -business. That’s the girl’s lookout. Jane has named the day, if that’s -what you want to know. It’s to be the tenth of November.” - -“He’s a lucky feller,” said the old man. “Think of a feller being able -to get married to as purty a girl as Jane and still not have any -brother-in-laws.” - -“I wish you’d get tired talking about brothers-in-law all the time,” she -said, severely. “Don’t forget that you are a brother-in-law yourself, -Joe Sikes. You are a brother-in-law to two men and—” - -“What are you trying to do, Serepty Grimes? Insult me? Make a mortal -enemy out of me? For two cents I’d refuse to drink a mouthful of your -coffee. And what’s more—” - -“Look out yonder, Joe—in the swamp,” she broke in, pointing through the -fringe of trees. “There’s a crowd—” - -“Serepty!” he cried bleakly. “They—they have found something out -yonder. I feel it in my bones. The corpus delicti. I guess I won’t have -any coffee. I’ll just mosey out there and see what’s happened.” - -“Wait a minute. Isn’t that Silas Link coming across the swamp?” - -He groaned. “If it is, he’ll never get here. He’s too old and fat to be -hurryin’ like that. He’ll drop dead. He’s got a weak heart.” - -“Sit down, Joe,” she said suddenly, after a quick look at his paling -face. - -“I guess maybe I’d better,” he said weakly. “Just for a second or two. -My legs seem sort of wobbly and—” - -“Don’t sit down yet,” she cried. “Wait till we get to the steps. You’ll -break a hip or something if you sit down—” - -“Ain’t your legs sort of weak and—” - -“No, they’re not,” she interrupted tartly. “Lean on me, Joe.” - -“I’ll be dogged if I do!” he snorted vigorously. “What do you take me -for? Lean on a woman! Blast your eyes, Serepty Grimes—how many more -times are you going to insult me to-day? Let me tell you one thing more. -I’m not going to set down as long as Silas Link is on his feet. I am no -quitter!” he bellowed, squaring his broad old shoulders. “Not by a -blamed sight!” - -They stood and waited. In due time, Silas Link panted his way up the -incline and came shuffling toward them. He stopped at the corner of the -barnyard, leaning against the fence to get his breath. Mr. Sikes stalked -forward, followed by Mrs. Grimes. - -“Well?” demanded the former. - -“They—fished—up—a—carcass,” puffed Mr. Link. - -Absolute silence—except for the painful wheezing of the last speaker. - -“Ollie’s?” asked Mr. Sikes at last, and quickly hooked his arm through -that of the tottering Mrs. Grimes. - -“No telling. Unrecognizable. Been in the mire for a long time, according -to my best judgment.” - -“Sure it’s a—a human being?” - -“Certainly.” - -“Male or female?” - -“Didn’t I tell you it had been in the mire for a long time?” - -“It must have had clothes on,” put in Mrs. Grimes stoutly. “Wouldn’t you -know Ollie Baxter’s clothes if you—” - -“Hasn’t got any clothes on. Not a stitch. Shoes or anything. It ain’t -got _anything_ on. Not even flesh.” - -“A—a skeleton?” gulped the old lady. - -“No clothes on?” demanded Mr. Sikes. “Then it can’t be Ollie. He had his -new suit on.” - -Mr. Link hesitated. “That detective says the chances are that whoever -did the killing stripped the body and burnt the clothes,” he said -slowly, weightily. - -A longer silence than before. Mr. Link’s listeners seemed turned to -stone. Finally Mr. Sikes moistened his stiff lips. - -“What do you mean, Silas, by—by killing?” - -“If you feel sort of squeamish, Serepty,” began Mr. Link considerately, -“maybe you’d better—” - -“I’m not squeamish,” retorted the redoubtable little woman. “Go on.” - -“The top of the skull is smashed in—split wide open,” announced the -newsbearer, in a hushed, sepulchral voice. Then, apparently eager to get -it over with, he hurried on: “Couldn’t have died a natural death. -Couldn’t have committed suicide. Somebody hit him over the head—” - -“Say _it_,” corrected Mr. Sikes. “You don’t know whether it’s a man or -woman.” - -“—with a heavy instrument. Most likely an ax or a hatchet. Buried six -or eight feet deep in a mudhole. They pulled up a hand first with one of -them poles with a hook on it. Then they set to work scooping out the -hole with shovels. Wasn’t long before they got down where they could—” - -“Don’t tell any more—don’t tell any more!” quaked Mrs. Grimes, covering -her eyes. - -“Lean on me, Serepty,” said Mr. Sikes, who, if anything, was weaker than -she. - -“They’ve sent for the police and for my men,” went on Mr. Link. “And -they’re telephoning for the sheriff and coroner and everybody else. Why, -the news must be all over town by this time. Look at the automobiles -rushing down that way—and people running on foot—and—oh, my Lord, -Joe! If it should turn out to be Ollie it will—it will look mighty bad -for Oliver October.” - -Mr. Sikes was thoughtful. “Did you get a good look at it, Silas?” - -“I did.” - -“Wouldn’t you recognize Ollie’s Adam’s apple if you saw it—dead or -alive?” - -“Not if it had been dead as long as this one has. Your Adam’s apple -ain’t a bone, Joe. It’s a cartilage.” - -“A cartridge?” - -“I guess we’d better tell Oliver,” said Mrs. Grimes briskly. She had, as -usual, risen to the occasion. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - - THE BREWING OF THE STORM - -The news spread like wildfire. Before nightfall every one in Rumley knew -that the body of old Oliver Baxter had been found and that he had been -foully murdered. - -With darkness came the inevitable gathering of excited, bewildered -people in the downtown streets. Groups of men, conversing in lowered, -guttural voices, discussed the astounding and unexpected discovery. -Women and children hung about the edges of these groups, or hurried from -one to the other, drinking in the varied comments and opinions. They -listened to men putting two and two together; they heard them connect -seemingly unimportant details and weld them into convincing facts—for -on all sides men were recalling once vague impressions and giving them -now the value of convictions. - -They were talking of Oliver October’s muddy shoes, of his strange -behavior on the Lansing porch, of his unwillingness to allow the -ditchers to go beyond a certain point in the swamp, of the rumor that -Pete Hines had heard the violent quarrel between father and son, of the -notebook found in the grass on the slope leading down into the slough, -of the broken spade handle (they scowled with the thought of a blow -forcible enough to splinter a stout hickory handle) and of the singular -and significant fact that the heavy metal portion of the spade had never -been found. - -Every group had its individual who professed to be able to explain away -certain of these “discrepancies.” He had it from persons who were in a -position to know, having been present or within hearing distance when, -earlier in the evening, Oliver October had accounted to the sheriff and -his men (in the presence of his lawyer) for some of the suspicious -features of the case. These peregrinating individuals—assuming no -responsibility and by no means vouching for Oliver’s veracity—informed -their dubious hearers that Oliver remembered stepping into a puddle of -mud and water back of Josiah Smith’s house, said puddle having been -created by Josiah’s street sprinkling wagon which always occupied the -same spot between sunset and daybreak and invariably leaked all over the -unpaved alley (a claim substantiated by the town sprinkler, himself, who -admitted that he left his wagon out there every night and that it did -leak dreadfully up to the time he had it repaired, but who also said he -was not to blame if people preferred to walk up an alley instead of on -the sidewalk). And Oliver had a very good reason for stopping the -ditchers where he did: he had inspected the slough out beyond and was -convinced, as an expert, that it could only be reclaimed at a far -greater cost than the land was worth or ever would be worth. Moreover, -the son of old man Baxter unhesitatingly and emphatically had declared -that it wasn’t his father’s body at all, and refused point blank to have -anything to do with it. The word passed up and down Clay Street that -three doctors, including young Doc Lansing, had examined the corpus -delicti and pronounced it to be that of a man in his seventies. - -And then came the startling rumor that old man Baxter had gone to his -safety deposit box in the vaults of the bank three days before his -disappearance and had removed five one thousand dollar Liberty bonds! -Rumor, pure and simple, yet accepted as fact by those who roamed the -streets. The old man’s life insurance policy was discussed; and there -was a story that he had openly threatened to make a new will, -disinheriting his son. A grave, unanswered question, too, had to do with -the money so lavishly spent by young Oliver—several thousand dollars in -cash. Where had it come from? His father had called him a loafer, had -charged him with coming back to Rumley to be supported in idleness. If -Oliver had come home from the war “dead broke,” how was it that he had -acquired several thousand dollars in cash? Thirty-five hundred dollars -in banknotes—the whole town knew that the hardware merchant had drawn -that amount from the bank—and five Liberty bonds that could be readily -turned into money. Eighty-five hundred dollars! Simple as rolling off a -log! Ha! There wasn’t much doubt as to where and how Oliver got his -ready cash! But to split his own father’s head open with a spade, and -throw him into a supposedly bottomless pit, and burn his clothes! - -For now all those who thronged the streets were saying that Oliver -October had murdered his father. - -Across the street from the Baxter Block, where Link’s Undertaking -Establishment was located, a morbid, motionless crowd eyed the doors -guarded by two policemen. A single electric bulb at the rear of the main -reception room shed a feeble and rather ghastly light over the dim -interior. Every one knew that back of the reception room was the -stock-room, lined with caskets standing on end behind glass doors, and -beyond that was the workroom where a grim and awful thing was -lying—alone! - -The street leading to the Baxter residence was alive with -people—curious, silent, awe-struck men and women who stared intently at -the windows of the house and wondered what was going on behind the -yellow shades. The slow, solemn shuffle of aimless feet, passing, -pausing and repassing the house on the knoll, began early in the evening -and seemed endless. Automobiles filled with people moved slowly along -the highway skirting the dark, terrifying swamp—all eyes turned toward -the loathesome tract as if expecting to glimpse some ghostly reënactment -of the afternoon’s scene. - -Inside the brightly lighted house a small company was assembled. It was -not a cheerful company, nor yet a gloomy one. Acting on the advice of -the delegation from Republican headquarters, Oliver reluctantly had -canceled an engagement to address a mass meeting at the county seat. -While no actual charge had been made against him, there was small reason -to doubt that the grand jury, then in session, would bring in an -indictment against him, perhaps on the morrow. The coroner, who now had -charge of the body—or skeleton—had announced that he would hold an -inquest on the following day. The sheriff had returned to the county -seat after cautioning Oliver to keep his head and await developments. - -“It looks pretty bad for you, Baxter,” he had said at the end of a long -interview, “but there’s only one thing for you to do. People don’t want -to believe you killed your father, and that’s a big advantage. So it’s -up to you to stand your ground and face whatever comes. Don’t talk. Keep -your trap closed. I called your uncle up on the telephone just before I -came here this evening. He is coming over to-morrow morning to see if he -can identify the body. Of course he can’t. You seem to be dead sure that -it isn’t your father. So is Mr. Sikes and Undertaker Link. You all claim -that your father was shorter by several inches and had lost several of -his teeth. But your lawyer will look after all these points. Just sit -tight, Baxter, and keep cool. Don’t leave town. Understand?” - -The company in Oliver’s sitting-room included the redoubtable and -venerable Messrs. Sikes and Link, Judge Shortridge, Mr. and Mrs. Sage -and Jane, Dr. Lansing and Mrs. Grimes. Sammy Parr was expected. He was -to bring in the news of the streets. - -Oliver, a trifle pale but with a stubborn frown on his brow, listened -calmly to the animated conversation that went on about him. He sat -beside Jane on the sofa in the corner of the room. From time to time Mr. -Sikes got up—with many a groan—and poked the blazing logs in the -fireplace. He too was frowning. Mr. Link was cheerful. - -“If the worst comes, Bill,” said the latter, repeating himself for -perhaps the third time, “we can certainly prove that there is insanity -in the family. There’s his uncle, old Horace Gooch. He’s as crazy as a -loon.” - -This was addressed familiarly to Judge William Shortridge, one time -Justice of the Peace and now the Baxter lawyer. - -Mr. Sikes snorted. “Only by marriage, only by marriage,” he growled. -“Insanity by marriage is no defense.” - -“I should like to know,” put in Mrs. Sage, “what possible motive Oliver -could have had for killing his father.” - -“Oliver has not been accused of killing his father, Madam,” Judge -Shortridge reminded her. - -“But if he _did_ kill him,” announced Mr. Link earnestly—“now, mind -you, I’m not even hinting that he did—but, the thing is, if he _did_ do -it, why, we can prove that he had the best motive in the world.” - -“In God’s name,” gasped the Judge, startled out of his judicial -composure, “what are you saying, Link? What motive could he have—” - -“The best motive in the world, I claim,” said Mr. Link emphatically. -“Insanity!” - -“Don’t you know that insanity is not a motive?” snapped the Judge. - -“As for Pete Hines saying he heard Oliver and his father quarreling that -night,” said Mrs. Grimes, who had been silent for a long time, “I -wouldn’t believe him on oath. If I was to meet him on the street and he -was to say it was a nice, bright, sunshiny day, I’d hurry home and take -off my rain-soaked clothes.” - -“Help yourself to another cigar, Judge,” said Oliver from the sofa. - -“Any objections, ladies?” In turn, each lady shook her head. “I was -about to say, my friends” (with a fixed stare at Mr. Link), “that in -case the grand jury finds a true bill against Oliver, I consider myself, -as his counsel, quite capable of deciding what kind of a defense we -shall put up—and it will not be insanity, Silas Link.” - -“Well, what _will_ it be?” demanded Mr. Link. - -“Patience,” returned Judge Shortridge. - -“That’s no defense,” protested the undertaker. “Whoever heard of a man -being acquitted of murder on the grounds of patience?” - -“Will it make it any clearer to you if I state that all we have to do is -to be patient while the State is trying to prove this absolutely unknown -and absolutely unidentified carcass is that of Oliver Baxter? We’ll make -’em prove that it is his skeleton. We’ll make ’em prove to the day just -how long it has been out there in the swamp. We’ll be able to prove that -Oliver October had in the neighborhood of fifteen thousand dollars on -deposit in a Chicago bank and that he spent a lot of it hunting for his -father. And, as I said before, we’ll make ’em prove that Oliver Baxter -is dead. They’ll have a hell of a time—er—a very difficult time -proving that our old friend is dead. For all we know—or anybody else -knows—that body may have been out there for ten or fifteen years. Doc -Lansing here says it’s possible, and Doctor Robinson the same thing. -They can’t, to save their lives, produce a medical expert who will swear -positively it was out there only a year and four months. Isn’t that a -fact, Doc?” - -“Yes,” replied young Lansing. “The processes of disintegration are so—” - -“And this skeleton is said to be that of a fairly tall man,” said Mr. -Sage, “whereas I should unhesitatingly say that Brother Baxter was not -more than five feet six.” - -“We must not overlook the fact,” said Lansing, pursing his lips, “that -old age may have caused Mr. Baxter’s frame to shrink somewhat from its -original stature—er—ah—we all know that he was considerably bent and -shriveled and that he was decidedly—er—bow-legged. Now the bone -structure of a human being more or less assumes deceptive proportions -after—er—the confining tissue, the cartilages and so forth -have—ah—we will say disintegrated—permitting the—” - -“Ollie was never more than five foot six or seven,” interrupted Mr. -Sikes impatiently. “In his stocking feet. Now, as I said before, if I -was sure it is Ollie’s corpus delicti they have got and if it could be -proved to me that he was murdered by that boy setting over there in the -corner, I would be one of the first men to head a mob to string him up -to the limb of a tree.” - -He glared around the room as if challenging any one present—including -Oliver—to question his right to do just what he said he would do—if! - -But nobody paid any attention to him. They had heard him say it before. - -“I don’t see how you can be so unmoved, so calm, Oliver dear,” whispered -Jane in her lover’s ear. “Just think what they are talking about—and as -if you were not here at all.” - -He stroked her hand. “I’ve been thinking of something else, Jane.” - -“Of me, I suppose, and the silly notion you have of releasing me from my -promise.” - -“I _do_ release you, dear.” - -“I refuse to release _you_—so that’s that, as mother says. I am ready -and willing to have father marry us to-night, Oliver.” - -“We will have to wait, dear,” he said, rather wistfully. - -Lizzie Meggs appeared at the sitting-room door. - -“That’s the third time the telephone has rung, Oliver,” she announced. -“Hadn’t I better answer it?” - -He shook his head. “No, Lizzie. Let ’em ring. It’s probably the -newspapers—” - -“You’d better let her answer, Oliver,” broke in Mrs. Grimes anxiously. -“It may be some of your friends calling up to sympathize—” - -“All my real friends are here, Aunt Serepta—except Sammy. We can’t be -answering the telephone all night.” - -“This last one sounded like long distance, Oliver,” said Lizzie. - -“How does long distance sound, Lizzie?” he asked, with a smile. “Never -mind. You needn’t answer. Let ’em ring. Orders is orders. I told you -half an hour ago not to take that receiver off the hook.” - -Mrs. Grimes followed the servant out of the room, closing the hall door -after her. - -“How many times, Lizzie Meggs, do I have to tell you not to call Mr. -Baxter Oliver when there’s company here?” she said sharply. - -“I can’t help it. He’d drop dead if I called him Mr. Baxter. We’ve -called each other by our first names ever since we were kids in school -together. Say, how would it sound if he was to begin calling me Miss -Meggs? It’s the same thing, isn’t it? We went to high-school together -and—” - -“Now don’t be saucy, Lizzie. I admit it’s nicer to be democratic and all -that but it’s not proper, and you know it. I don’t know what we’re -coming to. That young fellow that comes up here to see you calls me -Serepty and then he turns around and calls you Miss Meggs. I don’t -see—” - -“He has known me only a few weeks and he’s known you all his life,” -retorted Lizzie stiffly. - -The front door opened suddenly and in walked Sammy Parr. Both women -uttered a startled exclamation. - -“Excuse haste,” he said, tossing his hat and gloves on a chair. “I’m -back. Say, gee whiz, everybody in town is out on Clay Street, Aunt -Serepty. Lots of them down this way, strolling past—” - -“What are people saying, Sammy?” she broke in, grasping his arm. - -“Well,” he began, after a moment’s hesitation, “there’s a good deal of -talk—but let’s go in where the others are.” - -Lizzie Meggs followed them into the sitting-room, nervously twisting her -hard and capable fingers. - -“Much excitement downtown, Sammy?” inquired Oliver, arising. - -“The streets are crowded. Not much excitement, however. Everybody seems -to be sort of knocked silly.” - -“What are they saying?” demanded Judge Shortridge. - -“Well, I hate to tell you, but as far as I can make out, Judge, there -seems to be a general feeling that—that Oliver did it,” said Sammy, -wiping his moist forehead with the back of a hand that shook slightly. - -“Snap judgment,” said the lawyer, after silence had reigned for a few -seconds. “That is always the way with the ignorant and uninformed. -Nothing to worry about, Oliver. They will be on your side to-morrow when -they understand the situation a little better. It’s always the way with -a crowd.” - -Josephine Sage spread her hands in a gesture of contempt. “‘What fools -these mortals be,’” she declaimed theatrically. - -“But we cannot ignore public opinion,” cried Jane miserably. “It is hard -to fight public opinion. Oh, Oliver, I am so—so worried.” - -“Don’t you worry, Janie,” he said softly, putting his arm about her. -“Nothing will come of all this. We will sweep away every suspicion—” - -“Public opinion changes over night,” said Mr. Sage. “The light of -understanding—” - -“The public!” broke in his wife scornfully. “What is the public? I can -tell you, my friends. It is the most fickle thing in all this world. No -matter how long, how faithfully you serve the public, it turns upon you -in time, like the adder, and stings you to death. It feeds you with -praise, it fattens you with applause, it clothes you in garments of -gold, and then it strips you clean and leaves you to starve. It turns -its back on you and fattens another favorite. You can’t tell me anything -about the blooming public. I know it to the core, and I am jolly well -fed up with it.” - -“Bravo!” cried the Judge. “And let me add, Miss Judge, it’s easy to put -a ring through the public nose and lead it around in circles.” - -“Yes, but the thing is,” broke in Mr. Link, “they’re accusing Oliver of -murder. If they make up their minds he’s guilty—well, it’ll take a lot -of evidence to convince ’em he ain’t.” - -“My dear man,” said Mrs. Sage, “I was the defendant in the most -celebrated murder trial ever known in London.” - -“Bless my soul, Josephine!” gasped her husband, startled. - -“And I was sentenced to be hanged by the neck till dead,” she finished -in tragic tones. - -“Mercy!” cried Mrs. Grimes weakly. - -“My dear wife, have you gone stark, staring mad?” - -“Not a bit of it. Would you like to know how I got out of it in the end? -I was able to show that my beast of a husband committed the murder.” - -“Bless my soul!” again fell from the lips of the poor minister. - -“The magistrate was such a bally ass. He brayed all through my best -scene during an uninterrupted run of forty weeks—and there was nothing -I could do about it. You see he was an actor-manager and there is -nothing in heaven or on earth that can keep an actor-manager from -hogging—” - -“Thank God!” murmured Mr. Sage, mopping his brow. “It was in a play?” - -“Certainly, my dear,” said she patiently. “I wore this very dress in the -trial scene.” - -It was after eleven o’clock when Oliver’s friends departed. He stood on -the porch and watched them drive off in the two automobiles. A few -persons had stopped at the bottom of the drive to see who were in the -cars. The flaring head-lights fell upon white, indistinct faces and then -almost instantly left them in pitch darkness. - -“I wish you had let Mr. Sage marry you and Jane to-night, Oliver,” said -Mrs. Grimes, at his side on the top step. “You have the license and -everything, and it could all have been over in a few minutes. And Jane -begged you so hard.” - -“I couldn’t do it, Aunt Serepta,” he said dejectedly. “I don’t know what -is ahead of me. I may be in jail before I’m a day older.” He gave her a -wry, bitter smile as he put his arm over her shoulder and walked beside -her into the house. “Pleasant thought, isn’t it, old dear?—as the -celebrated Miss Judge would say.” - -Clay Street was almost deserted as Lansing and Sammy Parr drove through -it after leaving the Baxter place. The Sages were in the former’s car. -In front of the hotel Sammy, who was some distance ahead and who had -dropped the two old men at Silas Link’s home, slowed down and waited for -Lansing to draw alongside. - -“Say, Doc, it seems queer to me that there’s practically nobody in the -streets,” he said. “An hour ago you couldn’t have got through here -without blowing the horn every ten feet. Women and children all over the -place.” - -“It’s after eleven, Sammy. I daresay the thrill has worn off and -everybody’s gone home to bed.” - -“Rumley is not an all night town,” remarked Mrs. Sage from the back -seat. “It used to go to bed _en masse_ at nine o’clock. I daresay the -movies keep them up later than prayer-meeting did in the old days.” - -“I don’t mind saying to you all that there was a lot of ugly talk -earlier in the evening,” said Sammy uneasily. “A lot of nasty talk. I -didn’t tell Oliver, but I heard more than one man say he ought to be -strung up.” - -“Oh, Sammy, do you think—” began Jane, in a sudden agony of alarm. - -“Nonsense!” cried the minister, instantly sensing her fear. “Such things -don’t happen in these days and in this part of the country. The people -will let the law take its course. Have no fear on that score.” - -“Well, anyhow, it looks mighty queer to me,” said Sammy, tactlessly -shaking his head. “I don’t like this awful stillness. It isn’t like this -even on ordinary nights.” - -Jane clutched Lansing’s arm and shook it violently. - -“Doctor Lansing,” she cried, “we must return to Oliver’s house -immediately. He will have to come over to our house—Better still, -Sammy, you must drive him up to the city. To-night. At once. I am -frightened. Something terrible is afoot. I know it. I feel it. It is so -still. Look! Why aren’t the street lamps in Maple Avenue lighted? It is -as dark as—” - -“By jingo, Lansing!” exclaimed Sammy, starting up from his seat to peer -over the windshield. “See that? Men running across Maple Avenue. ’Way up -yonder where that arc light is at Fiddler Street. Three or four men. -Didn’t you see them?” - -“We must beat it back to Oliver’s,” half shouted Lansing, excitedly. - -“Take the women home first,” ordered Sammy, “and then come back. I’ll go -on ahead.” - -“Wait!” commanded Mr. Sage. “Drive on up Maple, Sammy. Follow those men. -See what they are up to. They are headed for the swamp road. Lansing and -I will follow you in a jiffy. Drive like the devil!” he shouted in -ringing tones. - -“No, no, no!” screamed Jane. “The other way! To Oliver’s! I will not go -home. I am going to him! Turn around—turn around! Do you hear me?” - -“Where in God’s name are the police?” cried Josephine. - -“We can’t take you back there,” cried Lansing. “Hell may be to pay. It’s -no place for women, Jane. Sit still! I’ll have you home in two minutes.” - -“I will jump out! I swear to heaven I will,” she cried shrilly. - -“Turn back!” commanded Jane’s mother. “I am not afraid of them. Jane is -not afraid. We cannot desert Oliver if he is in danger. Please God he -may not be. Turn back, I say!” - -“Yes!” cried the minister. “We must go to Oliver—all of us!” - -The two cars made reckless turns in the narrow street and were off like -the wind. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - - THE HANGING - -The mob, grim, silent and determined, advanced upon the house from the -upper reaches of the swamp, a swaying, unwieldy mass that surged up the -slope and thinned into a compact, snake-like column in the narrow road. -Since ten o’clock men by twos and threes and fours had been making their -way through back streets and lanes to an appointed spot an eighth of a -mile east of the Baxter home, the tree-bordered swale that marked the -extreme northern end of the slough. There were no lights, and none spoke -save in cautious whispers, nor was there one in all the grim three -hundred who did not tremble under the strain of suppressed -excitement—as the dog trembles when he is held in leash with the scent -of the quarry in his quivering nostrils. - -Scouts, creeping up to the house, had witnessed the departure of -Oliver’s guests. Like swift, scarcely visible shadows they sped back -through the darkness of the swamp road with their report. Whispers -swelled into hoarse, guttural mutterings as the mob, headed by its -set-faced, scowling leaders, left the swale and started on its deadly -march. Followed the shuffle of a multitude of feet through dry grass and -over the loose surface of the dirt road; the harsh breathing of hundreds -of throats through tense nostrils or open, sag-lipped mouths; the swish -and rustle of dead leaves; in all, the hushed thunder of men in motion. - -The leaders—two men from the hardware store of Oliver Baxter!—strode -out in front, crowded close by the swift-moving horde that from time to -time almost overran them in its eagerness to have the dirty business -over with. There were guns and axes and sledge-hammers in the hands of -men at the head of the column. - -Sight of the lighted upstairs windows threw the mob into a frenzy. They -had come to kill and their prey was up there behind a thin barricade of -glass and parchment-colored linen! And they were near three hundred -strong! A few scattered ill-timed shouts, were checked by a mighty, -sibilant hiss that swept through the crowd; those who had ignored strict -orders fell back into pinched silence. - -Quickly the house was surrounded. No avenue of escape was left -unguarded. A small, detached group advanced toward the porch, above the -roof of which were lights in the windows of what every one knew to be -young Oliver Baxter’s bedroom. - -A loud voice called out: - -“Oliver Baxter!” - -The hush of death settled upon the crowd. Even the breathing seemed to -have ceased. - -A window shade flew up in one of the windows and the figure of a man -stood fully revealed. He stooped, his face close to the pane as he -peered intently out into the blackness below. Shading his eyes with one -hand, he continued his search of the night. He was without coat or vest; -his white shirt was open at the throat. - -A man in the crowd below took a fresh grip on the rope he carried in his -hand. - -Again the loud, firm voice: - -“Come out! We want to see you, Oliver Baxter.” - -Oliver raised the window and leaned out. “Who is it? What do you want?” -he demanded. - -“We are your father’s friends,” came the reply. “That’s all you need to -know. Come out!” - -“What have you got down there? A mob? I’ll see you in hell before I’ll -come out! If you’re after me, you’ll have to come and get me. But I warn -you! I’ve got a gun up here and, so help me God, I’ll shoot to kill. I’m -not afraid of you. Wait till to-morrow, men. You will be glad if you do. -It is not my father’s body they found. It will be proved to you. Go -home, for God’s sake, and don’t attempt to do this thing you are—” - -A deep growl rose from a hundred throats, stilled almost instantly as -the clear voice of the leader rang out again. - -“We will give you one minute to come out. If you are not out here on the -porch by that time we’ll smash your damned doors in and we’ll drag you -out.” - -Oliver glanced over his shoulder. Mrs. Grimes and Lizzie, with blanched -faces, had come to his bedroom door. - -“Telephone for the police, Lizzie,” he cried out sharply. “No! Wait! Get -out of the house yourselves. Don’t think of me. You mustn’t be here if -that mob breaks in and—” - -He did not finish the sentence. In the middle of it he uttered a shout -of alarm and sprang toward the bureau on the opposite side of the room. -There was a rush of footsteps in the hall, then the two women were flung -aside and into the room leaped three, four, half a dozen men. As Lizzie -fell back against the wall, she shrieked: - -“The back door! I forgot to—” - -Oliver knocked the first man sprawling, but the others were upon him -like an avalanche.... As they led him, now unresisting, from the room -his wild, beaten gaze fell upon the huddled form of Serepta Grimes lying -inert in the hall. - -“For God’s sake, be decent enough to look after her,” he panted. “Don’t -leave her lying—” - -The crash of splintering blows upon the outer door, the jangle of -shattered glass, the suddenly released howls of human -hounds—pandemonium so devilish that Oliver’s fearless heart quailed and -he began to cry for mercy. - -“Don’t kill me like this! Don’t! Don’t! Give me a chance! Let me speak! -Oh, my God!” Then rage succeeded terror. “Let go of me, you dirty dogs! -Let go of me, Charlie! Steve! God damn your souls to hell—give me a -chance!” - -They dragged him down the stairs. The front door gave way as they neared -the bottom and over the wreckage stumbled men with sledges, grunting, -snarling men whose teeth showed between stretched, drawn lips, and who -stopped short at sight of those descending. - -“We’ve got him,” shouted one of his captors. “Make way! Let us through!” - -There was no light in the hall, only that from the open bedroom door -above. Some one below flashed an electric torch on the face of the -captive. It was ghastly white. - -“It’s him, all right,” cried several voices. “Open up! We’ve got him! -Make way out there!” - -Out of the house and down into the yard they hurried him. There they -paused long enough to tie his hands securely behind his back. An awed -silence had fallen upon the crowd—the shouts ceased, curses died on -men’s lips. They had him! Tragedy was at hand. More than one heart -quaked in the presence of it, and more than one stomach turned in -revolt. It was grim business that lay ahead of them and they were good -citizens! - -“No lights!” shouted a loud-voiced man. “Come on! Hustle up! Let’s get -it over with.” - -Oliver strained at his bonds. His chest heaved, his throat swelled. - -“In Christ’s name, men—what are you going to do with me?” he cried out -in a strange, piercing voice. - -“Shut up!” - -“You are making a horrible mistake,” cried the captive, as he stumbled -along between the men who held his arms. “You are committing the most -horrible—” - -Something fell upon his head, scraped down over his face. He stifled a -scream. He felt the slack noose tighten about his bare throat. - -“Damn you all to hell,” he raged, sinking his heels in the earth and -holding back with all his might. “You beasts! You damned fools! Let go -of me! Let me speak! Isn’t there a sensible man among you? Are you -all—” - -He was shoved forward, protesting shrilly, impatiently. - -They had picked the spot: the place where father and son parted on that -distant night. And the tree: the sturdy old oak whose limbs overhung the -road. They had picked the limb. - -There was no delay.... The stout rope was thrown over the limb, the -noose was drawn close about his neck by cold, nervous fingers.... A -prayer was strangled on his writhing lips. Strong hands hauled at the -rope. He swung in the air.... - -A great white flare of light burst upon the grewsome spectacle—the roar -of a charging monster—the din of shrieking klaxons—and then the -piercing scream of a woman. - -The dense mob in the road broke, fighting frantically to get out of the -path of Lansing’s car. Some were struck and hurled screaming aside—and -on came the car, forging its way slowly but relentlessly through the -struggling mass. - -A man standing up in the tonneau was crying in a stentorian, -far-reaching voice: - -“Fools! Accursed fools! Ye know not what ye do! Stop this hideous -outrage! God forgive you if we are too late! God forgive—” - -Again the woman’s scream. - -“He is hanging! Hanging! Oh, God!” - -Up to the swaying, wriggling form shot the car, a force irresistible -guided by a man who thought not of the human beings he might crush to -death in his desire to reach the one he sought to save. - -“Let go of that rope!” yelled this man. - -Behind him came another car. Panic seized the mob. The compact mass -broke and scattered. Like sheep, men plunged down the slope—now a -frightened, safety-seeking horde of cowards. - -A writhing, tortured figure lay in the middle of the road, a loose rope -swinging free from the limb. The bewildered, startled men who had held -it in their hands fell back—uncertain, bewildered. - -Lansing, unafraid, sprang from the car and rushed to the prostrate form. -In a second he was tugging at the noose, cursing frightfully. No one -opposed him. The mob seemed suddenly to have become paralyzed, afflicted -by the stupor of indecision. Many were already fleeing madly from the -scene—down the road, across the slough—yellow-hearted deserters whose -only thought was to escape the consequences of recognition. A few score, -falling back a little in stubborn disorder, stood glowering and blinking -outside the shafts of light. Men with guns and pistols and axes they -were, but cowed by the swift realization that they dared not use them. - -The tall, gaunt figure in the tonneau was praying, his hands uplifted. -By his side stood a woman. - -Now a woman flung herself down beside the man with the rope around his -neck, sobbing, moaning, her arms straining to lift his shoulders from -the ground. - -A baffled roar went up from the mob. Men surged forward and hands were -laid upon the rope—too late. The noose was off—and Sammy Parr standing -over the doctor and the distracted girl, had a revolver in his hand. - -“Come on!” he yelled. “Come on, you dirty cowards! You swine! You damned -Huns! Come on and get a man-sized pill!” - -From all sides boomed the shouts and curses of a quickly revived -purpose. - -“Rush ’em!” - -“Kill the—” - -“Beat their heads off!” - -“Get him! Get him!” - -“String him up!” - -Suddenly a strange voice rose above the clamor. A voice that seemed to -come from nowhere and yet was everywhere—the like of which no man there -had ever heard before. Rich, full, vibrant, it fell upon puzzled ears -and once again there was pause. The keyless chorus of execrations ceased -abruptly, as if a mighty hand were clapped upon a hundred mouths. - -All eyes were upon the owner of this wondrous, clarion voice. A -startling figure she was, standing erect upon the front seat of -Lansing’s car. Magically tall and mysterious as she towered above and -out of the path of light thrown by the car behind. - -“Men of Rumley! Hold! Hold, I command you! Is there one among you who -has not heard of the gypsy’s prophecy of thirty years ago? Let him speak -who will, and let him speak for all.” - -A score of voices answered. - -“Aye!” she went on. “You all have heard it. It is as familiar to you, -old and young, as the story of the Crucifixion. There are old men among -you. Men who were here when that truthful prophecy was uttered thirty -years ago. You old men heard of the gypsy’s prophecy within twenty-four -hours after it was spoken in the house you have ravished to-night. You -heard it word for word, faithfully repeated by men and women who were -present and who have never forgotten what she said. I ask one of -you—any one of you—to stand forth and tell the rest of this craven mob -what the gypsy fortune-teller said on that wild and stormy night.” - -Two or three men stepped forward as if fascinated. - -“She said the baby son of Oliver Baxter would be hung for murder before -he was thirty years old,” bawled one of them. - -“He killed his father. He ought to be hung. The gypsy was right,” -shouted another. - -“And what else did she say?” rang out the voice of Josephine Judge. - -“Oh, a lot of things that don’t matter now,” yelled a man back in the -crowd. “Get busy, boys. We can’t—” - -“Stop! Wait, and I will tell you what she said. She said one thing that -all of you old men ought to remember. It was the most important thing of -all, the most horrible. I was there. This man of God, my husband, was -there. Other honest people, friends of yours, were there. They heard her -words and they repeated them to you the next day. Silence! Listen to me, -varlets! You believe she spoke the truth when she uttered that prophecy? -Answer!” - -“Yes!” came from a hundred throats. - -“Then, in God’s name, =why are you murdering oliver october -baxter?=” - -“We gave him a fair trial,” answered one of the leaders. “We know all -the facts. He is guilty of killing his father. We don’t need any more -proof—” - -“Are you one of the men who heard the story thirty years ago?” - -“Yes, I am—and I heard it straight.” - -“Then you must know that this poor boy was adjudged innocent of this -crime on the day he was born,” fell slowly, distinctly from the lips of -Josephine. “I will repeat the words of the gypsy woman. She said: ‘He -will not commit a murder. He will be hanged for a crime he did not -commit.’ Speak! Are not those the words of the gypsy?” - -Absolute silence ensued. It was as if the crowd had turned to stone. - -“And so,” she cried, leveling her finger at the men in the front rank, -“you have done your part toward making the prophecy come true. You have -hung Oliver October Baxter in spite of the fact that you were told -thirty years ago that he would be innocent. It has all come out as the -fortune-teller said it would. She read his future in the stars. She read -it all from his own star—and, look ye, fools of Rumley, in yonder black -dome a single star is shining. See! With your own blind eyes—see!” - -She lifted a hand and pointed majestically. Every eye followed the -direction indicated by that dramatic forefinger. A star gleamed brightly -in the southern sky, a single star in a desert of black. - -“That is the star of Oliver October Baxter. He was born under that star -and, God help us all, I fear he has died beneath it. Out of all the -great and endless firmament, that one star reveals itself to-night. -Slink home, assassins! Murderers all! May the curse of that shining star -fall upon ye—now, henceforth and forever! May ye never escape from the -light of that great accusing eye, looking down upon you from Heaven! -Slink home to your wives and children and tell them what ye have done -this night!” - -But the mob stood rooted to the ground. A sudden shout went up from -those in the front rank—a strange shout of relief. - -Oliver October was struggling to his feet, assisted by Jane and Lansing. -His arms, released from their bonds, were thrown across their shoulders, -his chin was high, he was coughing violently. - -“He’s all right!” yelled a man, and started eagerly forward only to fall -back as Jane Sage held up her hand and screamed: - -“Keep away! You will have to kill me before you can touch him again, you -beasts!” - -“Aw, I only want to help get him into the car—” - -“Stand back!” commanded Lansing. “We don’t need your help.” - -Three or four eager voices cried out shakily and in unison: - -“Take him to a doctor’s!” - -Then a tenser silence than before fell over the scene, for Jane was -crying: - -“Are you all right, Oliver? Can you speak? What is it, dearest? What are -you trying to say?” - -“Don’t try to speak yet, Baxter,” cautioned Lansing. “Plenty of time. -You’re all right. You’ll be yourself in a few minutes. Thank God, we got -here when we did.” - -“Keep quiet!” ordered a voice in the mob. “He wants to say something. -He’s alive, and he wants to say something. Sh!” - -“Drop that rope!” roared Sammy as one of the crowd left the circle and -hastily reached for the rope. The fellow leaped back as if stung. - -“I was only meanin’ to take it back to Ollie’s store,” he whined. “It -belongs to him.” - -“Take him to a doctor’s!” roared a dozen anxious men. - -“Clear the road!” roared others. - -“Slink back into the foul fastnesses of yon accursed swamp,” rang out -the voice of the great Josephine Judge. They got Oliver into the forward -car, where he huddled down between Jane and her mother. They heard him -whisper hoarsely, jerkily: - -“Never mind about me—I’m—all right. They won’t try—it again. Look -after Aunt—Serepta first. She’s hurt. They left her—lying up—” - -“Don’t worry, old top,” cried Sammy eagerly. “I’ll go back and look out -for her. You go along with Doc. He’ll fix you up. All you need is a good -stiff—” - -“Clear the road!” roared a score of voices as Lansing’s car moved slowly -forward, and off the sides, down the slope and up the bank, slunk the -obedient lynchers. Down through the lane of men who carefully shielded -their faces from the glare of the head-lights, Lansing’s car advanced. -It picked up speed and soon the little red tail-light was lost to sight. -Having watched it until it disappeared, the mob, as one man, turned its -anxious eyes heavenward—not in supplication but for a somewhat -surreptitious look at Oliver’s shining star. They stared open-mouthed. A -miracle had happened. The sky was full of merry, twinkling little -stars—and more, like fairies, came out to play and dance even as the -watchers below gazed up in wonder. - -Two men slouched side-by-side behind all the others as the once -bloodthirsty horde bore off swiftly, apprehensively, but still dubiously -through the night which now seemed to mock them with its silence. One of -these men said to the other: - -“I’ve worked in that store for twenty-two years. Where the dickens do -you suppose I’ll find another job at my age?” - -“You won’t need one,” said the other gloomily, “if my prophecy comes -true.” - -“Your prophecy? What are you talking about?” - -“I prophesy we’ll all be in jail for this night’s work.” - -A long silence. “Well,” said the other, “old man Sikes and Silas Link -can rest in peace from now on. He’s been hung.” - -“Yep. He’s out of all his troubles and ours are just beginning. I guess -it must have been a lucky star he was born under.” - -An hour later Sammy Parr expressed himself somewhat irrelevantly in the -parsonage sitting-room. - -“Say, Miss Judge, you were great. I never heard anything like that -speech of yours. And your voice—why, it gave me the queerest kind of -shivers.” - -Josephine was pacing the floor, her fine brow knitted in thought. She -was muttering to herself. Oliver, lying on a couch, smiled up into -Jane’s lovely eyes. She sat beside him, holding his hand in both of -hers. Serepta Grimes, having stubbornly refused to go to bed, sat in a -morris chair across the room and, perhaps for the first time in her long -life, was being forced to accept her own medicine at the hands of a -suddenly important Samaritan in the person of Lizzie Meggs, who, without -rime or reason, had been plying her with aromatic spirits of ammonia for -the better part of an hour, reserving to herself the diminishing -contents of a silver hip-flask produced by the efficient Mr. Parr. The -Reverend Mr. Sage stood apart with Dr. Lansing, deep in a low-voiced -argument as to whether God or man, Providence or science, had saved the -life of Oliver October. In the crook of the parson’s arm snuggled Henry -the Eighth, who, between intermittent fits of dozing, licked the hand -that had spanked devotion into him. - -Miss Judge paused. - -“It was rather good, wasn’t it?” she observed. “I am trying to fix that -speech in my mind. I shall have a play written around it. I know the -very man who can do it. He has been eager to write a play for me. I -shall telegraph him to-morrow to come to Rumley at once. In my mind’s -eye I can visualize that remarkable scene, I can—” - -“Josephine!” cried Mr. Sage, aghast. “You are not thinking of going -back—going back—” - -She held up her hand. “Not to London, old thing—not to London. It is -possible I may consent to make a farewell tour of America. Sarah -Bernhardt, Ellen Terry—why not I? My own company—” - -At this juncture, Oliver sat up and claimed the audience. - -“Sammy,” he cried out thickly but with the ring of enthusiasm in his -voice, “do me a favor, will you?” - -“Sure,” cried Sammy, springing to his feet. - -“Stand up with me. I’m going to be married. I’ve been best man for you -twice—” - -“Great!” cried Sammy. “I’ll not only stand up with you, old boy, but -I’ll let you lean on me.” - -“Now?” gasped Serepta Grimes, in great agitation. - -“At once,” declared Oliver, struggling to his feet. “I came near to -losing her to-night. I’ll take no more chances.” - -“Yes—now!” cried Jane softly, and for the first time that night the -color came back to her cheeks. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - - MR. GOOCH SEES THINGS AT NIGHT - -Horace Gooch was going to bed. He had had a hard day, and it was nine -o’clock. He had a notion he was not likely to sleep very well. The -sheriff of the county had telephoned earlier in the evening—in fact, he -was at supper—that a body had been found in one of the marsh pools. The -news rather took his appetite away. He had a weak and treacherous -stomach to begin with, and the mere thought of going over to Rumley in -the morning to see if he could identify the grewsome object caused him -to suddenly realize that he had a much weaker stomach than he had ever -suspected before. He had, besides, an absurd notion that he was going to -be haunted all night long by the ghastly remains of his brother-in-law. - -While he always had contended that Oliver Baxter did not have much of a -head to speak of, the fact that it had been split wide open with an ax -or something of the sort was very likely to cause him to see things even -with his eyes closed and the bedroom in pitch darkness. He decided to -leave the light burning in his room, and then, after further -deliberation, concluded, that as long as it had to be lit anyway it -would be a very sensible thing on his part if he were to put in the time -reading instead of wasting electricity. - -Mr. Gooch slept in a night-shirt. He didn’t believe in new-fangled -things. He was a plain man. No frills for him. - -The windows of his bedroom looked out on to an extensive lawn, formerly -a rather pretentious and well-kept half-acre but now unkempt, weedy and -in a state of dire neglect. Mr. Gooch had cunningly allowed his yard to -fall into a sort of groveling, imploring decrepitude, indicative of -poverty rather than parsimony. He wanted the voters to understand that -he was by no means as rich as the unprincipled opposition said he was. -He regarded it as a very telling piece of political strategy. - -Before retiring to the large four-poster bed—which, now that he was a -widower, seemed needlessly commodious and would have been disposed of -long ago but for a thrifty far-sightedness that took into consideration -the possibility that he might get married again—before retiring, he -peeped out between the window curtains to see whether the arc light was -burning at the street corner above. It was, and he experienced a -singular sensation of relief. Then he put on his spectacles and got into -bed. He had a book, a well-worn copy of “David Harum,” but he did not -begin reading at once. He was thinking of the many dark and lonely -nights old Oliver Baxter had spent in Death Swamp. It gave him a creepy -feeling. He tucked the covers a little more tightly under his chin—but -still the creepy feeling persisted. - -Just as he was beginning to wish that they had not found his unfortunate -brother-in-law, a pleasant and agreeable alternative presented itself -and he noticed an immediate increase of warmth in his veins. Strange -that he had not thought of it sooner. It was most consoling, after all, -this finding of the corpus delicti. If they hadn’t found it he would -have been obliged to pay all costs arising from the search and -investigation. He had agreed to do so. But now that the “body of the -crime” had been unearthed he would be relieved of this onerous -obligation. The county would have to pay for everything. That was -understood. He smiled a little, turned the covers down from his chin, -and took up his book. - -“Hey, Horace!” - -He lay perfectly still for a few seconds, his eyes glued to the page. An -icy chill, starting in his abdomen, spread all over him, slowly at -first, then with consuming swiftness. He bit hard on his teeth to keep -them from chattering. The voice sounded as if it were just outside his -chamber window. He waited. - -“Hey, Horace!” - -A deep groan issued through Mr. Gooch’s stiffening lips. He shrank down -into the bed and pulled the covers up over his head. He was haunted! -There was no other voice in the world like it. He would know it among a -million. Oliver Baxter had come to haunt him! He had a horrifying mental -vision of the unforgettable figure of his brother-in-law floating in the -air just outside—this changed instantly to an even more appalling -spectacle: old Oliver emerging from his grave in the swamp and speeding -through the black night to pay him a visit—with his skull split wide -open— - -Some one was knocking at the front door. Even through the thick -bed-covers he could hear the sharp tapping—not the tapping of -flesh-covered knuckles but of bare bones! - -Mr. Gooch’s grizzled head popped out from beneath the covers. He -remembered that his bedroom door was unlocked. Anybody—any_thing_ could -walk right in—He climbed out of bed with a spryness that would have -amazed him if he had been able to devote the slightest thought to it. - -Again the voice, but this time reassuringly remote from his window-sill. -He stopped irresolute half way to the door. If he waited long enough, he -reasoned, the ghost would go away thinking he was not at home. There was -not the slightest doubt that it was farther away now than when it spoke -the first time. Besides there was something more or less human in this -last cry from the night. It wasn’t at all spookish. It seemed to express -wrath. - -“All right! You can go to Jericho.” - -Mr. Gooch went to the window. He was still shivering and he had a queer, -unpleasant notion that his hair was wilting—a most astonishing -sensation. He hesitated a moment, then boldly drew the curtains apart. -The light from the arc light at the corner, fairly well-spent after -traversing a couple of hundred feet, was of sufficient strength to flood -the lawn with a dim radiance. A shadowy object half way down to the gate -resolved itself into the figure of a man as Mr. Gooch gazed upon it with -bewildered, incredulous eyes. - -“Hello, Horace,” came wafting up to Mr. Gooch—apparently from this -shadowy object. “That you? Say, open up and let me in.” - -Mr. Gooch grasped the window frame for support. - -“Good God!” he gulped, but in a voice so strange and hollow that he did -not recognize it as his own. In a sudden panic he threw up the window -and screeched—in an entirely different voice but equally as -unrecognizable: - -“Go away! Leave me alone!” - -“Say, don’t you know who it is? It’s me.” - -The figure drew nearer the house. At the same time Mr. Gooch stuck his -head out of the window and bawled: - -“Help! For God’s sake, somebody come and chase it away! Help!” - -“What’s the matter with you, you darned old fool!” barked the indistinct -visitor. “You’ll wake the dead, yelling like that.” - -“Wake the dead!” repeated Mr. Gooch in a low, sepulchral voice. - -“I’m Ollie Baxter. For goodness’ sake, Horace, don’t tell me you’ve -forgotten your only brother-in-law. I—” - -“Go away! You’re dead. I don’t want any dead people coming around here -to—” - -A shrill, lively cackle came up from the murk. Mr. Gooch clapped his -hand to his forehead. - -“Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!” he groaned. - -“Ain’t you going to let me in? I’m not going to ask you again, you -darned old skinflint. I hate you anyhow, and always did—but I thought -maybe after me being away for more than a year you’d be hospitable -enough to—” - -“Stop talking!” commanded Mr. Gooch. “You always did talk too much. Now, -listen to me. Are you really alive?” - -“Course I am. What ails you?” - -“I don’t believe it. They found your body this afternoon.” - -“You don’t say so!” gasped the object under the window. - -“Horribly decayed,” added Mr. Gooch sternly. - -“Well, I’ll be danged!” - -“So you simply _can’t_ be alive. Go away!” - -“This is mighty queer. Are they positive it’s me?” - -“Hey?” - -“I mean are they sure it’s my body?” - -“There’s no evidence to the contrary. Seems to be absolutely no doubt -about it.” - -“Well, well! Where did they find me?” - -“You know as well as I do.” - -“I don’t know anything of the kind. It’s news to me, Horace.” - -“See here, Oliver, what’s the sense of lying to me? You know you’re dead -and—” - -“Well, suppose I am,” broke in the other irascibly; “that’s no reason -why you should stick your head out of a window and tell the whole town -of Hopkinsville about it. You come down here and let me in. I’ll derned -soon show you I’m not dead. What’s more, I never have been dead. So they -couldn’t have found my body.” - -Mr. Gooch was now convinced. It was Oliver Baxter and he was very much -alive. - -“Well, what do you want?” - -“I want to come in and spend the night with you, that’s what I want.” - -“There’s a good hotel up on Jackson Street,” began Mr. Gooch, but -curiosity getting the better of him he abruptly called out for Oliver to -wait till he had put on his pants and he would come down and let him in. - -As he hurriedly started to slip on his trousers he heard his -brother-in-law whistling a strange and jaunty melody out in the yard. He -never had heard anything like it before. - -A sudden, desolating thought struck him as he sat on the edge of the -bed. His trousers were but half on when the shock came. He knew not how -long he sat there, powerless and inactive, staring at nothing. A shout -from outside aroused him. He groaned and then slipped the other leg into -his trousers. - -Calamity! His cake was dough! The return of Oliver Baxter meant his -political doom. Young Oliver, vindicated, would be carried into office -by an unprecedented majority, riding serene and triumphant on a wave of -popularity that would sweep all opposition before it. Somewhere back in -his mind lurked a very distasteful phrase that ended with “cocked hat,” -although he could not quite remember the rest of it. He could and did -remember young Oliver’s campaign boast, for it was very recent and -distinct and unnecessarily public. “Skin him alive” was the heathenish -slogan. - -As he descended the stairs he tried to think of some means to avert the -calamity. He thought of locking his brother-in-law in the cellar and -keeping him there until after election day. He wondered if he could -persuade the old man—for a substantial cash consideration—to remain in -seclusion or wander off again or—But, no; he had sunk too much money -already, and there was still an additional thousand or two to be paid -out for the search and— - -He stopped suddenly, reeling as from a blow. The lighted candle, held -almost directly in front of his face, witnessed a most astonishing -transformation. Mr. Gooch’s harassed visage slowly lighted up; it became -almost radiant. He hurried to the door and unbolted it quickly, for he -was now afraid that old Oliver might have taken it into his head to -disappear again! - -He had just remembered Oliver October’s promise to pay him five thousand -dollars in cash if he produced his father, dead or alive! He was -actually smirking as he pressed the electric light button. The wind blew -the candle out as he threw the door open. - -“Come right in, Oliver,” he cried, quite heartily but still with a trace -of apprehension. He had not recovered from his scare and half-expected -Mr. Baxter to float past him into the hall. - -A bent, disreputable-looking figure shuffled in, thumping his cane on -the floor. - -“Well, well!” exclaimed Mr. Gooch, holding the doorknob in one hand and -the candle-stick in the other—making it obviously impossible for him to -shake hands with what might after all turn out to be a cadaver. -“You—you certainly gave me quite a scare.” - -He peered narrowly, intently at the weather-beaten face of his wife’s -brother. Old Oliver was looking around the hall as if inspecting a most -unfamiliar place. Mr. Gooch, closing the door, risked a timid slap on -the other’s shoulder, and was greatly relieved to find that it was -solid. Mr. Baxter did not take kindly to this demonstration. He winced. - -“Say, don’t do that,” he said. “I’ve got rheumatism in that shoulder. -Comes from sleeping out in the open air a good bit of the time this -fall.” - -Mr. Gooch stepped back, the better to survey his brother-in-law’s -person. There was every indication that Mr. Baxter had taken the -precaution to sleep in his clothes pretty steadily all fall. They were -wrinkled and dusty and hung limply, crookedly on his graceless frame. -The coat collar was turned up and held tight to his throat by a thick -red muffler. He wore a sad-looking green Homberg hat with a perky red -feather sticking up from the band. - -“Take off your muffler,” said Horace, desiring indisputable evidence. - -“Oh, it’s there all right,” divined Mr. Baxter. “You can feel it if you -don’t believe me. It’s just as well you didn’t offer to shake hands with -me, Horace. I swore I’d never shake hands with you.” - -“Come out to the kitchen,” said Gooch, scowling. “It’s warm there, and -besides you might like a cup of hot coffee.” - -“All I want is a bed to sleep in. I haven’t slept in a regular bed for -the Lord knows how long. Thank God, I’ll be sleeping in my own to-morrow -night.” - -He followed the puzzled Mr. Gooch to the kitchen and at once drew a -chair up to the stove. - -“Where have you been all this time?” murmured Horace, generously -replenishing the fire. - -“Oh—traveling,” said Mr. Baxter casually. He removed his hat and placed -it on the floor beside the chair. - -Mr. Gooch leaned over and scrutinized the top of his guest’s head. Then -he deliberately felt of it. - -“What are you doing?” demanded Mr. Baxter sharply. - -“Oh—I was just wondering if—But never mind. Now, Ollie, tell me all -about yourself. We’ve been hunting for you all over the—” - -Oliver’s cackle interrupted him. - -“Like chasing a flea, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “Before we go any -farther,” he went on seriously, “tell me about my boy Oliver. How is he? -Hasn’t been hung yet, has he?” - -“Not yet,” said Mr. Gooch sententiously. He placed a chair on the -opposite side of the stove and sat down. - -“Well, he’s in no danger now,” said Mr. Baxter. “And what’s more, he -never was in any danger of being hung. That gypsy woman lied.” - -“That’s what I said at the time. Didn’t I tell you what a darned fool -you were?” - -“How’s my boy, and where is he? I telephoned him three times to-night -but the doggoned system’s always out of order. Couldn’t get any answer.” - -“He’s over in Rumley,” said Mr. Gooch shortly. “I guess he’s all right. -Leastwise he was up to this evening.” - -“That’s good. By glory, I’ll be glad to see him. I’ve got some great -news for him. Took me over a year to get it and cost me a lot of money, -but it was worth it. My mind is at rest. Say, do you know I’ve been from -one end of this country to the other? On the go every minute of the -time. It wasn’t till about a month ago that I run across the right -band.” - -“Band?” - -“Yep. Band. Struck ’em over in eastern Ohio. I guess I must have tracked -down seventy-five or a hundred bands before I got the right one.” - -“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” - -“Gypsies,” said Mr. Baxter briefly, holding his gnarled red hands out to -the fire. “You said something about coffee, Horace.” - -Mr. Gooch eyed him fearfully for a few moments. - -“Crazy as a loon,” he muttered. - -“Who? Me?” - -“No, no!” cried Mr. Gooch hastily. “Don’t get excited now, Ollie. Keep -calm. I’ll put the coffee pot on right away. Just you keep quiet—” - -“Is that what you were feeling my head for?” demanded Mr. Baxter -shrewdly. - -“Not at all, not at all, just—affection, Ollie.” - -“Umph! Well, I’m not crazy—not on your life. Hurry up with that coffee. -Mind if I light my pipe?” - -“Certainly not. Go ahead,” urged Mr. Gooch, whose antipathy to tobacco -was so pronounced that no one ever thought of smoking in his house. - -Mr. Baxter stretched out his wrinkled legs, and filled his pipe and lit -it, all the while keeping his keen little eyes on his brother-in-law. -Mr. Gooch splashed considerable water upon the hot stove as he filled -the coffee pot. The visitor seemed to find pleasure in exhaling great -clouds of rank-smelling smoke. - -“Yes, sir,” he began presently; “I hunted this country over before I -found her. She remembered everything. She even remembered you, Horace.” -He cackled. “I’d hate to tell you what she said about you.” - -Mr. Gooch was silent. - -“It took me nearly two weeks to get her to admit that she lied,” went on -Mr. Baxter. “And I guess she wouldn’t have done it then if I hadn’t -offered her a hundred dollars to tell the truth. You see, Horace, it was -this way. As my boy Oliver grew up to be a man I realized that she had -lied dreadfully about one thing, so that set me to thinking that she -must have lied about others. She said he would grow up to be the living -image of his father. Well, he didn’t. He’s a hundred per cent better -looking than I am or ever was. That’s a fact, ain’t it?” - -“Are you talking about the gypsy who told his fortune?” inquired Mr. -Gooch, comprehending at last. - -“Yes. Queen Marguerite. Mrs. Tobias Spink in private. One of the most -interesting queens I’ve ever met, and, by gosh, I’ve met a lot of ’em in -my travels. As I was saying, I got it into my head that if she could be -wrong about Oliver looking like me she could have been wrong about -everything else. So I made up my mind to find her and—” - -“So _that’s_ what you’ve been up to, you blamed old idiot!” exclaimed -Mr. Gooch. “Sneaking away and leaving everybody to wonder what had -become of you. You ought to be cow-hided, Oliver Baxter. All the trouble -and anxiety and worry you’ve caused me and your son and everybody else! -All the money your son spent looking for you—to say nothing of what -I’ve spent myself lately. Why, you old—” - -“Keep your shirt on, Horace,” advised Oliver blandly. “Don’t get -excited. I just had to do it. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I would -have lost my mind long before Oliver was thirty if I had sat around -waiting for a year and more to see if he was really going to be hung. -Besides, it’s none of your business anyhow. You say Oliver spent a lot -of money trying to find me?” He put the question eagerly, wistfully. - -“And so did I,” snapped Mr. Gooch. “I’m not saying Oliver spent his own -money. He probably—” - -“I don’t care whose money he spent,” cried Mr. Baxter joyously. “I’ll -pay back all that you spent, so don’t you worry, you derned old -skinflint. Every nickel of it.” - -“You will?” cried Mr. Gooch. “Is that a promise?” - -“Certainly. And my word is as good as my bond,” said Mr. Baxter proudly. - -“I’ve always said you were an absolutely honest man, Oliver,” said Mr. -Gooch ingratiatingly. “Never knew you to go back on your word. If you -say you’ll pay, I know you will.” - -“Figure it up and let me know,” said Mr. Baxter. “I guess my business is -still prospering. I had a kind of notion Oliver October would step in -and take hold of it in my place after I went away, so—But never mind -about that. Yes, sir, I finally got the queen to confess that -_everything_ she said that night was false. She wanted two hundred, but -I wouldn’t give it. Said she was ruining herself by confessing, and all -that. Oliver ain’t going to be hung any more than you or I. All spite -work, she says. Got mad at all of us. He’s not even going to be a -general in the army, or a great and successful business man, or enter -the halls of state, or—” - -“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Gooch quickly, hopefully. - -“—or look exactly like me,” concluded Mr. Baxter. “She’s going to make -an affidavit to it soon as we get to Rumley to-morrow.” - -Mr. Gooch started, casting an anxious look toward the kitchen door. - -“Say, you—you don’t mean to tell me you’ve got her with you,” he -rasped. “If that’s so, I want to tell you right now, Ollie Baxter, I -won’t have you bringing any strange women into my house. My house is a -respectable—” - -“She’s out at the camp,” interrupted Mr. Baxter. “We’ve camped just -south of town. I’ve been sleeping with her father for nearly a month—on -rainy nights, I mean, when we had to get into the caravan. His name is -Wattles. Eighty years old and still the best horsetrader in the tribe.” - -Mr. Gooch groaned. - -“I’ll fix up the sofa in the parlor for you to sleep on, Ollie,” he said -after a long and thoughtful pause. “The bed in the spare room isn’t made -up. In fact, it’s down altogether—being repaired,” he went on lamely. - -“You’ve got a double bed in your room, haven’t you?” said Mr. Baxter. - -“Well, it’s boiling at last,” evaded Mr. Gooch. “Now, we’ll have some -nice hot coffee. Like it pretty strong?” - -“Middling,” said Mr. Baxter reproachfully. “I was counting on sleeping -in a nice, warm, soft bed to-night, Horace.” - -His host pondered. “I was just thinking that maybe I could bring down a -mattress from the attic, Ollie, and fix you up in the hall just outside -my bedroom door. I’ll leave the door open. Plenty of blankets and—” - -“All right, all right,” broke in Mr. Baxter, and gulped down some of the -hot coffee. “I want to get an early start to-morrow morning, so you -don’t need to mind about giving me a breakfast. We figure on getting -away a little after sunrise.” - -His host remonstrated. “I won’t listen to it,” he said. “You will go -over to Rumley with me in my car just as soon as we’ve had breakfast. -Your friends—I mean the gypsies—can follow along later. Not another -word, old boy. I insist on it. You will want to see your son as soon as -possible. I have to go to Rumley in the morning anyway.” He hesitated a -moment, eyeing his guest keenly, and then proceeded: “Although I guess -it won’t be necessary for me to look at that—Ahem! Ah—er—I was just -wondering whose body it is, since it can’t possibly be yours. The one -they found in the swamp yesterday, I mean.” - -Mr. Baxter checked a yawn to inquire with sudden interest: “In the -swamp, eh? Out in one of the pools? Well, by ginger!” He started up from -his chair in a state of great excitement. “Why, it must be Tom Sharp’s -body. Of all the—” - -“Tom Sharp? Who is Tom Sharp? Besides, it isn’t a body. It’s a skeleton, -so they say—with its head split open.” - -“Tom Sharp,” declared Mr. Baxter with conviction. “Old Wattles told me -all about it. Tom Sharp was killed with an ax right out there on the -edge of the swamp thirty years ago. Same night the queen came to my -house. He—” - -“Can’t be,” broke in Mr. Gooch. “The doctors say this fellow has been -dead only a year or so.” - -“How does anybody know how long a skeleton has been dead?” demanded Mr. -Baxter severely. “Of course it’s Tom Sharp. He got smashed over the head -with an ax that night by another gypsy whose wife he had run away with. -The husband caught up with him at Rumley, after chasing him for months. -It’s against the gypsy law for a man to steal another man’s wife. So -they never said anything about the killing. Just took Tom Sharp out in -the swamp and—er—sort of left him. The fellow that killed him joined -the band and went back to living with his wife, who was a girl named -Magda. Maybe you recollect her. She was up to my house that night. Her -husband died five or six years ago. His widow—Say, Horace, if they -think that body is mine, who is supposed to have killed me?” - -Mr. Gooch experienced a strange and unsuspected softening of the heart. - -“A man that used to work around your place,” said he, after a moment’s -hesitation. “He skipped out a few weeks ago,” he added, generously -enlarging upon the lie. - -Silence fell between them. Mr. Baxter was thinking profoundly, his brow -wrinkled, his eyes fixed on one of his bony hands. - -“Just so it wasn’t—Oliver,” he said at last, swallowing hard. He had -removed the gaudy muffler. His Adam’s apple rose and fell twice -convulsively. “I’d hate to have people think he did it.” - -“Your pipe’s gone out, Ollie,” said Mr. Gooch brusquely. - -“You can’t blame it,” sighed Mr. Baxter, yawning again. “I’m too tired -to keep it going.” - -Horace busied himself about the stove and at the sink over by the -window. - -“I guess you won’t mind my asking a question, Ollie,” he said, turning -to his brother-in-law. “Seeing that you hate me, what put it into your -head to come here to-night and ask for lodging in my house, knowing that -I hate you as much as you do me—or more?” - -“Well, you see,” began Mr. Baxter, very wistfully and yet shamefacedly, -“I’ve been among strangers for so long, Horace, and I’ve been so -homesick for some of my own folks that I—well, I sort of felt I’d like -to see even you.” - -Mr. Gooch pulled at his whiskers for a long time. - -“Come to think of it, Ollie,” he said, rather loudly, due to the -discovery that the other was having great difficulty in keeping his eyes -open, “I guess I’ll have you sleep in that big feather bed in -the—er—in my second spare room. How will that suit you? And I’ll let -you have a nice, fresh night-shirt. Come along. Better get to bed.” - -Mr. Baxter looked at him in a sort of mild, sleepy wonder. - -“Why, you’re not half as stingy as I thought you’d be,” said he slowly. - -“Anybody that says I am stingy don’t know what he’s talking about,” said -Mr. Gooch magnificently. - -He escorted his guest up the back stairs and ushered him into the one -and only spare room the house afforded. - -“Get undressed, Ollie,” said he. “I’ll be back in a minute with the -night-shirt.” - -He hurried off to his own room. As he opened the door he -stopped—aghast. - -“Darn my fool hide!” he grated under his breath. “I left that light -burning and it’s been going all the time I was downstairs.” - - THE END - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - - -Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been corrected. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Oliver October</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Barr McCutcheon</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 15, 2022 [eBook #69545]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines, John Routh & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLIVER OCTOBER ***</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'><span style='font-size:x-large'>OLIVER</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span style='font-size:x-large'>OCTOBER</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'> </p> -<p class='line0'>BY</p> -<p class='line0'>GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>AUTHOR OF</p> -<p class='line0'>“BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK,” “SHERRY,”</p> -<p class='line0'>“VIOLA GWYN,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:6em;margin-bottom:1em;'> </p> -<p class='line0'>NEW YORK</p> -<p class='line0'>DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</p> -<p class='line0'>1923</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1922, 1923,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='sc'>By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:6em;margin-bottom:1em;'> </p> -<p class='line0'>PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>The Quinn & Boden Company</p> -<p class='line0'>BOOK MANUFACTURERS</p> -<p class='line0'>RAHWAY NEW JERSEY</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 4em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 30em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col3 tdStyle0' colspan='3'><span style='font-size:larger'>CONTENTS</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>I</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Oliver is Born in October</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>II</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>His Relatives and His Neighbors</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>III</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Women in Red Shawls</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_36'>36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>IV</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>His Fortune—Good and Bad</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>V</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Oliver is Found To Have a Temper</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_65'>65</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>VI</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>A Pastor Promises Aid</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>VII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Minister’s Wife</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>VIII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Gliding over a Few Years</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>IX</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Home from the War</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_128'>128</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>X</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Idle Days</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_140'>140</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XI</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Old Oliver Disappears</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>One Way of Looking at It</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_166'>166</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XIII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Good Samaritan Pays</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_174'>174</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XIV</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Jealousy Without Love</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_185'>185</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XV</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Third Fair Lady</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_196'>196</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XVI</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Mr. Joseph Sikes Intervenes</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_201'>201</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XVII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Mr. Gooch Declares Himself</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XVIII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Josephine and Henry the Eighth</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_228'>228</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XIX</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Oliver Complains</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_242'>242</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XX</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Detective Malone</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_252'>252</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXI</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Love Without Jealousy</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_265'>265</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Corpus Delicti</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_281'>281</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXIII</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Brewing of the Storm</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXIV</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Hanging</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_308'>308</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXV</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Mr. Gooch Sees Things at Night</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:2em;font-size:2.5em;'>Oliver October</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='1' id='Page_1'></span><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER I</h1></div> - -<h3>OLIVER IS BORN IN OCTOBER</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver Baxter, junior, was born on a vile -October day in 1890—at seven o’clock in the -morning, to be exact. People were more concerned -over the plight of a band of gypsies, camped on -the edge of the swamp below the Baxter house, however, -than they were over the birth of Oliver, although he was -a very important child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsies, journeying southward, had been overtaken -by an unexampled and unseasonable blizzard, and citizens -of Rumley, in whom curiosity rather than pity had -been excited by the misfortunes of the shivering nomads, -neglected for the moment that civic pride which heretofore -had never failed to respond to any increase in population -as provided solely by nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>First off, Rumley was a very small place at the beginning -of the ’nineties. A birth or a death was a matter -of profound importance. In the case of the former, all -Rumley knew about it months before it happened, and -rejoiced. A form of anticipatory interest, amounting almost -to impatience, centered upon any expectant mother -who ultimately was to add another inhabitant to the town. -It was absolutely impossible for a baby to be born in -Rumley without the whole town knowing about it within -the hour. For that matter, it was equally impossible for -any one to die with any degree of privacy unless he went -about it deliberately as did Bob Cheever who stole off -into the woods back in ’81 and hung himself so cunningly -that twenty-four hours passed before his body was -discovered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But, on the whole, the births were what counted most, -for, with a true philosophy, the people of Rumley, anticipating -that every one had to die some time or other, depended -on nature to do its part toward repairing all -losses in population by producing a brand-new citizen for -every old one who happened to drop put. With a scant -five hundred inhabitants, Rumley could ill afford to have -its birth rate surpassed by its death rate. The year in -which Oliver Baxter, junior, was born had been a lean -one; there had been thirteen deaths up to October and -only seven births. The surprising mortality was due to -the surrender of five old men and three old women who -had hung on well beyond the age of ninety, and then, -with unbecoming perversity, had combined upon an unusually -barren year in which to die.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In view of the fact that no one else could possibly be -born in 1890, now that October was at hand, it would -seem that Oliver was entitled to a great deal more consideration -than he received on his natal day. But when -one considers the simultaneous arrival of a blizzard and -a band of wandering gypsies at a time of the year when -neither was expected, and offers in opposition the arrival -of an infant that had been expected ever since the preceding -February, it is only fair to say that there were -extenuating circumstances and that Rumley was not entirely -to blame for its default in civic pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s parents were prominent in the commercial, social -and spiritual life of the town. His father was the -proprietor of the hardware store, a prominent member -of the Presbyterian church, and a leader in the local lodge -of Odd Fellows. He was well on to forty-five when his -namesake, was born, and as this son and heir was the -first and only child born to the Baxters it is easy to understand -the interest and concern that accompanied his -approach and arrival into the world—that is to say, up -to the distracting intervention of the October cold snap -which came apparently out of nowhere and confounded -everybody.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Baxter was a hard-cased bachelor of forty when he -succumbed to the charms of Mary Floyd, the daughter of -the toll-gate keeper at the edge of the village, and asked -her to marry him. A full three years elapsed, however, -before they could be married. This was due to Mary’s -stubborn and somewhat questionable fidelity; her ancient -father, it appears, was irascibly certain that he could not -manage the affairs of the toll-gate without her assistance: -how was he to keep house for himself, or get his own -meals, or do his own washing and ironing, or take care -of the cow and the pigs? In fact, he was the sort of -man who did not believe in trying to do anything for -himself as long as there were able-bodied women about -the place to do it for him. For twenty years Mary had -been his right-hand woman, beginning at the tender age -of ten, within fifteen or twenty minutes after the death -of her mother, who, by the way, had taken care of Martin -for a matter of twenty-five years without rest or recompense. -Two older brothers had exercised the masculine -prerogative and, having families of their own, left Mary -to wither, so to speak, “on the parent stem.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Martin died when Mary was thirty-two. Instead -of observing the customary year of mourning, she married -Oliver inside of three months after the joyous bereavement, -much to the surprise and passing grief of -her neighbors, who were unable, for the life of them, to -understand how she could do such a thing when her -father was hardly cold in the grave. Joseph Sikes, who -ran a feed store in connection with and back of Baxter’s -hardware establishment, and was a Godless man, set a -good many people straight by sardonically observing -that anybody as mean as Martin Floyd never would be -cold in his grave, owing to the heat that was getting at -him from below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now as for Oliver Baxter, the elder. He was a -scrawny man with a drooping sandy mustache and a -thatch of straw-colored hair that always appeared to be -in need of trimming no matter how recently it had been -cut by Ves Bridges, the barber. In the matter of stature -he was a trifle above medium height on Sundays only, -due to a studied regard for the dignity that accrued to -him as deacon in the church and passer of the collection -box at both services. Moreover, he wore a pair of Sabbath -day shoes that were not run down at the heel. On -week days, in his well-worn business suit and his comfortable -old shoes, he was what you would call a trifle -under medium height. He was a shy, exceedingly bashful -sort of man, with a fiery complexion that cooled off -only when he was asleep, and he was given to laughing -nervously—and kindly—at any and all times, frequently -with results that called for a confused apology on his -part and sometimes led to painful misunderstandings—for -example, the time he made tender and sympathetic -inquiry concerning the health of young Mrs. Hoxie’s -mother and cackled cheerfully when informed that the -old lady was not expected to last the day out, she was -that bad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How he ever screwed up the courage to propose to -Mary Floyd was always a mystery to the entire population -of Rumley, including Mary herself, who in accepting -him was obliged to overlook the two perfectly inane -spasms of laughter with which his bewildered plea was -punctuated. She took him, nevertheless, for she was a -prudent spinster and had got to the age where people -not only were beginning to pity her but were talking of -putting her in charge of the public library as soon as old -Miss Lowtower died.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mary at thirty-two was a comely, capable young -woman, fairly well educated in spite of Martin Floyd’s -exactions, and was beloved by all. If it had not been for -the fact that Oliver Baxter was prosperous, honest and -a credit to the town, people no doubt would have said -she was throwing herself away on him, for it must be -said that the Floyds, despite their reduced circumstances, -were of better stock than the Baxters. Martin Floyd, -in his younger days, had been a schoolmaster and had -studied for the law. Moreover, he had been thrice -elected justice of the peace and during Grant’s last administration -was postmaster at Rumley. Whereas, Oliver -Baxter’s father had been a farmhand and Oliver himself -an itinerant tin-peddler before really getting on his feet. -But as the fortunes of the Floyds went down those of -the frugal and enterprising Baxter came up, so, on the -whole, Mary was not making a bad bargain when she -got married—indeed, she was making a very good bargain -if one pauses to consider the somewhat astonishing -fact that she really loved the homely and unromantic -little bachelor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When, after two years, it became known that on or -about the twentieth of October Mary Baxter was going -to have a baby, the town of Rumley and the country -for miles about experienced a thrill of interest that continued -without abatement up to the very eve of the new -Oliver’s natal day, when, as before mentioned, it was -stifled by a sudden change in the weather and the belated -descent of the gypsies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It must not be assumed that the gypsies were welcome. -Far from it, they were most unwelcome. Their appearance -on the outskirts of Rumley was the occasion of dire -apprehensions and considerable uneasiness. The word -gypsy was synonymous with thievery, kidnaping, black -magic and devilry. More than one instance of curses -being put upon respectable people by these swarthy, -black-eyed vagabonds could be mentioned, and no one -felt secure after foolishly subjecting herself to the dire -influence of the fortune-telling females of the tribe. -Little children were kept indoors, stables and cellars -were locked, and backyards zealously watched during the -time the gypsies were in the neighborhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Small wonder then that the young and tender Oliver -failed to hold his own against such overwhelming odds. -Nearly twenty-four hours elapsed before the town as a -whole took notice of him. By nightfall it was pretty -generally known that he was a boy and that his name, -provisionally selected, was to be Oliver and not Olivet, -as it might have been had his sex been what everybody -prophesied it was bound to be. Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, -in the second year of their married life, had gone to a -nearby city to see a performance of the comic opera -“Olivet,” and were so delighted with it—especially the -song “In the North Sea Lived a Whale”—that they decided -then and there if a girl should ever be born to -them they would call her Olivet, that being as near to -Oliver as they could possibly come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They yearned for an Oliver, of course, but in the event -he did not materialize, it would be a rather satisfactory -compromise to substitute a “t” for the “r” which they -would have preferred.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they called him Oliver and added October to that, -as a tribute to the month in which he was born.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Baxter residence, a two-story frame building, -stood at the top of a tree-covered knoll on the edge of -the town, overlooking an extensive swamp in the center -of which lay a reed-encircled pond where at certain seasons -of the year migratory wild ducks and geese disported -themselves in perfect security, for so treacherous -was the vast morass guarding this little body of water -that even the most daring and foolhardy of hunters -feared to cross it. These evil acres bore the name of -Death Swamp. They belonged to Oliver Baxter. He -bought the whole tract, four hundred acres or more, for -twenty-five dollars, and with a droll sense of humor -described it as his back yard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wild October gale had been blowing all day long, -a bleak legacy of the blizzard that swept over the land -during the night. There were high, white drifts in sheltered -nooks and corners; a fine, sleety snow cut mercilessly -through the air, beating against window panes like -sweeps of bird shot, scuttling through reluctantly opened -doors, swirling in restless fury across porches, all to the -tune of a shrill wind that came whistling out of the north. -In an upstairs corner room, warmed by a big, carefully -tended sheet-iron stove, young Oliver first saw the light -of day. No finer “young-un” had ever been born, according -to Mrs. Serepta Grimes, and Serepta was an -authority on babies. It was she who took command of -Oliver, his mother and his father, the house itself, and -all that therein was. She was there hours ahead of Dr. -Robinson, and she was still there hours after his departure. -Throughout the town of Rumley, Serepta was -known as a “blessing and a comfort.” Her word was -law. Fond mothers and frightened fathers submitted to -her gentle but arbitrary regulations without a murmur -of protest. Joe Sikes claimed—and no one disputed -him—that you couldn’t come into or go out of the world -properly without being assisted by Serepta Grimes. She -was that kind of a woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She saw to it that all the cracks around the window -frames were securely stuffed with paper to keep the wind -from coming in; she kept Oliver’s beaddled father from -darting into the room every time he heard the baby cry; -she gave peremptory directions to neighbor-women who -came in to see what they could do; she kept the fire -going, the kitchen running, and, by virtue of her own -vast experience and authority, she kept the doctor in his -place. Perhaps a hundred times during the day she had -patiently answered “Yes” to the senior Oliver’s tremulous -question: “Is she going to pull through, Serepty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In this cozy little room and in the presence of the -doctor and Serepta Grimes, young Oliver was weighed -by his father. For this purpose, a brand-new, perfectly -balanced meat-scales, selected from stock, was brought -up from the hardware store by Mr. Sikes, who, while -being denied the privilege of witnessing the ceremony, -subsequently was able to collect fifty cents from another -bosom friend of the family, Mr. Silas Link, undertaker -and upholsterer. The infant weighed nine and a quarter -pounds, Joseph winning his wager by a scant quarter of -a pound. The two worthies also had made another bet -as to the sex of the infant, Mr. Sikes giving odds of two -to one that it would be a boy. Up to seven o’clock in -the evening, fully twelve hours after the baby was born, -neither Mr. Sikes nor Mr. Link had the slightest idea -who had won the bet, for, try as they would, there seemed -to be absolutely no way of getting any authentic information -from upstairs, owing to the speechless condition -of Oliver senior and the drastic reticence of Serepta -Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so, as the story of Oliver October really begins -at seven o’clock in the evening, regardless of all that may -have transpired in the preceding twelve hours of his life, -we will open the narrative with Mr. Joseph Sikes hovering -in solitary gloom over the base-burner in the sitting-room -to the right of the small vestibule hall whose door -opened upon the snow-covered, wind-swept front porch. -For the better part of an hour he had been sitting there, -listening with tense, apprehensive ears to the brisk footsteps -in the room overhead. The sitting-room was cold, -for Joseph had neglected to close the front door tightly -on entering the house and the wind had blown it ajar, -permitting quite an accumulation of snow to carpet the -hall. He had purposely left the sitting-room door open -in order to hear the better what was going on at the top -of the stairs. His attention was called to this almost -criminal act some fifteen or twenty minutes after its -commission by the sound of a man’s voice in the upper -hall. It was an agitated voice and it was raised considerably -in the effort to make itself heard by some one on -the other side of a closed, intervening door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Serepty, I—I think the front door is open,” the -voice was saying. Joseph wasn’t sure, but he thought it -belonged to Oliver Baxter. At any rate, the speaker was -in the upper hall. After a moment it continued. “Like -as not Mary and the baby will ketch cold and die if—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A door squeaked upstairs and then came the voice of -Serepta Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My goodness! Of course, it’s open. Haven’t you -got sense enough to go down and shut it? Who left it -open anyway? You?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought I heard somebody come in a little while -ago. Must have been—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go down and shut it this instant. And stay downstairs, -you goose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door closed sharply and Mr. Sikes, recovering -from a temporary paralysis, clumsily got to his feet and -hurried into the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind, Ollie,” he whispered hoarsely to the -figure descending the stairs. “I’ll shut it. Some darned -fool must have forgot to close it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t that snow on the floor?” demanded Mr. Baxter, -pausing midway on the stairs. The light from the sitting-room -door fell upon his pinched, worried face as he -peered, blinking, over the banister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Must have blowed in,” mumbled Joseph guiltily. -“You don’t suppose she’s taken cold, do you, Ollie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She probably has,” groaned Mr. Baxter. “She’s—she’s -dying anyhow, Joe—she hasn’t got more than half -an hour to live. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is the doctor up there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. He ain’t been here since five o’clock. Oh, the -poor—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess she’s all right or he wouldn’t have gone off -and left her,” said Mr. Sikes consolingly. “I guess it -wouldn’t be a bad idea to sweep all this snow out. -Where’ll I find a broom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the kitchen—in the kitchen, Joe. My God, what -have I ever done that we should have a blizzard like this -on the one day that—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come on down, Ollie, and let me give you a swig at -this bottle I brought along with me. I can hear your -teeth chatterin’ from here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t got any shoes on,” protested Mr. Baxter. -“I’m trying not to make any more noise than I can help. -Besides I don’t want Mary to smell liquor on me. No, -I can’t come down. I’d never forgive myself if she was -to die and me not up here where I could hear her calling -for me. Yes, sir—she’s not going to pull through, Joe—she’s -not going to get well. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What does Serepty say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Serepty? Oh, she says she’s all right and as fit as a -fiddle—but I know better. She’s just saying that to -brace me up. She—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door squeaked above him and Mrs. Grimes spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t I tell you to close that door, Oliver Baxter? -Who is that you’re talking to?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t tell her,” whispered Mr. Sikes, springing nimbly -to the door. “She don’t like me anyhow, and—Oh, -the danged thing’s stuck! I’ll have to get the broom.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes hurried to the kitchen and returned with -the broom. Baxter was still standing on the stairs, in a -listening attitude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh!” he hissed. “Don’t do that? I thought I -heard—” He turned and darted up the stairs, leaving -Mr. Sikes to his task. Presently he came half way down -again and addressed the sweeper, who had just completed -his job and was closing the door against the pressing -wind. “I’m up here in the spare bedroom, Joe, if -you need me for anything. I’ve just been thinking that -the house might catch fire with all these stoves going -and the wind blowing so hard. If you smell anything -burning come up and let me know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just a second, Ollie,” whispered Joseph, from the -bottom of the steps. “Is it a boy or a girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Oliver failed to answer. He had disappeared, tiptoeing -in his stocking feet past the closed and guarded -door at the bend in the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His friend went back to his place by the base-burner -and sat down. In skirting the table in the center of the -room he paused long enough to take a cigar from the -box of “Old Jim Crows” that Oliver had purchased for -distribution among congratulatory friends. He hesitated -a long time before lighting it, however. He knew from -past experience that Serepta Grimes objected to men -smoking in the house, and, while this was not her house, -nevertheless for the time being she was complete mistress -of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To look at Joseph Sikes you would never believe that -he could be afraid of anything or anybody. He was a -burly, rugged, middle-aged man with broad shoulders, a -battling face and a thick shock of black hair that might -well have supplied you with a corporeal picture of what -Samson must have looked like before he was shorn. He -looked somewhat ill at ease and uncomfortable in his -Sunday suit of clothes and his starched shirt and the -bothersome collar that appeared to be giving him a great -deal of trouble, judging by the frequency with which he -ran his forefinger around the inside of it and twisted his -puckered, uplifted chin from time to time as if in dire -need of help. Mr. Sikes was an unmarried man. He -was not used to tight collars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The combination sitting-and dining-room was on the -side of the house facing the main thoroughfare of the -town. Its windows looked out across the porch and -down the wooded slope to the street, a hundred yards -away. Mr. Sikes on his arrival after a scant supper at -his boarding-house in Shiveley’s Lane had found the -entire lower part of the house in darkness except the -kitchen. He took it upon himself to light the two kerosene -lamps in the sitting-room and subsequently—in -some dismay—to draw down the window shades. He -replenished the fire from a scuttle of coal and then, on -second thought, went down into the cellar and replenished -the scuttle. After performing these small chores, -he removed his overcoat and hat and hung them over -the back of a chair alongside the stove. He forgot to -remove his goloshes, and it was not until he became -aware of the smell of scorching rubber that he remembered -where he had put them on sitting down for the -second time in front of the stove. He had put them on -the bright nickel-plated railing at the bottom of the base-burner -with only one thought in mind: to get his feet -warm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was aghast. That odor of calamity was bound to -ransack the house from bottom to top, with desolating -consequences. Mary would think the house was afire, -Oliver would lose his head completely, Serepta would—and -the child? It didn’t take much to suffocate a baby. -Mr. Sikes was not long in deciding what to do. He -opened a window, jerked off the offending goloshes, and -hurled them far out into the snowdrifts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was while he was in the act of disposing of the -damning evidence that he heard the kitchen door slam -with a bang. Somewhere back in his mind lurked an -impression that some one had been knocking at the front -door during the tail end of his profound cogitation. He -had a faint, dim recollection of muttering something like -this to himself:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can knock your fool head off, far as I’m concerned.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The slamming of the kitchen door irritated Mr. Sikes. -His brow grew dark. This was no time to be slamming -doors. He strode over to investigate. If the offender -should happen to be Maggie Smith, Baxter’s hired girl, -she’d hear from him. What business had she to be away -from the house for more than an hour, just at supper -time, and probably catching cold or—</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='15' id='Page_15'></span><h1>CHAPTER II</h1></div> - -<h3>HIS RELATIVES AND HIS NEIGHBORS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>He opened the door and was confronted by a pair -of total strangers—a man and a woman, bundled -up to the ears and tracking snow all over the -kitchen floor. A tall man with short black whiskers and -a frail little woman with red, wind-smitten cheeks and -a nose from which depended a globular bit of moisture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes stared at the couple and they stared at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been knocking at the front door for ten minutes,” -said the man, thickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So we finally had to come to the kitchen door,” -added the woman, eyeing Mr. Sikes accusingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t there anybody here to answer the front door?” -demanded her companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t seem to recollect locking it,” said Mr. Sikes, -stiffening perceptibly. He did not like the tone or the -manner of these strangers. “There wasn’t anything to -stop you from turning the knob, was there, and walkin’ -right in—same as you did out here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are not in the habit of walking into people’s -houses like that,” said the black-whiskered man, somewhat -tartly. “Come on, Ida; let’s go into the sitting-room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just a second,” interposed Mr. Sikes. “I’m sort of -in charge here and I guess I’ll have to ask who you -are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am Oliver Baxter’s sister,” said the red-nosed -woman, “and this is my husband, Mr. Gooch. We drove -all the way over here to take charge of things for my -brother during his—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seems to me I smell rubber burning,” broke in Mr. -Gooch, sniffing vigorously. His eye fell upon the cigar -that Mr. Sikes was holding between his thumb and forefinger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes took umbrage. He stepped forward and -held the cigar close to Mr. Gooch’s nose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Smell it,” he said, as the other jerked his head back -in surprise. “That’s as good a cigar as you can get anywhere -on earth for ten cents—and it only costs five.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I am not a smoker,” Mr. Gooch made haste to -explain, being a trifle overcome by Joseph’s far from ingratiating -manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m just telling you,” announced Joseph, inserting -the cigar between his back teeth with a somewhat -challenging abruptness. “You say you’re Ollie’s relations?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes; I am his sister. I want to see him at once. -Where is he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I guess if you are his sister you’d better come -into the sitting-room and take your things off,” said Mr. -Sikes grudgingly. “I’ve heard him speak of some folks -of his living over in Hopkinsville.” He led the way into -the sitting-room. “Make yourselves to home. I guess -maybe Ollie will be down after while, unless he’s gone -to bed. He’s all wore out. And I might as well tell you -first as last,” he went on pointedly, “he’s occupying the -only spare bedroom they’ve got in the house, so I don’t -see how I can ask you to stay the night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch paused in the act of unwinding a thick -scarf from her neck. She gave Mr. Sikes a “look.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you the undertaker?” she demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The—the <span class='it'>what</span>? Good gosh, no!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, how do you happen to be running things if -you are not? You act as if—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When did Mary die?” asked Mr. Gooch, throwing his -great ulster upon the dining-table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She ain’t dead,” was all the astonished Mr. Sikes -could say. “Not by a long sight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, of all the—” began Mr. Gooch, compressing his -lips. “And we drove nearly eighteen miles through all -this dodgasted weather to be a support and a comfort -to Ollie Baxter in his trouble. You say she <span class='it'>ain’t</span> -dead?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not. Whatever put that notion in your -head?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had a telegram along about noon signed by -Oliver, saying his wife was not expected to live through -the day. All hope had been given up,” said Mrs. -Gooch, beginning to cry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s just like the derned fool,” said Mr. Sikes. -“He can’t believe his own eyes, he’s so excited. Why, -Mary and the baby are both as lively as crickets. I -heard—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The <span class='it'>baby</span>?” fell simultaneously from the lips of Mr. -and Mrs. Gooch. Both mouths remained open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What baby?” added Mrs. Gooch, spreading her tear-drenched -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, her’s and Ollie’s—Say, didn’t you know they -had a baby this morning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A <span class='it'>baby</span>?” gasped the lady, incredulously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But we didn’t know they were expecting one,” said -her husband, scowling. “Mighty strange Oliver never -even mentioned—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you telling the truth?” demanded Mrs. Gooch. -“Or are you just trying to be funny?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes removed the cigar from his jaws. “It’s -nothing to me, ma’am, whether you believe it or not,” -said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Baxter’s brother-in-law allowed his gaze to roam -around the room. “Maybe we’re in the wrong house, -Ida,” he said. “We haven’t been in Rumley since Oliver -set up housekeeping. Like as not, that feller down at -the drug store gave us the wrong—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is Oliver Baxter’s house,” said Sikes shortly. -“He moved in here the day after the wedding, and he -ain’t moved out of it since, far as I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And who are you?” inquired Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me? My name is Sikes, Joseph Sikes. I’m Ollie’s -best friend, if you want to know. I stood up with him -when he was married, and I’ve been standin’ up for him -ever since. If you’ve got anything nasty to say about -Oliver Baxter, I guess you’d better not say it in my -hearin’, Mr. Gooch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no intention of saying anything nasty about -my wife’s brother,” retorted Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know all about you,” said Mr. Sikes, replacing his -cigar and scowling darkly. “I’ve heard Ollie speak of -you a hundred times. He ain’t got any use for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I don’t mind telling you,” said Mr. Gooch, -bridling, “I haven’t any use for him. I never did take -any stock in brother-in-laws, anyhow, and that’s why -I’ve never had anything to do with Baxter. You can -tell him—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess you’re forgettin’ that you are a brother-in-law -yourself, ain’t you?” interrupted Mr. Sikes, with a -most offensive snigger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you trying to pick a quarrel with my husband?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As I said before,” explained Mr. Sikes, “I am Ollie -Baxter’s best friend, and I certainly ain’t going to allow -anybody like a brother-in-law to come in here at a time -like this and get off any insinuations. This is the happiest -day of Ollie Baxter’s life—that is, it will be when -he gets his right senses back—and it ain’t going to be -spoiled, not even behind his back, if I can help it. Especially -by a brother-in-law.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man has been drinking,” said Mrs. Gooch, -sniffing the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re right,” confessed Joseph promptly. “I’ve had -a couple of good swigs out of this pint, and I’m proud -of it. It helps me to say what I think about people that -Ollie Baxter don’t like. I’ve been waitin’ for nearly ten -years to tell you what I think of you, Mr. Gooch, for the -way you acted toward Ollie when he tried to get his -sister here to help pay for a tombstone for their father’s -grave, and you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll thank you to mind your own business,” exclaimed -Mr. Gooch loudly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to be thanked for it,” shouted Mr. Sikes. -“It’s my business to tell you a few things about yourself, -so don’t thank me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my goodness!” wailed Mrs. Gooch. “In my own -brother’s house, too. I never was so insulted in all my -life. Oliver! Oliver, where are you? Come down here -and order this man out of your house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No use yellin’ for Oliver,” said Mr. Sikes. “He -won’t hear you.” Then he swallowed hard. “Come to -think of it, I guess I ought to apologize, ma’am. Which -I hereby do. I haven’t had much sleep lately, worrying -over this joyous occasion, and I guess I’m a bit crusty. -I hereby welcome you to Ollie’s house, speaking in his -place, and ask you to have a chair over here by the -stove. You can sit down too if you want to, Mr. Gooch. -To show you there’s no hard feelings on this joyous -occasion, I’ll even go so far as to ask you to have a drink -out of this bottle. It’s—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My husband does not drink,” said Mrs. Gooch, -stiffly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might let him off just this once,” pleaded Mr. -Sikes, tactlessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Horace Gooch frowned. “I’ve never touched a drop -of intoxicating liquid in my life, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sikes opened his mouth to say something, thought -better of it, choked the words off, and then offered the -following substitute: “Terrible weather for this time of -year, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no response to this conciliating commonplace, -nor to the invitation to sit down. Mrs. Gooch, -having divested herself of coat, scarf, bonnet and overshoes, -was straightening her hair before the looking-glass, -while her husband surveyed the room and its contents -with the disdainful air of one used to much better -things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>You could tell by the expression on his face that the -floor of his parlor was covered by a gorgeous Brussels -instead of the many-hued rag carpet that served Oliver -Baxter and his wife; and where they had old-fashioned -horse-hair chairs and a sofa, he possessed articles so -handsomely done in plush that it was almost a sin to -occupy them. If he had not come directly from contact -with a biting wind, one might have been justified in construing -his frequent and audible sniffs as of scorn rather -than of necessity. He was a tall, lank man with narrow -shoulders, narrow face, and a pair of extremely narrow -black eyes. He typified prosperity of the meaner kind. -Over in Hopkinsville, Horace Gooch was considered the -richest and the stingiest man in town. He was what is -commonly called a “tax shark,” deriving a lucrative and -obnoxious income through his practice of buying up real -estate at tax-sales and holding it until it was redeemed -by the hard-pressed owner, or, as it happened in many -instances, acquiring the property under a provision of -the state law then in operation, whereby after a prescribed -lapse of time he was enabled to secure a tax deed -in his own name. He also trafficked in chattel mortgages.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No one, not even his fellow church members, had ever -been known to get the better of him. It must be said for -him, however, he went to church twice every Sunday -and invariably did his share toward spreading the gospel -by dropping a noisy quarter into the collection plate at -both services. And so astute a business man was he that -he never was without the proper change. His brother-in-law -called him a “blood-sucking skinflint,” and it is -not in the power of the teller of this tale to improve -upon that except by quoting from the unprintable opinions -of his victims.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch was Oliver’s only sister, and had married -Horace Gooch when in her teens. At thirty-eight she -was still wondering if she was really good enough for him -and if he had not made a mistake in marrying her when -there were so many other girls he might have had for the -asking. Sometimes Horace made her feel that he could -have done better. At any rate, she was never allowed -to be in doubt as to what he thought of all the other -Baxters, living or dead. They were as “common as -dirt.” At first it was difficult for her to be ashamed of -Oliver without being equally disgusted with herself, but -as time went on and she became more and more of a -Gooch this irritating sensitiveness eased off into a state -of contemptuous pity for her insignificant brother. His -marriage to a toll-gate keeper’s daughter sent him down -several pegs in her estimation, notwithstanding Mr. -Gooch’s sarcastic contention that Oliver had wedded far -above his station—indeed, he went on to say, he didn’t -believe it possible for Oliver to find any one beneath his -station, no matter how hard he tried or how far he -looked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet when word came by wire that there was to -be a death in the family, Ida Gooch overlooked everything -and hastened to her brother’s side, drawn not so -much by sisterly affection as by the desire to take an -active and public part in any family sorrow or bereavement. -Having looked forward, over eighteen miles of -wind-swept highways, to a house of grief, she was not -only shocked but secretly annoyed to find that life instead -of death had visited the humble home of her -brother. She knew she would never hear the last of it -from Horace, who hated babies. They had no children -of their own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But now that she was here, she was determined to -make the most of the situation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall take charge here,” she announced to Mr. -Sikes. “Is this the way upstairs?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes nodded. “But if I was you,” he said, “I’d -hold my horses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean by that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess you’d better ask Serepty Grimes before you -begin to take charge here,” said he grimly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Serepty who?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Grimes. She’s running this house at present. Her -husband used to run the Rumley sawmill before he died. -Serepty’s running it now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That doesn’t cut any figure with me,” announced -Mrs. Gooch firmly. “I am going up to Mary’s room—her -name is Mary, isn’t it?—to see what there is to do -for—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute, Ida,” interrupted her husband. “I -wouldn’t go busting into that room until I found out -whether I was wanted or not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let her go, man,” cried Mr. Sikes, eagerly. “But -if she was my wife—and thank God, I’m a single man—I’d -stand at the foot of the stairs to ketch her when she -comes down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to say that my own brother would lay -violent hands—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ollie Baxter? I should say not. He ain’t got anything -more to do with running this house than I have. -Why, Serepty wouldn’t let Napoleon Bonaparte into -Mrs. Baxter’s room if he was to come here in full uniform. -But don’t take my word for it. Go ahead. You -might as well get it over with. I wouldn’t any more -think of going up them steps, big as I am, without receiving -orders from her, than I’d think of sticking my -head in this stove.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will soon get rid of Mrs. Grimes,” said she, tossing -her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she started to leave the room, a loud knocking at -the front door rose above the howl of the wind. Sikes -resuming his office as master of ceremonies, pushed his -way past Mrs. Gooch and opened the door to admit a -woman and two men. The first to enter the sitting-room -was a tall man wearing a thin black overcoat and a high -silk hat. The former was buttoned close about his shivering -frame, the latter jammed well down upon his ears -to meet the vagaries of the tempestuous wind. This was -the Reverend Herbert Sage, pastor of the Presbyterian -Church of Rumley. The lady was his wife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other member of the trio, a fat, red-faced, jolly -looking man of indeterminate age, was Silas Link, the -undertaker, upholsterer and livery-man of Rumley. We -encounter him now in the last-mentioned capacity, hence -his cheery grin, his loud-checked trousers and his brown -derby set jauntily over his right ear. He wore a buffalo-skin -overcoat. In his capacity as upholsterer and furniture-repairer -he affected a dusty suit of overalls of a -butternut hue and wore spectacles that gave him a -solemn, owl-like expression. As an undertaker he was -irreproachably lachrymose despite his rosy cheeks, and -he never “officiated” except in a tight-fitting Prince -Albert coat, a plug hat, a white cravat and a pair of black -cotton gloves. In view of the fact that he so rarely is -called upon to appear in the character of undertaker, -owing to the infrequency of emergencies, and also that -we are likely to come in contact with him a dozen times -a day as a livery-man, it is only fair to introduce him -here in the most cheerful of his three rôles, especially -as we may never have occasion to call upon him for -repairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Reverend” Sage—he was always spoken of as -the “Reverend”—was a good-looking young man of -thirty, threadbare and a trifle wan, with kindly brown -eyes set deep under a broad, intelligent brow. He had -a wide, generous mouth and a pleasant smile; a fine nose, -a square chin, and a deep, gentle voice. For three years -he had been shepherd of the Presbyterians in Rumley, -and he was as poor if not actually poorer than the day -he came to the town from the theological institute in -Chicago. His salary was eight hundred dollars a year, -exclusive of “pickings,” as Mr. Baxter called the pitiful -extras derived from weddings, funerals and “pound -parties.” Come November, there was always a “pound -party” for the minister, and it was on such occasions -that he received from his flock all sorts and manner of -donations. His wife in one of her letters to a girl friend -in Chicago mentioned twenty-six pairs of carpet slippers -“standing in a row,” seventeen respectfully knitted mufflers, -numberless mittens and wristlets, and she couldn’t -tell what else until she had gone through all the drawers -and closets in the parsonage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Which brings us to the wife, and also to an absolutely -unaccountable anomaly. It is not difficult to explain -how he came to fall in love with her and why he married -her. That might have happened to any man. Likewise -it is fairly easy to understand how she came to fall -in love with him, for he was dreamy-eyed and reluctant. -But how she came to marry him, knowing what it meant -to be the wife of an impoverished preacher, is past all -understanding. She was a handsome, dashing young -woman of twenty-three: the type one meets on the streets -of New York or Chicago and is unable to decide whether -she is rich or poor, good or bad, idle or industrious, -smart or common. Certainly one would never find her -counterpart in a town like Rumley except by the accident -of importation, and then only as a bird of passage. -When she came to Rumley as a bride in the June preceding -the birth of Oliver October Baxter, Rumley was -aghast. It could not believe its thousand eyes. Small -wonder, then, that the precious Mrs. Gooch and her even -more precious husband gazed upon her as if their own -slightly distended eyes were untrustworthy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was tall, willowy, and startling. She wore a sealskin -coat—at least it looked like seal—with sleeves that -ballooned grandly at the shoulders; a picture hat that -sat rakishly—(no doubt the wind had something to do -with its angle)—upon a crown of black hair neatly -banged in front and so extensively puffed behind that it -looked for all the world like an intricate mass of sausages -in peril of being dislodged at every step she took; -rather stunning coral ear-rings made up of graduated -globes; a slinky satin skirt of black with a long, sweeping -train that, being released from her well-gloved hand, -dragged swishily across the cheap rag carpet with a sort -of contemptuous hiss. A roomy pair of rubber boots, -undoubtedly the property of her husband, completed her -costume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good evening, Mr. Sikes,” she drawled, as she -scuffled past him into the sitting-room. “Nice balmy -weather to be born in, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes, taken unawares, forgot himself so far as to -wink at the parson, and then, in some confusion, stammered: -“St-step right in, Mrs. Sage, and have a chair. -Evening, Mr. Sage. How are ye, Silas? Help yourself -to a cigar. Take off your things, Mrs. Sage. Oliver will -be mighty glad to see—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How is Mrs. Baxter, Joseph?” inquired the parson, -removing his hat with an effort. It had been jammed -down rather low on his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The thing is,” put in Mr. Link, cheerily, as he began -to shed his coat, “is old Ollie likely to pull through? -I’ve been up here six or seven times to-day and dogged -if I know whether to hitch up the hearse or the band -wagon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sikes scowled at the speaker and jerked his head significantly -in the direction of the Gooches. “Come right -up to the stove, Mrs. Sage,” said he, dragging a rocker -forward. “You must be mighty chilly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only my legs,” announced the preacher’s wife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch winced. In her circle, ladies never mentioned -legs unless alluding to dining-room tables, or fried -chickens, or animate objects such as dogs, horses, cows -and sheep. And when she found out later on that this -startling person was a minister’s wife, she wondered -what the world was coming to. Somehow, it seemed to -her, nothing could be so incongruous or so disillusioning -as the wife of a preacher having legs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is Oliver’s sister,” introduced Mr. Sikes, awkwardly. -“From Hopkinsville. Reverend Sage, Mrs. -Gooch. Mr. Link, Mrs. Gooch. And this is Oliver’s -brother-in-law, her husband, also of Hopkinsville.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Everybody bowed. “I didn’t catch the lady’s name,” -said Mrs. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Permit me to introduce my wife,” said the Reverend -Sage, advancing to the stove, rubbing his extended palms -together. “A bitter night, is it not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very,” said Mrs. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very,” said Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tough on horses,” said Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very,” said Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>General conversation, after this laconic start, died suddenly. -Everybody stood and looked at everybody else -for a few moments, and then Mr. Sikes had a happy inspiration. -He began shoveling coal from the scuttle into -the already blushing stove, making a great deal of racket. -The others watched him intently, as if they never had -seen anything so interesting as a stove being stuffed with -fuel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And all sorts of live stock,” added Mr. Link, apparently -startled into speech by the closing of the stove -door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From Hopkinsville, did you say?” inquired Mr. Sage -politely, turning to Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Mr. Gooch succinctly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, a—er—very enterprising town—very enterprising. -Ahem!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is it?” asked Mrs. Sage, who by this time had -seated herself in a rocking-chair, with her rubber boots -well advanced toward the stove.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess you haven’t lived in this part of the country -very long,” said Mr. Gooch condescendingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, haven’t I? I’ve been here nearly six months—one -hundred and thirty-two days, to be exact.” She -glanced at the clock on the bracket between the windows. -“Lacking two hours and twelve minutes,” she went on. -“We came down on the local that’s due here at 9:14, but -it was twenty-eight minutes late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ahem!” coughed Mr. Sage, discreetly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if you will excuse me,” began Mrs. Gooch, withdrawing -her gaze from the lady’s boots, “I guess I’ll run -upstairs and see my sister-in-law.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ain’t Serepty up there?” asked Mr. Link quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yep,” replied Mr. Sikes. “You needn’t worry, Silas,” -he added significantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You stay right here, Ida,” ordered Mr. Gooch. “I’m -not going to have you insulted by this woman they’re -talking so much about. You’d think she was Queen Victoria -or somebody like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ahem!” coughed Mr. Sage, this time in a suave, conciliatory -manner—if it is possible to cough suavely. “It -is my practice, no matter what the weather may be, to -call at the earliest opportunity upon any stranger who -may arrive in our little community. Your nephew is the -latest stranger in town, I should say—eh, Mrs. Goops?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My—my what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gooch is my name,” broke in her husband tartly. “G, -double o, c, h.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do wish, Herbert dear,” said Mrs. Sage languidly, -“you would try to remember Gooch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg pardon. A slip of the tongue. I was about to -inquire about your dear brother, Mrs. Gooch. How is -he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t know there was anything the matter with -Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There isn’t anything the matter with him,” said Mrs. -Sage, “that a good, stiff drink of whiskey won’t cure.” -Then catching the look in the other woman’s eye, she explained: -“Oh, I’m not a native, you know. I come from -Chicago—God bless it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ahem!” coughed her husband. “I suppose Sister -Grimes will be down in a few minutes, Joseph?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just depends,” replied Mr. Sikes, somewhat grimly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wonderful woman, indeed. Quite indispensable at a -time like this,” continued the minister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s just as handy at a funeral,” supplemented Mr. -Link, in the hushed voice of an undertaker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must remember how indispensable Mrs. Grimes -is at a time like this, Herbert,” said Mrs. Sage, with a -yawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t have to remember,” blurted out Mr. Sikes. -“Serepty’ll do the remembering.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I adore babies, don’t you, Mrs. Gooch?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, indeed. Ah—I—how many children have you, -Mrs. Sage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On pleasant Sundays I should say as many as twenty-five. -They shrink quite a bit if the weather’s bad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good gracious me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She means her Sunday-school class,” explained Mr. -Sage hurriedly. He had the worried manner of one who -never knows what is coming next.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wife looked up into his face and smiled—a lovely, -good-humored smile that was slowly transformed into a -mischievous grimace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m always making breaks, am I not, Herby dear? -It’s a terrible strain, Mr. Gooch, being a parson’s wife. -I sometimes wish that Herbert—I mean Mr. Sage—had -been a policeman or a bartender or something like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Umph!” grunted Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I suppose it ain’t as hard to live up to a policeman -or a bartender as it is to live up to a minister of the -gospel,” said Mrs. Gooch, feeling of the tip of her nose -as she turned away from the stove.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link, having something of a private -nature to say to each other, had retired to a position near -the door, which by design or accident was pretty thoroughly -blocked by their heavy figures. Mrs. Gooch -sniffed unnecessarily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Mrs. Sage over her shoulder; “you’re right, -Mrs. Gooch. Live and learn is my motto.” She winked -at her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Josephine!” exclaimed Mr. Sage reproachfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Ida,” burst out Mr. Gooch, who had been fretting -almost audibly, “I’m getting tired of hanging around -here waiting for Oliver. Get your things on. We’re -going home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my dear friend,” cried the pastor, “you surely -are not going away without saying good-by to Brother -Baxter. He will—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going away without even saying howdy-do to -him,” rasped Mr. Gooch. “Where are your overshoes, -Ida?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this juncture the sitting-room door was opened, -somewhat to the confusion of the two citizens of Rumley, -and a small, plump, middle-aged woman, bearing a couple -of blankets in her arms, entered the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Serepty!” cried Mr. Link. “Everything all -right?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes surveyed the group. Her pleasant, wholesome -face was beaming. Her gaze rested upon the astonishing -hat of Mrs. Sage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, how do you do, Sister Sage. How nice of you -to come out on a night like this. Mary will be pleased -to hear you’ve been here. Oh, yes, Silas, everything is -all right. You can go home. Nobody is going to die. -How do you do, Mr. Sage. What a terrible night for you -to be out, with that wretched throat of yours. If you’ll -wait till I take these blankets out to warm them in the -kitchen I will wrap a piece of flannel and a strip of bacon -around your throat. It’s the best—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t think of it, Sister Grimes. I am quite all right. -I thought perhaps I might—ah—cheer Sister Baxter up -with a little—ah—spiritual encouragement—er—a prayer -of rejoicing—er—a—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all been attended to, thank you,” broke in -Mrs. Grimes crisply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor Oliver has done nothing but pray since daybreak. -He’s worn himself out with prayer. I had to go -out in the hall a while ago and tell him to shut up. Make -yourselves at home, everybody. I’ll be back in—my -land!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter, coatless, disheveled and in a state of extreme -anguish, came plunging down the stairs and into -the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whe-where’s the doctor?” he gasped. “My God, -where’s Doc Robinson? He’s dying! Hurry up, Serepty! -My infant is dying! Oh me, oh my—oh me—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is your coat, Oliver Baxter?” demanded little -Mrs. Grimes, severely. “Do you want to catch your -death of cold?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Coat? Say, can’t you hear him? He is calling for -help. Listen! Sh! Listen, everybody.” Then after a -long period of silence in which everybody frowned and -listened intently, and no sound came from aloft, he -groaned: “Oh, Lord! He’s dead! Dead as a door nail!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess it was the wind you heard, Ollie,” said Mr. -Link, brightly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first time, Mr. Baxter allowed his gaze to concentrate -upon some definite object. He stared at the -undertaker-livery man, and his jaw dropped lower than -ever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The—the undertaker,” he gulped. “How—how did -you get here so soon, Silas? He ain’t been dead more -than thirty seconds. He didn’t die till—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Calm yourself, Oliver,” admonished Mrs. Grimes, but -soothingly. “Sit down. It’s nothing but a pin. I’ll go -up to him as soon as I’ve fixed you.” She thrust the -blankets into Mr. Gooch’s arms. “Hold these,” she said. -“Come over here by the stove, Oliver. Sit down. I’ll go -fix a hot mustard bath for you to stick your feet in. Give -me one of those blankets—oh, excuse me, I didn’t notice -you were a stranger. Who—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is Ollie’s brother-in-law, Serepty,” explained -Mr. Sikes. “Say, Ollie, I’ve got a great surprise for you. -Your sister and her husband have come over from Hopkinsville -to wish you many happy returns of the day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter got up from the chair into which Serepty -had forced him and shook hands with his relatives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve—you’ve been drinking, Oliver,” exclaimed -Mrs. Gooch, horrified.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had,” admitted Oliver. -“It isn’t every day a feller has a—Why, good evening, -Mrs. Sage. I didn’t see you come in. Where’s Mr. -Sage? Ain’t he—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down in that chair, Oliver Baxter,” commanded -Mrs. Grimes. “I’m going to wrap this blanket around -you.” She relieved Mr. Gooch of one of the blankets -and proceeded to tuck Mr. Baxter snugly into the rocking -chair. “Then I’ll get the mustard bath. Now, you sit -still, do you hear me? Mary and the baby are all right. -Make yourselves at home, everybody. And you, Joe -Sikes, answer the door if anybody knocks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She snatched the other blanket away from Gooch and -hurried to the kitchen. After an awkward pause, rendered -painful by the presence of the two Gooches, the -company made a simultaneous effort to break the ice that -suddenly had clogged the flow of conversation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eighteen miles through all this—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From your telegram we thought a death had—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s an ill wind that blows no—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a mighty fine pair of mares you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nobody likely to knock at the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Mrs. Sage came in at the end with the following -question:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you going to name it, Mr. Baxter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eh? It? It ain’t an it, Mrs. Sage. It’s a masculine -gender. We’re going to call him Oliver October. Sh! -Isn’t that somebody on the porch, Joe? Doc Robinson, -like as not. Go to the door, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the wind,” said Mr. Sikes. Nevertheless he went -over and looked out of the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another silence, broken at last by Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s got the finest head you ever saw,” said he, with -a beatific expression on his face. “Got a head like a -statesman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that is good news,” said the Reverend Sage, -jovially. “We’re sadly in need of statesmen these days, -Brother Baxter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Statesmen, your granny,” exploded Mr. Gooch, now -thoroughly out of patience. “That’s the trouble with this -country. It’s being run entirely by statesmen. That’s -what I’ve been saying since March ’89. What we need -is a good, sound business man in the White House. -President Harrison is a fine lawyer, but if ever we needed -a good Democrat back in the presidential chair it’s now. -Get rid of the statesmen. That’s my motto. They’ve -been—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch touched his arm and whispered in his ear: -“You mean politicians, Horace—politicians, <span class='it'>not</span> statesmen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch was flabbergasted. “Consarn it, I’m always -getting those two words mixed,” he snarled. “But -anyhow, this country made the blamedest fool mistake -on earth when it turned Grover Cleveland out and put -these blood-sucking Republicans back in power.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Mr. Link, witheringly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A heated political argument ensued, Mr. Gooch holding -out against the Messrs. Link and Sikes, both of whom -were what he finally succeeded in characterizing as -“black Republicans.” He also charged them with waving -the “bloody shirt,” and in return heard his party classified -as “out and out copperheads.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through it all, the anxious parent of Oliver October -sat staring at the bright red isinglass in the stove door, -oblivious to the storm of words that raged about him. -Mrs. Sage, seated close beside him, finally reached out -and took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it sympathetically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you worry,” she said gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked up, and a slow smile settled upon his homely -features.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to see his feet,” he murmured. “Little -bits of things about that long. Cutest feet you ever saw.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll bet they are,” said she warmly, and he was happier -than he had been in hours.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='36' id='Page_36'></span><h1>CHAPTER III</h1></div> - -<h3>WOMEN IN RED SHAWLS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The Reverend Sage, withdrawing his hallowed cloth -from contact with even baser politics, had moved -over to one of the windows, and was gazing out -between the curtains across the gale-swept porch into the -blackness beyond. Through the window-light the fine -snow swirled in shadowy clouds, like an ever-moving -screen beyond which lay mystery. He shivered a little, -poor chap, at the thought of going out again into the bitter, -unbelievable night—at the thought of his cold little -home at the farther end of the village where the drifts -were high and the wind blew fiercely over the treeless, unsheltered -tract known as Sharp’s Field. He was thinking, -too, of the girl he had brought down with him as a -bride in the sunny days of June, when all the land was -green and the air was soft and warm and there was the -tang of fresh earth and the scent of flowers for grateful -nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was thinking of her and the mile walk she would -have to take with him into the very teeth of the buffeting -gale when this visit was over. He sighed. She had come -to this wretched little town from a great city where there -were horse-cars and cable-trains and hacks without number; -where houses and flats were warm and snug; where -the shrieking storms from off the lake were defied by -staunch brick walls; where the nights were short and the -days were told by hours; where there were lights and -life, restaurants and theaters, music and dancing. He -thought of the cheap but respectable boarding-house on -the cross-street just off Lincoln Park and the warm little -room on the third floor where he had lived and studied -for two full years. It was in this house that he had met -Josephine Judge. She was the daughter of the kindly -widow who conducted the boarding-house—a tall, slim -girl who used slang and was gay and blithesome, and had -ambitions!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ambitions? She wanted to become an actress. She -was stage-struck. It was quite wonderful, the way she -could mimic people, and “recite,” and sing the sprightly -songs from “Pinafore,” “La Mascotte,” “Fra Diavolo,” -“Fatinitza,” “The Bohemian Girl,” and could quote with -real unction the choicest lines of “Rosalind,” “Viola,” -“Juliet” and other rare young women of a flowery age. -And she had made him and all the rest of the boarders -laugh when she “took off” Pat Rooney, Joe Murphy, the -Kernells, Gus Williams, “Oofty Gooft” and the immortal -“Colonel Mulberry Sellers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was not a theatre-going youth. He had been -brought up with an abhorrence for the stage and all its -iniquities. So he devoted himself, heart and soul, to the -saving of the misguided maiden, with astonishing results. -They fell in love with each other and were married. He -often smiled—and he smiled even now as he gazed pensively -out into the night—when he recalled the alternative -she proposed and continued to defend up to within -a day or two of the wedding. She wanted him to give up -the pulpit and go on the stage with her! She argued -that he was so good-looking and had such a wonderful -voice, that nothing—absolutely nothing!—could keep -him from becoming one of the most popular “leading -men” in the profession. She went so far as to declare -that he would make a much better actor than a preacher -anyhow—and, besides, the stage needed clean, upright -young men quite as badly as the church needed them!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now she was down here in this desolate little town, -loyally doing her best to be all that a country parson’s -wife should be, working for him, loving him,—and, if the -truth must be told—surreptitiously delighting him with -frequent backslidings to Pat and Joe and Gus, including -occasional terpsichorean extravagances that would have -got her “churched” if any one else had witnessed them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was always wondering what the people of Rumley -thought of her. He knew, alas, what she thought of the -people of Rumley. His heart swelled a little as he -glanced over his shoulder and saw her patting the hand -of the distracted Baxter. She was his Josephine, and she -was a warm-hearted, beautiful creature who was bound -to be misunderstood by these—He was conscious of a -sudden, unchristian-like hardening of his jaws, and was -instantly ashamed of the hot little spasm of resentment -that caused it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The political adversaries were now shouting at each -other with all the ridiculous intensity of mid-campaign -lunatics, and there was a great deal of finger-shaking and -pounding of clenched fists upon open palms. Young Mr. -Sage cringed as he turned his face to the window again, -and if he had given utterance to his feelings he would -have petrified the arguers by roaring:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, shut up, you jackasses!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He drew back with an exclamation. The light fell full -upon a face close to the window pane, a face so startling -and so vivid that it did not appear to be real. A pair of -dark, gleaming eyes met his for a few seconds; then -swiftly the face was withdrawn, retreating mysteriously -into the shadowy wall beyond the circle of light. He -leaned forward and peered intently. Two indistinct figures -took shape in the unrelieved darkness at the corner -of the porch—two women, he made out, huddled close -together, their faces barely discernible through the swirling -veil of snow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He experienced a queer little sensation of alarm, a -foreboding of evil. The face—that of a person he had -never seen before, some one strange to Rumley—was -swarthy and as clean-cut as if fashioned with a chisel. -It was framed in scarlet—a bright scarlet speckled with -vanishing blotches of white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned quickly and spoke to Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are two women out on the porch, Joseph. -Strangers. Perhaps you’d better see what they want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—and if Tilden <span class='it'>was</span> elected, why in thunder did the -majority of the voters of this here United States allow -the Republicans to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—and what’s more, if Hayes wasn’t honestly elected, -why did the people turn in and elect a Republican, James -A. Garfield, in 1880? That’s proof enough for me—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—Tilden had nearly half a million more votes -than—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—And if the niggers had been allowed to vote in the -South—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, cheese it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now this undignified exclamation was not uttered by -either of the arguers; nevertheless it terminated the discussion -so abruptly that for a moment or two it seemed -that all three had suffered a simultaneous stroke of paralysis. -They turned to confront and to stare open-mouthed -at the wife of the minister, who had risen and -was facing them with blazing eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The horrified Mrs. Gooch, who had preserved a tremulous -neutrality throughout the windy discussion, believed—and -continued to believe to her dying day—that the -brazen, overdressed young woman took the name of the -Savior in vain when she gave vent to that astonishing -command. (In witness whereof it is only necessary to -record the declaration she made to her husband, sotto -voce, a little later on: “Horace, if I live to be a thousand -years old I’ll never get over the way that woman spoke -the Christian name of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was -positively outrageous.”)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Mrs. Sage, having thus impulsively reverted to -slang, proceeded to amplify its effectiveness. She went -on:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give us a rest, can’t you? Go chase yourselves! -Where do you think you are? In a beer saloon? If you -want to shoot off your mouths about—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My <span class='it'>dear</span> Josephine!” cried Mr. Sage, screwing up his -face as if in pain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Lord!” she breathed, staring bleakly at her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A close observer might have noted the sudden quivering -of her lower lip, instantly lost, however, in the -shamed and penitent smile that wiped away every trace -of the irritation aroused by the argument. “There I go -again! Backsliding almost to Grand Crossing. In another -minute I would have been in Chicago. Good thing -you stopped me, Herbert. And I sha’n’t in the least mind -if you give me a good thrashing when you get me home. -It’s the only way to break me of—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go for ’em—go for ’em, Mrs. Sage,” cried Mr. Baxter. -“Give ’em hell! They ain’t got any right to whoop -and yell like that in this house. They’ll wake the baby—if -it ain’t dead—and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’d wake it if it <span class='it'>was</span> dead,” said Mrs. Grimes, -coming from the kitchen at that moment with a steaming -pail in her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind, Josephine,” said Mr. Sage gently. “I -am sure our good friends will overlook—oh, by the by, -Joseph, there are two strange women on the porch. Perhaps -you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go see who it is, Joe,” commanded Mrs. Grimes -crisply. “You come upstairs now, Oliver, and put your -feet in this pail of mustard and water. Come on, now. -Say good night to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, doggone it, I don’t want to go upstairs. I don’t -want to put my feet in—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you want that boy of yours to be an orphan before -he’s hardly had his eyes open?” demanded Mrs. -Grimes, severely. “Well, that’s what he’ll be if you -catch lung fever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better do what Serepty says, Ollie,” advised Mr. -Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right, Ollie,” added Mr. Sikes. “You go on -upstairs. I’ll say good night to everybody for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You go and see who’s out there on the porch, Joe -Sikes. Don’t let any strangers in, do you hear? Oh, -yes, Mr. Sage, I almost forgot. I fixed up a nice gargle -for you—salt and pepper and hot vinegar. It’s on the -kitchen table. There’s a strip of bacon laying there too. -I’ll bring down one of Mr. Baxter’s wool socks to tie -around—For goodness’ sake, Joe Sikes, shut that door -before you open the front door. Do you want to freeze -us all to death?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wonderful manager, ain’t she?” confided Mr. Link -in an aside to the minister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see no reason why I should gargle a perfectly well -throat and tie a sock of Brother Baxter’s—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d better do it,” broke in the other hastily. “She -knows what’s best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I tell you I’m not going upstairs, Serepty. I got a -right to set here and receive congratulations, and I’m -going to do it. And I’m going to set ’em up to cigars—and -if anybody wants a drink of whiskey on me all they -got to do is to say so. You let me alone, Serepty. I’m -all right. You go up and see if everything’s all right with -Mary and Oliver October. I’m going to set right here -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll put this mustard bath in the spare room, Oliver,” -interrupted Mrs. Grimes sternly. “It will be ready for -you when you come up—before long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch whispered to her glowering husband: “I -don’t see anything about her to be afraid of. Why, she -ain’t much bigger than a minute, is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tall Mr. Gooch eyed little Mrs. Grimes dubiously. “I -don’t know,” said he in reply. “They say Napoleon was -a little feller.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I spill the beans all over the shop, Herby dear?” -murmured the guilty Mrs. Sage, looking up at her husband -much as a culprit looks up at his judge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do wish, Josephine, you would be a <span class='it'>little</span> more careful -what you say,” said he, lowering his voice as he bent -over her. “Please try to remember your—our position -here. It is—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His mild admonition was interrupted by the abrupt return -of Joseph Sikes, who, in his excitement, neglected -to close not only the sitting-room door but the one opening -on to the porch. Mrs. Gooch, as if jumping at the -opportunity, sneezed violently and transfixed him with -an accusing look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Ollie,” burst out Mr. Sikes, “there’s a couple of -women out here from that gypsy camp. They claim to -be fortune-tellers. What’ll I do about ’em?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fortune-tellers?” cried Mrs. Sage eagerly. “I adore -fortune-tellers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Frauds, my dear—unholy frauds,” remonstrated Mr. -Sage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do they want, Joe?” inquired Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, one of ’em wants to tell the baby’s fortune. -Says she heard about him a couple of weeks ago and she’s -been talking to the stars ever—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good gracious! That proves what a liar she is,” cried -Mrs. Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Mr. Sikes. “Hold your -horses, Serepty. She says she knowed a couple of weeks -ago that he was going to be born to-day, that’s what she -says. And if that ain’t reading the future, I’d like to -know what it is. Now here’s what she says she can do. -She says she can tell exactly what an infant’s future life -is going to be if she can get at him before his first two -sunrises. Guarantees it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m not going to allow any gypsy woman to go -nigh that infant. I never saw a gypsy in my life that -looked as if she’d ever seen a cake of soap. Send ’em -away, Joe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Serepty,” argued Sikes, “don’t you know what -might happen if we make ’em mad? They put a curse -on you that won’t ever come off. Now, I don’t think we -ought to take a chance—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They sha’n’t go near that baby, so that settles it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I should say not,” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch -loudly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute,” said Sikes, struck by an idea. He -hurried to the front door. As he passed into the hall, -Horace Gooch strode over and slammed the sitting-room -door after him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Serepty,” began Mr. Baxter, a pleading note in -his voice, “I’d kind of like to know whether my son is -going to be President of the United States some day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How would you like it if she was to tell you he’s -going to turn out to be a jail-bird or something like that, -Oliver Baxter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, but they never tell you anything unpleasant, you -know,” said Mrs. Sage, nudging Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Josephine, please do not—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once more Mr. Sikes burst into the room—and again -he left the door open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She says it ain’t necessary to even see the baby. -When they’re as young as he is, it’s always her rule to tell -their fortunes sight unseen. What’s more, she says if all -she says don’t come true she’ll refund the money. Nothing -could be fairer than that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” agreed Mr. Baxter enthusiastically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Absolutely fair,” put in Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can she tell a fortune without seeing the object -of it?” demanded Mrs. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” began Mr. Sikes, and then was forced to -scratch his head for want of a convincing answer. “Wait -a minute. I’ll see.” He hurried out again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Old Bob Hawkins that used to drive the hearse for -me had his fortune told just about two weeks after he got -married, and every word of it came true,” said Mr. Link. -“He always claimed if he’d had it told two or three weeks -sooner he might have had enough sense to skip out or -something.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is all poppycock,” announced Mr. Sage. “The -veriest poppycock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had mine told,” said his wife, “when I was nineteen. -It said I was going to marry a dark-complexioned -man and go on a long journey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there you are,” said Mr. Baxter triumphantly. -“The Reverend Sage is a brunette and it’s considerably -over a hundred miles from Chicago to Rumley. There’s -something in it, Serepty. Here’s proof that can’t be denied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s all as simple as falling off a log,” announced Mr. -Sikes, from the door. “She says the only reliable and -genuine way to tell a baby’s fortune is by reading its -father’s hand. That’s the way it’s been done ever since—er—astronomy -was invented.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter arose. “Bring her in, Joe. Now, don’t -kick, Serepty. My mind’s made up. I’m going to have -my way for once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like as not she’ll tell you bad news, Oliver,” protested -his sister. “I wish you wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anyhow,” said Mr. Gooch surlily, “it’s a good way to -get the door closed.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='46' id='Page_46'></span><h1>CHAPTER IV</h1></div> - -<h3>HIS FORTUNE—GOOD AND BAD</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes, taking no chance on having Baxter’s -order vetoed by Serepta, rushed from the room. -A moment later he returned, followed by two -shivering women who stopped just inside the door and -apologetically smirked upon the waiting group. One of -them, evidently the leader, was a woman of middle-age—swarthy, -keen-eyed, sardonic of expression. A thick red -shawl covered her hair, drawn close under the chin by a -brown, claw-like hand. She wore a man’s overcoat; the -tips of a pair of heavy boots peeped out from beneath the -bottom of her dirty yellow petticoat. Her companion, -much younger and quite handsome in a bold, sullen way, -also wore a scarlet shawl about her head; she was dressed -very much after the pattern of her senior.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here we are,” announced Mr. Sikes, with a wave of -his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shut the door,” ordered Mrs. Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The host, with a nervous sort of geniality, beckoned -to the strangers. “Better come down to the fire, Queen,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They did not move. The elder woman fixed a curious -look upon Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am the queen of the gypsies, Mister, but how came -you to know it?” she asked in a hoarse, not unmusical -voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Always best to be on the safe side,” said Baxter, with -his jolliest laugh. “There are so blamed many gypsy -queens running around loose these days that—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsy silenced him with an imperious gesture. -“There is but one true queen of the gypsies. I am the -true queen of all the Romanies. And you, Mister, are -the father of a noble, handsome son—a prince.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, by gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Link in astonishment. -“That does beat all!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t tell me there’s nothing in fortune-telling,” said -Mr. Baxter, cackling again. “Come up by the fire, -Queen. Warm yourself. And you too, Miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two women, after a glance at each other, slowly -advanced to the stove and held out their hands to the -warmth. The younger of the two fastened her gaze upon -Mrs. Sage. A covetous light gleamed in her black eyes -as she took in the fur coat and the wondrous hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bring in a couple of chairs from the kitchen, Joe,” -ordered the host. “Set down, everybody. Put on a little -more coal, will you, Horace? How did you know -about me, Queen?” He seemed to expand a little with -his own rather vicarious importance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsy waited impressively until the chairs were -produced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The stars brought me the news,” she said, and sat -down, signaling her companion that it was now permissible -for her to do the same. “They make no mistakes. I -am the chosen mouthpiece of the stars. I speak only of -the things they tell me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Umph!” from Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two women looked at him so piercingly that he -turned away, conscious of a most uncomfortable feeling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The stars, Mister, witnessed the birth of your son a -hundred thousand years ago—his birth and also his -death,” said the “queen,” satisfied with the squelching of -the scoffer. “They also looked down upon your own -deathbed, Mister, a hundred thousand years ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was an awed silence while the company sought -mentally for a solution to this tremendous and incomprehensible -enigma.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here, Ollie,” said Mr. Link, blatantly jocular; -“if you’ve been dead as long as all that you ought to be -buried. You stop in at my office in the morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This remark properly was ignored by the gypsy queen. -She paid no attention to the strained laugh that followed -the undertaker’s sally. She sat hunched forward in the -chair, her chin in her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The stars travel through space at the rate of a million -miles a minute,” she said oracularly. “How long, -Mister, would it take mortal man to travel a million -miles?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The question, addressed abruptly to Mr. Baxter, found -him at a loss for an answer. All he could do was to shake -his head helplessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see it is beyond you,” she went on. “So fast travel -the stars that in one day, such as ours, they have put -behind them a hundred thousand of the tiny things we -call years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No one present was prepared to dispute the statement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even as I speak to you now, Mister, my words are as -ancient history to the stars. So! I lift my hand. The -stars are a thousand years older than they were before -I lifted it. Do you understand, Mister? Is it not clear -to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not very,” confessed Mr. Baxter, humbly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See. I snap my fingers. Not in scorn for your ignorance, -but to illustrate. While I was snapping my -fingers, some of the stars shot through a million miles of -space, taking thousands of our years to do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mathematically—” began Mr. Sage, but got no further. -The gypsy proceeded, impressively:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have witnessed all that is to transpire on this -earth of ours during the next thousand years or two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By gosh—it sounds reasonable,” said Mr. Link. “I -never thought of it in that way before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you permit me to inquire, my good woman, what -college—what great seat of learning—you attended?” inquired -Mr. Sage ironically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“College?” she inquired, a trifle blankly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You speak the language of a cultivated woman. You -use good English. You have colossal figures on the tip -of your tongue. You—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I speak many languages,” she broke in. “The language -of the stars is older than any of them. There -were stars in the East when the Savior was born. They -were there when this world was made and peopled with -ignorant men and women. They saw from afar the birth -of your Savior a million years before he was—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Brother Baxter,” cried the parson, “this is -perfect nonsense. Have you the impudence, Madam, to -imply that we mortals are so far behind the times as all -this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know of nothing, Reverend Sir, that proves the fact -more clearly than the institution you represent,” said the -gypsy, with a rare smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Goodness, what beautiful teeth!” murmured Mrs. -Sage admiringly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The best I can say for you, Madam,” said Mr. Sage, -returning the smile, “is that right or wrong, honest or dishonest, -you are nobody’s fool.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can see beyond the end of my nose,” rejoined the -woman cryptically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The parson laughed. “And so, according to your gospel, -I am now treading the streets of the Celestial City, -and have been doing so for a million years without knowing -it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the utmost seriousness the gypsy replied: “If you -will cross my palm with a piece of silver, good Pastor, I -may be able to state positively whether you are there—or -in the other place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The parson’s wife clapped her hands. “Give her a -quarter, Herbert,” she cried, mischievously. “It certainly -is worth that much to find out whether we’re wasting our -youth trying to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ahem! My dear Josephine! In the first place, I -do not have to be told that I am going to heaven when I -die. I live in faith. I have no doubt as to the future.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this point Mr. Baxter’s interest in the project got -the better of his politeness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re wasting time. Let’s get down to business. Do -you mean to say, Queen, that you can look at my hand -and tell what’s ahead of my boy upstairs?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“First, you must cross my palm with silver. It is a -bitter night, Mister. I have come far through the storm -to serve you. You are poor, but so am I. I have earned -more than one piece of silver, but I will be content with -what you may give.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe I’ll take a chance on it,” said Baxter, with -a defiant glance at Mrs. Grimes and the supercilious -Gooches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes was deeply though secretly impressed by -the words and manner of the gypsy. She nodded her -head and Baxter brightened. Mr. Gooch, however, exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be a fool, Baxter. Money don’t grow on -bushes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Mrs. Sage jumped up from her chair. “I’ve -got an idea,” she cried briskly. “Suppose we all chip in -a silver piece toward the fortune of Oliver October. It’s -his birthday, so let’s start him off right. You pass the -hat, Mr. Sikes. Chip in for me, Herbert. I left my -purse on the piano.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t know you had a piano,” said Mrs. Grimes, -pricking up her ears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Figure of speech,” said Mrs. Sage, airily. “If I had -a piano I would have left my purse upon it if I had a -purse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a jingling of small coins in several pockets. -The swarthy faces of the two gypsies brightened. Horace -Gooch glanced at his big watch—a silver one—and said -sharply:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t I tell you to get your things on, Ida? We’ve -got a long, cold drive ahead of us.” Then, somewhat defiantly: -“Besides, I haven’t got anything smaller than a -silver dollar. No baby’s fortune is worth a dollar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess the queen can change a dollar for you, Mr. -Gooch,” said Mrs. Grimes. “Joe, if you have a spare -quarter, put it in for me. I’ll hand it back to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sikes picked up the parson’s stove-pipe hat and, fishing -some coins out of his pocket, dropped two of them -into the hollow depths of the “tile.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s for me and Serepty. Come on, Silas. Shell -out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Link flipped a coin into the hat. “There’s a quarter. -Now you can change that dollar for—er—for Ollie’s -brother-in-law.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“After all, it is a harmless experiment,” announced -Mr. Sage, but dubiously, “and it may prove diverting. -In any case, my dear, we will not miss the—er—the—the -thirty-five cents.” As he dropped the coins into the hat, -he leaned over and whispered in her ear: “There goes the -jar of cold cream you were wanting, my dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver October’s parent was embarrassed. “It ain’t -right for you folks to be squandering all this money on -account of little Oliver October. You can’t afford it. -’Specially Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that?” snapped Mr. Gooch, reddening. “What -do you think I am? A pauper?” With that he tossed a -silver dollar into the hat. “That’s the kind of a sport I -am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Horace!” cried his wife, starting. “That was a -dollar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know it was. Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—nothing. Only—only you acted as if it was a -dime.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How much you got, Joe?” inquired Silas.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two-ten. Put your money back in your pocket, Ollie. -She ought to tell all our fortunes for two-ten.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Baxter, ignoring him, dropped a dollar into the hat, -an act of vanity which drew from Mrs. Grimes a little -squeak of dismay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Goodness, Oliver Baxter! The child’s got to have -clothes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you know it has to have clothes?” demanded -Baxter. “Wait till the queen gets through telling what’s -going to happen to him before you go to prophesying on -your own account.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish I’d put you to bed when I started to awhile -ago,” was her retort.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch, who had been a silent and disapproving -witness to all this prodigality, piped up: “I was fool -enough to have my fortune told at the county fair once. -By a trained canary bird. For ten cents only.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You never told me about it, Ida,” said Mr. Gooch -sourly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sikes turned the money over to Baxter. “Cross her -palm with it, Ollie,” said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What guarantee is there that we get our money’s -worth?” demanded Mr. Gooch, crinkling his eyes a little -as he listened to the jingle of the coins which Baxter -shifted noisily from one hand to the other while Sikes -was arranging the chairs in a semi-circle about the central -figures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “queen” looked hard at the speaker. “We all -come into the world by chance, Mister,” she said. “We -exist by chance and we are destroyed by chance. The -child’s future depends on chance. I can give no guarantee. -Who shall say whether I speak truly or falsely until -time has given its testimony?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A remarkably clever woman,” murmured Mr. Sage, -as he seated himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d hate to hear any bad news about little Oliver -October,” said Baxter anxiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must accept the bad with the good, Mister. Our -fortunes run over a road of many turnings, through many -snares and pitfalls. Fate directs us. Each of us has a -guiding star. We travel by the light it sheds. Your -baby was born under his own star. His fate is known to -that star.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold out your hand. I’ll say in advance that I don’t -believe in fortune-telling, so if you tell me anything bad -it won’t make any difference. Before you begin, I guess -I’ll run upstairs and see if he is still all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You stay away from that baby, Oliver Baxter,” exclaimed -Mrs. Grimes. “Like as not these gypsies carry -all sorts of awful diseases around with ’em. Sit down, I -say. I won’t have any strangers busting in and frightening -that child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great Scott, Serepty! You don’t call <span class='it'>me</span> a stranger, -do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He don’t know you from Adam,” was the stern reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Or Eve, for that matter,” added Mrs. Sage, with a -snicker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do wish, Josephine, you would remember—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh! She’s ready to begin,” interrupted Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The company drew their chairs closer as the coins were -dropped one by one into the gypsy’s palm. She deliberately -drew up her thick skirt and slipped them into a -pocket of her petticoat. Then she seized one of Baxter’s -hands in her own and fixed him with her brilliant, searching -eyes. Silence pervaded the room. Every eye was on -the dark, impassive face of the fortune-teller. Presently, -after a few strange passes with her free hand, she lowered -her eyes and began to study the creases in the Baxter -palm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A particularly violent blast of wind roared and whistled -about the corners of the house, rattling the windows -in their frames and peppering the panes with a fusillade -of sleet. The younger gypsy drew her shawl closer -about her chin and slunk a little deeper into the chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A tough night on horses,” said Mr. Link, and then -cleared his throat hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe you’d sooner be alone, Ollie,” said Mr. Sikes, -considerately.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t be left alone with her for anything, Joe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsy began, in a deep, monotonous, rather awesome -tone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see a wonderful child. He is strong and sturdy. In -the hand of his father the stars have laid their prophecy. -It is very clear. This babe will grow up to be a fine—Ah, -wait! Yes, a very remarkable man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another long silence, broken sacrilegiously by Mr. -Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could have told you that, Ollie, for nothing,” he -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can see this son of yours, Mister, as a leader of men. -Great honor is in store for him, and great wealth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They invariably say that,” said Mr. Sage, smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh!” hissed Baxter fiercely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is in uniform. Of the military, I believe, although -the vision is not yet entirely clear. I do not recognize -the uniform.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you ever seen a general?” inquired Mr. Baxter, -wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link interposed. “I know what it is. Many’s the -time that infant’s father has marched in a funeral procession -wearing a Knights of Pythias uniform. Does the -hat appear to have a long white plume on it, Queen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There will be wars, Mister, bloody wars,” went on -the gypsy, paying not the slightest attention to the obliging -undertaker. “I see men in uniform following your -son—many men, Mister, and all of them armed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sounds like the police to me,” observed Mrs. Sage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do they catch him?” cried Mrs. Grimes breathlessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He puts away the trappings of war,” continued the -imperturbable seeress. “I see him as a successful man, -at the head of great undertakings. He is still young. -He has been out of college but a few years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That will please his mother,” said Baxter, sniffling. -“She has always wanted that boy to go to college.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh!” put in Mr. Sikes testily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Alas! He will have a great sorrow before he is ten. -I can see death standing beside him. He will lose some -one who is very dear to him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aha!” ejaculated Mr. Gooch, as if here was something -to relish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter laughed shrilly but mirthlessly. “Look -close, Queen,” he said. “I bet it’s me he’s going to lose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay. Some one nearer to him than his father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stop!” said he soberly, trying to withdraw his hand. -“I don’t want to hear any more. If you mean his—his -mother, why, you’ll have to stop.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some coaxing and a little ridicule on the part of the -spectators decided Baxter. He laughed and, edging forward -on his chair, ordered the gypsy to continue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me go back a little,” she droned. “The vision is -clearer. He will come out of college at the top of his -class, with great honors. Then, soon after, will come the -wars. He will fight in foreign lands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That bears out what I’ve claimed for years,” said -Mr. Link. “We’ve got to lick England again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your son will have many narrow escapes, Mister, but -he will come home to his mother, safe and sound.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought you said she was going to die before he was -ten,” said Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Covert glances passed between the two gypsies, the -younger now being wide awake. The fortune-teller bent -low over the Baxter palm and studied it more carefully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I seem to see a strange woman,” she muttered. -“Perhaps it is his step-mother. It is possible that you -will marry again, Mister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re off your base there, Queen,” said Mr. Baxter -firmly. “It <span class='it'>ain’t</span> possible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is all humbug, Brother Baxter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A great deal more is being revealed to me by the -light of the star, Mister,” urged the gypsy, now eager to -give good measure. “Shall I go on?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“After what you said about me being likely to get married -again, all I got to say is that I don’t believe a derned -word of anything you’ve told me. That boy’s never going -to have a step-mother unless he has a step-father -first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You feel the same way about step-mothers that I do -about brother-in-laws,” put in Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go on, Queen,” commanded Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see a great white house and a building with a huge -dome upon it. Your son will sit in the halls of state, -in the councils of his land. Ah, the vision grows dim -again. It may mean that he will decline the greatest -honor the people of this land could confer upon him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear,” gulped Mrs. Grimes. “You don’t mean to -say he will refuse to be President?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s more likely he’ll be running on the Republican -ticket,” said Mr. Gooch, grinning at Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh! How old is little Oliver by this time, Queen?” -inquired Baxter. “I mean how far have you got him -by now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is nearing thirty. Rich, respected and admired. -He will have many affairs of the heart. I see two dark -women and—one, two—yes, three fair women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sage sighed. “At last it begins to look like real -trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That would seem to show that he’s going to be a -purty good-looking sort of a feller, wouldn’t it?” said -Baxter, proudly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He will grow up to be the image of his father, -Mister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now she’s telling you the unpleasant things you were -dreading, Oliver,” said Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsy leaned back in her chair, spreading her -hands in a gesture of finality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see no more,” she said. “The light of the star has -faded out. So! Are you not pleased?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that all? Well, all I got to say is that you got -a good deal of money for telling me something that I’ve -been dreaming about for I don’t know how long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gooch sniffed. “She’s just like all the rest of -these thieving gypsies. They’re all frauds and liars. -Telling fortunes and stealing children is all they know -how to do. If I had my way, they’d all be locked up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two gypsies leaned forward, their hands close to -the stove, their heads almost touching. There was nothing -in their actions or manner to indicate that they heard -the foregoing remarks. Nevertheless, they scowled unseen -and there was evil in their black eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anybody could have told you all that she did, -Oliver,” complained Mrs. Grimes, “but that wouldn’t -make it true, would it? Three dollars and ten cents for -all that rubbish!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And they’ll be robbing your hen roost before morning, -Baxter,” said Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” mused Baxter, “the only really unpleasant -thing that’s going to happen to Oliver October, far as I -can make out, is that he’s going to look exactly like me. -That <span class='it'>is</span> purty rough, ain’t it, Mrs. Sage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At any rate,” said she, “he will have the satisfaction -of being unmistakably recognized as a wise son.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsies were preparing to depart. Their shifty -eyes wandered over the heads of the company, taking -in the meager contents of the room. There was a pleased -leer on the lips of the younger of the two. Mr. Baxter -arose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Taking it by and large, Queen,” he said, “I guess you -took us all in purty neatly. I ain’t blaming you. It’s -your business to pick out the easiest kind of fools and -then soak it to ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “queen” drew herself erect and gave him a look -that would have done credit to the most regal personage -in the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you offer insult to the queen of the gypsies?” -she demanded coldly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It ain’t insulting you, is it, to call ourselves fools?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For answer, outraged royalty reached into her pocket -and drew out the silver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could throw your accursed silver into your face,” -she almost shouted. As she drew back her arm as if to -carry out the threat, her wrist was seized by her companion, -who whispered fiercely in her ear. “No, no!” the -“queen” answered, “I will not do as you say, Magda. I -will not be cruel. Let the fool be happy while he may. -I have been kind to him. He jeers at me because I have -stopped when I might have gone on and told him the -dreadful things—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him!” cried the other. “Tell him everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Open the door, Joe!” commanded Baxter. “Get out, -both of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “queen” turned on him furiously. “Stay! I am -about to tell you all that I saw in the hand of that baby’s -father.” Her eyes were hard and cruel, her voice raised -in anger. “You scoff at me. For that you shall have -the truth. All that I have told you will come true. But -I did not tell you of the end that I saw for him. Hark -ye! This son of yours will go to the gallows. He will -swing from the end of a rope.” She was now speaking -in a high shrill voice; her hearers sat open-mouthed, as -if under a spell that could not be shaken off. “It is all -as plain as the noonday sun. He will never reach the -age of thirty. All good fortune will desert him in the -last year of his life. The very first vision I had when -I took your hand was the sight of a young man swinging -in the air with a rope around his neck. A solemn group -of men look on. They watch him swing to and fro. He -jerks and writhes and then at last is still. That is all. -That is the end. I have spoken the truth. You forced -me to do so. I go. Come, Magda!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were nearing the door before the silence caused -by this staggering revelation was shattered by Mr. -Sikes, who was the first to recover from the momentary -paralysis that had gripped the entire company. The -burly feed store proprietor, superstitious but far from -sentimental, sprang forward and intercepted the two -women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold on, there! I don’t believe a damn’ word of it—and -neither does Mr. Baxter, no matter if he does look -white about the gills. You’re sore, and you’re saying all -this for spite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The queen lifted her chin haughtily. “You will see,” -she proclaimed. “Wait till the end of his twenty-ninth -year before you say it is spite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say,” broke in Mr. Link shrewdly, “he’s got to -commit murder before they can hang him, ain’t he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have not said that he would be a murderer,” was -the reply, but not until after she had taken the time to -deliberately button her coat and readjust her headgear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you not say you saw him swinging to and fro -at the end of a rope?” demanded Silas, accusingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—I—I—that is what I said,” she stammered, and -sent a malevolent, challenging look at the smiling churchman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The woman is a fraud,” said the latter, shrugging -his shoulders. “Cheer up, Brother Baxter. No such -fate awaits your son.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what I was about to say,” went on Mr. Link, -“is this. All we got to do is to bring that boy up not -to commit murder. We simply got to educate him so’s -he won’t ever think of doing anything like that. Learn -him to hold his temper down. Soon as he’s old enough -to understand, we’ll begin talking to him about the—er—wages -of sin, and so forth. That’ll fix it all right, -Ollie. So don’t you believe a derned word she said to -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Mr. Baxter was not so much dismayed as he was -dejected. He stared bleakly before him. “The trouble -is,” said he, shaking his head mournfully, “there’s a lot -of it I want to believe. And if I believe any of it, I’ve -got to believe all of it. So what’s the sense of little -Oliver being one of the grandest men in the United -States if he’s got to be hung before the United States -finds it out? Here! Where are you going, Serepty? -Don’t leave me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going out to get a kettle of boiling water and -then I’m going to make that woman wish she’d stayed -out where it’s cold. The idea of that poor little innocent -baby being a bloodthirsty murderer! If you’re here -when I get back, I’ll scald you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gypsy made haste to intercept the bristling -Serepta.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He will not be guilty of the crime for which he is to -suffer,” was her sententious conclusion. “Have I not -said he would grow up to be a noble and righteous man? -He will never do evil. He will be unjustly accused of -slaying a fellow man. He will die on the gallows an -innocent victim of the law. That is all. I have spoken. -I have told you his fate as the stars have revealed it to -me. You may believe me or not, as you like. Hold! -You need not bother, Mister. Magda will open the -door.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a speechless, unsmiling group that watched the -vagabond women pass from the room. No one spoke -until the front door closed with a bang. The crunching -of snow on the porch followed, and then for a brief -space, the loud ticking of the clock on the shelf. The -sophisticated Mrs. Sage was bereft of all inclination to -banter; she was wide-eyed and solemn. Even her husband -was impressed; as for Baxter and the others one -might have been justified in suspecting that they were -already witnessing the horrible execution of the infant -Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A wild, prolonged shriek of the wind, yowling up from -the black stretches of Death Swamp, caused more than -one person in the room to shudder. The humane Mr. -Link closed his eyes but opened them immediately, and -said, with less conviction however than on former occasions:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a tough night for horses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes bethought himself to poke up the fire. He -did it with such vigor that every one was grateful to -him; the prodigious noise and clatter he was making -relieved the tension.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Baxter screwed his face up into a wry grin, but for -once forebore cackling. He drew a singularly boisterous -and unanimous laugh by remarking dryly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish we had a canary bird here, Ida, to cheer us -up a bit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep that blanket up close around your neck and -shoulders, Oliver Baxter,” ordered Serepta Grimes -briskly. “You’ll be having croup if you ain’t careful. -Mrs. Gooch, you and your husband can sleep in the -spare room to-night. Mr. Baxter will take the back -bedroom over the kitchen. It’s warmer than any other -room in the house. Good night, everybody. I’ll go up -the back way with the warm blanket for Oliver October.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With her departure, Mr. Baxter seemed suddenly to -realize that something was expected of him as host.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, everybody,” he invited, and that was the -extent of his hospitality. He lapsed into a brooding -silence, pulling feebly at the drooping ends of his mustache. -His mood was contagious. The company, one -and all, appeared to be thinking profoundly. At last the -Reverend Sage spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s nothing in it—absolutely nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sage came out of a dark reverie to inquire -blandly of Mrs. Gooch if she was intending to spend the -night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Baxter’s sister. “I’ve -had my things on and off three times.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link pondered aloud. “If little Oliver grows up -to be as wise as Solomon, as she seems to think, I’ll bet -my last cent he’ll be able to get around any law that -ever was made.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly Baxter startled them all by slapping his leg -resoundingly. His face was beaming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By ginger, I’ve thought of a way to upset that doggoned -prophecy. I’ll wait till little Oliver is purty well -grown up and then I’ll up and move to a state where they -don’t have capital punishment. Gosh! I wish I’d -thought of that before she got away. It would have -taken a lot of wind out of her sails, wouldn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch put a dampener on this. “I don’t see how -that would help any if a mob took him out of jail and -lynched him. They say lynching is getting worse all the -time in this part of the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whereupon Mr. Sikes arose and said something under -his breath, adding an instant later:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t let me hear anything about Solomon being so -dodgasted wise. Look at all the brother-in-laws he must -have taken unto himself—and with his eyes open, too.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='65' id='Page_65'></span><h1>CHAPTER V</h1></div> - -<h3>OLIVER IS FOUND TO HAVE A TEMPER</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Ten years pass. The time has come when Oliver -October Baxter is to be told what is in store for -him if he does not mend his ways. For, be it -here recorded, Oliver not only possesses a quick temper -but a surprisingly sanguinary way of making it felt. He -is a rugged, freckle-faced youngster with curly brown -hair, a pair of stout legs, and a couple of hard little fists. -It is with these hard little fists that he makes his temper -felt. Ordinarily he retires behind a barn or down into -the grove back of the school-house to settle his quarrels, -not through any sense of delicacy but because both he -and his adversary of the moment realize that if they are -caught at it the pride of victory or the gloom of defeat -would soon be forgotten in the sound thrashings administered -by teacher or parent, justice monstrously untempered -by mercy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But there came a day when Oliver’s valor got the -better of his discretion, and, sad to relate, Joseph Sikes -and Silas Link took that very day to accompany each -other to the north end of town, where, just beyond the -school-house, was situated the home of a vacillating Republican -who had made up his mind to vote the Democratic -ticket at the coming county election. They were -on their way, as a committee of two, to convince him that -he couldn’t commit a crime like that and still go on enjoying -the respect, the confidence, and to some extent, -the credit, that had been his up to that time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They arrived at the school-house just in time to witness -a fierce but bloodless fight between two panting, -clawing youngsters. It was taking place in the schoolyard, -in plain view of passers-by, and was being relished -by a score or more of pupils of both sexes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, Mr. Sikes was a man who enjoyed a good fight. -He was getting to the age where he had to think twice -and study his adversary cautiously before engaging in -one himself, for, notwithstanding his strength and his -pugnacity, he was not the man he used to be—witness: -the awful beating he sustained in his fifty-second year -at the hands of Joe Fox, the twenty-one year old shortstop -on the Rumley base ball team. It was he, therefore, who -stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and gleefully -yelled “sic-em” to the battling youngsters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link, nothing loth, turned back to join him at the -fence. The broad grins suddenly froze on their faces. -The surge of battle caused the ring of spectators to open -up a little, exposing the combatants to plain view from -the excellent vantage point held by the Messrs. Sikes and -Link. They recognized Oliver October—but never had -they seen him look like this! His chubby face was white -and set, his teeth were bared, his eyes were blazing. He -was the embodiment of fury. And he was fighting like -a demon!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gosh!” fell from the lips of Joseph Sikes, and his -cigar would have done likewise had it not been so deeply -inserted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s—it’s little Oliver!” gasped Silas Link, gripping -the top board of the fence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fi-fighting!” muttered Mr. Sikes, aghast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like a wildcat,” groaned Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, he’s a reg’lar little devil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Looks as if he’d like to kill that boy of Sam Parr’s. -We got to stop ’em, Joe—Hey, there! You boys quit -that! Hear what I say? Quit it this—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly there was a cry of “teacher,” and then a wild -scattering of spectators. The schoolmaster, Mr. Elwell, -was advancing upon the belligerents. The Parr boy, in -no fear of Oliver, was stricken by the most abject terror -in the presence of an on-rushing doom, for well he knew -the sting of Mr. Elwell’s hand when punitively applied -to the seat of his breeches whilst he reposed in ungainly -disorder across the pedagogic knee. It was the Parr -boy’s luck to be facing the teacher as he swooped down -upon them. He took advantage of that gracious bit of -luck, and, turning tail, sped swiftly away, leaving the -astonished Oliver to his fate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A firm hand fell upon the Baxter boy’s shoulder and -closed in a grip that brought a stifled yelp from the lips -of the unvanquished warrior. Then something happened -that drew a simultaneous groan of dismay from the -elderly onlookers. Oliver October, still in a state of -baffled fury and wriggling in the clutch of the common -enemy of all schoolboys, delivered a vicious kick at an -Elwell shin. So faultless was his aim that Mr. Elwell’s -grunt of pain was loud enough to be heard by timid -schoolgirls some twenty yards away—and as it was an -articulate grunt those who heard it plainly were shocked, -as good little girls ought to be. Oliver, blubbering with -rage, kicked again and again, efforts rendered futile by -the length of the teacher’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little girl of six, in a brown coat and a red tam o’ -shanter, stood near by, shrieking with terror. She alone -of all the scholars had failed to leave the field of battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two lifelong friends of the Baxter family looked -at each other. Speech was unnecessary. Their expressions -spoke plainer than words. They faced calamity—desolating -calamity. Oliver October had a temper, and -it was ungovernable! He was ferocious! He was a -regular little devil! They watched the teacher as he -yanked the struggling lad across the yard and into the -school-house, and a great dread took possession of their -souls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Said Mr. Sikes: “Don’t you think we’d better go in -there and rescue him while there’s time to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit of it,” protested Mr. Link. “Let him take -his medicine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who are you talking about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver October. Who did you think I was talking -about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Arthur Elwell, of course. That boy’s got a knife. I -gave it to him last Christmas—darn my fool soul! -Chances are he’ll stick it into Arthur—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen!” hissed Mr. Link. A series of sharp, staccato -howls in the shrill voice of a boy came from the interior -of the school-house. “That don’t sound much like Oliver -was sticking a knife into anybody, does it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the way he kicked Arthur on the shin,” began -Mr. Sikes forcibly. “Why, that boy’s got murder in his -heart, Silas. And the way he fought that Parr boy. Gee -whiz! He’s got a lot of hell in him and it’s just beginning -to break loose. I tell you, Silas, that gypsy was -right. No use trying to laugh it off. Now maybe you -and Reverend Sage will pay some attention to me. I’ve -been saying for two or three years we ought to take that -boy in hand and train him to keep—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, darn it, ain’t we been training him since he -first began to walk? Ain’t we been making him go to -Sunday-school, and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but we never told him to fight or kick his -teacher, did we?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly <span class='it'>not</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he’s doing it, ain’t he? Going to Sunday-school -ain’t helped him a damn’ bit. I said it wouldn’t. -It’s been a waste of money, that’s what it’s been.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Waste of—how do you make that out? Sunday-school’s -free, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Every Sunday for the last five years,” proceeded Mr. -Sikes, “I’ve been giving that boy a nickel to put in the -collection box—and here he is, behaving as bad as any -boy in town. I—Gee whiz! Listen to him yell! Say, -we’d ought to go in there and put a stop to that dodgasted -idiot. He’ll kill the poor boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wails indoors ceased abruptly, but, to the astonishment -of the highly exercised pair, they were taken up -almost directly under their noses. That is to say, their -attention was drawn for the first time to the little six-year-old -girl, whose heart-rending squeals were now -piercing the silence that followed the awful uproar in -which Oliver October had been taking part.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello!” cried Mr. Sikes. “What are <span class='it'>you</span> crying -about, Janie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ain’t been spanked,” supplemented Mr. Link. -He reached over the fence and put his hands under the -arms of the weeping child. Lifting her over, he held her -close to his expansive breast. She buried her face on his -shoulder and sobbed. “There, there, now,” he whispered -soothingly. “Your Uncle Silas won’t let anybody -hurt you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your Uncle Joe will just everlastingly slaughter anybody -that touches you,” added Mr. Sikes fiercely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They waited, their eyes fixed on the school-house door. -Presently they were rewarded. A small figure, with -tousled hair and a face screwed up into a mask of pain -and mortification, came slinking down the steps—a thoroughly -chastened gladiator who sniffled and was without -glory. His streaming eyes swept the yard and took in -the staring group of pupils clustered at the upper corner; -and then the two “Uncles” at the fence. He stopped -short in his tracks—but only for an instant. His degradation -was complete. With an explosive sob, wrenched -from his very soul, he whirled and darted around the -corner of the building and disappeared from view.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link, bearing the sobbing Jane in his arms, turned -and started back in the direction from which he had -come, his companion trailing close behind. They had -changed their minds about seeing the recalcitrant Republican. -As they strode swiftly away they heard the stern -voice of the schoolmaster calling out:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is Sammy Parr?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Sammy was far, far away, streaking it for home; -a chorus of treble voices answered for him:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He ain’t here, teacher.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, the incident just related may appear to be of -very small consequence as viewed from the standpoint -of the disinterested spectator—who, it so happens, must -be the reader of this narrative. As a matter of fact, it -has a great deal to do with the history of Oliver October -Baxter. It was that gallant afternoon’s engagement between -the supposedly pacific Oliver and his bosom friend, -Sammy Parr, that aroused the town as nothing else had -stirred it in years. Certainly nothing had stirred it in -quite the same way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For nearly ten years every adult citizen of Rumley -had looked upon Oliver October as a sort of public liability. -Within twenty-four hours after it was uttered on -that fierce October night, the sinister prophecy of the -gypsy queen was known from one end of the town to -the other, and while many scoffed and made light of it, -not one was there among them who felt confident that -Oliver would be absolutely safe until he had passed his -thirtieth birthday. And now, after ten years of complacent -trust in Oliver October, the town was to discover -that he had an outlandish temper and a decided inclination -to commit murder—in a small way, to be sure, but -none the less instinctive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If Oliver and Sammy had retired—as was the custom—to -some secluded battlefield, no doubt the crisis would -have been delayed. But inasmuch as Sammy had taken -it into his head to torment little Jane Sage in so public -a place as the playground it was only natural that her -champion should offer battle on the spot. Moreover, he -scorned Sammy’s invitation to “come on down back of -the warehouse,” and likewise was indifferent to the warnings -of peacemakers who urged them not to fight until -they were safely out of all danger of being interfered -with by the teacher. It is probable—aye, more than -that, it is absolutely certain—that young Oliver wished -to “lick” the offender in the presence of the offended, -and that would have been quite out of the question had -they repaired to some familiar jousting-ground. At any -rate, he valiantly pitched into Sammy and was getting -the better of him under the very eyes of his “ladye faire” -when the not unexpected catastrophe occurred.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Juvenile Rumley knew him far better than its seniors. -It had seen him fight on more than one occasion—which -was more than grown-up Rumley had seen or even suspected—but -so loyal is youth that not a word of his or -any other boy’s fistic exploits ever reached the ears of -the blissfully ignorant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Messrs. Sikes and Link, having abandoned their -original mission, were bent upon a new one. They were -filled with a deep concern, and spoke but few words to -each other in the course of the half-mile walk to the -home of the Reverend Herbert Sage. Their reticence -may have been due to the presence of little Jane Sage, -who walked between them; or, it may have been due to -the seriousness of their reflections. The statement that -Jane walked between them is not an accurate one. It is -true that Mr. Sikes held one of her hands while Mr. -Link held the other, but her legs were short and theirs -were long, and so there were times when her feet failed -to touch the ground at all, or, in touching it, were sadly -without sustained purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Shortly before seven o’clock that evening, Oliver October, -fearing the worst, remarked three well-known -figures coming up the path to the Baxter house. He had -just finished his supper and was on the point of departing -for the home of Sammy Parr down the road for a -few minutes’ play before darkness fell. Seeing the three -visitors and sensing the nature of their descent upon the -home of his father, he stole out the back way, and, even -as a dog retreats with his tail between his legs, made -tracks toward the barn and its friendly hayloft. Something -told him that Sammy’s parents already had received -a call from the dread Committee of Three and perhaps -were even now making it hot for Sammy—in which case -that bosom friend of his would be in no mood for play.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Oliver October?” inquired Mr. Sikes of Mr. -Baxter, who opened the door to admit his callers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter is scrawnier than he was at forty-five, -which is saying something that challenges the credulity. -He is still strong, and active, and wiry, but he is a thing -of knobs and joints and wrinkles. The passing years -seem deliberately to have neglected the rest of his person -in a shameless endeavor to develop for him a prize -Adam’s apple; it has become quite a fascinating though -bewildering product, scarce what you would call an -adornment and yet not without its own peculiar charm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a shifting, unstable hump that appears to have -no definite place of lodgment; no sooner does it settle -into a momentary state of repose than something comes -up—or down—to disturb its serenity and, in a charmed -sort of way, you watch it resume its spasmodic titillations. -It grips you. You can’t help wondering what it -is going to do next. And as it happens to be placed in -the scrawniest part of Mr. Baxter’s person—his neck—it -is always visible. He makes a practice of removing -his collar the instant he reaches home of an evening, a -provision that affords great relief not only to himself but -also to the vagrant protuberance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Which accounts for his being quite collarless when he -faced his three visitors. He blinked at them uneasily, -for their faces were long and joyless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was here a minute ago,” he replied. “Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Before we proceed any farther, Brother Baxter,” announced -the Reverend Sage, “I wish to state that I do -not agree with our friends here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You never do agree with us,” said Mr. Link, but -without a trace of resentment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t go quite so far as that if I were you, -Silas,” protested the minister affably. “It is only in the -case of Oliver October that I disagree with you. We -heartily agree on almost everything else, I am sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the time has come when we got to agree about -Oliver October,” declared Mr. Sikes dictatorially. “I -said it would come, and here it is. I only hope we ain’t -too late. It seems to be the style not to pay a damn’ -bit of attention to anything I say nowadays. It’s a hell -of a—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Brother Sikes,” broke in the parson, lifting -his eyebrows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joseph Sikes swallowed hard before speaking again. -“It ain’t always my fault when I cuss and blaspheme -like this,” he muttered defensively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The thing is,” began Mr. Link, compressing his lips -and squinting earnestly; “what is the best way to go -about it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go about what?” demanded the mystified Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you licked him yet?” inquired Sikes darkly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Licked who?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver October.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not in the last three years. I promised I wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to tell me, Ollie Baxter, that you don’t -know what that boy’s been up to to-day?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s parent regarded Mr. Sikes coldly. “Yes, I <span class='it'>do</span> -know,” he snapped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what <span class='it'>has</span> he been up to, if you know so much -about it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None of your derned business. I’m not obliged to -consult you or anybody—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Calm yourself, Brother Baxter,” admonished the -parson gently. “As I was saying before, I do not agree -with Joe and Silas. They are making a mountain out of -a mole hill. The boy is all right. He is high-spirited, -he is mischievous—as all boys are if they’re any good at -all—and he is not a coward. Of course, it would be -most reprehensible—er—and quite unpardonable in me -if I were to say that I approve of fighting, but when I -look back upon my own boyhood and recall the—er—rather -barbarous joy I took in bloodying some other -boy’s nose, I—ahem!—well, I believe I can understand -why Oliver October preferred to stand up and fight -rather than run away. Ahem! Yes, in spite of my calling, -I think I can understand that in any real boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter’s face lengthened. “Oh, Lordy! Has -Oliver been fighting?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like a wildcat,” said Mr. Sikes sententiously. -“Everybody in town knows about it. Everybody but -you, I mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The father groaned. “I thought he looked as if he’d -done something he’d oughtn’t—Oh, for goodness’ sake, -don’t tell me he used a knife or—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing but his fists, my dear Baxter—from all reports. -I did not witness the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How about the hide he peeled off of Arthur Elwell’s -shin?” demanded Mr. Sikes. “He didn’t do that with -his fists, did he? Why, I’ve knowed blood poisoning -to set in on a feller’s shin bone from a scratch you -couldn’t hardly see. It’s almost sure to happen if you -wear green socks like Arthur does. The dye or something -gets into the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jeemes’s River! Has that fool boy been trying to -lick Arthur Elwell?” gasped Mr. Baxter, blinking rapidly. -“Ain’t he got any more sense than to tackle a six-foot -man like—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It seems that Oliver, in his rage, kicked Mr. Elwell -after he had separated—er—that is, when he took him -in hand for fighting in the playground after school,” said -Mr. Sage. “That is something that frequently happens -to peacemakers, Joseph.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The thing is,” said Mr. Link, “we got to do something -about Oliver October’s temper. We got to make -him realize the awfulness of being hung by the neck—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Justly or unjustly,” put in Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Absolutely,” accepted Mr. Link. “The time has come -when we got to head that boy into the right path by telling -him what the gypsy woman said.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must repeat—as I have repeated times without end—that -I think it would be the height of cruelty to tell -the child any of that nonsense,” protested Mr. Sage, -rather vigorously for him. “Why, when I think of little -Oliver lying awake nights picturing himself on the gallows—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s our duty to warn him,” insisted Sikes. “It’s our -duty by Ollie here and poor Mary to see that that boy -has everything done for him that can be done in the way -of—er—advice. The first thing we got to do, now that -he’s old enough to understand—and, mind you, I claim -he was old enough three or four years ago—is to make -him control his temper. We got to bring him up so’s -nobody on earth can truthfully say he’s got a mean and -cruel and bloodthirsty nature. So when his trial comes -up there’ll be plenty of witnesses to testify that he -wouldn’t kill a fly, much less a man. But, by criminy, -if he goes on kicking school-teachers and fighting like a -bull dog, he’ll get such a reputation that he won’t have -a ghost of a chance when it comes to testifying as regards -to his character.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go inside,” said Oliver’s father, wiping a little -moisture from his brow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He led the way into the sitting-room where a lamp was -burning above the center table—a brassy, ornate lamp -suspended from the ceiling over a glossy mahogany table. -The former was a Christmas present from Oliver to his -wife and the latter was a present from Mary to her husband. -All about the refurbished room were to be seen -other gifts from Oliver to Mary, and Mary to Oliver—such -as the comparatively new ingrain carpet; a larger -and more generous base-burner stove with very bright -nickel trimmings and a towering “dome”; a three-year -old wall-paper in which poppies and humming-birds -abounded; a “Morris” chair of the mission type; a hard, -high-backed leather couch; two rocking-chairs, very -comfortable but of peripatetic habits; a new eight-day -clock; several framed “engravings” of a patriotic or -sentimental character; a sectional book case containing -sets of Dickens, Thackeray and Charles Lever (two -dollars a month until paid for); chintz window curtains; -and, last but not least, a wall-telephone. (Party J, -ring 4.)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These were but a few of the symbols of prosperity -that marked the progress of the Baxters during the -decade. The same mellowing influence of a well-directed -opulence prevailed throughout the house. For one thing, -a separate dining-room had been constructed off the -sitting-room; the porch and the house had undergone -repairs and painting; the gravel walk was replaced by -one of soft red brick, and the fences were in order. The -only thing about the place that had not improved with -the times and the conditions was Oliver Baxter himself. -He, alas, could not be re-upholstered; he could not be -painted or repaired; moreover, he could not be stored -away in the attic with all the other things belonging to -another day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s more cheerful in here,” explained Mr. Baxter, in -a most cheerless voice. “Sit down. Had I better call -Oliver in now—or wait a while?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His three visitors solemnly seated themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better wait a few minutes,” advised Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I kind of hate to whip him,” said Mr. Baxter -forlornly. “He’s a good little boy, and I—I promised -his mother I’d never whip him unless I actually caught -him doing something bad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who said you had to whip him?” demanded Mr. -Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t let you whip him, even if you wanted to,” -stated Mr. Sikes flatly. “All I want is for us to talk to -him about—well, about his future.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has just occurred to me that it might be advisable -for me to find Oliver and have a talk with him privately -before we drag him before this—er—before his executioners,” -said Mr. Sage, with kindly irony. “I could -explain gently and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know just what you’d do, Parson,” broke in Mr. -Sikes. “You’d explain things to him by telling him -there was a couple of blamed old fools in here making -up a story he oughtn’t to pay any attention to—just be -polite and say ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘No, sir’ and act like a little -gentleman no matter what we say, but not to worry, because -there ain’t a damn’ thing to worry about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dare say you are right,” sighed the kind-hearted -minister. “My little girl, it appears, was the cause of -this fight, Brother Baxter. I regret to say that Jane—ah—sort -of egged him on. It does not seem to me to be -quite just that Oliver should be penalized for his—shall -we say an act of chivalry? Naturally I am inclined to -favor the boy. No doubt if Jane had refrained -from—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That ain’t the point,” interrupted Mr. Link. “The -thing is, did he lose his temper or did he not—and if so, -is it safe to let him go on losing it like that? You can’t -tell what it will lead to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What I want to know,” broke in Mr. Baxter, “is who -he’s been fighting with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sammy Parr,” replied the three visitors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sammy Parr? Why, doggone it, it ain’t more than -an hour ago they were playing hopscotch out in my barn -lot. I never saw two boys more friendly and happy than -they were.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the worst of it,” said Mr. Link solemnly: “It -goes to prove that when Oliver gets mad he don’t know -what he’s doing. It’s these violent, ungovernable tempers -that raises thunder, Ollie. The kind that flares up -like a powder explosion, does a lot of damage, and then -dies down like a breeze. Fighting fit to kill one minute, -smiling the next. They’re the worst kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was decided by Messrs. Sikes and Link, over the -objections of Mr. Sage, to have Oliver October up before -the tribunal forthwith. The boy’s father apparently had -no voice in the matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, I’ll admit he’s got a temper,” said the -latter, as he arose to go in search of his son. “I don’t -know where he gets it from. Mary usually had her own -way, but it wasn’t because she insisted on having it. And -she never got mad if I opposed her. She just laughed -and went ahead and did things her way. In that way we -always got along without a sign of a quarrel. As for me, -I haven’t got any more of a temper than a sheep has. -He don’t get it from either of us. My grandfather had -an uncle that he used to talk a good deal about—a feller -that would fight at the drop of the hat—but he always -claimed he did it for fun and because he enjoyed lickin’ -somebody every once in awhile. Oliver seems to take -after me in a good many ways, and he’s like his Ma in -others. He’s got my freckles and nose and when he -grows up I guess maybe he’ll have my hair, but he’s got -Mary’s eyes and ears and mouth and his legs are more -like hers—ha! ha!—I mean they ain’t skinny and -crooked like mine—er—Well, I guess I’ll go out and -see if I can find him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that, he dashed hurriedly from the room. Presently -they heard him out in the yard calling Oliver’s -name. That Oliver did not respond at once was obvious. -The shout was repeated several times, growing fainter -as the search took Mr. Baxter around to the back of the -house and into the region of the barn and outbuildings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Everything that gypsy woman said has come true up -to date,” announced Mr. Sikes, after silence had reigned -for many minutes in the sitting-room. “In the first -place, she said he was going to look like his pa—and he -does. He’s an improvement on big Ollie, I’ll admit—a -big improvement—but just the same he’s a lot like him. -Then she said he’d always be at the head of his class -and as bright as a dollar, didn’t she? Well, <span class='it'>that’s</span> come -true, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here he paused, reluctant to go on with his justification -of the gypsy’s prophecy. He looked at Mr. Link, -who at once accepted the unspoken challenge by assuming -the funereal air that always marked his translation -from livery-man to undertaker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Silas, his gaze lifted toward the ceiling, -“and we must not forget that his beloved mother died -before he was ten years old.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True,” mused the minister, nodding his head slowly. -“Doubly unfortunate was that dear woman’s death. If -God in his wisdom had seen fit to spare her for a few -days longer all this nonsense about the gypsy woman’s -prophecy would be—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh! Here they come,” cautioned Silas, as steps were -heard on the front porch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope Serepty Grimes don’t happen to drop in,” said -Mr. Sikes uneasily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She won’t,” vouchsafed Mr. Link. “I happen to -know that Ed Tucker’s wife ain’t expected to live till -morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t say so! I heard she was better to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“False alarm,” said the undertaker, thoughtlessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter marshaled his son into the room on the tail -of this remark, and ordered him to take off his hat—a -command instantly followed by another that took him -back to the door mat, where he sullenly performed a forgotten -obligation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so it came to pass on this mild September evening, -that young Oliver October learned what was in -store for him if his “fortune” came true.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat very still and wide-eyed in the depths of the -Morris chair—a distinction conferred upon him by his -compassionate elders—his sturdy black-hosed legs sticking -straight out before him, his grimy hands stuck—for -reasons of shame—into his already crowded trouser -pockets. His gray eyes, from which the cloud of -obstinacy soon disappeared, went quickly from speaker -to speaker as the grewsome story of that remote October -night was unfolded in varying degrees of lucidity -by the giants who towered over him. He was a very -small boy and they were very big and very, very old -monsters. And they were telling him all this, they said, -because they loved him and were going to do everything -they could to keep him from being hung some day! -There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do! But a great -deal depended on him. That was the thing, repeated -Mr. Link, over and over again. He must realize that a -great deal depended on him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>First of all, it was imperative that he should never, -never allow his temper to get the better of him; he must -never, never get mad at anybody or anything; he must -never get into fights; no matter what the provocation, he -must not get into fights; if there was no other way, he -must play with the little girls and avoid the boys—at -least, until the little girls grew up and were too big for -him to play with.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He revealed a most commendable temper when Mr. -Link stipulated that he should play with the little girls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t play with the girls,” he cried hotly. “I hate -’em. I’ll kill ’em if they try to play with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My, my!” exclaimed Mr. Link in dismay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tut-tut!” said Mr. Sikes reproachfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver!” cautioned his father, speaking for the first -time since the ordeal began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I won’t play with girls,” repeated Oliver. “You -bet I won’t. I hate ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess there’s no reason why you can’t play with the -boys,” compromised Mr. Link, “provided you’ll only remember -that you mustn’t fight with ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I got to fight with ’em if they fight with me, -don’t I?” cried Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Spoken like a man,” said the minister, patting him on -the shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll be doggoned!” gasped Mr. Sikes, staring -in disgust at the speaker. “And you a minister of the -gospel!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must not make a coward of Oliver,” said the -other, a trifle warmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right,” said Oliver’s father. “Mary wouldn’t -have liked to see a son of hers grow up to be a—a feller -who wouldn’t stand up for his rights. And neither would -I. What’s more, Joe Sikes, you’re a fine one to talk. -You’ve had more fights than anybody in—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The thing is,” broke in Mr. Link, “if Oliver October -can fight without losing his temper, I’ll not say a word. -Do you think you can, my lad?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the use of fighting if you ain’t mad?” reasoned -Oliver October. “It would be just like wrassling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, see here, Oliver,” spoke up Mr. Sikes severely, -“all we ask of you is to grow up to be a good, kind, -peaceful man like your Pa here. He’s getting along towards -sixty years of age, and I don’t know as he ever -had a fight in his life. If he ever did, he probably -wished he hadn’t. Your Pa is a respected, upright citizen -of this here town, and I want to see you foller in his -footsteps. And what’s more, your Pa ain’t a coward. -Not much! He’s as brave as I am—yes, siree, he’s a -<span class='it'>braver</span> man than I am. I was always going around picking -up fights, just because I was big and strong and -didn’t have any sense. That’s it. I didn’t have the sense -that God gives a hickory-nut. Your Pa had a lot of -sense. He’s got it yet. And why? I’ll tell you why, -Oliver. He saw right smack in the beginning that no -matter how good a fighter you are when you’re young, it -ain’t going to do you any good when you’re old—because -when you’re old nobody gives a <span class='it'>dern</span> how good a fighter -you were when you were young. They just say you used -to be a tough customer—and sort of shoulder you out of -the way. But if you’ve got a reputation like your Pa’s—for -common sense, fair-dealing, kindness, good-nature -and—and—(with a conciliatory glance at Mr. Sage)—and -religion, why—er—why, you’re all right. Understand? -But, on the other hand, if, as you say, you’ve -got to fight in case somebody picks on you, why, you -ought to have some lessons in boxing. I’ve been thinking -it over. If you’d like for me to do it, I’ll show you a -lot about boxing. Boxing lessons will prove to you how -important it is to keep your temper. The minute a boxer -loses his temper and gets mad, he’s going to get licked. -That’s as sure as shooting. You never saw a prizefighter -in your life that got mad when he was in the ring. -If you’ll come around to the feed yard after school to-morrow, -I’ll learn you how to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“About what time, Uncle Joe?” broke in Oliver eagerly, -his face lighting up.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='85' id='Page_85'></span><h1>CHAPTER VI</h1></div> - -<h3>A PASTOR PROMISES AID</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Four mature throats were simultaneously cleared, -and Mr. Sage, being a very unusual sort of minister, -abruptly put his hand over his mouth—not -quite soon enough, however, to smother a spasmodic -chuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Notwithstanding this and other diverting passages, -Master Oliver was finally made to realize the vastness -of the dark and terrifying shadow that hung over him. -He listened to the pronouncement of his own doom, and -his warm little heart was beating fast and hard in an ice-cold -body that trembled with awe. He suffered his -“uncles” to pat him on the shoulder and say they would -“stand by” him through thick and thin, and his lip quivered -with something far removed from gratitude. He -sat up long past his bed-time, and his eyes were bright -and shining where ordinarily they would have been dull -and heavy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last the three hangmen arose to depart. They had -frightened the poor boy out of his boots, and now, well-satisfied -with their work, were going home to sleep the -sleep of the just and beneficent whilst he was doomed to -a shivery night in which the gallows they had erected for -him was to stand out as if it were real and not a thing of -the imagination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And, now, Oliver,” said Mr. Sikes consolingly, “you -needn’t be afraid of the fortune coming true, because -we’re going to see that it don’t. We’re going to watch -over you, and tend you, and guide you, and some day -we’ll all sit around and laugh ourselves sick over what -that infernal lying gypsy woman said. So don’t you -worry. Me and your Uncle Silas and Mr. Sage here are -going to make it our business to see that you grow up -to be a fine, decent, absolutely model young man, and -’long about 1920 or thereabouts we’ll have the doggonedest -celebration you ever heard of. We’ll paint the -town—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How old will I be then?” piped up Oliver wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll be thirty and over,” announced Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And how old will you and Uncle Silas be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“About the same age as your Pa—couple of years’ difference, -maybe, one way or the other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How old will that be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link, who was quick at figures, replied, but with a -most singular hush in his usually jovial voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why—er—I’ll be seventy-eight, your Pa will be -seventy-five, and your Uncle Joe here will be—you’ll be -eighty, Joe. By jiminy, I wonder if—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t know anybody ever lived to be as old as that,” -said Oliver, so earnestly that three of his listeners -frowned. “Except Methusalum. Maybe you’ll all be -dead and buried ’fore I’m thirty so what’s going to become -of me then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why—er—we don’t intend to be dead for a long, long -time,” explained Mr. Sikes. “I’m figuring on living to -be a hundred, and so’s your pa and Uncle Silas. Don’t -you worry about us, sonny. We’ll be hanging—I mean, -we’ll be moseying around this here town for forty or fifty -years longer, sure as you’re alive. Yes, sirree.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What an awful thing it would be,” groaned Oliver’s -father, “if all three of us was to up and die inside the -next eight or ten—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If there’s an epidemic like that,” interrupted Mr. -Link, scowling at the tactless Mr. Baxter, “it’ll probably -take Oliver off too, so don’t be foolish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage spoke up, dryly. “It will be quite all right -for you to die, gentlemen, whenever the good Lord thinks -it most convenient. You seem to forget that I am one of -Oliver October’s self-appointed guardians. Permit me -to remind you that I will still be a mere youth of sixty -when he reaches the age of thirty. So you need not feel -the slightest compunction or hesitancy about dying.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was stared at very hard by two of his listeners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish my Ma was here,” said Oliver October, his lip -trembling. Despite the sincere if voluble protestations -of the three visitors, he still felt miserably in need of a -friend and comforter. He could not conceive of his -father taking him in his arms and holding him tight; -there wasn’t anything soft and warm and cushiony about -his father; only his mother could whisper and croon in -his ear and snuggle him up close when he was sick or -frightened, and she was gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Amen to that,” said Mr. Sage, fervently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Amen!” repeated Mr. Link in his most professional -voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes coughed uncomfortably and then put on his -hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, good night,” said he. “Sleep tight, sonny.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say ‘thank you’ to your Uncle Joe, Oliver,” said Mr. -Baxter huskily, and then, without rime or reason, gave -vent to his nervous cackle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, Uncle Joe,” muttered Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do you -say your prayers every night, Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir—I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—er—if Brother Baxter doesn’t mind and if you -gentlemen will excuse me, I think I will go upstairs with -Oliver and—and listen to his prayer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little later on, the tall, spare pastor sat on the side -of young Oliver’s trundle bed in the room across the hall -from old Oliver’s and next to the one in which Annie -Sharp, the hired girl, was already sound asleep. The -boy had murmured his “Now I lay me” and, for good -measure, the Lord’s Prayer. Mr. Sage leaned over and, -lowering his voice, said—but not until he had satisfied -himself that no one was listening outside the door:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You believe I am a good man, don’t you, Oliver—a -very good man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir. You’re a preacher. You got to be good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ahem! Quite so. You don’t believe I could tell a -lie, do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, now I am going to tell you something and I -want you to believe it. Nobody on this earth can foretell -the future. Nobody knows what is going to happen -to-morrow, much less what is going to happen years -away. It isn’t possible. God does not give any person -that miraculous power. Our Lord Jesus Christ could perform -miracles, but he was the only one who could do so. -Do you think that God would give to all the thieving -gypsies in the world the same divine power that he gave -to his only Son, the Savior? No! Now, listen. There -is not a word of truth in what that old gypsy woman -said—not one word, Oliver. You can believe me, you -can trust me. I am God’s minister, and I am telling you -to pay no attention to anything Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link -said to you to-night. If God would only allow me to do -so, I would tell you that they are a pair of silly old fools—but -that wouldn’t be kind, so I will not say it. You -need not be afraid. All that talk about your being hung -some day is poppycock—pure poppycock. Don’t you believe -a word of it. I came upstairs with you just for the -purpose of telling you this—not really to hear your -prayers. Now don’t you feel better?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you just said, Uncle Herbert, that nobody could -see ahead. How do you know I won’t be—be hung?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not saying that, my lad. I am merely telling -you that the gypsy woman did not have the power to see -ahead. There is no such thing as true fortune-telling. -She claimed to read the stars. Well, do you suppose that -all those millions and millions of stars—any one of them -much greater than the earth—are interested in little bits -of things like you and me? No, siree, Oliver. They -don’t even know we exist. That old gypsy was just lying. -They all do. They take your money and then they go -away and laugh at you for being such a goose. So you -need not worry at all about what you were told to-night. -And now I am going to say something to you that will -surprise you. It is wrong for me, a minister of the gospel, -to tell you this, but I love fighting Christians just as much -as I love praying Christians. I do not mean that a man -should go about looking for fights. That would be very, -very wrong. Wouldn’t it?” He asked the question -abruptly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” said Oliver. “It would.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must keep out of fights whenever you can, but -if the time comes when you <span class='it'>must</span> fight—do it as well as -you know how and pray about it afterwards. When your -enemy smites you, turn the other cheek like a good Christian -boy—but do not let him hit your other cheek if you -can help it. Defend yourself. Put up your props, as -your Uncle Joe says, and sail into him. You will thus -be turning the other cheek, but it does not mean that he -may smite it without resistance on your part. The Bible -doesn’t seem to be very clear on that point, so I am -taking the liberty of telling you just what I think <span class='it'>ought</span> -to be done when an enemy besets you with his fists. You -must not fight if you can help it, Oliver. A soft answer -turneth away wrath. Sometimes. When I was your age, -I had a good many fights—and you see what I am to-day. -A minister of the gospel. If I had an enemy to-day -and he was to set upon me, I should defend myself -to the best of my strength and ability. Your Uncle Joe -and your Uncle Silas are right, however, in counseling -you to avoid conflict. No good ever comes of it. As -you grow older you will acquire wisdom, and wisdom is -a very great thing, Oliver. A wise man does not go about -seeking for trouble. He tries to avoid it. And so will -you when you are older. But just at present you are no -wiser than other boys of your age. You were very foolish -to fight with Sammy to-day because Jane egged you -on. It is most commendable, of course, to protect a lady -in distress. But Jane was not in distress. She did not -need protection. Sometimes a woman—But never -mind. You understand what I mean, don’t you, Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir,” said the truthful Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what I want you to do, Oliver, is to go on leading -a—er—regular boy’s life. Do the things that are -right and square, be honest and fearless—and no harm -will ever come to you. Now, turn over and go to sleep, -there’s a good boy. I will put out the light for you. -Don’t lie awake worrying about things—because there is -nothing to worry about. Good night, Oliver. I have a -very great affection for you, my lad, and, so long as God -lets me live, I will always help you when—er—evil besets -you. As it did to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled dryly, perhaps a little guiltily, as he turned -away and lowered the wick in the lamp that stood on the -table near by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t blow it out yet, please,” pleaded Oliver October. -“I want to ast you a question.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go ahead, my lad. What is it?” said the man, peering -over the lamp chimney, at the boy huddled up in the -bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you was me, would you take boxing lessons from -Uncle Joe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage considered, weighing his words. A little -wave of color spread over his pale, ascetic face, and a -queer light gleamed in his kindly eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I wouldn’t,” he answered after a moment. Then -he blew out the light. Instead of departing, he strode -over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I doubt -very much if Joe Sikes is a scientific boxer. He strikes -me as a rather rough and tumble sort of fellow. You -wouldn’t learn much from him, I’m afraid. But I’ll tell -you what I will do. I will give you a—er—a few instructions -myself, if you will come over to the house, say -once a week—secretly, you understand. You must never -tell anybody that I am—er—giving you lessons in the -manly art of self-defense. It will have to be a very -dark secret between us, Oliver. For the present, at any -rate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was glad that he had blown out the light. Somehow -he knew that the small boy’s eyes were upon him, -and that they were filled with the sort of amazement -that makes one most uncomfortable. This was proved -by the very significant fact that Oliver did not speak. -After a moment Mr. Sage went on, a little hurriedly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, Oliver, when I was in college—that was before -I went to the Theological Institute, you know—I -went in for the various sports and games. I was on the -football team and the baseball team, and so forth. Quite -a number of us took up boxing. It is very fine exercise -for both the body and the mind. Yes, I will be happy -to teach you a few of the tricks of the—er—sport. Of -course, I have not boxed since I became a minister, but -I—er—I dare say I haven’t forgotten how to feint and -block and sidestep and—ahem! Yes, yes—come and see -me to-morrow and we will talk it over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he slowly descended the stairs, he consoled himself -with the thought that he had given the poor lad something -besides the gallows to think about.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three old men were waiting for him on the porch, -and none too amiably it would appear, judging by the -glum silence that greeted him as he joined them. Mr. -Link and Mr. Sikes spoke a gruff “good night” to Baxter -and started off toward the gate at the foot of the slope. -The minister paused at the top of the steps to shake -hands with Oliver October’s harassed parent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you for coming over and helping straighten -things out,” said Mr. Baxter. Then he proceeded to -commit himself and his two cronies by adding: “Have -you heard anything from Josephine lately?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now that was the one question that the people of -Rumley religiously and resolutely refrained from asking -Mr. Sage. They persistently asked it of each other—in -an obviously modified form—and they did not hesitate -to bother the postmaster from time to time with inquiries; -but they never asked it of Josephine’s husband. It was -a very delicate matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sage, in the sixth year of her married life—her -baby was then two years old—surrendered to her ambition. -She went on the stage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so, it is no wonder that people hesitated about -asking Mr. Sage how she was getting along; to most of -them it was almost the same as inquiring if he knew how -she was getting along in hell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Besides, it was hard to ask questions of a man whose -eyes were dark with unhappiness and whose face was -drawn and sad and always wistful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For nearly four years that very question had been on -the tip of Mr. Baxter’s tongue, struggling for release. -He had always succeeded in holding it back. And now, -before he knew what he was about, he let go and out it -came. He was petrified.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not lately,” said Mr. Sage, quietly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whereupon, for no reason at all, Mr. Baxter cackled -inanely.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='94' id='Page_94'></span><h1>CHAPTER VII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE MINISTER’S WIFE</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Rumley had not stood still during the decade. It -was the proud boast of its most enterprising citizen, -Silas Link, that it had done a great deal better -than Chicago: it had tripled its population. And, he -proclaimed, all “she” had to do was to keep on tripling -her population every ten years and “she” would be a city -of nearly half a million souls in 1950. It was all very -simple, he explained. All you had to do was to multiply -fifteen hundred (the approximate population in 1900), -by three and you would have forty-five hundred in 1910.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Work it out yourself,” he was wont to say, “if you -don’t believe me. If we keep on multiplying we’ll have -364,500 population fifty years from now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The prize pupil in the South Rumley school, Freddy -Chuck, aged thirteen, went even further than Mr. Link -in his calculations. He carried the matter up to the year -2000 and proved conclusively that if the ratio could be -maintained for a hundred years, Rumley would have -something like 88,303,500 inhabitants at the beginning -of the twenty-first century. Freddy was looked upon as -a mathematical “shark.” The North Rumley school, presided -over by Mr. Elwell, contained no such prodigy, but -it did have an exceedingly promising half-back in the -person of Oliver October Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But this is beside the point. Rumley’s phenomenal -growth over a period of ten years was due to several -causes. In the first place, it had become a divisional -railroad point, with shops, a roundhouse and superintendent’s -headquarters. It was now a “junction” as well, -a new branch line connecting there with the main line -for points east and south. This had brought nearly -three hundred new citizens to the town. Then had come -the “strawboard works,” employing about thirty men, -and after that the “cellulose factory,” with some fifteen -or eighteen people on the pay-roll. Later on, in 1896, a -“cannery” was added to the list of industries. These -extraordinary symptoms of prosperity drew capital of another -character to the town. Two saloons, with pool and -billiard rooms attached, were opened on Clay Street and -did a thriving business from the start, notwithstanding -the opposition of the Presbyterian and Methodist -churches. New grocery stores, butcher shops, drygoods -stores and so forth were established by outside interests, -each of them bringing fresh enterprise and competition -to the once drowsy hamlet. The older stores were forced -to expand in order to keep up with the times and conditions. -House building in all parts of town had boomed. -Three substantial new brick business “blocks” were -erected—all three-story affairs—and an addition of twelve -rooms and a bath had been tacked onto the old Bon Ton -Restaurant, transforming it, quite properly, into the -Hubbard House, the leading hostelry of the town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver Baxter owned one of the new business “blocks” -on Clay Street. It was known as the Baxter Block, -erected in 1896. His own enlarged place of business occupied -one half of the ground floor, the other half being -leased to Silas Link, who conducted a furniture, cabinetmaking -and undertaking establishment there, with palms -in the front windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Link’s Livery Stable and the feed yard of Joseph Sikes -had been consolidated, the sign over the sidewalk on -Webster Street reading “Link & Sikes, Livery & Feed.” -The second floor of the Baxter Block was occupied by -Dr. Slade, the dentist, and Simons & Sons, Tailors. The -third floor was known as Knights of Pythias Hall, and it -was here that all the “swellest” dances and receptions -were held. Collapsible chairs from Link’s Undertaking -Parlors were rentable for all such festive occasions, a -very satisfactory arrangement in that cartage was never -an item of expense. Link’s three or four piece orchestra -could also be engaged by calling at or telephoning to the -aforesaid parlors, where Charlie Link, the embalmer, -would be pleased to guarantee satisfaction. Charlie was -Silas’s nephew, and a trap-drummer of great dexterity. -Catering by Mrs. Hubbard, of the Hubbard House, terms -on application. Flowers for all occasions supplied from -Link’s new greenhouse and garden, Cemetery Lane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is worthy of mention that there was no Main Street -in Rumley. In rechristening the principal thoroughfare, -the board of trustees deliberately violated all traditions -by giving it the name of Clay Street, not in honor of the -celebrated Henry Clay but because for at least two generations -it had been known as the clay road on account of -the natural color and character of its soil. This reduced -confusion among the older and more settled inhabitants to -a minimum; they very cheerfully consented to spell clay -with a capital C and declared it wasn’t half as much -trouble as they thought it would be to remember to say -Street instead of Road. But even so, it was still a clay -road—and in rainy weather a very <span class='it'>bad</span> clay road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mary Baxter died of typhoid fever when young Oliver -was nearing seven. Her untimely demise revived the -half-forgotten prophecy of the gypsy fortune-teller. -People looked severely at each other and, in hushed -tones, discussed the inexorable ways of fate. Those acquainted -with the story of that October night told it to -newcomers in Rumley; even the doubters and scoffers -were impressed. It was the first “sign” that young -Oliver’s fortune was coming true. Somehow people were -kinder and gentler to him after his mother died.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for Oliver the elder, there was a strange—one might -almost believe, triumphant—expression in his stricken, -anxious eyes, as if back of them in his mind he was crying: -“Now will you laugh at me for believing what that -woman said?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of an entirely different nature was the agitation created -by the unrighteous behavior of the preacher’s wife. -It all came like a bolt out of the blue. No one ever suspected -that she had gone away to stay. Why, half the -women in town, on learning that she was going to Chicago -for a brief visit with her folks, went around to the parsonage -to kiss her good-by and to wish her a very pleasant -time. Some of them accompanied her to the railway -depot and kissed her again, while two or three young -men almost came to blows over who should carry her suitcase -into the day coach and see that she was comfortably -seated. They were all members of Mr. Sage’s church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Josephine had a remarkable faculty for drawing young -men into the fold. Several who had been more or less -criticized for their loose ways suddenly got religion and -went to church twice every Sabbath and to prayer meeting -on Wednesday nights with unbelievable perseverance -until they found out that it wasn’t doing them the -least bit of good.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Excoriation and a stream of “I told you so’s” were bestowed -upon the pretty young wife and mother when it -became known that she was not coming back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Presbyterians made a great show of pitying their -pastor, and the Methodists made an even greater show -of pitying the Presbyterians—which, when all is said and -done, was the thing that made Josephine’s act an absolutely -unpardonable one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did not belong in Rumley. That was the long and -the short of it. The greatest compliment ever paid to -the holy state of matrimony was her ability to stick it -out for six long years. In her own peculiar way she -loved and respected her husband. But the bonds of love -were not strong enough to hold her. She was gay and -blithe and impious; she loved life even more than she -loved love. The shackles hurt. So she slipped out of -them one day and left their symbols lying by the wayside -in the shape of a broken, bewildered man and a child -of her own flesh, while she went back to the world that -was calling her to its arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Herbert Sage was stunned, bewildered.... She wrote -him from Chicago at the end of the first week of what -was to have been a fortnight’s visit to her mother. It -was a long, fond letter in which she said she was not -coming back—at least, not for the present. She was -leaving at once for New York, where she had been promised -a trial by one of the greatest of American producers. -A month later came a telegram from her saying she was -rehearsing a part in a new piece that was sure to be the -“hit of the season”—everybody said so, even the stage -director who had the name of being the biggest “gloom” -in New York. It was a musical comedy, with a popular -comedian as the star, and she had a small part that was -going to be a big one before she got through with it—or -so she said in her joyous conceit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With my good looks, my voice, my figure and my ambition, -Herby, I cannot fail to get over. Everybody says -I’ve got talent, and that dance I used to do for you on -week days when it wasn’t necessary to be sanctimonious—well, -they are all crazy about it. Before you know it, -my dear, you’ll be the husband of one of the most celebrated -young women in the United States and I’ll be -cashing checks every week that will make your whole -year’s salary in that burg look like the change out of a -silver half dollar after you’ve bought two ten cent sodas -at Fry’s drug store. You will be proud of me, Herby, -because I will take mighty good care that you never -have any reason to be ashamed of me or for me to be -ashamed of myself. You know what I mean. I don’t -suppose I will say my prayers as often as I did when you -were around to remind me of them but I will be a good -girl just the same. Also a wise one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was four years ago. Her confidence in herself -had been justified, and, for all we know, the same may -be said of Herbert Sage’s confidence in her. She had -the talent, the voice, the beauty, and above all, the magnetism, -and so there was no holding her back. She was -being “featured” now, and there was talk of making a -star of her. Her letters to Herbert were not very frequent -but they invariably were tender. Every once in a -while the press agent sent him a large batch of “notices,” -chiefly eulogistic; and regularly on little Jane’s birthday -a good sized check arrived for the youngster’s “nest egg.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first she had undertaken to share her salary with -Sage. He kindly but firmly refused to accept the money. -After three checks had been returned to her she accepted -the situation, although she wrote to him that he was a -“silly old thing” and “hoped to goodness he would see -the error of his ways before long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For two successive seasons she appeared in a Chicago -theater, following long New York runs of the pieces in -which she was playing, but not once did Herbert Sage -go up to see her. Some of the best people in Rumley -saw her, however—one of them, in fact, went three nights -in succession to the theater in which she was playing and -tried to catch her eye from the balcony—so it was pretty -generally known throughout the town that she really had -the making of a pretty fair actress in her!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Finally, in one of her letters announcing a prospective -engagement in London, she put the question to him: -“Do you want to get a divorce from me, Herby?” His -reply was terse and brought from her the following undignified -but manifestly sincere telegram: “Neither do I, -so we’ll stick till the cows come home. I feel like a girl -who has just been kissed. Sailing Friday. Will cable. -Much love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made a “hit” in London in the big musical success -of that season. They liked her so well over there -that they wouldn’t let her go back to the States.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the time of which I write she was playing her first -engagement in London, and half the town was in love -with her. She wrote to Herbert:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, you wouldn’t believe the number of matrimonial -offers I’ve had, and your hair would turn white -in a single night if I was to tell you how many homes I -could wreck if I hadn’t brought my conscience along with -me. I am the toast of the town, as they say over here. -Better than a roast, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While Herbert Sage forbore speaking of the vagrant -Josephine to his friends in Rumley, nevertheless he preserved -and re-read from time to time the mass of press -cuttings that he kept safely locked away in a drawer of -the bureau that once had held her cheap and meager belongings. -He looked long and hungrily at the countless -photographs with which she never failed to beleaguer -him in his loneliness; and then there were the magazines, -the pictorial sections of the newspapers and the reproductions -of as many as a score of original drawings done -by celebrated artists and illustrators on both sides of the -Atlantic. Some of these caused him to frown and bite -his lip—one in particular: the rather startling picture of -a very shapely young gentleman in a mild but attractive -state of inebriation caroling (by mistake, no doubt), to -an irate old man in a casement window above.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Morning and night she was in his prayers; and little -Jane, as soon as she was able to prattle, was taught to say -“and God bless and keep my mamma forever and ever, -Amen!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was greatly missed by little Oliver October. For -some reason—perhaps she did not explain it herself—at -any rate, she did not go to the trouble of speculating—she -had taken a tremendous fancy to the child. He was -a lively, amusing little chap who laughed gleefully at her -antics and was ever ready for more—a complimentary -spirit that constantly supplied kindling for her own unquenchable -fires. She romped with him, told marvelous -stories to him, sang for him and danced for him—and -just about the time she was making ready to leave Rumley -guiltily showed him how to turn a “cartwheel”! He -was very much impressed by this astonishing bit of -acrobatics, and as she faced him, her face crimson and -her eyes sparkling, he paid her a doubtful but fulsome -compliment by saying he’d bet his mother couldn’t do it, -nor any other lady in town, either. She made him promise -not to tell anybody—and he was never, <span class='it'>never</span> to ask -her to do it again, because she was getting very old and -the next time she might fall and break her neck, and he -wouldn’t like that, would he?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This small boy of five or six was the only being in town -with whom she could play to her heart’s content, and she -made the most of him. Her own tiny baby interested but -did not amuse her. In the first place, she had not wanted -a baby at all, and in the second place since she <span class='it'>had</span> to -have one she could not understand why she had not had -a boy. It wasn’t quite fair. She liked boy babies. It -was something to be the mother of a man-child—something -to be proud of. She even went so far as to say to -herself that she never could have run way and left her -baby if it had been a boy. She would have been ashamed -to have a son of hers know that his mother had not quite -played the game. She was fond of Jane but it was not -as hard to leave her as it would have been had she been -a boy. Of that she was absolutely certain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver October could not understand why he was not -allowed to mention “Aunt” Josephine’s name in the presence -of “Uncle” Herbert. His mother and Mrs. Serepta -Grimes—who, by the way, was still an ever-present help -in time of trouble—gave him very strict orders and repeated -them so often that he never had a chance to forget -them. But when he found out in a roundabout way -that Mrs. Sage had gone off to join a show, he at once -assumed—and quite naturally, too—that she was with -Barnum’s Biggest Show on Earth, and lived in joyous -anticipation of seeing her when the great three-ring circus -came to the nearby county seat for its biennial visit. -Moreover, he was very firm in his determination to run -away from home and join the show, a secret decision that -called for unusual industry on his part in the matter of -mastering the “cartwheel” and other startling feats of -skill, such as standing on his head, walking on his hands, -turning somersaults off of a sill in the haymow, and -standing upright on the capacious hindquarters of patient -old Rosy down at Uncle Silas Link’s livery stable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He also undertook to increase his suppleness by anointing -himself with fish worm oil, an absolutely infallible -lubricant recommended by Bud Lane, who solemnly -averred that he had worked one whole season with the -Forepaugh circus as fish worm catcher for the Human -Eel, the limberest man alive. Oliver October’s mother -gave him a sound spanking within fifteen minutes after -the initial application of this diligently acquired lubricant, -while Mrs. Grimes made a point of hurrying down -to the livery stable to tell the sheepish Bud Lane what -she thought of him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Youth is ever fickle. Oliver October’s heart was soon -mended. He was always to have a warm corner in it for -the gay Aunt Josephine but such diverting games as “one -old cat,” “blackman,” “I spy,” and “duck on the rock” -rather too promptly reduced his passionate longing for -her to a mild but pleasant memory. They also interfered -with his acrobatic aspirations, and it was not until -little Jane Sage arrived at an age when she was intelligent -enough to be impressed and thrilled by manly -achievements that he again took up the “cartwheel,” -the “hand spring,” and other sensational feats of endurance—endurance -being a better word than agility in -view of the fact that he practised them by the hour for -her especial benefit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For, be it here recorded, Janie Sage, at the age of six, -was by far the prettiest and the most sought after young -lady in Rumley, and only the most surpassing skill with -the hands and feet was supposed to have any effect upon -her susceptibilities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What with having had past instructions in the art of -cartwheel flipping from a minister’s wife and the present -promise of lessons in boxing from the minister himself, -Oliver October was indeed a favored lad! He was very -glad that he had gone to Sunday-school regularly, for -therein lay the secret of his good fortune. If he had not -been a very good little boy, Mr. and Mrs. Sage would -not have been so kind to him. There wasn’t the slightest -doubt in his mind about that. And more than all this, -Mr. Sage acted like he was awfully pleased every time -he walked home from school with Jane, carrying her -books and everything. He showed this by invariably -giving him a piece of bread and butter and sugar. No -wonder, then, that Oliver fought like a tiger for his lady -love. Many a bigger and stronger man than he has -fought the whole wide world for his bread and butter -alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three or four days after the warning administered to -Oliver by his self-appointed guardians, one of the latter, -Mr. Sikes, found himself in an extremely awkward position. -He was a man of dark and lasting hatreds. His -particular aversion was brothers-in-law. He had two of -his own and he hated both of them as men are seldom -hated by their fellow man. His opinion of them somewhat -unjustly extended itself to the brothers-in-law of -practically every friend he possessed. It had got to be -an obsession with him. The husbands of his two sisters, -it appears, had instituted some sort of proceedings against -him in court back in the dark and stormy age that he -called his youth, and while history does not reveal the -nature of the suit, it goes without saying that they won -their case, thereby providing him with an everlasting -grudge against all brothers-in-law.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Horace Gooch had come over from Hopkinsville to see -his wife’s brother on a matter of business. Ten years -had not improved Mr. Gooch. If you had asked Mr. -Sikes, however, whether they had improved him he would -have blasphemously answered in the affirmative. He -would have stated—if he had thought of it—that anything -that shortened the life of Mr. Gooch could not be -otherwise than a most gratifying improvement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now this is what happened—and any fair-minded person -will sympathize with Mr. Sikes in his dilemma. As -Gooch was leaving the Baxter Hardware Store, after a -furious wrangle with his brother-in-law—Mr. Sikes had -heard most of it through an open window—he had the -option of either stepping over or around a half-grown -puppy lying immediately in front of the door. He did -neither. Notwithstanding the friendly thumping of the -puppy’s tail on the board sidewalk and the hospitable -smile in his big brown eyes, Mr. Gooch proceeded to remove -the obstruction with the toe of his boot. He did -not do it gently. A sharp yelp of pain was succeeded by -a series of ear-splitting howls as the gangling pup went -tearing down the street on three legs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes turned the corner of the building just in -time to witness this incident. He was also a witness to -what followed almost immediately. Oliver October and -Sammy Parr were playing “keeps” against the brick wall -a dozen paces or so away. Now, it so happened that the -former, and not Mr. Baxter, senior, was the sole owner -of that sacred pup. Before you could say Jack Robinson, -Oliver October was blazing away at the retreating figure -of his uncle with marbles he had just won from Sammy. -He did not take the time to look for stones in the gutter. -His face was white with fury. Mr. Gooch uttered a sharp -ejaculation and suddenly clutched his left elbow with his -right hand. An instant later the most universally coveted -“agate” in Rumley grazed his ear and went hurtling down -Clay Street. Mr. Sikes, forgetting himself for the moment, -cried out:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good shot! Give it to him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another hastily fired “plaster” got Mr. Gooch on the -leg, and then young Oliver took to his heels—not because -he was afraid of his uncle but because he had caught -sight of the far more terrifying figure of Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whose boy is that?” demanded the outraged Mr. -Gooch, addressing Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None of your damned business,” snarled Mr. Sikes, -lowering his chin in a menacing way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will make it my business,” roared the other. “I’ll -have the little scoundrel locked up for—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You just go ahead and try it,” broke in Mr. Sikes, -advancing slowly. “Just you go ahead and try it. That’s -all I got to say. Go ahead and try it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By this time Mr. Gooch had recognized the angry -citizen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oho! Mr. Sikes, eh? Well, what cause have you -got for losing your temper like this, Mr. Sikes? What -right have you to get mad because I ask you the name -of a dodgasted little—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mad? I’m not mad,” interrupted Mr. Sikes violently. -“And I’ll tell you who that boy is if you really want to -know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do,” said Mr. Gooch, feeling of his elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he is the owner of that pup you just kicked in -the ribs. Good day!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that, Mr. Sikes stalked around the corner, a prey -to conflicting emotions. He stole down the alley, with -many a furtive glance over his shoulder. He felt very -guilty. He had openly, vociferously encouraged Oliver -October in the commission of a deed of violence. Suppose, -for instance, one of those rocks—(he did not know -they were marbles)—had struck Horace Gooch at the -base of the brain! He wiped his moist forehead. Just -suppose! And how was he to take Oliver to task for -flying into a rage and throwing stones, with murderous -intent, when he himself had been so overjoyed that he -yelled to him to keep it up? Yes, he was in a very awkward -position. So he decided that unless somebody took -him to task for <span class='it'>not</span> taking Oliver October to task, he -would consider the incident closed. But every time he -thought of the way Horace Gooch grabbed his elbow and -subsequently clapped his hand to his “off” leg, he gave -way to inordinate mirth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At supper that evening Mr. Baxter asked his son if -he knew who it was that hit his Uncle Horace with a -rock. Oliver had spent most of the afternoon in hiding. -Hunger and the approach of night were responsible for -his decision to give himself up, so to speak. Just before -the supper hour he ventured out of his place of hiding—a -cornfield down the road—prepared to face the town marshal -and arrest. His dog had basely deserted him an -hour or so earlier. His spirits rose a little as he took his -seat at the table, for old Oliver appeared to be in an unusually -cheerful frame of mind. Just as he began to feel -that, after all, there was nothing to face, his father -frowned severely and asked:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver, do you know who hit your Uncle Horace with -a stone this afternoon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a loophole. “I didn’t know anybody hit -him with a stone, Pa.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter reflected. “Well, what <span class='it'>was</span> he hit with if -it wasn’t a stone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A marble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know who threw it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me,” replied Oliver October, and was suddenly -thrilled by the thought of George Washington and the -cherry tree.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you must never do it again,” said his father -mildly. Then, in his most jovial manner: “Pass up your -plate, sonny, and let me give you some more of this -steak. It will make you strong.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='109' id='Page_109'></span><h1>CHAPTER VIII</h1></div> - -<h3>GLIDING OVER A FEW YEARS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not the purpose of the narrator of this story to -deal at length with the deeds, exploits, mishaps -and sensations of Oliver October as a child. Pages, -even reams, could be written—and certainly not wasted—in -recording the innumerable adventures that befell -him between his tenth and seventeenth years.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If time and space permitted, it would be a pleasure to -tell how he learned to swim and dance, to drive an automobile, -and to play the mandolin and the allied instruments -of torture comprising a trap drummer’s outfit; -how he felt when he put on his first pair of long pants; -how he earned his first dollar; how he headed an expedition -to dig for gold in the ravine reaching out from the -upper end of Death Swamp; how he organized the far-famed -band of robbers that twice came to grief before -reforming—once in Mr. Higgins’s watermelon patch and -later on in the vicinity of Mr. Whistler’s bee hives; how -he fell in love with pretty Miss Somers, the high-school -teacher, and couldn’t keep his mind on his studies; how -he performed the common miracle of changing himself -from an untidy, dirty-faced boy into a painfully immaculate -personage with plastered hair, well-brushed garments, -soap-scoured hands, and an astonishing tendency to turn -scarlet when he most desired to be complacently pallid; -how he screwed up the courage to ask his best girl—at -that time a very tall and angular maiden named Jennie -Torbeck—to go with him to the theater up at the county -seat, and how he lost all affection for her and was miserably -disillusioned when she coughed all through the performance -and caused people to crane their necks and -scowl at them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In short, how he grew up to be five feet eleven inches -tall and stripped at one hundred and seventy pounds of -absolutely healthy bone and tissue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then it would be an even greater satisfaction to -tell of the time he sucked the blood and poison out of the -foot of a small boy who had been bitten by a rattlesnake; -of the memorable day when he grabbed and hung on to -the bit of a horse that was running away with Jane Sage, -then twelve years old, alone in the careening phaëton; of -the midsummer afternoon when he came near to losing -his own life in saving that of a drowning companion. -These and many other things could be told of him, but -it would only be a case of history repeating itself inasmuch -as the untold stories of countless red-blooded -American boys would contain, in one form or another, -all that befell Oliver October Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the other hand, it would be the disagreeable duty -of the chronicler to set down in black and white all the -unpleasant and trying experiences resulting from the -ceaseless espionage that clouded his daily life and doings. -All that need be said about this unhappy phase of his -development may be confined to a single sentence: he -was never free from the advice, direction and criticism -of four devoted old men. He had advice from Mr. Sage, -direction from the Messrs. Sikes and Link, and a plaintive -sort of criticism from his father. Serepta Grimes, -who loved him as she would have loved a son of her own, -gave him the right kind of advice, good soul that she was. -She advised him to be patient; he would be twenty-one -before he knew it, and then he could tell ’em to mind -their own business. It would be necessary, she ruefully -acknowledged, to tell practically the entire population of -Rumley to mind its own business, but the ones that really -mattered were Silas Link and Joe Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But they are such corking old boys, Aunt Serepta,” -he was wont to lament; “and they are trying to be good -to me. I wouldn’t hurt their feelings for the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re a couple of buzzards, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I get pretty sore at them sometimes,” he would confess, -crinkling his brows. “But I guess I’d better wait -till I’m past thirty before I jump on ’em, hadn’t I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess maybe you had,” Serepta would agree, for -down in her heart she too was afraid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was seventeen when he left the Rumley high-school -and became a freshman at the State University. There -had been some talk of sending him to one of the big -Eastern colleges, but when Mr. Sikes pointed out to Mr. -Link that he didn’t see how either one of them could -give up his business and go East to spend the winters, -the latter flopped over and took sides with him against -Oliver senior, who was for sending him to Princeton because -Mary had taken a strong fancy to that distant seat -of learning after hearing Mr. Sage dilate upon its standards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He made the football and baseball teams in his sophomore -year, and was “spiked” by the most impenetrable -Greek fraternity before he had been on the campus twenty-four -hours. His fame had preceded him. He also -was able to show his newly-made freshman friends so -many of the fine points about boxing that they proclaimed -him a marvel and wanted to know where he had -picked it all up. He refused to divulge the long-kept -secret. Moreover, he astonished them with his unparalleled -skill at turning cartwheels. And besides all this, he -astonished the faculty by being up in his studies from -the week he entered college to the day he left it with a -diploma in his hand. He took the full course in engineering, -and not without reason was the prediction of the -Dean of the School that one day Oliver Baxter would -make his mark in the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last of the three decades allotted to him by the -gypsy was shorn of its first twelve months when he received -his degree. As Mr. Sikes announced to the Reverend -Sage at the conclusion of the commencement exercises, -he had less than nine more years to live at the very -outside—a gloomy statement that drew from the proud -and happy minister ah unusually harsh rejoinder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to be kicked all the way home for saying -such a thing as that, Joe Sikes. To-day of all days! You -ought to be ashamed of yourself. Why can’t you be -happy like all the rest of us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Happy?” exploded Mr. Sikes. “Why, I’m the happiest -man alive. This is the greatest day of my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, for goodness’ sake, don’t spoil it for me,” -complained the tall, gray pastor. Turning to the slim, -pretty girl who walked beside him across the June-warmed -campus, he spoke these words of comfort: “Don’t -mind this old croaker, Jane dear. He is still living back -in the dark ages, when they believed in witchcraft, ghosts -and hobgoblins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was not offended. His broad, seamed face, -leathery with the curing of many suns, was alight with -his rare but whole-hearted grin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You left out fairies, parson,” he said, and winked at -Jane over his shoulder. “The older she gets, the more I -believe in ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes you can be silly enough to satisfy anybody, -Uncle Joe,” said she, gayly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Second childhood,” declared Serepta Grimes, trudging -several feet behind Old Joe, who had a habit of keeping -at least two paces ahead of any one with whom he -walked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes accepted this with serenity. “Well,” he -said, “if it’s second childhood, Serepty, I hope I never -get over it. But I’m all-fired glad of one thing. He’s -through playing football and I won’t have to act like an -idiot any more. I’m too blamed old to jump up and down -and yell like an Indian every time he makes a long run. -People thought I was a lunatic at that game last fall. -The idea of a man sixty-nine years old—Hello, here -comes his pa. Say, what’s the matter, Ollie? What are -you cryin’ about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve just been talking to the president of the University,” -said Mr. Baxter, the tears streaming down his -wrinkled cheeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what of it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He said Oliver was about the finest boy they ever -had in the college.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that anything to blubber about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bet it is,” gulped old Oliver, smiling through his -tears. “You just bet your sweet life it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A word in passing about Jane Sage. She was a slender, -graceful girl slightly above medium height, just turning -into young womanhood—that alluring, mysterious stage -that baffles the imagination and confounds the emotions. -Her gray eyes, set widely apart under a broad brow, were -clear and soft and wistful, and yet in their untrammeled -depths stirred the glow of an intelligence far beyond her -slender years. She was an extremely pretty girl. Her -mouth was rather large and, like her mother’s, humorous. -Her hair, brown, wavy and abundant, grew low upon her -forehead. Her teeth were small, even and as white as -snow; she showed them when she smiled. There were -faint dimples in her cheeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kept house for her father, and, at seventeen, made -no secret of her determination never to get married! -That was settled. Never! She was going to take care -of her daddy as long as he lived, and, as she was serenely -confident that he would live to be a very old man—indeed, -she could not conjure up the thought of him dying -at all as other mortals are bound to do sooner or later—there -wasn’t any way in the world for her to avoid being -an old maid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If she possessed any of her mother’s powers of mimicry, -they were never revealed by word or deed. She was -singularly lacking in histrionic ability and for that her -father was thankful though secretly surprised. Friends -of the family, remembering Josephine’s propensities -watched closely for signs of an undesirable heritage, and -were somewhat disappointed when they failed to develop. -If she had not borne such a striking resemblance to her -mother, everybody in town would have said that she -“took after her father”—and that would have explained -everything. That far-distant, almost mythical mother, -was no more than a dream to Jane. It was hard for her -to believe that the famous actress, Josephine Judge, was -her mother; she was secretly proud of the distinguished -isolation in which it placed her among her less favored -companions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She adored Oliver October. There had been a time -when she was his sweetheart, but that was ages ago—when -both of them were young! Now he was supposed -to be engaged to a girl in the graduating class—and Jane -was going to be an old maid—so the childish romance -was over. She wished she knew the girl, however, so -that she could be sure that Oliver was getting some one -who was good enough for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Late in the fall of 1911, young Oliver, having passed -the age of twenty-one and being a free and independent -agent, packed his bag and trunk and shook the dust of -Rumley from his feet. Through the influence of an older -member of his “frat,” supported by the customary recommendation -from the college authorities, he was offered -and accepted a position in the construction department of -a Chicago engineering and investment concern interested -in the financing and developing of water power plants in -the northwest. His work took him, in the course of -time, to the Rocky Mountain region, where concessions -had been obtained and plants were either being installed -or projected.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was grave uneasiness in Rumley when he fared -forth in quest of fame and fortune. Many were the predictions -that Chicago would be the ruination of him; he -was bound to fall in with evil companions in that wicked -city, and into evil ways. College had been bad enough—but -Chicago!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yes, he was working inevitably toward the end prophesied -by the gypsy. Next thing they would hear of his -drinking and carousing and leading the gay, riotous life -of the ungodly, and then, sure as anything, he would get -mixed up in some disgraceful brawl—well, he might be -innocent of the actual murder but that wouldn’t save -him if the circumstantial evidence was strong enough—as -it would be.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then, when old Oliver resignedly announced that -his son was going up into the wild and lawless northwest, -where everybody carried guns and lynchings were common, -there was real consternation among the older families -in Rumley. One very ancient lady went so far in -her senile sympathy as to put into words the question -that had been in her thoughts for days. Chancing to -meet old Oliver on the way home from church one Sunday, -she sadly inquired whether he would bring Oliver -October’s body all the way back to Rumley for burial -or leave it out there in the wilderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Early in 1913 he was sent to China by his company on -a mission that kept him in the Orient for nearly a year -and a half. A week before Christmas, 1914, the Rumley -<span class='it'>Despatch</span> came out with the announcement—under a -double head—that Oliver October Baxter was returning -from the Far East, where he had been engaged in the -most stupendous enterprise ever undertaken by American -capital, and would arrive on the 22nd to spend the -Christmas holidays with his father and to renew acquaintances -with old friends—who were legion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Samuel Parr, the well-known insurance agent,” said -the <span class='it'>Despatch</span>, “who is to be married on the 29th to Miss -Laura Nickels, received a telegram this morning from -Mr. Baxter in which he states that he will be happy to -officiate as best man at the ceremony which, instead of -being solemnized at the home of the bride’s parents, Mr. -and Mrs. Harvey Nickels, on Grant Street, as originally -planned, will take place in the Presbyterian Church at -eight o’clock in the evening. Miss Jane Sage will be the -maid-of-honor. Mr. Baxter’s many friends will be glad -to welcome him to the hustling city of his nativity. He -has succeeded well in his profession and has gone forward -with remarkable rapidity for one of his years. Few young -men have achieved, etc., etc.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The word that he was back in the United States and -on his way to Rumley created quite a little excitement in -town. It was the opinion of a good many people that -he now stood a pretty fair chance of escaping the fate -prescribed for him by the gypsy fortune-teller—provided, -of course, he could be persuaded to remain in Rumley -for the next five years, ten months, one week and five -days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He arrived on the eleven-twenty from Chicago and was -met at the depot by a delegation. Samuel Parr was -master of ceremonies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stand back just a minute, will you?” Sammy commanded, -addressing those in the front rank of the crowd. -“Give his poor old father a chance to shake hands with -him, can’t you? Just a minute, Mr. Sikes. That means -you, too. Slow, now—<span class='it'>slow</span>, Mr. Link. This isn’t a -funeral. Hello, Oliver! How’s the boy? Here’s your -father—over this way. Never mind your suitcases. I’ll -tend to ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Oliver rushed up to his father, both hands extended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, dad! My old dad!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t believe my eyes—no, sir, I can’t,” cried the -old man, quaveringly. He was wringing his son’s hand. -“You’re back again, alive and sound. For nearly three -years I’ve been sitting around waiting for a telegram or -something telling me—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bet I’m alive,” broke in Oliver October, laying -his arm over the old man’s shoulder and patting his back. -“And you don’t look a day older than when I left, ’pon -my soul, you don’t. It’s mighty good to see you, and it’s -wonderful to be back in the old town again. Hello, Uncle -Joe! Well, you see they haven’t hung me yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And they ain’t going to if I can help it,” roared Mr. -Sikes, pumping Oliver’s arm vigorously. “Not on your -life! We got a few more years to go, and, by glory, -we’re going to keep you right here in this town from now -on. It’s all fixed, Oliver. We’ve got you the appointment -of city civil engineer for Rumley, population five -thousand and over, salary eighteen hundred a year. -How’s that? The Common Council took action on it last -Monday night, unanimous vote, politics be damned. All -of the democrats voted for you. No opposition to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give somebody else a chance, will you?” interrupted -Sammy Parr, and coolly shouldered the older man aside. -“Come over here, Oliver, I want to introduce you to the -bride-elect. She came here to live after you went away, -and she’s crazy to meet you. Just a minute, Mr. Link. -Plenty of time—plenty of time. Don’t crowd! Ladies -first—ladies first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is Jane, Mr. Sage?” inquired Oliver October, -when he had a breathing spell. He was searching the -outer edge of the throng with eager, happy eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is up at your father’s house, Oliver, helping Mrs. -Grimes and Annie with your home-coming dinner,” replied -the minister, still gripping the young man’s hand. -“It is good to see you, my boy—God bless you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve never forgotten the things you said to me the -day I went away, Uncle Herbert. I’ve led a pretty clean -life, sir, and I’ve never done anything I’m ashamed of. -I’ve done a lot of things I’ve been sorry for—but nothing -to be ashamed of.” He leaned close to the other’s ear -and said in a low, whimsical tone: “Don’t let it get to -the ears of my other uncles, but I’d hate to tell you how -many times I’ve thanked the Lord and you for those -sparring lessons you gave me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The Lord loveth a cheerful giver,’ ” quoth the Reverend -Mr. Sage dryly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the way up to the old home, Oliver’s father, waiting -until he saw a clear stretch of road ahead, turned -from the steering wheel of his brand new Ford, and, eyeing -his son narrowly, said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir, you’ve surely got my nose, and you’ve almost -got my hair. If you was to let your mustache -grow I guess it would be a good deal like mine used to -be. You’ve made a success of everything so far, from -all reports, and now, darn it all, they’ve got you started -in politics with this appointment. I fought it tooth and -nail, but they argued me down, claiming it can’t be a -political job so long as both parties want you to take—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t worry about that, father. I’ll not accept -the position.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter brightened. “You won’t? Good for you! -That’ll show Joe Sikes and Silas Link they can’t run -everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have other plans. I will tell you about them later -on, father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, you’re a good deal taller and heavier than -I am,” went on Mr. Baxter, staring ahead. “You don’t -take after me when it comes to size and build. Been -out in the open a good bit, I see. It’s done you a lot of -good.” He shot a glance at his son’s rugged, tanned -face. “Yes, and your eyes are clear and bright. I guess -you haven’t done much drinking or staying up late o’ -nights.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t drink very much—very little, in fact. Never -have. In my business a fellow has to have his wits about -him. As for being up late nights, I have seen many a -night when I didn’t go to bed at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That sounds bad,” said Mr. Baxter sourly. “I don’t -see how it could help interfering with your work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It didn’t interfere with it. You see, I was working -all night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Extra pay?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir. Just extra work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter cackled, cutting it short to toot his horn -viciously for the benefit of a dog crossing the street two -or three hundred feet away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m just learning,” he explained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So I see,” said his son, crimping his toes suddenly and -then relaxing them as his father swung safely around a -corner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only had her about six weeks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What can you get out of her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s a racer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bet she is. Seventy-five miles an hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gee, it’s good to hear you lie so cheerfully, dad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I’d had any idea you were going to believe me, I’d -have claimed a hundred,” said old Oliver, grinning. “See -many changes in the town, sonny?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought Mr. Sage was looking a little older.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he is a little older. We all are, for that matter. -I guess you’ll find Jane has changed somewhat too. She’s -twenty-one. They say she’s an uncommonly pretty girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They say? Don’t you see anything of her yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See her nearly every day. I don’t take much notice -of girls these days, blast the luck. She comes in every -once in a while to read the letters she gets from you. -Seems as though I get a good deal more news out of -the letters you write to her than the ones I get from you. -You never wrote anything to me about the girl you was -thinking of marrying out there in Montana, or the one -in China either.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was always careful not to write anything unpleasant -to you,” said Oliver October glibly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Umph! Well, here we are. Don’t be uneasy now. I -know how to stop her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And stop “her” he did, a dozen feet or so beyond the -front porch steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Set still. I’ll back her up. Sort of slipped on the -ice, I guess. We’ve had some mighty cold weather the -last week or so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “uncommonly pretty girl” opened the front door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Oliver!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Jane!” he shouted back, as he ran up the steps. -“Gee! it’s great to see you. And, my goodness, what a -big girl you are. You were just an overgrown kid when -I went away. Funny how a fellow never thinks of a -girl growing up just the same as he does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was holding her warm, strong hands in his own; -they were looking straight into each other’s eyes. In his -there was wonder and incredulity; in hers the expression -of one startled by a sudden indefinable sensation, something -that came like a flash and left her strangely puzzled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t grown much,” she said slowly. “Except -that you are a man and not a boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it,” he cried. “The difference in you is that -you’re a woman and not a girl. And I was counting on -seeing you just as you were four years ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come in,” she said, with a queer dignity that she -herself did not understand. “Get out of that fur coat -and—and give Aunt Serepta a big hug and a dozen kisses. -She’s waiting for you in the sitting-room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He still held her hands. “Oh, I say, Jane, I—I used to -kiss you when we were little kids. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But we are not little kids any longer, Oliver,” she -cried, drawing back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stared hard at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone -and got engaged to somebody, old girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not engaged to any one. I am not even in love -with any one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, all I’ve got to say is that this burg must have -more than its share of blind men,” said he with conviction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey!” shouted his father. “Do you expect me to -carry in these valises for you, you big lummix?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Put ’em down, dad. I’ll be out for them in a minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, see that you do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is getting to be terribly cranky, Oliver,” said Jane, -lowering her voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean—he’s actually sore?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he’s—he’s very impatient sometimes,” she explained. -“You’d better hurry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor dad, he’s aged terribly in the last few years, -hasn’t he? I was quite shocked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The welcome he received from Serepta Grimes was all -that could be desired. After she had hugged and kissed—and -wept over him a little—she ordered him to take -his bags up stairs to his old room and not to be all day -about it, because dinner would soon be ready and they -were having company in his honor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Aunt Serepta,” he began gayly, “I’m getting -too old to be ordered around—and, what’s more, what -right have you to come into a house of gladness and cast -a spell of gloom over it? You sha’n’t boss the heir-apparent -around as if he were a—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do as I tell you, or I’ll speak to Santa Claus -about you,” she broke in, with mock severity. “Don’t -forget Christmas is coming.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he came down stairs, after having unpacked his -bags and scattered the contents all over the room, he -found the “company” already assembled. As might have -been expected, the guests included the Reverend Mr. -Sage, Mr. Sikes, and Mr. Link, and one outsider: the -Mayor of Rumley, Mr. Samuel Belding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s this I hear?” demanded the latter sternly, as -he shook hands with the young man. “Your father’s -just been telling us you won’t accept the distinguished -honor the city of Rumley has conferred upon you -through the unanimous vote of the Common Council. -What’s the matter with it? Ain’t the pay big enough -for you? It’s the chance of a life time, my boy. Rumley -is going ahead like a house afire. We’re going to open -up and pave two or three new streets, put in a new sewerage -system and a crematory, build a bridge over the railroad -tracks at Clay Street crossing, and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe a darned word of it,” broke in Mr. -Sikes, almost plaintively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that?” demanded the Mayor, going purple in -the face. “You don’t believe what I’m—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wasn’t thinking about you,” said Mr. Sikes. “I -don’t believe Oliver means what he says.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like as not he never said it,” put in Mr. Link, eyeing -old Oliver darkly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, he did,” said the latter cheerfully, and not -in the least offended by the implication. “Didn’t you, -Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s and Jane’s eyes met. She was standing beside -her father a little apart from the garrulous group. He -saw something in her dark, unsmiling eyes that puzzled -him—something he was a long, long time in fathoming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The truth of the matter is,” he said seriously, “I have -other plans. I appreciate the honor. The pay has nothing -to do with my decision. I love the old burg and I -am proud to have been born here. I have just given up -a job that has been paying me nearly four times as much -as what I would be getting here, Mr. Belding. And it -will be open to me whenever I choose to go back with -the company. That is understood. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You say you’ve quit your job?” broke in his father, -aghast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” quietly. “I gave it up last week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A job paying more than seven thousand a year?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just seven thousand, to be exact.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, of all the idiotic—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute,” interrupted Mr. Link. “The thing -is, he may be resigning on account of ill health. Now -that I’ve had a good look at you, Oliver, I must say -your eyes seem a little liverish. Not exactly liverish, -either, but sort of bright and feverish. If you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am perfectly well, Uncle Silas,” said Oliver, smiling. -Again his eyes sought Jane’s. They seemed darker and -deeper than before. “No, it isn’t my health that’s caused -me to give up my job. Needn’t worry about my health, -dad.” While he addressed his father he was subtly conscious -of speaking solely for Jane’s benefit. “But, come -along; let’s have dinner. I’m as hungry as a bear. We -can talk about my affairs afterwards. With the cigars. -I brought you a box of the finest cigars I could find in -Chicago, father. You’ll hear the flapping of angels’ -wings every time you light one of ’em and take a few -puffs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got no business buying expensive cigars when -you’re out of a job,” grumbled his father. “Giving up -a place with seven—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe he’s going to get married,” burst out the -Mayor, nudging the young man in the ribs. “That accounts -for his eyes being feverish and—and sometimes -when a feller is in love he does get to be a little bit -liverish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That accounts for it,” said Mr. Sikes, very much relieved. -“He’s going to marry a woman with plenty of -money. He don’t have to work any more, Ollie. I hope -to goodness she ain’t got any brothers to make trouble -for him after the nuptials have worn off a little. One -brother-in-law can do more to make a feller—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not going to be married,” said Oliver, blushing -for no reason at all, and thereby convincing the attentive -Jane that if he wasn’t going to be married it was -through no fault of his own. “Nobody will have me,” -he added lamely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, if you’ve been going around telling everybody -what’s ahead of you,” said Mr. Sikes, “I don’t -blame ’em for not wanting to risk being tied up to a -feller—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shut up!” cried Serepta Grimes, from the dining-room -door. “You make me sick, Joe Sikes, the way you -go on. Dinner’s ready. You sit over here next to Jane, -Oliver. This is your place, Sam.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s another thing,” said the Mayor, very profoundly. -“If you take this job we’re offering you, Oliver, -it’s bound to lead to something better. I don’t mind -telling you that I’m not going to be a candidate for re-election. -I’ve got two years more to serve and then I’m -through. This here town needs a young, active, progressive -man for mayor. Some of us have been talking -things over and we’ve about decided that we know the -feller that ought to step into my shoes. He is a young -man of vast experience, education, integrity, ability, and -he’s a good Republican—at least, his father is. My shoes -are pretty good-sized, but that’s a blessing. No matter -who steps into ’em, they’re not likely to pinch. What -size shoes do you wear, Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh!” hissed Mr. Baxter. “The parson’s waiting to -bless the food.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The host did not speak again until near the end of the -meal. He was deeply pre-occupied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is this plan of yours?” he suddenly asked, -breaking in on Mr. Belding’s windy eulogy of the feast -prepared by three of the “best cooks in the universe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Oliver started. “Hadn’t we better leave that -till we’re alone—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; let’s have it now,” said old Oliver testily. “Unless -it’s something you’re ashamed of,” he amended, -bending his gaze upon his son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I certainly am not ashamed of it.” A trace of irony, -unintentional to be sure, crept into his voice. “I suppose -you know there is a war going on?” His eyes swept -the circle of listeners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s kind of leaked out down our way,” spoke -Mr. Link dryly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn the Kaiser,” said Mr. Belding, with feeling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God, they turned him back at the Marne,” -said Mr. Sage, speaking for the first time in many -minutes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know what you are planning to do, Oliver,” cried -Jane, paling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “You would know. -You’re young enough to know, Jane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are going over there to fight,” she cried, a thrill -in her voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Right you are. I’m going over in February with the -Canadians. It’s all settled. I’m to have my old job back -when the war is over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Deep silence followed the announcement. Mr. Baxter -sat with his lips working, his Adam’s apple rising and -falling in quick spasmodic jerks. Jane put her hand to -her throat as if to release something that had got caught -there and was stifling her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it’s not our war,” said Mr. Sikes at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s everybody’s war,” spoke young Oliver out of -the very depths of his soul. “We will be in it some day. -We can’t keep out of it. But I can’t wait. I’m going -over now. Oh, I’ll come back, never fear. No chance -of me being killed by a German bullet.” Here he grinned -boyishly. “You see, Uncle Joe, I’ve just got to pull -through alive and well, so that I can be hung when my -time comes.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='128' id='Page_128'></span><h1>CHAPTER IX</h1></div> - -<h3>HOME FROM THE WAR</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The war was over. Oliver October Baxter came -through without a scratch. He saw two years -of hard fighting with the glorious Canadians; -when the United States went in, he gave up his hard-earned -commission as first lieutenant and was transferred -to the American Army. He learned a great deal about -red tape before his transfer was effected, and he discovered -to his disgust that he knew a great deal less -about war than he might reasonably have been supposed -to know after two years of slogging along at it under -shot and shell from the German Armies. He had to go -back to America and enter a training camp, and even -then, to employ his own expression, he had the “devil -of a time” getting a commission as second lieutenant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were so many able young business men and college -graduates out for commissions that he just barely -managed to scrape through “by the skin of his teeth” in -the struggle for honors. The fact that he had had two -years of actual experience at the front, part of that time -as an officer, did not seem to help him very much with his -studies at the “Camp,” nor with the intensive drilling that -was supposed to make a soldier of him in three months. -Two medals for distinguished service on the field of battle -were of absolutely no service to him in the contest that -was being waged in the training camp—in fact, he was -advised by the major in command that he would better -not even speak of them, much less expose them to view.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, to his intense chagrin, he was sent from one -camp to another—a sort of floating officer—finally winding -up in a mid-western division that did not go over -seas until the spring of 1918, only a few months before -the war ended. Once with the Army in France, however, -things took a belated change for the better. Far-sighted -and fair-minded officers in high places were not -slow in transferring him from the camp far behind the -lines to a veteran division up in the battle zone. He -went through the Argonne and was close on the bloody -heels of the German Army when the last guns in the -great conflict were fired. He came out a captain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In April, 1919, he sailed from Brest and on the tenth of -May arrived in Rumley, discharged from the Army and -jobless. On the way home he stopped over in Chicago -to notify his employers that he would be ready to resume -work after a month’s much-needed rest and quiet down -in the old town. He was blandly informed that as soon -as anything turned up they would be pleased and happy -to take him back into the concern, but at present there -wasn’t a vacancy in sight—in fact, they were cutting -down the operating force wherever it was possible, and -so on and so forth. Yes, they remembered perfectly that -they had promised him his old place when he returned, -but how in God’s name were they to know that the war -was going to last as long as it did? He couldn’t expect -them to hold a job open for him for nearly four years, -could he? Only too glad to take you on again, Baxter, -when things begin to pick up—and all that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Being a captain in the Army and used to plain speaking, -he told the astonished general manager what he -thought of him and the whole works besides, and airily -went his way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The horrors of war had not affected his spirits. He -went over in the first place full of cheer and enthusiasm; -he came back without the latter, but indomitably possessed -of the former. He had seen grim sights and sickened -under the spectacle; he had stood by the side of -dying comrades and wept as he would have wept over -his own brother; he had known times when life was far -harder to bear than the thought of death; and he had -said what he believed to be his last prayer a hundred -times or more. But when the guns ceased their everlasting -roar and the smoke lifted to reveal a blue sky -that smiled, he too smiled and was glad to be alive. He -had lived on hope through the carnage of what seemed -a thousand years; the hope which men, in their bewildered -after-joy, were prone to call their luck. It was -hope that went over the top with them, but it was luck -that saw them through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so when he was turned away, empty-handed, from -the place where he had proved his worth as a soldier of -industry, he was not dismayed. He experienced a lively -sense of indignation, he felt outraged, but he did not sit -himself down over against the walls of Nineveh to devote -a single hour to lamentation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The injustice rankled. He had heard of other men -coming back to find their places occupied by indispensables, -but it had never occurred to him that <span class='it'>his</span> bosses -would “welch” on their promise. He had never for an -instant doubted, and yet when he was turned away he -was not surprised. It seemed odd to him that he was -not surprised. Perhaps it was because he had reached -the point where nothing could surprise him. In any case, -he strode out of the old familiar offices with his chin -high, enjoying a very good opinion of himself and an -extremely poor one of his late employers. It did not -occur to him to feel the slightest uneasiness about the -future. He would be no time at all in landing a good -job with any one of the half dozen big concerns that had -tried in vain to get him away from the V—— Company. -He would take his month or two of idleness down -in the old town, where he could realize on the dreams -and the longings that had never ceased to attend him, -awake or asleep, through all the black ages spent in -France.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This time there was no delegation at the station to -meet him. Too many of Rumley’s young men had preceded -him home from the war. He was no better than -the rest of them and deserved no more. His father and -Sammy Parr were waiting for him when the train -pulled in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By thunder, Oliver, it beats the dickens how you -work into my plans so neatly,” cried the latter. “You -always seem to be coming home at the right minute. -You couldn’t have timed it better if you’d—oh, excuse -me, Mr. Baxter, I forgot you hadn’t—er, here’s your -father, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Oliver came shuffling up from the background. -He eyed his son narrowly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s this, I hear about them not taking you back -on your old job?” he demanded. He extended his hand, -which young Oliver gripped in both of his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t you glad to see me back, alive and well, dad?” -he cried. “Not even scratched, or gassed or shell-shocked -or anything. You act as though you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, I’m glad you’re back, sonny—of course, -I am. I’ve been praying for this ever since you went -away. I don’t see how on earth you ever escaped being -killed. I—I guess it wasn’t meant for you to die that -way. Seems so, at any rate. But what did I tell you -about them holding your job for you? What did I tell -you? Didn’t I tell you just what would happen? Didn’t -I say you’d never get it back? Didn’t I say you were -a fool for giving up a seven thousand dollar job to go -over and mix up in a war that wasn’t any of our business? -Well, you see what’s happened. Just what I said -would happen. Here you are, a grown man, out of a -job and probably won’t be able to get one in God knows -how long. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m not down and out, you know, dad,” broke -in young Oliver, slapping his father on the shoulder. -“I’ve got quite a bunch of money in the bank and I’ve -got my health and a few million dollars’ worth of brains -left. So, cheer up! I’m not worrying. I learned a long -time ago how to land on my feet—and that’s the way -I’ll land this crack.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Course you’re not worrying,” was his father’s sour -retort. “You’ve got me to fall back on, with a good -home and grub and a darned fine business to drop into -when I’m dead and gone. Four-fifths of the fellers who -served in the army from this town alone are back here -now, loafing and living off of their folks, and kicking -like a bay steer because the government won’t do something -for them. I hope you ain’t going to be one of that -kind, Oliver. I hope to God you ain’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His son could hardly believe his ears. He was bewildered, -hurt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you mean, dad, that I am counting on living off of -you—of sponging on you—why, put it out of your mind. -Nothing like that is going to happen. I did plan to stay -a month or two, just for a rest and to be with you for -a while—but if you’d rather have me beat it back to -Chicago to look for a job, I’ll only hang around a few -days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to stay here as long as you like, sonny,” -cried old Oliver, melting. “I don’t want you ever to go -away again. Maybe I sounded as if I did—but—but, I -don’t. I’m getting purty old—seventy-four last month—and -I guess I’m not good for much longer. Don’t you -get it into your head that I don’t want you to stay here -in Rumley. Nothing would suit me better than to turn -the business over to you right now and let me retire, but -I guess it’s not your idea to go into the retail hardware -business.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you need me, dad, I—I will stay,” said Oliver, -swallowing hard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t need you yet,” said his father, crusty -once more. “I can get along, I guess. I’ve done it for -a good many years, and I’m not all in yet, as the feller -says. There was a time when I thought of selling out -and moving into another state to live, but I’ve given that -idea up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still living in dread of what that darned old fraud -said the day I was born, eh? Well, the agony will soon -be over. A year and a half more, isn’t it? That will -end the tale, and I will live happily forever afterward.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sammy Parr was consulting his vest-pocket note book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just one year, six months and twenty-one days,” -said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good Lord, Sam! Have <span class='it'>you</span> gone off your nut, too?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vital statistics, old boy. It’s my business, you know. -Come on; I’ve got my car out here. Your father’s Ford -died last fall and he’s been an orphan ever since. Grab -up some of this junk and I’ll bring the rest. Never -mind, Mr. Baxter. We can manage it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drop me at the store,” said old Oliver crossly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sammy gave young Oliver a significant look. “All -right, Mr. Baxter. We’ll wait outside for you. I’ve got -nothing but time on my hands to-day, and besides I want -to talk to Oliver about a—er—something private.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the two young men hurried across the platform -with the bags and bundles, Sammy found opportunity -to say to Oliver:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll be in a good humor in a minute or two. It’s -just a habit he’s fallen into since you’ve been away. I -guess it’s that infernal gypsy business. He’s as peevish -as blazes a good part of the time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stopped in front of the Baxter store and the old -man reluctantly got out of the car. It was plain to be -seen that he had not intended to stop there at all but was -now obliged to do so to save his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t be a minute,” he said, affecting a briskness -that was calculated to deceive his son. Then he darted -into the store, where, from a shadowy corner in the stove -section, he shifted his uneasy gaze from the clock on -the wall to the car at the curb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How’s your wife, Sam?” inquired Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sammy grinned. “Little premature, ain’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Premature?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure. I’m not going to be married till next week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I say, old chap, I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard of -Laura’s death. Her name <span class='it'>was</span> Laura, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yep. And it still is. But her last name isn’t Parr -any longer. It’s Collins. We’ve been divorced for five -or six months, Oliver. Don’t look so darned serious. -I’m not sensitive. It’s the way things are done these -days. Nobody gets married for keeps nowadays. It’s -not supposed to be proper. The idea is to try it out for -a year or so and if it doesn’t work, zing! You up and -get divorced. Pretty much the same thing as an armistice. -The war has changed everything. Quite a few -old married people I know of are taking advantage of -the new order of things. I’ve had to change the beneficiaries -in four or five policies already. They’ve suddenly -awoke to the fact that it’s easy. God knows where -it will end. But I haven’t time now to tell you how -Laura and I came to split up. Some other time, if you’ll -just remind me of it. The question of the hour is, will -you be best man again for me next week, old boy? I’m -marrying the sweetest little woman that ever came down -the pike, and this time it’s for keeps. No monkey business. -Her first husband was a Lieutenant Higby—we -were in the same camp for months and months. That’s -where I met her. Well, he didn’t appreciate her. That’s -the long and short of it. Got to running around after -other women. She up and canned him. Long and short -of it. Laura, God bless her, fell in love with a chap -named Collins. I don’t blame her, mind you—not a bit -of it. She’s as square as anything. Of course, it hurt -my pride a little when she ran away with him—but it -simplified matters. I’m sure you will like Muriel. She’s -as fine as they make ’em. We’re to be married next -Thursday afternoon. Up in the city. Her people live -there. How about it? Will you repeat for me? I -promise you it will be the last time, Oliver. Never -again. We both know what we’re about this time. -We’ve cut all our wisdom teeth—and, by Gosh, if you -ask me, I’ve had a couple pulled.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had a very jolly time at your first wedding, -Sammy,” sighed Oliver. “Jane was maid-of-honor and—well, -I would have sworn that you two were the kind -who would stick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So would I,” agreed Sammy cheerfully. “We can’t -very well ask Jane to be maid-of-honor this time,” he -went on. “Religious scruples, you see. Minister’s -daughter. Wouldn’t look right. I mean, wouldn’t look -right for her. But it’s different with you. You haven’t -any religious scruples. What say? Will you do it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly. Rumley seems to be keeping up with the -times, Sammy. When I was a kid, nobody ever dreamed -of getting a divorce. It was looked upon as a—er—a -sort of a crime.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still is by some of the old-timers,” confessed Sammy. -“Here comes your father. Don’t say anything about me -being married next week. I’m closing up a deal to renew -his fire insurance to-morrow or next day, and if he knew -I was thinking of committing bigamy next week, he’d -turn me down cold. He calls it bigamy, you see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. By the way, where is Jane, Sammy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He remembered having asked that very question when -he returned after a former protracted absence—and how -many times had he asked it even before that? Every -time he came home from college for a brief visit, every -time he met Mr. Sage on the street—why, all his life -he had been asking: “Where is Jane?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jane Sage? Oh, she’s around, same as ever. Things -are a lot easier for Mr. Sage now. I guess maybe you -haven’t heard about his brother dying out in California -and leaving him quite a bit of money. Yep. About a -hundred thousand dollars, they say—safely invested, -mostly at six per cent. The old boy still sticks to his -job as preacher, though. He’s getting eighteen hundred -a year now from the church. I’m glad of it. He gets -a new suit of clothes every once in a while, and Jane -doesn’t have to make her own dresses as she used to. It -looks like a pretty serious affair between her and Doc -Lansing. Been going on now for nearly a year.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that?” demanded Oliver, startled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess it’s all happened since you went away. Why, -sure it has. Doc’s only been practicing here since last -summer. Got hurt over in France in 1917 and had to -take his discharge. Went over early in ’Seventeen in -the Medical Corps. Leg smashed. Limps. Fine feller, -though.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t seem to remember him,” said Oliver, dully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His father is president of the new bank here—that -brick building down there at the corner of Clay and -Pershing Streets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pershing Street?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yep. Used to be Ridley’s Lane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh.” Oliver was feeling a little like Rip Van Winkle. -“You say she’s—er—in love with him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Looks that way,” said Sammy, indifferently. “He’s -dead gone on her, that’s sure. I had him in not long -ago for the baby. He’s all right. I forgot to tell you -that the court gave the kid to me for eight months every -year—four months to Laura. All right, Mr. Baxter. -Hop in. I’ll snake you home in no time. Hang on to -your hat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The volatile, insouciant Mr. Parr employed the correct -word when he said “snake,” for he wriggled a swift -and serpentinous way through the traffic of Clay Street -in his noisy red roadster, keeping up a running fire of -conversation all the time, much of it being drowned by -the louder fire of the muffler cut-out—which he used unsparingly -in place of his horn in tight pinches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s Jane on ahead,” he sang out to Oliver as they -whizzed across Pershing Street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where?” cried Oliver, starting up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Back there,” replied Sammy, with a jerk of his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver twisted in the seat and looked over his shoulder. -Jane was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring -after the red roadster. He half-rose and waved his hand -to her. She did not respond at once. The car was swinging -into a cross street before she recovered from her -astonishment. Then she waved her hand—and the last -he saw of her she was standing stock-still in the middle -of the sidewalk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, what the—what’s the rush?” he roared. “I -want to speak to Jane. Stop the damn thing, will you? -Let me out. I’ll run back and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep your shirt on,” chirped Sammy. “I’ll run you -clear around the block and we’ll head her off. Quicker -than backing and turning in this—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go ahead!” commanded Mr. Baxter sharply. “Let’s -get home. You can see Jane to-morrow or next day,” -he shouted to his son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I say, dad!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’d sooner see her than me—all right. All right! -Turn around, Sammy, and take him back. Let me out. -I’ll walk the rest of the way home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drive on, Sam,” said Oliver, sinking back in the seat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently Mr. Baxter cackled. He was in high good -humor again. “Say,” he said, “I fooled the whole crowd -of ’em. I told Joe and the rest of ’em you wouldn’t be -coming down till to-morrow. Pretty smart trick, eh? -Joe’ll be so mad he’ll pay me the twenty dollars he owes -me, claiming he don’t want to have anything more to -do with me. He-he-he!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was silent. Sammy snorted and then got very -red in the face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had to tell Serepty Grimes,” went on Mr. Baxter, -as if apologizing to himself. “She’s keeping house for -me now, and so I had to tell her. I didn’t tell her till -just about an hour ago, though. She was as mad as a -wet hen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aunt Serepta keeping house for you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Have you got any objections?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None whatever, dad. I think it’s great.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” began the old man, slightly mollified, “I’m -glad it suits you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t have thought she’d give up her own nice -little house to—Don’t tell she’s in financial difficulties, -dad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s better off than she ever was. She sold her house -and lot and the Grimes sawmill two years ago, and now -she’s living off the fat of the land. She was the one who -proposed the housekeeper scheme, not me. I tried to -argue her out of it. Wasn’t any use. I said that people -would be sure to talk if she came over and lived at my -house. Make a regular scandal out of it. But she just -laughed and said nothing in the world would tickle her -so much as to have people say complimentary things -about her at her age. I was a long time figuring out -what she meant. She’s sixty-nine. She says I ought to -feel the same way about it, me being seventy-four. ‘Let -’em talk,’ says she, and after a while she got me to saying -‘let ’em talk.’ But the cussed part of it is, nobody -thinks there’s anything scandalous about it. There -hasn’t been a derned bit of talk. The only thing people -say, far as I can make out, is that it’s a mighty nice -arrangement. What the dickens are you laughing at, -Sam?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I just ran over a hen,” lied Samuel promptly.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='140' id='Page_140'></span><h1>CHAPTER X</h1></div> - -<h3>IDLE DAYS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>June was well along before Oliver began seriously to -contemplate bringing his self-styled “vacation” to an -end. May had been glorious. Not since the year he -left college had he known what it was to be idle and, in -a manner of speaking, independent. He revelled in privileges -that had been denied him for years—such as lying -abed in the morning till he felt good and ready to turn -out; strolling aimlessly whither he wished without troubling -himself over the thought that he had to get back -at a given time; loafing;—Lord, he couldn’t remember -that there ever had been a time when he actually enjoyed -the dishonorable luxury of loafing!—on street corners, -in Fry’s drug store, in the public library, on friendly -lawns and front porches; fishing, tramping, motoring, -reading—all the things he had dreamed of in the black -days across the sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The country was green and fresh and sparkling with -the glories of a summer just taking over the heritage of -a blithe and bountiful spring. The dust and grit of -jaded August were still far enough away to be unconsidered; -the roadside bushes and hedges, the trees and the -grass were without the coat of gray that settles down -upon them as summer ages; the brooks and the creeks -were cool and laughing in a world of plenty, disdainful -of the drought that was sure to fall upon and suck them -in the blistering “dog days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even the sinister stretches of Death Swamp, across -which he looked from the oak-shaded citadel that he -would always call home, were not so repelling as they -had been in days of yore. The pools, the hummocks, -the patches of defiant reeds, the black shades of the -quagmires seemed oddly to have lost much of their ugliness; -the vastness that used to appall him was gone, just -as the old church down the lane seemed to have shrunk -from an immense, overpowering structure into a pitiful -little shanty supporting a ridiculous little steeple. The -swamp was green and almost kindly in its serenity; the -wall of willows that surrounded it was greener still and -no longer the horrifying barrier beyond which no man -dared to tread; the soft blue of the June sky lay upon -the still and supposedly bottomless pond in the middle -of these useless acres.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But at night—ah, that was different! The swamp -turned grim and dismal and forbidding. The grown -man became once more the little boy as he looked out -over the moonlit waste or tried to pierce its black -shadows on a starless night; the same old creepy sensations -of dread and terror stole over him, and he who -knew not the meaning of fear shivered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the first week he spent many happy, care-free -hours with Jane Sage. They took long walks through -country lanes, visited the old haunts he had known as -smuggler, pirate and brigand, and marveled to find that -they were still boy and girl. It was hard for him to -believe that this tall, beautiful, glowing creature was the -Jane Sage of another day, hard for him to realize that -this ripe, mature, fully developed woman with the calm, -clear eyes of understanding and the soft, deep voice, had -once been a spindling, giggling girl in pinafores and pigtails, -and later a half-formed maid in unnoticeable shirt -waists and ill-hanging skirts. She reminded him that she -was twenty-five. Why shouldn’t she be grown-up at -twenty-five? What was surprising in that? Everybody -else grew up and got old, didn’t they?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said he, “but somehow you seem to have grown -up differently from other people. As if magic had something -to do with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was as grown-up when you went off to France four -years ago as I am now. A girl doesn’t change much between -twenty-one and twenty-five, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you were just out of short dresses when I went -to France.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed. “Shows what little notice you took of -me,” she gurgled. “And all the time you were over there -you were thinking of me as an overgrown schoolgirl, I -suppose. That is, if you thought of me at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I thought of you a great deal. But you’re right. -I did think of you as you were when I went to Chicago -to work—just a pretty, big-eyed, high-school girl with -bony elbows and skinny arms—and you were as flat as -a board. Why, good Lord, Janie, hasn’t anybody ever -told you that you’re old enough to be married?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not without confidential friends,” she replied -demurely, a soft, warm flush spreading from throat to -cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was in the first week of his visit. It was early -evening and he lounged contentedly among cushions at -the foot of the steps leading up to the parsonage veranda—an -“improvement” that had followed close upon Mr. -Sage’s windfall. Jane sat on an upper step, her back -against the railing, her legs stretched out before her in -graceful abandon. The porch light behind cast its quite -proper glow down upon the tranquil picture; it fell upon -the crown of Jane’s dark, wavy hair, scantily touching -with shadowy softness the partly lowered face which, -with seeming indifference, she kept turned away from -him. She was looking pensively down the dim-lit, -cottage-lined street that cut through what once had been -the barren tract known as Sharp’s Field.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver had fastened a sort of proprietory claim upon -her as soon as he arrived in town. He took it for granted -that old conditions had not been altered by the lapse of -years nor by the transformations of nature; it did not -occur to him that their relationship could or should be -governed by a new set of laws.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And suddenly, on this quiet June evening, came the -shock that put an end to the old order of things: the -astonishing realization that Jane was old enough to be -married! She was no longer a simple playmate. She -was old enough to be somebody’s wife—aye, more than -that, she was old enough to be the mother of children!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye, as if -at some strange creature that baffled his understanding. -A woman! Jane Sage a woman! Yes, there was the -woman’s look in her thoughtful eyes, the woman’s mold -of chin and cheek and temple, the graceful curves of a -woman’s body, the round throat and the firm, shapely -breast of glorious womanhood. A queer little thrill ran -over him—the thrill of discovery. This was succeeded -by a smarting sense of mortification which found expression -in an apologetic murmur:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I’ve been behaving right along just as if you -were still a blooming infant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Instead of a withering old maid,” she remarked, -affecting a lugubrious sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I say, you—why, hang it all, Jane, if you turn -out to be an old maid I’ll—I swear I’ll not believe there’s -a God or anything. It would be monstrous—inhuman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes we can’t help it,” said she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s darned hard for me to think of you as a grown -woman, but it’s even harder to conceive of you as an -old maid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re getting on in years yourself, old boy,” said she -tauntingly. “Aren’t you afraid of becoming a crusty old -bachelor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not answer. Apparently he had not heard her. -He was deep in thought. After a long silence he spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What sort of a chap is Lansing, Jane?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She started, and for a moment her eyes were fixed -intently on his half-averted face. There was an odd, -startled expression in them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is very nice,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So everybody says. He struck me as an uncommonly -decent, high-minded fellow. Knows a lot more -to-day, of course, than he’ll know when he gets a little -older. Just out of medical college, isn’t he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was overseas in 1917,” she replied, a trace of -warmth in her voice. “He had been an interne for more -than a year when he enlisted. He’s young, of course—but -we are all young once, aren’t we? He is considered -a very able—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord love you, Jane,” he broke in hastily, “I’m not -questioning his ability or his record. He’s got a smashed -leg to show for his work over there, and that’s more than -I’ve got. As for his—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have two or three medals,” she broke in softly. -“You got them for bravery, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I got them for -foolishness. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread! -I had a fool’s luck, that’s all. The battlefields and -trenches were full of dead men who ought to have had -ten medals to my one. Lansing, for instance—wasn’t -he hurt in an air raid over a field hospital a few kilometers -back of the lines?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sometimes think, in fact, I know—that it takes more -real courage to fight with your back to the enemy than -it does to face him—if you see what I mean. It’s much -easier to be brave in the light than it is in the dark. -Besides,” he went on in his dry, whimsical manner, “you -know which way to run if you can see the enemy coming -toward you. And usually you run away from him a lot -faster than you run toward him. I know I did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You used to be a very good runner,” she said, smiling. -“But that was ages ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ages,” he agreed, and then both fell silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They watched the approach of an automobile along the -tree-lined street. It slowed down as it neared the Sage -home, coming to a stop at the front gate. Jane shifted -her position quickly. She uncrossed her legs, drew them -up into a less comfortable position, and attended to some -slight though perhaps unnecessary rearrangement of her -skirt. This action did not escape the notice of Oliver. -It was significant. It established the line she drew between -him and other men. She didn’t mind him and she -did mind—well, say, Lansing, for it was the young doctor -who clambered out of the car and came up the walk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The house stood back a hundred feet or more from -the street, so Oliver, recognizing the newcomer, had -ample time to say to Jane, with a mischievous gleam in -his eye as he looked up at her:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hullo! Here comes the doctor. Why didn’t you tell -me some one was sick in the house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh! He will hear you,” cautioned Jane, frowning at -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless your heart, Jane,” he whispered impulsively, -and again she looked at him in stark surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Lansing walked with a slight limp. He was a -tall, shock-haired, good-looking chap of twenty-five or -six. He had the manner of one absolutely cocksure of -himself—no doubt an admirable trait in one of his calling—and -there were people who did not quite approve of him -because he seemed to know as much as if not more than -the old and time-tried practitioners of the town. He had -new-fangled ideas, new methods, and he never by any -chance so far forgot himself as to allude to an ailment -or remedy in terms other than profoundly scientific. -After hearing him classify your symptoms, it was impossible -for you to deny that he was a young man of -superlative attainments. But when you rushed around -to the drug store with your prescription, believing yourself -to be in the grip of a strange and horrific malady, -and found that you had an ordinary sore throat and were -to let the same old potash tablets dissolve in your mouth -just as you had always done, you somehow felt that -young Dr. Lansing was a trifle over-educated. He was, -at twenty-six, what you would call bumptious. Nevertheless, -he was a fine, earnest, likeable fellow—and even -the most ignorant of patients would just as soon be ill -in Latin as in plain English so long as he pulls through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good evening, Jane,” said he, as he came up to the -steps. “How are you, Captain Baxter? Wonderful night, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wonderful,” said Oliver, who wasn’t thinking at all -of the physical aspects of the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be a pig, Oliver,” cried Jane. “Hand over a -couple of those cushions to Dr. Lansing. You look like -a Sultan completely surrounded by luxury.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t bother,” interposed Lansing hastily. “I shan’t -mind sitting here on the step. Doctors get used to—Oh, -thanks, Captain. Since you force them upon me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Twenty minutes later, Oliver looked at his wrist-watch, -uttered an exclamation, and sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must be going, Jane,” he said. “Due at Sammy -Parr’s house half an hour ago. I’m standing up with him -at his wedding to-morrow, Doctor. Marriage is a complaint -you can have more than once, it seems. It’s -Sammy’s second attack.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No cure for it, I believe,” said Lansing, arising. -“Not necessarily fatal, however.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If taken in time it can be prevented,” quoth Oliver, -airily. “The symptoms are unmistakable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Haven’t you ever been exposed to it?” inquired -Lansing, with a grin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Frequently. It takes two to catch it, though. That’s -how I’ve managed to escape. So long, Jane. I shan’t -see you again for a few days. Going up for the wedding -to-morrow and expect to stay in the city for a day or -two. Good night, Doctor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took himself off in well-simulated haste. He had -not been slow to size up the situation. He was <span class='it'>de trop</span>. -A certain constraint had fallen upon the young couple -at the opposite side of the steps. He had sustained the -brunt of conversation for some time, notwithstanding -several determined efforts on Jane’s part to do her share. -Lansing seemed to have become absolutely inarticulate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he strode off down the street he was conscious of -an extremely uncomfortable feeling that they were glad -to be rid of him. Indeed, now that he thought of it, Jane -had not seemed especially pleased when he dropped in -shortly after supper. He recalled her long silences and -the way she kept her gaze fixed on the street. Yes, they -were glad to be rid of him. Any one could see that with -half an eye. He smarted a little. It hurt him to think -that Jane didn’t want him around. Now that she was -a woman she didn’t want him hanging around. She -wanted somebody else. Somehow it didn’t seem natural.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But then, he philosophized, why wasn’t it natural? -She was old enough to be thinking seriously of getting -married, old enough to have been in love a half dozen -times or more—only he couldn’t conceive of Jane being -so silly and vacillating as all that—and she certainly had -a right to be annoyed with him if he came meddling -around—He stopped short in his tracks, a queer little -chill of dismay striking in upon him. For a moment he -felt utterly desolate and bewildered. He felt lost. Why, -it meant that he and Jane couldn’t be playmates or -chums any longer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Without quite knowing what he was doing, he turned -and looked back in the direction from which he had -come. He saw the little red tail-light far up the street, -standing guard, so to speak, in front of the parsonage. -A red light signified danger. It means “steer clear,” -“go slow,” “beware.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jamming his hands into his pockets he resumed his -way homeward, but now he walked slowly, his head bent -in thought. Presently his face began to brighten, and -soon he was grinning delightedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless her heart,” he was saying to himself. “It’s -great! What a mucker I am to begrudge her anything. -I hope this guy is good enough for her, that’s all. If he -isn’t—” here his face darkened again—“if he doesn’t -treat her right after he gets her, I’ll make him wish he’d -never been born.” His cogitations became more expansive. -After a while they led him to strong decisions. -“It’s up to me to give him a clear field. No butting in -as if I owned the house and Jane and everything. It’s -all right for me to say I’m an old friend, and all that, but -old friends can make damned nuisances of themselves. -I know how I’d feel if I was in love with a girl and some -idiotic old friend kept on horning in on everything. -Why, I’ve been up at Jane’s every night since I got to -town—most of the afternoons, too. Monopolizing her. -Making her unhappy. Making him—Yes, I’ve got to -cut it out. It isn’t fair. She’s in love with him—at -least, it looks that way. It’s going to spoil my visit down -here, but I’ve got to do it. The town won’t seem natural -or like home if I can’t play around with Jane—but, my -Lord, our play days are over. He seems like a decent -chap. I wonder how Mr. Sage feels about it? Heigh-ho! -It certainly does beat the devil the way the war has -turned everything upside down. Nothing is the same. It -never can be the same. Let’s see—what did I say I had -to do? Oh, yes—see Sammy Parr about something or -other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet, with the best intentions in the world, he was -not allowed to carry them out. Jane had something to -say about it. She met him face to face in the street -three days after Sammy Parr’s wedding, and looking -straight into his eyes, asked:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter, Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. What have I done?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Done?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be stupid. Have I offended you? Why haven’t -you been up to see me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He decided to be quite frank about it. “I guess you -know the reason.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know of any reason why you shouldn’t come -to see me, unless it’s because you don’t care to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Jane, we’ve always been pals. I know you -like me just as much as you ever did, and I’d jump off of -that building over there head first for your sake. I don’t -know exactly how things stand with you and Lansing. I -don’t think you are engaged to be married. If that were -the case, I’m sure you would have told me so, but—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are not engaged to be married,” she said quietly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to ask whether you are in love with -him. It’s none of my business. It’s pretty generally -understood that he is in love with you. Let me finish. I -will admit I’ve been making a few inquiries. I have found -out that up to the time he came upon the field you had -any number of young men calling on you—And I’ll bet -my head they were all in love with you. According to -gossip, he seems to have the inside track—so much so, in -fact, that all of the others have dropped out of the running. -You see hardly any one now but Lansing. And so, -while I’m not a suitor, it’s only fair and square of me to -keep out of the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her free, joyous laugh interrupted him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you don’t know how relieved I am,” she cried. “I -thought it was something really serious. Something I -had done to offend you. So that’s the explanation, is it? -You wanted to give me every chance in the world to -catch a beau—and to keep him. It’s awfully kind of you, -Oliver. Quixotic and silly and presumptuous—but kind. -I am glad you’ve told me. As you say, it is none of your -business. So I shan’t burden you with my affairs. There -is no reason why you should make me miserable and unhappy, -however, just because you want to be what you -call fair and square. It’s just dirt mean of you, that’s -what it is. So now you know how I feel. Why, suppose -I were in love with some one—even suppose I were engaged—is -that any reason why the oldest friend I have -in the world should turn his back on me and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, now! Don’t lose your temper, Jane!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not angry. I’m hurt. You’ve been in love with -loads of girls—heaven knows how many that I don’t know -anything about—but has that ever made any difference -in my friendship for you? Indeed it hasn’t. You—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you <span class='it'>are</span> in love with Lansing?” he broke in recklessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t said so, have I? Besides there is only one -person who has a right to ask me whether I’m in love -with him or not and that is Doctor Lansing himself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was one straight to the point of the jaw,” cried -he, with a grimace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you needn’t feel you are doing me a good turn by -avoiding me,” she went on. “On the contrary, you are -putting me in an extremely unenviable position. What -do you think people will say if you—of all persons—drop -me like a hot potato and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, listen, Jane,” he began defensively. “I thought -I was doing the right thing. You see, it isn’t the same -as it would be if I were a contender. Good Lord, can -you see me standing aside in favor of another fellow if -I was in love with you? I should say not! I’d stay him -out if it took all night <span class='it'>every</span> night for ten years. But I -want to play the game. Why, if I keep on coming to see -you morning, noon and night, I’ll scare Lansing off and -he—he’ll take to drink or something like that,” he wound -up whimsically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe even as redoubtable a character as you -could scare him off, my dear Oliver,” said she, not without -a trace of irony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, anyhow—” began Oliver lamely—“anyhow, -I’ve explained and it doesn’t seem to have done a particle -of good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you coming to see me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly. If you want me to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just as if there were no such person as Dr. Lansing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He isn’t easy to overlook, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dare say if I were to ask him to overlook you, Oliver, -he would do it for my sake—with pleasure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ouch!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When are you coming to see me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This evening,” said he promptly. “Unless you have a -previous engagement,” he hurriedly qualified in justice to -his good intentions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane smiled. “Doctor Lansing has quite an extensive -practice,” she remarked dryly. “He can’t devote every -evening to me, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so June drew toward an end with Jane and Oliver -back on the old footing—not quite the same as before, -owing to the latter’s secret conviction that he was playing -hob with the doctor’s peace of mind, although that young -gentleman failed surprisingly to reveal any signs of an -inward disturbance. On the contrary, he didn’t seem to -mind Oliver at all—an attitude that was not without its -irritations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “committee of three,” satisfied that he was safe -for the time being, adopted the welcome policy of letting -Oliver alone. Joseph Sikes was so vehemently concerned -over the Eighteenth Amendment that he had little time -for anything else—not, he insisted, because he was a -drinking man or that he couldn’t get along without it, but -because he had for once abandoned his own party and -had weakly helped to elect men to a legislature that had -betrayed the state into the hands of the “sissies.” He invariably -spoke of the “dry” advocates as “sissies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s otherwise agreeable and whilom stay in Rumley -was marred by his father’s increasing despondency -and irritation over the fact that he not only was out of a -job but apparently was making no effort to obtain one. -There were times when the old man’s scolding became -unbearable, and but for the pleadings of Serepta Grimes -and the counsel of Mr. Sage, Oliver would have packed -his bags and departed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t pay any attention to him, Oliver,” begged Serepta. -“He’s cranky, that’s all. He don’t mean what he -says. It would break his heart if you were to get mad -and go off and leave him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I can’t stand being called a loafer, and a good-for-nothing, -and a lazy hound, and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must overlook it, Oliver. He’s old and he has -worried so terribly over what that gypsy said—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right—all right, Aunt Serepta,” he would say, patiently. -“I’ll put up with it. I know he’s fond of me. I -wouldn’t hurt him for the world. But sometimes it gets -on my nerves so I have an awful time keeping my temper. -How would you like to be called a long-legged sponge?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He grinned and so did she. “I think I’d like it,” chuckled -dumpy little Serepta. “It would be stretchin’ something -more than the imagination to give me a pair of -long legs, my boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not asking him for money,” grumbled Oliver. -“I’ve got a little laid by. Enough to tide me over for -quite a while. He seems to think I’m scheming to get -my hands on some of his. In fact, he said so the other -day when I merely mentioned that if I could scrape up -a few extra thousand I could triple it in no time by draining -all this end of the swamp and turning it into as fine -pasture land as you’d find in the state. I even took him -down to the swamp and showed him that it is possible and -feasible. He called me a rattle-brained idiot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Serepta gently, “maybe you can carry out -the plan after he is gone, Oliver. He’s pretty old. He -will leave everything he has to you when he dies. He is -a very thrifty man and he has prospered. So you will be -pretty well off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God knows I would like him to live to be a hundred, -Aunt Serepta—so let’s not talk of his dying.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='155' id='Page_155'></span><h1>CHAPTER XI</h1></div> - -<h3>OLD OLIVER DISAPPEARS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Shortly before three o’clock on the afternoon of -June 23rd; old Oliver Baxter stepped into the bank -at the corner of Clay and Pershing streets and drew -out thirty-five hundred dollars in currency. He gave no -reason to the teller or to the cashier for the withdrawal -of so large an amount in cash. He asked for a thousand -in twenty dollar bills, the balance in fifties and hundreds. -Receiving and pocketing the money, he strode out of the -bank and turned his steps homeward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His balance at the bank was a fairly large one. Moreover, -he owned considerable stock in the institution. The -Baxter Hardware Company was no longer an insignificant -concern dealing in tools, tinware, nails; it was an -“establishment.” You could buy plows there; reapers, -binders and mowers; furnaces and boilers, ice boxes and -washing-machines; pots, kettles and cauldrons; stoves, -ranges and brass-headed tacks; cutlery, crockery and -stout hemp rope; step-ladders, wheel-barrows and glass -door-knobs; log-chains, dog-chains and fly-wheel belts; -coffee-mills, pepper-pots and bathroom scales; currycombs, -skillets and housemaid’s mops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The staff consisted of three clerks and a book-keeper, -and, now that farm machinery was included in the stock, -an “annex” in the shape of a long corrugated-iron shed -reached out from the rear of the store and took up all the -available space between the Baxter Block and Stufflebean’s -Laundry on the north. People were right when -they said that young Oliver would fall into a very snug -little fortune—and a thriving, well-established business -besides—when his father died.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver October, ten or fifteen minutes late for supper -that evening, found his father in a surprisingly amiable -frame of mind. He was quite jovial, more like himself -than he had been at any time since his son’s arrival. He -joked about old Silas and Joseph, teased Oliver about the -extremely pretty Indianapolis girl who had come the -week before to visit the Lansings, and exchanged pleasant -jibes with Mrs. Grimes at the supper table, but said -nothing about the money he had withdrawn from the -bank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a hot, still night, and there was a moon. On the -front porch after supper he brought up the subject of -draining the swamp. He said that he had given the matter -a great deal of thought and was more or less convinced -that Oliver’s plan was a good one. Mrs. Grimes -triumphantly reminded Oliver that she had said, three -weeks ago, that all he had to do was to give the family -mule plenty of rope and he would quit balking in time—and -hadn’t it turned out just as she said it would? She -left father and son seated on the porch and went off to -spend the night with an old friend whose husband was -not expected to live till morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter’s good humor did not endure. He revived -a dispute they had had in the store earlier in the day—a -one-sided quarrel, by the way, which his son had terminated -by rushing out of the place with the words “Oh, -hell!” flung back over his shoulder. The old man had -that day offered him an interest in the business if he -would remain in Rumley and take full charge of the -store. Oliver was grateful, he was touched, but he declined -the offer, saying he had a profession in which he -wanted to make good; staying in Rumley would mean -the end of all his hopes and ambitions. Mr. Baxter flew -into a rage and his son, white with mortification, left the -store, with that single, unguarded exclamation his only -outward sign of revolt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter’s reversion to the subject came when -Oliver, looking at his watch, announced that he must be -running along, as he was due over at the Sages to say -good-by to Jane and her father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll walk part of the way with you,” said his -father crossly. “I want to talk to you about the drainage -scheme and—and, Oliver, I’d like to see if I can’t -coax you to change your mind about coming into the -store. If you don’t mind, we’ll take the lower road along -the swamp. It’s a short-cut for you—saves you a quarter -of a mile or more. I’ve been over the road several times -lately, looking the land over, and I want to get your idea -fixed in my mind. It’s as bright as day almost. This -may be the last night we’ll ever spend together, so I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t say anything like that, dad!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never can tell. You may be sent off to some out-of-the-way -place in the West—in case you get a job, which -I doubt very much—and God knows whether I’ll be here -when you come back. Got to look these things in the -face, you know. I’m seventy-five. If I do say it myself, -a pretty good little man for my age—wiry as a piece of -steel—but, as I say, you never can tell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few minutes before nine o’clock, Oliver October appeared -at the home of the Reverend Mr. Sage, somewhat -out of breath and visibly agitated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m awfully sorry to be so late,” he apologized. -“Father and I had a long and trying confab and I—I -couldn’t get away. He gave it to me hot and heavy to-night, -Uncle Herbert. The worst yet. God knows I -hate to say it, but I’m glad I’m going to-morrow, and the -way I feel now, I hope I’ll never see the place again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, you shouldn’t say it, Oliver,” said Mr. Sage. -“Poor man, he is really not responsible these days. I -wish you could see your way clear to remain here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t believe he is—unbalanced, do you? I mean -out of his mind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By no means. He is as sound as a dollar, mentally. -But his nerves, my boy—his nerves are shattered. He -thinks of nothing but the fate he believes to be in store -for you. Every day is an age to him. You will not be -thirty until a year from next October. Do you know -how long that seems to him? Endless! You see, Oliver, -for nearly thirty years he has lived in dread of—well, of -the absurd thing that gypsy woman said. He tries to -laugh it off, but I know it has never been out of his -thoughts. Once you have passed your thirtieth birthday, -he will be another man. He sleeps on thorns now. It is -no wonder that he is cross and irritable and unreasonable. -He is not deceived by the recent change of front on the -part of Joe Sikes and Silas Link, both of whom now -loudly profess not to believe a word of the fortune. He -knows they are trying to cheer him up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He really is afraid that I am going to be hanged before -I’m thirty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fear that is the case, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that is why he wants me to stay here, so that he -can watch over and protect me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly. Only he can not force himself to come out -flatly and say so. He is ashamed to say it to you, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I really believed that to be the case, Uncle Herbert, -I—I would stay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the case, my lad,” said the minister earnestly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll—I’ll think it over to-night,” said Oliver. “To-morrow -I will put it up to him squarely. If he says he -wants me to stay <span class='it'>for that reason</span>, I will chuck everything -and—and go into the store.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A year or so out of your life, Oliver, is a very small -matter. But a year out of his is a great one, especially -as it will seem like a hundred to him. Yes, my boy, think -it over. And think of him more than of yourself while -you are about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess maybe I deserve that slap, Mr. Sage. It -touched the quick, but—I guess I deserve it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He ran his fingers through his moist, disheveled hair—and -then looked at them curiously. With his other hand -he fanned himself with his straw hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane, who had been silent during the brief colloquy -between her father and Oliver, was studying the young -man’s face intently. She was puzzled by his manner and -by his expression. He spoke jerkily, as if under a strain, -and his lips twitched. She noticed that his shoes were -very muddy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I came over by the back road, along the swamp,” he -explained, catching her in the act of staring at his feet. -“Father walked part of the way with me. He was pleasant -enough to start off with, and I thought everything -was all right between us, but when I told him I couldn’t -reconsider—he went up in the air—and—Gee, what a -panning he gave me! It was terrible, Mr. Sage. I saw -red. I felt like taking him by the throat and choking -him, just to make him stop abusing me. I—I had to -run—I couldn’t stand it. God, how miserable I am!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put his hands over his eyes and his shoulders shook -convulsively. Jane and her father looked on, speechless. -After a few moments, Mr. Sage arose and, with a sign to -his daughter, entered the house, leaving her alone with -Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor, poor Oliver,” she whispered, moving over close -beside him on the step. “It is all so strange and unreal. -He loves you. You are everything in the world to him. -I can’t understand why he treats you like this. I—I -wonder if he isn’t just a little bit unbalanced. He must -be. He—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think he is,” groaned Oliver, lifting his head. -“If I thought it was that, I’d put up with anything—I’d -overlook everything. But your father is right. He’s as -clear-minded as he ever was. He’s got it in for me for -some reason and he—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I were you, Oliver, I should tell him to-morrow -that you intend to stay here and go into the store.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know that even that would help matters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Try it, Oliver,” she said gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The clock on the town-hall struck twelve before Oliver -reluctantly bade Jane good night and started homeward. -Looking over his shoulder from the bottom of the lawn, -he saw her standing on the steps in the glow of the porch light. -He waved his hand and blew a kiss to her. There -were lights in Mr. Sage’s study windows upstairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On his way home, through the heart of the town, he -passed the rather pretentious house in which the Lansings -lived. There were people on the broad veranda. -He recognized Sammy Parr’s boisterous laugh. He -longed for the companionship of friends—merry friends. -His heart was heavy. He was lonely. He turned in at -the stone gate and walked swiftly up to the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Ollie,” called out Sammy. “Just in time to -say good night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young Lansing came to the top of the steps to greet -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been up saying good-by to Mr. Sage and Jane. -And the funny part of it is that I may not go away to-morrow -after all,” said Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lansing started and gave him a keen, startled look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has Jane persuaded you to stay?” he asked, after a -slight hesitation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not for the reason you may have in mind, old chap,” -replied Baxter, laying his hand on the young doctor’s -shoulder. “The Sages think I ought not to leave my -father.” He spoke in lowered tones, for Lansing’s ear -alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I quite agree with them,” said the other stiffly. “Jane -has been talking to me about it. She said she intended -asking you to change your plans.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Sage opened my eyes to one or two things I -haven’t been able to see till now,” said Oliver simply. -“My place is here in Rumley, Lansing. For a year or -two, at any rate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They joined the group at the darkened end of the -veranda. Sammy and his bride—a fluffy little giggler—were -there; Miss Johnson, the girl from Indianapolis, -and two other young men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, thanks, Doctor; I won’t sit down,” said Baxter. -“Just ran in to see if Sammy was behaving himself. And -to tell you all that you will probably have me on your -hands for a while longer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good boy,” cried Sammy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lovely—perfectly lovely,” shrieked the bride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you had told me this morning, Mr. Baxter,” said -Miss Johnson coyly, “I shouldn’t have telegraphed -mother I’d be home day after to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have a highball, Baxter?” asked Lansing suddenly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not to-night, thanks. I’ve got to be running along. -Father may be waiting up for me. Night, everybody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And he was off. The group watched him stride swiftly -down the cement walk. Sammy was the first to speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I call that sociability, don’t you? What the -dickens is the matter with him? First time I’ve ever -seen Ollie Baxter with a grouch. A grouch, that’s what -it was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think it was very nice of him to come up here -with a grouch,” complained the bride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess the crowd was too thick for him,” said one -of the young men solemnly, and then winked at the girl -from Indianapolis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s got something on his mind,” announced young -Lansing, professionally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The old man, I guess,” said Sammy. “If my father -behaved like old man Baxter does, I’d take him across -my knee and spank him.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Early the next morning, Serepta Grimes called Joseph -Sikes on the telephone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did Oliver Baxter stay all night with you?” she inquired. -“I mean old Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you seen anything of him this morning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. What’s the matter, Serepty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he didn’t sleep here last night, and there ain’t a -sign of him around the place. I—I guess maybe you’d -better come up, Joe.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Oliver was gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Off his base,” groaned Mr. Sikes, fifteen minutes after -Serepta’s agitated call. He and Silas Link had hurried up -to the Baxter home, where they found Mrs. Grimes waiting -for them on the front porch. “I knew it would come. -Off his base completely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wandered off somewheres,” groaned Mr. Link, very -pale and shaky. “Maybe down into the swamp. My -God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver October’s down there now,” said Serepta. “I -got him out of bed a little after seven. He didn’t wait -to put on anything except his pants and shoes. All I -could get out of him was that the last he saw of his -father was down on the swamp road about nine o’clock -last night. Old Ollie walked a piece with him. Last -Oliver saw of him, he was standing down there in the -middle of the road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure as shootin’!” gulped Mr. Sikes, sitting down -heavily on the arm of a chair. “Out of his head. Wandering -around. In circles. Dead, maybe. My God, -Silas!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My God!” echoed Mr. Link, wiping the moisture from -his forehead with a palsied hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both of them looked helplessly at Mrs. Grimes. She -too was pale but she was not helpless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, for goodness’ sake, don’t sit there like a couple -of corpses,” she cried. “Do something. Get busy. Go -look for him. Start—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure he’s not around the house or barn anywhere?” -broke in Mr. Link, struggling to his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe he fell down the cellar,” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, -hopefully. “Or the cistern, or—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve looked everywhere. He ain’t in the cellar or the -cistern or the barn. I got here just about seven. Lizzie -Meggs was getting breakfast. She was singing, happy -as a lark. Did I tell you that Abel Conroy is still alive? -Well, he is. I sat up with Kate Conroy all night, looking -for him to die any minute. He—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Think he’ll pull through the day?” inquired Mr. Link, -suddenly becoming an undertaker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t surprise me if he got well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good deal depends on how his heart holds out. Doc’ -Williams was saying—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, for the Lord’s sake!” boomed Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As I was saying,” resumed Mrs. Grimes, “Lizzie was -getting breakfast. I said I thought I’d go upstairs and -lie down for an hour or two, and she says I’d better knock -on Mr. Baxter’s door, ’cause she hadn’t heard him moving -’round, and his breakfast would be cold if he didn’t get a -move on him. So I rapped on his door as I went by. -Not a sound. I rapped again, and then I tried the door. -Then I went in. He wasn’t there. His bed hadn’t been -slept in. So I called Oliver October. It’s half-past eight -now, and the boy’s been down at the swamp for nearly -an hour. Do something! Go out and help him look—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll take a look in the barn first. He may have gone -up to the haymow to sleep,” said Sikes, and shuffled off, -followed a moment later by Silas Link, who had stayed -behind long enough to instruct Mrs. Grimes to telephone -to the police and to the railway station.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The long and the short of it was, Oliver Baxter had -vanished as completely as if swallowed by the earth—and -it was the general opinion that that was exactly what happened -to him. There was not the slightest doubt in the -minds of his horrified friends that he had wandered out -upon the swamp and had met a ghastly fate in one of the -countless pits of mire whose depths no man knew or -cared to fathom even in speculation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These soft, oozy, slimy holes were located at the lower -end of the swamp, nearly a mile from the Baxter home. -The upper end had long been looked upon as reclaimable -through drainage, but that portion surrounding the pond -was a hopeless morass. Scientific men advanced the -opinion that ages ago a vast lake had existed in this region, -covering miles of territory. Death Swamp was all -that was left of it; the rest had dried up through the processes -of nature. Tradition had it that the pond was without -bottom, but science in the shape of an adventurous -surveyor demonstrated that the water was not more than -a few feet deep at any point. However, this same surveyor -was authority for the statement that the mud at -the bottom of the pond was so soft and unresisting that -he could not reach solid ground with the twenty-foot -fishing pole with which he was equipped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were the usual stories, some verified, of horses -and other animals straying into the swamp and sinking -out of sight before the eyes of their owners—disappearing -swiftly in what appeared to be a patch of firm, reed-covered -earth.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='166' id='Page_166'></span><h1>CHAPTER XII</h1></div> - -<h3>ONE WAY OF LOOKING AT IT</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Notwithstanding the almost universal belief -that poor old Oliver Baxter was buried in the -black mire of the Swamp—there were some who -said he was still <span class='it'>sinking</span>—a state-wide search was at once -instituted by his distracted son, who, for one, did not believe -that the missing man had gone to his death in the -loathesome tract. Before the sun had set on that bleak -though sunlit day, telephone and telegraph wires carried -the news to all nearby towns, villages and farms. Railway -trains and interurban cars were searched; the woods -and the fields for miles around were combed and the highways -watched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bank’s prompt announcement that Mr. Baxter had -withdrawn thirty-five hundred dollars convinced Oliver -October and a few sound-headed individuals that he had -deliberately planned his departure from Rumley, although -they were totally in the dark as to his reason for -leaving—if, indeed, a reason existed in his disordered -mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No one could be found who saw him after he took leave -of his son on the swamp road. Oliver October related -all that transpired between them on that moonlit by-way. -He did not spare himself in the recital. No one blamed -him, however. Much to his distress, Serepta Grimes -came forward with truthful descriptions of scenes in and -about the Baxter home; she told of old Oliver’s inexplicable -conduct, of violent fits of anger that grew out of nothing -and died away in melancholy regret over the things -he had said to his beloved son. And she described Oliver -October as an angel possessing the patience of Job for -having endured these outrageous “tantrums.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While neither Serepta nor young Oliver could be positive, -they were of the opinion that Mr. Baxter wore his -every-day business suit on the evening of his disappearance. -Of this, however, they could not be sure. An inspection -of his closet the following morning led to a puzzling -discovery. A comparatively new suit of a dark gray -material—rather too heavy for summer wear—was missing, -while the wrinkled, well-worn garments that he wore -daily at the store were found hanging in the closet alongside -his venerable “Prince Albert.” Mrs. Grimes was -confident that he had on his old clothes at supper time; -Oliver October had not noticed what he was wearing. -In the event that Mrs. Grimes was right—and she -couldn’t take oath on it—Mr. Baxter must have returned -to the house and changed his clothes after parting from -his son. There was no one at home. Lizzie, the most -recent maid-of-all-work, was at the “movies,” and Mrs. -Grimes was “sitting up” with Abel Conroy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The excitement in Rumley was intense. The Baxter -home became a magnet that drew practically the entire -population of the town to that section, and there was not -an hour of the day that did not see scores of people -trudging through the safer portions of the swamp or -tramping along the uplands that bordered it. Small children, -accompanied by their parents, stared wide-eyed and -frightened across the loathesome tract, and listened to -solemn warnings which generally began with “poor old -Mr. Baxter wandered out there and that was the last of -him.” Venturesome young men approached a few of the -“holes,” sounded them with poles and saplings, and came -away shaking their heads.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three or four days passed before towns far and near -began to report that old men answering the description -sent out by the Chief of Police in Rumley were being detained -or kept under surveillance, pending the arrival of -some one who could identify them as Mr. Baxter. Oliver -October, Sammy Parr and other citizens sped in haste to -these towns, only to meet with disappointment. Finally -the tenth day came and the nine days of wonder were -over. People began to think and talk about something -besides the Baxter mystery. Detectives from Chicago, -brought down by Oliver October, agreed with the young -man that his father had “skipped out,” to use the rather -undignified expression of Mr. Michael O’Rourke. It -was Mr. O’Rourke who advanced the theory that the old -man had taken this amazing means of forcing his son to -remain in Rumley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why,” said he, “it’s as plain as the nose on your -face. He is dead set on having you stick to this town. -He chews it over with you for weeks. You say ‘nix.’ -Nothing doing. Well, what’s the smartest thing he can -do? What’s the surest way for him to bring you to time? -He’s as slick as grease, your father is. Out of his head? -Not on your life. He’s an old fox. Do you get me? -The only way to make you stay in this town is for him -to leave it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He draws a wad of money, puts on his best clothes, -and—fare thee well! He sneaks off without letting anybody -know where he’s going. Why does he do that? -Simple as A B C. If you or anybody else knew where -he was or where he was even likely to be, you’d have him -back here in no time, and all his trouble for nothing. -He thought it all out beforehand. Knew exactly where -he was going and how to get there without being headed -off. And that’s where he is right now, leaving you to -hold the bag. He’s had his own way. You’ve got to stay -here until he gets good and ready to come back. See -what I mean? Somebody’s got to be in charge of his affairs. -The store and everything. There is a chance, of -course, that he wandered out in the swamp, as most of -these people think, but I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t -draw out thirty-five hundred dollars if he had any preconceived -notion of doing away with himself. And he -wouldn’t come home and put on his best suit of clothes, -either. It’s possible, to be sure, that he was slugged by -somebody who knew he had all that money and his body -chucked into the mire. It’s up to you, Mr. Baxter. If -you want us to go ahead and rake the country for him, -we’ll do it. I don’t say we’ll find him. We’re an honest -concern. We don’t believe in robbing our clients. It will -cost you a lot of money to find him, Mr. Baxter. Besides, -there’s always the chance that he’ll lose his nerve -and come back home. Or he may get sick and send for -you. We’ve had hundreds of these mysterious disappearance -cases and more than four-fifths of ’em don’t amount -to anything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to find him,” said Oliver firmly. “You may be -right in your surmise—I hope you are. But just the -same I don’t intend to leave a stone unturned, Mr. -O’Rourke. As long as I’ve got a cent of my own, I’ll keep -up the search, and when my money runs out, I will use -his. Good God, when I think that he may have wandered -off only to fall into the hands of thieves and cutthroats, -I—I—No, we must find him, do you understand? Find -him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s all right as long as he don’t let some guy sell him -the Field Museum or the Woolworth Building,” said the -detective easily. “All right, sir. We’ll get on the job at -once. Hold yourself in readiness in case we need you in -a hurry. I suppose we can always get in touch with you -here, Mr. Baxter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver nodded. “Yes. You can always find me here -in Rumley.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so the days ran into weeks and the weeks into -months, with the mystery no nearer solution than in the -beginning—no word, no sign from the old man who had -vanished, no clue that led to anything save disappointment. -There was something grim, uncanny about the -silence of old man Baxter—it was indeed the silence of -the dead. “He might as well be dead,” was a remark -that became common in Rumley whenever his case was -discussed. Strangely enough, no one now believed him -to be dead. Everybody agreed with the detective that -the cantankerous old man had “skipped out” with the -sole idea of frustrating his son’s plan to return to Chicago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What gets me,” said Joseph Sikes, “is the underhanded -way he went about it. Leaving Oliver and all the -rest of us to worry ourselves sick and him just calmly -settling down somewheres in peace and comfort and -maybe snickerin’ to himself over the way he put it over -on us. It wasn’t like him, either. I never knew a more -upright man, or anybody as square and above-board as -Ollie Baxter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not once but a dozen times a day Mr. Sikes held forth -in some such manner as this, ignoring Mr. Link’s contention -that poor old Ollie may not have been responsible -for his act, “owing,” said he, “to a sudden mental aberration.” -Young Dr. Lansing spoke of it as “aphasia,” -which was doubted with scornful determination until the -word was reduced to “loss of memory” by several family -doctors who stood well in the community.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver October took charge of the store and, as self-appointed -manager, conducted the business to the best -of his ability. He deferred to the older clerks and the -book-keeper in matters of policy, an attitude which not -only surprised but pleased them. Charlie Keep, the -senior clerk—a man who had been in the store for twenty -years—was so inspired and relieved by this self-effacement -that he speedily proclaimed Oliver October to be a -better business man than his father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was nothing in the young man’s manner to indicate -that he rebelled against the turn in his affairs. On -the contrary, he took hold with an enthusiasm that left -nothing to be desired by those who at first shook their -heads dubiously over the situation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am to blame for all this,” he protested -firmly. “If my father is dead, I am accountable -for his death. Whatever his present condition may -be, I am responsible for it. Don’t put all the -blame on that gypsy fortune-teller. I should have -realized the state of mind he was in and I should have -given up everything else in the world to help him weather -the next year or so of doubt and distress. I laughed at -his fears. I did not understand how real they were to -him. He wanted me here where he could watch over me. -Mr. Sage believes he has buried himself in some out-of-the-way -place where he can’t even hear what happens to -me between now and my thirtieth birthday. Uncle Joe -Sikes says he got cold feet—couldn’t stand the gaff. -That’s another way of looking at it. In either case, I -honestly believe he will come back in his own good time. -And when he does come home he must find me here, -carrying on the business as well as I know how. I will -do more than that. I’ll drain part of our bally old swamp -and make it worth fifty dollars an acre to him instead of -the dreary waste he bought for a song. And I sha’n’t -stop looking for him—not for a single minute. It’s all -right to be optimistic, it’s all right to assume that he is -safe and well somewhere, that he knows what he is about, -and all that. The reverse may be the case—so I mean -to find him if it is humanly possible to do so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joseph Sikes and Silas Link lamented and at the same -time excoriated old Oliver Baxter. For a while the latter -spoke of his old friend as “the deceased,” being in no -doubt at all as to his fate, but, as time went on and the -“remains” continued to elude the most diligent of searchers, -he was forced to admit that perhaps everybody else -was right and he was wrong.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Accepting the increased burden of responsibility resulting -from old Oliver’s defection, the two “guardians” -devoted themselves, without a murmur of complaint, to -the supervision of Oliver October’s private and personal -affairs. It was a duty that could not be shirked—a charge -bequeathed to them, so to speak, by the figuratively demised -Mr. Baxter. They had little or no support from -Mr. Sage; and when they complained to Serepta Grimes -about the minister’s lack of interest in the young man, -that excellent manager shocked them by declaring that if -they bothered her with any more of that nonsense she -would give them a piece of her mind and a kettle full of -boiling water besides.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They turned to Jane Sage for comfort, and while that -young lady smilingly called them a couple of “dear old -geese” it was so much more poetic than Mrs. Grimes’s -“idiotic old jackasses” that they forthwith accepted her -as an ally and from that time on went to her with all -their troubles—dubiously and shamefacedly at first, to be -sure, but with a confidence that soon developed into arrogant -assurance. She confided to Oliver October that they -nearly bothered the life out of her, and begged him, for -her sake, to smile more frequently than he did—(Mr. -Sikes dwelt mournfully upon what he called Oliver’s -“hang-dog” expression)—and to stop haranguing the -members of the common council about the defects in the -city drainage system—(Mr. Link said that it wasn’t right, -the way he lost his temper when discussing the conditions, -and besides nobody else had ever found any fault -with the sewers in Rumley); and never to so far forget -himself as to again threaten to sue George Henley if he -didn’t settle his account of four years’ standing; and by -all means to refrain from arguing politics with Justice -of the Peace Winterbottom, because neither Mr. Sikes -nor Mr. Link slept very well after listening to these -heated debates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor old Janie,” Oliver would say, with his always -engaging grin. “I’ll bet you wish I was safely past -thirty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do that,” she would always respond, very much as -Biddy McGuire, the Irish washwoman, might have said it.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='174' id='Page_174'></span><h1>CHAPTER XIII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE GOOD SAMARITAN PAYS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The winter wore away, spring came and quickly -melted into summer; the first anniversary of the -unexplained disappearance of Oliver Baxter -passed. Three months remained of the last year allotted -to Oliver October by the gypsy “queen” on that wild, -shrieking night in ’ninety. He was still alive and thriving, -and the shadow of the scaffold was as invisible as on -the day the prophecy was uttered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But by this time practically everybody in Rumley was -counting the days and jokingly reminding Oliver that his -chances got better every day!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He grinned and suggested that the town ought to put -up a stupendous calendar in front of the city hall and -check off each succeeding day, so that the public could -keep count with the least possible tax on the mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel like a freak in a dime museum,” he said to -Jane one evening. “What you ought to do at the lawn -fête next week, Jane, is to put me in a little tent and -charge ten cents admission to see the man that the hangman -is after. You’d raise enough money to wipe out the -entire church debt. Think it over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had just returned from a hurried trip to Nashville, -Tennessee, where an old man was being held—a queer -old tramp with a prodigious Adam’s apple, who refused -to give any account of himself. This was but one of the -fruitless journeys he had taken during the twelve-month.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see by the paper this evening that your Uncle -Horace has announced himself as a candidate for State -senator,” said Mr. Sage, who was enjoying his customary -half-hour on the porch with them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I know one vote he will not get,” said Oliver, -“even if he is my uncle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know of another,” said the minister dryly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The nomination is equivalent to an election,” said -Oliver. “There hasn’t been a Republican elected in this -county since the Civil War, they say. If the old boy -can buy the nomination he won’t have to spend a dollar -getting elected.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not my habit to speak unkindly of my fellow man,” -said Mr. Sage, “but I find it quite a pleasure to -say that I look upon Horace Gooch as the meanest white -man in all—er—I was on the point of saying Christendom, -but I will say Hopkinsville instead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Daddy, I am really beginning to take quite a -fancy to you,” cried Jane delightedly. “Only last week -you said he ought to be tarred and feathered for turning -those two old women out of their house over at Pleasant -Ridge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But he didn’t turn them out,” said Oliver quickly. -“Somebody came along at the last minute and lent them -the money to redeem their little house and farm. They’re -as safe as bugs in a rug and as happy as clams.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t really mean it, Oliver?” cried Mr. Sage. -“That is good news—splendid news. It seemed such a -heartless perversion of the law that those poor, frail, old -women—both over seventy, by the way—should lose -their all simply because they had to let their property go -at tax sale. Horace Gooch has become rich off of just -such delinquent tax-payers as these unfortunate old -women. I am not saying it is illegitimate business—but -he has acquired quite a lot of good real estate in this way. -I rejoice to hear that some one has come to the rescue of -Mrs. Bannester and her sister. I suppose they had to -give their benefactor a mortgage on the property, however,—and -that may ultimately afford some one else a -chance to squeeze them out of their own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understand it was a loan for something like twenty -years, without interest,” said Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul! Practically a gift, in that case. It -is unlikely that they will live to be ninety.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder how Uncle Horace felt when they popped -up the other day, just as he thought he had the tax deed -in his hand, and redeemed the property,” mused Oliver, -chuckling. “I’ll bet it hurt like sin. Even a shark can -suffer pain if you stick him in the right place. He had -his heart set on that property, Uncle Herbert. The -Interurban line is figuring on putting up an amusement -park out that way, and I happen to know they’ve had an -eye on the Bannester place, with its big oak trees and a -wonderful place for an artificial lake. He could have -cleaned up a lot of money on it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate that old man,” cried Jane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear child, you must not—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When I think of how he behaved after Mr. Baxter -went away, and the things he said to Oliver when Oliver -refused to help pay for the monument his uncle had -erected on his own cemetery lot up at Hopkinsville, because -Mr. Baxter’s sister was buried there—his own -wife, if you please, Daddy—well, when I think of it I -nearly choke. I won’t allow you to say I sha’n’t hate -him. I just adore hating him and I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, I had no intention of saying you shouldn’t -hate Mr. Gooch,” broke in her father. “I was merely -trying to say that you must not speak so loud. Some -one outside the family circle is likely to hear you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve always said you were a corking preacher, Uncle -Herbert,” announced Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you,” with the lift of an eyebrow. “No doubt -I have improved somewhat with age.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d give a lot to know just what you said to old Gooch, -Oliver, when he came to see you about the monument last -fall,” said Jane, invitingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was mighty careful, I remember, to see that there -were no ladies present at the time,” chuckled Oliver. -“And besides, I’ve been trying ever since to forget what -I said to him. But it’s absolutely impossible, with Uncle -Joe dropping in every day or so to remind me of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope Mr. Gooch hasn’t been allowed to forget it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jane, my dear, you really are becoming quite a vixen,” -remonstrated her father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An automobile came to a sudden stop in front of the -house, and an agile young man leaped out, leaving his -engine running. He came up the walk with long strides.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Oliver, you old skate, I’ve been looking all over -town for you,” shouted Sammy Parr. “This isn’t your -night to call on Jane—don’t you know that? You’re -supposed to be either at the Scotts’, billing with Amy -Scott, or at the Ridges’, cooing with that new girl from -Boston, and listening to her talk about Harvard all the -time. Say, I’ve been over to Pleasant Ridge this afternoon—good -evening, Jane—to see Mrs. Bannester and -her sister about some fire insurance—Evening, Mr. -Sage. Nice evening—And, say, they told me all about -you, you blamed old skate—I mean Ollie, not you, Mr. -Sage. Gee whiz, Ollie, you certainly did throw the hooks -into Uncle Horace this time, didn’t you? You certainly—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shut up!” growled Oliver, scowling fiercely at the excited -Sammy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shut up? Why should I shut up? Why the hell -should I—beg pardon, Mr. Sage—excuse my slippery -tongue. My Lord, boy, the boom has already been started. -You can’t head it off. I didn’t lose a minute getting over -to the County Chairman’s office and telling him the whole -story. The boom’s on! He nearly hit the ceiling for joy. -My God, if we can only keep all this quiet till after the -Democratic convention—and old Gooch is nominated—we’ll -spring something—Gee whiz! Listen to me barking -loud enough to be heard in Hopkinsville. Fine guy, -I am, to talk about keeping it quiet. Say, we’ve got to -talk in whispers from now on—whispers, see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he planted himself down on the step, he delivered a -mighty, resounding slap upon Oliver’s knee.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aw, cut it out—cut it out,” grated Oliver. “Keep -your trap closed, can’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth are you talking about, Sammy?” cried -Jane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s talking through his hat—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Out with it, Sammy, out with it,” counseled Mr. -Sage, coming down the steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver groaned: “Oh, good Lord, deliver me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, what do you think, Mr. Sage—what do you -think? Why, this chump here is the guy that lent Mrs. -Bannester the money to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Sam—this is my affair,” broke in Oliver -gruffly. “It’s nobody’s business but my own. I made ’em -swear on a stack of Bibles they’d never tell—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t blame them—don’t blame those nice old -women,” broke in Sammy sternly. “It was not their -fault. I put one over on ’em. I told ’em there was some -talk of that check being phony and they’d better—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wasn’t a check,” said Oliver triumphantly. “It -was cash—currency.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what they came back at me with, but I said I -meant counterfeit and not forgery—slip of the tongue and -so forth. That got ’em. They up and said they had -known Oliver October Baxter since he was knee high to -a duck, and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Oliver!” cried Jane. “Did you really do it? I -could squeeze you to death for it. And you never told -me—you never breathed a word—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was only about a thousand dollars,” mumbled -Oliver. “And a little over,” he added quickly, noting -Sammy’s expression. “It was my own money. I could -do what I liked with it, couldn’t I? They used to bring -eggs and butter and chickens and everything to my -mother, and when she was sick they had me out to their -farm and made me awfully happy and—But that’s -neither here nor there. It was a low-down trick of yours, -Sam, to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure it was,” agreed Sammy cheerfully. “But right -there and then the destiny of the great American nation -was shaped along new lines. Right then and there, Mr. -Samuel Elias Parr saw a great light. The words were -no sooner out of the mouth of old Mrs. Bannester—or -maybe it was her sister—it doesn’t matter—when the -boom was born! Yes, sir, the boom was hatched and—but, -my God, we mustn’t—oh, excuse me, Mr. Sage, I -keep forgetting that you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pardon me, Sammy, but I am really quite curious to -know why you apologize to me for your profanity and -not to Jane, who, I assure you, is a young lady of considerable -refinement and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right, sir,” Sammy assured him glibly. -“I’ve got Jane covered with a sort of blanket apology—something -like a blanket policy. Good for any time and -any place. But as I was saying, we mustn’t let Joe Sikes -and Silas Link get wise to all this. They’d raise Cain—spoil -everything gabbing about that gypsy’s warning or -whatever it was. Now, if we are foxy, we’ll catch the -Democrats napping and, gee whiz! what a jolt we’ll give -’em next November! We’ll run four thousand votes -ahead of Harding himself and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, for the Lord’s sake, Sammy, slow down! Put on -your brakes! What the dickens are you driving at, anyhow? -Boom? What boom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your boom, you idiot! The boom’s been started for -you as Republican candidate for State senator against -old man Gooch. It’s under way—nothing can head it -off, absolutely nothing but death or an earthquake. The -County Chairman hit the ceiling. He told me he’d call a -meeting of—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you darned chump,” roared Oliver. “I’m not -going to run for State senator or anything else. You -must be crazy. You’ve got a lot of nerve, you have. -What right have you to start a thing like this without -consulting me? You’ll just make a monkey of me, that’s -all you’ll do—and of yourself, too. I’ll head it off to-morrow. -I’ll telephone—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t do you a darned bit of good,” cried Sammy -exultingly. “They’ll nominate you, anyhow. Why, my -Lord, they’ve got to nominate <span class='it'>somebody</span>, haven’t they? -They do it every election year, don’t they? Just as a -matter of form? But, great Scott, here’s the chance for -them to <span class='it'>elect</span> somebody in this county. You don’t suppose -they’re going to miss a chance like this, do you? -Popular young soldier, medal man, celebrated football -player, renowned engineer, youthful philanthropist, successful -business man, unsmirched character—why, you’re -the only Republican in this county that would stand a -ghost of a show, Ollie. And best of all—popular nephew -running against Shylock uncle! Gee whiz! Normal -Democratic majority of three thousand wiped out—in -spite of prohibition—and—Senator Baxter, of Rumley, -ladies and gentlemen!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even Oliver October laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By jingo, Sammy, you’re doing your level best to -have me put my neck in the noose, aren’t you?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Noose nothing!” exploded Sammy. “I thought about -all that. You can’t possibly be elevated to a position in -the halls of State or Nation until next November, you -chump—and you’ll be thirty in October, won’t you? -Well, that settles that. Puts the kibosh on that gypsy -dope. Well, so long! I’ve got to be on the jump. I just -thought I’d run up and tell you, so’s you’d know what’s -what. I’m going down to see Al Wilson at the <span class='it'>Despatch</span> -office. Put him wise and warn him not to let a word of -it leak out in the paper till he gets the word. Night, -Mr. Sage—so long, Jane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute!” called out Oliver, springing to his -feet as Sammy darted down the walk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nix!” shouted Sammy over his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three of them watched him in silence as he leaped -into his car and began his swift, reckless turn in the -narrow street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sorry!” he yelled out to them. “Had to take off a -little of the turf, but this street needs widening, anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you going to do about it?” inquired the -minister, the first to speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane did not give Oliver a chance to reply. Her eyes -were blazing with excitement and there was a thrill in -her voice that caused Oliver to laugh outright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do about it?” she cried. “Why, he’s going to run -against old Gooch and beat the life out of him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daughter!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my goodness! I’m so excited! Oliver, you’re a -darling for helping those old women out—and you never -intended to say a word about it! It was heavenly! And -you will go to the State Legislature, and then to Congress, -and—Goodness knows how high up you may -go!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s smile broadened. “And the Gypsy Queen be -hanged,” quoth he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane caught her breath. A startled look flashed into -her eyes and was gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Gypsy Queen be hanged!” she echoed stoutly. -“Long live the King!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was still looking up at her. She stood at the -top of the steps, the light from the open door falling -athwart her radiant face, half in shadow, half in the -warm, soft glow. Suddenly his heart began to pound—heavy, -smothering blows against his ribs that had the -effect of making him dizzy; as with vertigo. He continued -to stare, possessed of a strange wonder, as she turned -to her tall, gray-haired parent and laid both hands on his -shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish I could say ‘gee whiz’ as Sammy says it,” she -cried. “I feel all over just like one great big ‘gee whiz.’ -Don’t you, Daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man of God took his daughter’s firm, round chin -between his thumb and forefinger and shook it lovingly. -“One ‘gee whiz’ in the family is enough,” said he. “I -am glad you feel like one, however. You take me back -twenty-five years, my dear. Your mother used to say -‘gee whiz’ when she felt like it. It is, after all, a rather -harmless way of exploding.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know—but don’t you think it is wonderful?” she -cried. “I mean, Oliver going to the Legislature and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whoa, Jane!” interrupted Oliver, a trifle thickly. He -wondered what was the matter with his voice. “Steady! -Sammy’s crazy. I wouldn’t any more think of letting ’em -put me up for—why, gee whiz! It’s too ridiculous for -words.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face fell. “I must say I like ‘gee whiz’ only when -it expresses enthusiasm,” she said. “It’s an awful joy-killer, -the way you used it just then, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want any politics in mine,” he stated, almost -sullenly. Then brightly: “If I had to choose between -the two, I’d sooner go in for religion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage smiled. “If more clean-minded, honest fellows -like you, Oliver, were to go into politics, there -wouldn’t have to be so many preachers in the land.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What chance has an honest man got in politics, I’d -like to know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The same chance that he has in the church. The -people want honest men in politics, just as they demand -honest men in their pulpits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right, sir, but it’s easier to be good in a -church than it is in a barroom—and that’s just about -the distinction.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You forget we’ve got prohibition now,” said Jane, -ironically. “There isn’t a barroom in the whole United -States and there isn’t a single drop of intoxicating liquor.” -She laughed derisively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a drop,” he agreed, rolling his eyes heavenward. -Then he quoted incorrectly. “ ‘Water, water everywhere, -and not a drop to drink.’ That’s what the good -and honest men did to politics. They fixed it so that -there isn’t anything in the country to drink except booze.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Sage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me how you came to go to the assistance of Mrs. -Bannester and her sister—tell me everything,” said Jane, -resuming her seat on the step.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There isn’t anything to tell,” said Oliver. “I just -went out to see them and—that’s all there is to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, indeed!” she scoffed. “You just went out there -and said ‘howdy-do, ladies; here’s a couple of thousand -dollars—and good-by, I must be getting home.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I stayed for dinner,” he admitted. “They always -have fried chicken and white gravy when I go to see -them. And waffles and honey. I’m very fond of honey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you want to tell me, Oliver?” There was a -hurt note in her voice that shamed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he began awkwardly, “I’d been thinking about -it for some time—their troubles, I mean. I couldn’t -stand seeing them kicked off their place. I had the -money, and I didn’t need it. So I—I made ’em take it. -Yep—I just <span class='it'>made</span> ’em take it. They were awfully nice -about it. If Uncle Horace ever finds out that I lent them -the money, he’ll—” He broke off in a chuckle of sheer -delight. His eyes were full of mischief. “I’ll never forget -the time I let him have it with my marbles. Gee, it -was great!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t it be glorious if we could always stay young -and throw marbles at the people we don’t like?” cried -Jane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The only drawback is that sometimes you can’t find -the marbles again. I lost two of my finest agates that -day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You young savages!” exclaimed Mr. Sage, with mock -severity. He said good night to Oliver and, murmuring -something about next Sunday’s sermon, entered the -house. They heard him go slowly up the stairs.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='185' id='Page_185'></span><h1>CHAPTER XIV</h1></div> - -<h3>JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you notice, Oliver, that he spoke of my -mother a little while ago?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly. You must have heard him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was silent. He was wondering how long that -strange, unaccountable blur had lasted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was the first time he has spoken of her in years,” -she went on, her brow puckering. “It seemed to slip -out when he wasn’t thinking, when he wasn’t on guard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It slipped out because he was thinking, Jane,” said -Oliver. “That’s just it. He is always thinking of her. -What was it he said?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She told him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if I remind him of her in lots of ways,” she -mused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s thoughts leaped backward a score of years -and more. “I used to think she was the most wonderful -person in all the world,” he said. “I was very desperately -in love with your mother when I was six or seven, Jane.” -He hesitated and then went on clumsily, almost fatuously: -“I am beginning to think that you are like her in a lot of -ways.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave him a quick, startled look. His face was -turned away, and so he did not see the tender, wistful -little smile that flickered on her lips, nor was he aware -of the long, deep breath she took. From that moment a -queer, uneasy restraint fell upon them. There were long -silences, dreamy on her part, moody on his. He left -shortly after ten; his “good night” was strangely gruff -and unnatural.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was jealous. He knew it for a fact, he confessed it -to himself for the first time openly and unreservedly. -He was jealous of young Lansing. There was no use -trying to deny it. He did not go so far as to think of -himself as being in love with Jane—that would be ridiculous, -after all the years they had known each other—but -he bitterly resented the thought that she might be in -love with some one else. Especially with the superior, -supercilious, cocksure Lansing!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Why, if she were in love with Lansing—and married -him!—good Lord, what a fool he had been to think it -would make no difference to him! It would make a difference—an -appalling difference. All nonsense to think -she wouldn’t go out of his life if she married Lansing or -any one else. Of course she would. He felt a cold, -clammy moisture break out all over him; a sickening -sensation assailed the pit of his stomach. She would have -a home in which he could be nothing more than an old -friend; he would have to submit to being governed by -certain conventions and by an entirely new set of conditions; -her husband would have a lot to say about all -that; it would mean that he couldn’t drop in every night -or so for an intimate chat, that he couldn’t go strolling -freely and contentedly into familiar haunts with Jane, -that he couldn’t take her off for rides in his car, or up to -the city to see the plays. Lansing wouldn’t stand for -that! Nor would any one else! It would be the end of -everything, his life would have to be reordered, his very -thoughts subjected to a drastic course of inhibitions, he -would have to stand afar off and wait for some other -man to beckon for him to approach! Unbearable!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What was it that Sammy said—in jest, of course, but -now heavy with portent? “This isn’t your night to call -on Jane,” or something like that. It was Lansing’s night! -The whole town knew it was Lansing’s night—and he -was calling on Jane because Lansing happened to be off -in the country seeing a patient.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was what all his good offices had come to, this was -what had come of his idiotic, vainglorious desire to do the -right thing by Jane! He had simply let himself in for a lot -of unhappiness. Strange, though, that he should be so -consumed with jealousy when he wasn’t the least bit in -love with Jane himself. It was absurd! Why, he had -known her since the day she was born—how could he -possibly be in love with her when he had known her all -her life? He knew what love was—yes, indeed, he knew. -He had been in love half a dozen times. He ought to -know what love was—and certainly his feelings toward -Jane were nothing like those he had experienced in bygone -affairs of the heart. Gee whiz! What had suddenly -got into him?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly it came to him that he was selfish. That’s -what it was—selfishness. He did not want her himself -and yet he couldn’t bear the thought of letting some one -else have her. Utter selfishness! Having arrived at this -conclusion he smote his conscience heroically and proclaimed -to the night that he would no more be jealous. -Not even of Lansing. He would go on being Jane’s -friend, and Lansing’s friend, and the friend of their children, -and—This brought him up with a blinding jolt. -Jane’s children! And Lansing’s! Something red and -strangely sustained blurred his vision.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was oppressed by a feeling of almost intolerable -loneliness as he strode down the dimly lighted street; a -soft breeze blowing through the leaves of the young -maples overhead suggested subdued, malicious laughter; -automobile horns sounded like raucous guffaws; some -blithering idiot was sounding taps on a mournful cornet -far off in the night. He was going to lose Jane—he was -going to lose Jane—he was going to lose Jane. Over -and over again: he was going to lose Jane. Taps!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Clay Street was almost deserted. The stores were -closed for the night. A few pedestrians strolled leisurely -along the sidewalks; a small group of loafers in front of -Jackson’s cigar store, a detached policeman, three young -girls waiting on a corner, widely separated automobiles -drawn up to the curb, a man studying the billboards outside -the closed door of the Star Moving Picture Palace. -The town clock began to strike eleven.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gee whiz!” sighed Oliver October, for all the world -seemed as bleak to him as Clay Street was at midnight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not since that night in June, over a year ago, had he -taken the “short cut” swamp road on his way home from -Jane’s. He avoided it after dark as if it were a graveyard—and -he always hurried a little in passing a graveyard -at night. He had never gotten over childhood’s fear -of the ghosts that were supposed to come out and wander -among the cold, white tombstones. There were no tombstones -along the lonely swamp road, but he had a dread -of it just the same.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat on his porch until long past one o’clock, lonelier -than he ever had been in his life. The night was warm, -somber; a light wind crossing the expanse of swamp land -brought a whiff of comfort and with it the incessant chatter -of frogs, the doleful hoot of owls and the squawk of -nightbirds prowling in the air. The house was dark, -still. He felt very sorry for himself, sitting there all -alone. How different it was over at Mr. Sage’s house—the -friendly lights, the cozy comfort of everything, the -companionship—some one to talk to and laugh with, -and some one to feel sorry for him, instead of the other -way about. To-morrow night would be Lansing’s night—and -soon, perhaps <span class='it'>every</span> night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I ought to get married,” he mused in his dejection. -“It’s the only thing. Have a wife and a home and children. -But, good Lord, where am I to find a girl I’d -want to be tied to all my life? I’ve had it pretty bad -two or three times, but, here I am, not caring a darn -about any one of ’em. I might just as well never have -known them. It wasn’t the real article—not by a long -shot. There are mighty few girls like Jane in this world—mighty -few. The man who gets her will get one in a -million. And where would a chap find a father-in-law -like Uncle Herbert? It makes me sick the way Lansing -twists that beastly little mustache of his and looks bored -every time Uncle Herbert speaks. Funny Jane doesn’t -see it and call him down for it. And why the devil -doesn’t Uncle Herbert see it and tell Jane she’ll never be -happy with a fellow like Lansing? Good Lord, is everybody -blind but me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning he was down at the swamp bright -and early, inspecting the work of the ditchers and tile -layers. The task of reclaiming the land had been under -way for several months and was slowly nearing completion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you’d change your mind about not going out -any farther, Oliver,” said old John Phillips, who was -superintending the work. “We could go out a quarter of -a mile farther without a bit of risk, and you’d add about -twenty acres of good land to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll have enough, John,” interrupted the young man. -“We’ll stick to the original survey. Don’t go a rod beyond -the stakes I set up out yonder. It may be safe but -it isn’t worth while.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’re the boss,” grumbled old John, and -added somewhat peevishly: “I’ll bet your father wouldn’t -throw away twenty acres or more just because—but, as -I was saying, Oliver, you’re the boss. If you say I’m -not to go beyond them stakes, that settles it. But I -can’t help saying I think you’re making a mistake. -There’s some mighty good land there, ’spite of them -mudholes a little further out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not denying that,” said Oliver patiently. “But -we’ll stop where the stakes are, just the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few minutes later old John confided to one of the -ditchers that young Baxter was considerable of a darned -fool. Either that, or else he had some thundering good -reason of his own for not wanting to go out beyond the -stakes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This here job has cost up’ards of three thousand dollars -already, and for a couple of hundred more he could -clean up clear to the edge of the mire, and when his pa -comes back—if he ever does come back—he wouldn’t -have to take a tongue-lashin’ for doin’ the job half way. -I used to look upon that boy as a smart young feller. -And him a civil engineer besides.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe he’s a whole lot smarter than you think,” -said the ditcher significantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t for a minute think it’s that,” said old John -hastily. “Not for a minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t help thinkin’ we’ll turn up that old man’s body -some day. It sort of gives me the creeps. Bringin’ up -them horse’s bones last week sort of upset me. God -knows what else may be out there in the mire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two big ditches, fed by lateral lines of tile, held -a straight course across the upper end of the swamp and -drained into Blacksnake Creek, a sluggish little stream -half a mile west of Rumley. Roughly estimated, three -hundred acres were being transformed into what in time -was bound to become valuable land. The time would -come when it could be successfully and profitably tilled. -Farmers who had scoffed at the outset now grudgingly -admitted that “something might come of it.” A far-seeing -man from the adjoining county made an offer of -ten dollars an acre for the land before the work had been -under way a month. He said he was taking a gambler’s -chance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was walking slowly back to the house, his head -bent, his hands in his pockets, when he observed an automobile -approaching over the deeply rutted, seldom traveled -road. He recognized the car at once. Lansing’s -yellow roadster.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He frowned. Lansing was the one person he did not -want to see that morning. He had lain awake for hours, -seeking for some real, definite reason for hating the man—and -to save his life he couldn’t think of one! And he -knew that when he looked into the young doctor’s frank, -honest eyes this morning, and saw the genial, whole-hearted -smile in them, and heard his cheery greeting, the -elusive reason would be farther from his mental grasp -than ever. He simply couldn’t help liking Lansing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The car came into plain view around a bend in the -road, and he saw that a woman sat beside the man at the -wheel. His heart contracted—and as suddenly expanded. -It wasn’t Jane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, there!” called out Lansing, while still some distance -away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver, peering intently through the flickering shadows -of the woodland road, saw that the doctor’s companion -was a stranger. A young woman—and an uncommonly -pretty one he was soon to discover. He stepped off into -the rank grass at the roadside and the car came to a stop. -He took off his “haymaker’s” straw hat, and revealed his -white teeth in the smile that no one could resist. The -young woman smiled in return, and then flushed slightly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve heard me speak of my sister, Oliver,” said -Lansing, resting his elbows on the wheel. “Well, here -she is. Meet Mr. Baxter, Sylvia, as we say out here. -Mrs. Flame, Oliver. You needn’t be afraid of her, old -man. She’s quite flameless. Got rid of him last month -in Paris. Come a little closer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be silly, Paul,” scolded Mrs. Flame. “Mr. -Baxter may have a perfect horror of divorced women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have,” said Oliver gallantly. “I shudder every time -I see one. If I hear about ’em in time, I shut my eyes -so that I can’t see them. But when I’m taken by surprise -like this, I stare rudely, my knees quake and I -begin to pray for help. It’s queer I never feel that way -about divorced men. I don’t have the slightest fear of -them, no matter how big and strong and ferocious they -may be. Strange, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very,” said she, still smiling down into his eyes. “I -must say, however, I don’t think you are staring rudely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s generally conceded that he stares very handsomely,” -said Lansing. “But, hop in, Oliver. I’ve been -sent to fetch you over to Mr. Sage’s. He had a cablegram -early this morning and sort of went to pieces. -Jane sent for me. He’s all right now, but Jane says he -wants to see you. She telephoned while I was there, but -you were not at home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A cablegram? His wife—is she dead?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should say not. She’s sailing for the United States -to-morrow and is coming here to live!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good God!” burst involuntarily from Oliver’s lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s knocked the old boy silly,” was Lansing’s brief -and professional explanation. “Climb in here beside -Sylvia—plenty of room if we squeeze. Get your leg over -a little, Sylvia. That’s all right. Shall we stick to this -road, Oliver, or go back to the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It gets better a little farther on,” said Oliver, dazed. -“All the hauling has been at this end. My Lord! No -wonder he’s knocked out. Coming here to live? Why—why, -he hasn’t seen her since Jane was a baby. What’s -the matter with her? Sick?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think so. Unless you can see something ominous -in the last line of her cablegram. She winds it up -with ‘dying to see you.’ Strikes me she’s been a long -time dying. They say she turned this burg upside down -when she first came here. Do you remember her, -Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should say I do,” cried Oliver. “I adored her. I -say, this must mean that she’s going to leave the stage, -give up acting. She was famous over there. Why, only -a couple of years ago, she made a great hit in a new play -over in London. I tried to get across from France to -see her in it, but it couldn’t be managed. Just after the -Armistice, you see. I asked a good many British officers -about her. They said she was tophole, all of ’em crazy -about her. I can’t understand it, Doc. Coming here to -Rumley to live? Gee whiz!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I saw her in a play called ‘Rosalind,’ ” said Mrs. -Flame. “Several years ago. It’s by Shakespeare. My -husband said she certainly was worth seeing. Heavens, -Paul, take these ruts slowly. You’re jolting my head -off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a long silence: “When did you get here, Mrs. -Flame?” inquired Oliver briskly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Last night. Paul met me in Hopkinsville. I came -direct from New York. My home is in New York City, -you know. I’ve never been in Rumley before. We were -living in Indianapolis when I was married. That was -seven years ago. Seems seven hundred. Now you know -almost all there is to know about me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was staring straight ahead. He was wondering -if “Aunt Josephine” could still turn “cart wheels,” and -make up funny songs, and dance on the tips of her toes. -Hardly. She must be over fifty. Then he came out of -his momentary abstraction and politely asked Mrs. Flame -when she had arrived in Rumley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean,” he stammered, “how long do you expect to -be here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ten days, or two weeks at the longest,” she replied. -“I am joining a house party at Harbor Point.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good!” he exclaimed, and then as she looked at him -quickly: “I mean, I’m glad you’re going to be here that -long. By George, this will make a thundering difference -in the lives of Mr. Sage and Jane. Is—is Jane excited, -Doc?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing like the old man. He keeps saying over and -over again, with a smile that won’t come off, that if you -pray long enough and hard enough, you’ll get your wish, -or something like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What does he want to see me about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Search me. Ouch! Excuse me, Sylvia. I didn’t see -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m used to hard knocks,” gasped -the young woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver turned his head to look at her. She was very -pretty and very smart looking in the little brown hat -that sat jauntily upon her yellow, beautifully coifed -hair. Very trig, too. About thirty-two or-three, he -hazarded. Fine eyes—a trifle pained at present, but -fine, just the same. He found himself wondering if Jane -was as pretty as Lansing’s sister—and suddenly it occurred -to him that Jane had her “lashed to the mast”—absolutely!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The road got better. “Your ears must have burned -last night, Mr. Baxter,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He started guiltily. “How—what for?” he stammered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Old Paul here did nothing but talk about you all the -way down from Hopkinsville. I don’t see how you’ve -done it. He’s usually quite a snob, you know. I’ve -never known him to like anybody but himself before. -You must be either superlatively good or superlatively -bad. Which is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Depends entirely on which you prefer, Mrs. Flame,” -said Oliver coolly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess that’ll hold you, Syl,” cried Lansing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver groaned inwardly. It was getting more difficult -every minute to hate the fellow.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='196' id='Page_196'></span><h1>CHAPTER XV</h1></div> - -<h3>THE THIRD FAIR LADY</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Two old men were crossing Maple Street as -Lansing swung into it from the dirt road. They -quickened their steps and from the safety of the -sidewalk glanced at the occupants of the car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wasn’t that Oliver October?” demanded Mr. Sikes, -pursuing the car with an outraged gaze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was,” replied Mr. Link, putting his hand to his -side. “He yelled at us. Lordy, I’m too fat to hurry like -that.” He strode on a few paces before discovering that -he walked alone. Mr. Sikes had stopped stock-still and -was gazing blankly after the receding roadster. “Come -on! What’s the matter with you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, did you notice? Did you notice that woman sitting -on his lap?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She wasn’t doing anything of the kind. She was sitting -between ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, anyhow, this settles everything,” said Mr. -Sikes weakly. “He’s as good as hung right now. Absolutely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, are you blind? Can’t you see <span class='it'>anything</span> at all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can see a darned sight better than you can, and -you know it,” retorted Mr. Link hotly. “You can’t see -ten feet in front of you. How many fingers am I holding -up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, go to thunder! What I’m asking you is, did you -notice her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly—that is, I noticed the back of her head.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what color was it?” demanded Mr. Sikes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t notice,” said Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You didn’t, eh? Of course, you didn’t. The only -way you ever notice anything is when I tell you to notice -it. It was yaller.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yaller? Well, what of it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nothing—nothing at all,” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, -throwing up his hands in a gesture of supreme disgust. -“Nothing at all, except she’s the third yaller-haired one -to come into his life. The one that was here last fall -that he took such a shine to, and the one he confesses to -being gone on out in Idaho or somewheres. Two dark -and three fair women, is what she said. Didn’t she? -Wait a minute! Answer me. Didn’t she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She did,” said Mr. Link, his brow clouding. “But -he’s only had one dark one, far as we know,” he added -hopefully. “That girl he says he was engaged to over in -China.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you call Jane Sage? You wouldn’t call her -a blonde, would you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not. But what’s Jane got to do with it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s got a lot to do with it. She’s a dark woman, -ain’t she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not especially. Brown or chestnut, I’d say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, say <span class='it'>bay</span>, if you want to,” roared Mr. Sikes. -“And I’ll tell you something you don’t know about Jane. -She’s in love with Oliver, and always has been.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go on!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That makes her one of the dark women, don’t it? -And she makes two, don’t she? And this here new one—the -one that was setting in his lap—she makes the third -fair one, don’t she? Well, what you got to say to that? -This is the last straw. I been prayin’ to God that we -could get through the year without another light woman -turning up. And here she comes, right when everything -was looking safe. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He won’t take any notice of this yaller-haired girl,” -said Mr. Link, with an air of finality. “I can tell you -something about Oliver that you don’t know. He’s in -love with Jane, as the saying is, and always has been.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes stopped again in his tracks and glowered at -Mr. Link. “Who told you that?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link took time to search several tree tops before -answering. Then he solemnly said: “I’m not sure it was -the one I see perched over yonder at the top of that -second tree, but if it wasn’t that one it was one just like -it. A little bird told me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Talk sense! Who told you Oliver was in love with -Jane?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doc Lansing. Not more than a week ago he told -me Oliver was head over heels in love with her. I guess -he ought to know. He sees a good deal of both of ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll be—Why, dod-gast it, he’s the one that -told me Jane was in love with Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” began Mr. Link after they had proceeded up -Maple Street some fifteen or twenty paces, “if he’s telling -the truth, I guess you don’t need to worry about this -yaller-haired one any longer, Joe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes shook his head. “I’m not so sure about -that. He’s partial to blondes, seems to me. I’ll have to -talk to that boy, Silas. I’ve told him a hundred times to -beware of light women, and here he goes—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come on! Oliver got out of the car up in front of -the Reverend Sage’s and it’s going on without him. That -proves we’re right, Joe. That telegram to Reverend -Sage was—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wasn’t a telegram. It was a cable. Marmaduke -Smith told me; not five minutes after he delivered it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No matter. It’s from Ollie. He’s telegraphing Sage -to break some kind of news to Oliver. Dying somewheres -maybe. That’s why they sent Doc Lansing for -Oliver October. Come on—step along a little, Joe. I -think I’ve sized the thing up. The minute I heard Sage -had got a telegram I says to myself, it’s from Ollie. -I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you save your breath you can walk faster,” interrupted -Mr. Sikes, stepping forth with renewed vigor. -Mr. Link was half a block in the rear when his companion -turned in at the parsonage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was true that Josephine Sage was coming home. -The beatific minister thrust the cablegram into Oliver’s -hand as that young man came bounding up the veranda -steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s coming on the <span class='it'>Baltic</span>. I have decided to go to -New York to meet her. Jane will accompany me. I wish -you would find out for me, Oliver, when the <span class='it'>Baltic</span> is -due to arrive at New York. I am so upset, so distracted -I do not seem to know just which way to turn. Please -help me out, lad. Perhaps I should have telegraphed -myself—or had Jane do it—but we—I mean <span class='it'>I</span>—er—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you give it another thought, Uncle Herbert,” -cried Oliver, returning the bit of paper which Mr. Sage -carefully folded and placed in his notebook. “I will -arrange everything for you. You must be beside yourself -with joy, sir. It’s great, isn’t it? Where is Jane?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage looked a trifle dazed. “Why—er—oh, yes, -she is upstairs putting a few of my things into a suitcase. -I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver laughed. “For the love of—Why, Uncle Herbert, -you’ve got five or six days to spare. The <span class='it'>Baltic</span> -won’t reach New York for a week anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A week?” in dismay. “Of course! I must be losing -my mind. Of course! I seem to remember Jane saying -something of the kind a little while ago. Yes, yes! But -I do wish you would run along and send the telegram. -Do you happen to know of a nice quiet hotel there? Perhaps -you wouldn’t mind telegraphing for accommodations -for Jane and me. And will you see about reserving -something on the train for us? I have done so little -traveling of late years, I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, you ought to come out in the back yard and put -the gloves on with me, Uncle Herbert,” cried Oliver, with -sparkling eyes. “I’ll bet you’re twenty years younger -than you were yesterday, and I’ve an idea you could -plaster it all over me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I believe I could,” said Mr. Sage, squaring his thin -shoulders and drawing a deep breath. “I—I feel like a—a -fighting-cock!”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='201' id='Page_201'></span><h1>CHAPTER XVI</h1></div> - -<h3>MR. JOSEPH SIKES INTERVENES</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, while Mr. Joseph Sikes was one of the first -citizens of Rumley, a good Republican, and a -man whose opinions were considered if not always -respected, he had no social position, using the term -in its present accepted sense. In simple, he was not by -way of knowing the “best” people. There had been a -time when Joe Sikes was a figure in the social life of -Rumley, but that was in the days when “society” functioned, -so to speak, in the corner grocery, or on the porch -of the toll-gate, or at K. of P. Hall. Conditions in Rumley -had changed, but old Joe hadn’t. He was still a -“feed store” man, fairly prosperous, blatantly independent, -and on speaking terms with “fashion” only in connection -with business or politics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day was past in Rumley when Joe Sikes could -stroll up to anybody’s house, night or day, walk in without -knocking, and feel at home with his friends. There -were eight or ten thousand people in Rumley now and -there was a distinct though somewhat heterogeneous element -known to some as the “smart set” and to others as -the “stuck-ups.” They were the people whose names -and activities filled the society columns of the Rumley -<span class='it'>Daily Despatch</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To them, old Joe Sikes was a “character.” He knew -Banker Lansing, and Banker Koontzwiler, and the President -of the Excelsior Woodenware Works, and others of -their ilk, but he did not know their wives or their daughters. -Mr. Link, on the other hand, had a very wide acquaintance -with the “newer rich,” as he learnedly called -them in placating Mr. Sikes on occasion. He had buried -a lot of them, for one thing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was troubled. Not once but half a score of -times in the week following his first glimpse of “yaller-headed” -Mrs. Flame, he had seen her with Oliver October. -She wasn’t, of course, sitting in Oliver’s lap on any -of these occasions, but—well, it is enough to say that -Mr. Sikes was sorely troubled. He saw Oliver going -straight to his doom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With Jane’s departure for New York he lost all hope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had lectured Oliver severely, and, to his grief and -astonishment, was laughed at for his pains. So he went -to Serepta Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rang the Baxter doorbell—and instantly wondered -why he had done so. It seemed like a confession of -weakness on his part. He sat down on the veranda and -waited. It was late in the afternoon of a hot July day, -well along toward the end of the month. He sniffed the -sultry air, gazed frowningly at the western sky where -clouds were gathering in the black pregnancy of storm, -and chewed hard on the macerated stub of an unlighted -cigar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes came to the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought maybe it was Marmaduke -Smith back with another telegram.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Another what?” demanded Mr. Sikes, with interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s brought two up on his bicycle since four o’clock, -and he said maybe there’d be more. Two telegrams for -Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why didn’t he take ’em to the store, the little fool? -Oliver may have to ketch the six o’clock train. What’s -in ’em?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How should I know? I don’t open his letters or telegrams.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’d ought to. Ten chances to one they’re -from Ollie, asking for help or money or—Where is -Oliver, if he ain’t at the store?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s out automobile riding with Mr. Lansing’s daughter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh; he is, is he?” snapped Mr. Sikes, getting up. “I -might have knowed it. Darn his eyes, he’s getting worse -and worse every day. If I’ve warned that boy once about -light women, I’ve done it a hundred times. He’s got -to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s letting it come in dark again,” said Mrs. Grimes -calmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Letting it what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come in dark. Her hair, I mean. She wouldn’t be -any more of a blonde than you are, Joe Sikes, if she’d -quit bleaching her hair, or hennering it, or whatever it is -they do. Like Saul Higbee’s daughter Kate—you remember -her, don’t you? Turned blonde over night, and -said God had performed a miracle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean to say this here Lansing woman ain’t a -real blonde?” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, sitting down again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You heard what I said, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know whether to believe you or my own -eyes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Looks as if we’d get the storm before dark, doesn’t -it?” said Mrs. Grimes, sweeping the cloud banks with a -casual eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes appeared to be thinking. After a long -pause he said: “I guess maybe you’re insinuatin’ that I -better be moving along towards home if I don’t want to -get caught in it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can sit here as long as you like, Joe,” said she. -“And you can stay to dinner, too, if you feel like it,” she -added, her conscience smiting her suddenly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you swept the porch to-day, Serepty?” he inquired, -after another pause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly. Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I never seem to come up here and sit down -on it but what either you or Lizzie Meggs rush out and -begin sweeping all around me. No matter what time of -day I come, I always have to get out of the way of one of -you women sweepin’.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you won’t have to to-day,” said she good-naturedly. -“So set still.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess I’ll wait for Oliver to come home,” said he -guiltily. “I want to see what’s in them telegrams. You—you’re -sure about that woman having dark hair?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Absolutely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, that’s a comfort. I—Hello! Here comes -Oliver now—but, by thunder, he’s got that yaller-haired -woman with him,” he concluded in dismay. “No, thank -you, Serepty—I can’t stay for supper. I—I—” He -got up quickly, pulled his straw hat down low over his -eyes, and started hurriedly down the walk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Uncle Joe,” called out Oliver, swinging the car -into the drive. “Wait a minute and I’ll give you a lift -home. I’m going back just as soon as I’ve changed my -collar and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a lot of telegrams here from your father,” -said Joseph gruffly. He halted half way down the walk -and stared intently at Mrs. Flame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver brought the car to a stop in front of the porch. -“I’ll be out in a couple of minutes, Sylvia,” he said as he -slid out from behind the wheel. “Hey, Uncle Joe! Come -here, please. I want to introduce you to the lady you’ve -been raising such a rumpus about. She swears she won’t -scratch your eyes out or pull your hair. You needn’t look -so scared. She’s perfectly harmless. Take my word for -it. I’ve had experience with fair women, as you well -know, and I don’t find ’em any more devilish than dark -women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was scandalized. He turned purple in the -face—not with anger but with mortification. He told -Mr. Link afterwards that he felt like a fool, and Mr. Link -brought a lot of wrath down upon himself by remarking -that it must have been wonderful for him to feel natural -for once in his life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He approached the dazzling, radiant Mrs. Flame reluctantly, -stammering something about “horse play” and -“poppycock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think there is going to be a storm, Mr. Sikes?” -she inquired, as Oliver, grinning maliciously, dashed up -the steps and followed Mrs. Grimes into the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes did not answer at once. He was squinting -narrowly at Mrs. Flame’s back hair—or more particularly -at a spot just below the left ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By jiminy,” he muttered softly, “she’s right.” Then -recovering himself, he said: “Eh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Baxter is a great tease, isn’t he?” she substituted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s a darned nuisance,” said Mr. Sikes sharply. -“Makes me tired.” Suddenly it occurred to him that -here was a chance not to be overlooked, so he added -very firmly: “I pity the woman that gets him for a husband.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do? Why, I should say that the woman who -gets him is about the luckiest person in the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her piercingly. “How long did you say -you’ve knowed him?” he inquired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t say—but there’s no harm in telling you, I -suppose.” She began counting on her fingers. “Nine -days, Mr. Sikes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It takes him just about that long,” was his cryptic -rejoinder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed merrily. “Do they fall for him as easily -as all that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The married ones do,” said he darkly and daringly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that lets me out,” she said. “You see, I’m not -married, Mr. Sikes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Excuse me, I thought he said Missus,” floundered -Mr. Sikes, a trifle dashed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He did. I am Mrs. Flame.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Er—ahem! Oh, I see. Widow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a detached sort of way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was beyond Mr. Sikes. “In the war, I suppose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do I look like a woman who lost a husband in the -war, Mr. Sikes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t look like you’d lost one anywhere,” said -he, beginning to feel a trifle nettled. “You certainly -don’t look like a widow to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do I look like to you?” she inquired amiably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look as if it wouldn’t distress you very much if -I was to ask how long he’s been dead,” was his unexpected -reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed. “A very good answer to a very stupid -question,” said she. “He isn’t dead. He is very much -alive. He didn’t go to the war. I am one of those horrible, -unspeakable things known as a grass widow, Mr. -Sikes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As I was saying,” he began after he had taken as -much as thirty seconds to recover from the shock of this -disclosure, “it wouldn’t surprise me if we got the storm -inside of ten or fifteen minutes. I guess I’ll be moving -along. Glad to have met you, Mrs.—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do wait,” she cried. “Oliver won’t be a minute. -We’ll take you wherever you wish to go, Mr. Sikes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I won’t wait,” said he firmly. “But before I go, -I want to—er—as I was saying, it ain’t any of my business—you -understand that, don’t you?—er—I was just -thinking it’s only fair to tell you that Oliver is—er—what -you might call engaged, Mrs. Flame. Generally speaking, -I mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see,” said she brightly. “And you want to warn me -not to make a fool of myself, is that it? It’s awfully -kind of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was a poor dissembler. “Well, I was thinking -more about Oliver making a fool of himself,” said he -bluntly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why, Mr. Sikes, do you keep all this a secret from -him?” she cried, biting her lip to keep from laughing. -“I think you ought to tell him he is engaged and not -keep the poor boy in suspense. He hasn’t the remotest -inkling of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you fool yourself,” said he stoutly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And who is the fortunate young lady?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We ain’t quite ready to make it public yet,” said Mr. -Sikes, casting a sharp look toward the house and cocking -his ear for sounds of Oliver’s footsteps on the stairs. -“Which reminds me,” he went on hurriedly, lowering his -voice, “I guess you’d better not mention it to him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sha’n’t, Mr. Sikes, if it will make you feel any more -comfortable. But at least you can tell me this. Does -the young lady know she is engaged?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had got in deeper than he intended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I say she was young?” he demanded craftily, -trying to recall just how far he had already committed -himself. “No, siree! You bet I didn’t. I’m too smart -for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But does she know she is engaged?” persisted this -disconcerting young woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not what you would call exactly,” he confessed, -lamely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. You are keeping it a secret from both of -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He heard Oliver in the hall, speaking to Mrs. Grimes. -It was no time to choose words, so he blurted out:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and you’ll do me an everlastin’ favor, ma’am, if -you’ll keep it secret from him for a week or two. He’s -awfully touchy. It might spoil everything if he got wind -of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is she a blonde or a brunette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was his chance. “It’s purty hard to tell these -days,” he said, fastening his gaze on her hair in a most -disconcerting manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed outright, joyously, frankly. Oliver, coming -out of the house at this juncture, paused in amazement -at the top of the steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Uncle Joe, you quit your flirting,” he cried. -“Next thing you know you’ll have a breach of promise -suit on your hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t get fresh!” exclaimed Mr. Sikes in some exasperation. -Then, to cover his confusion: “What’s the -news from your pa, Oliver? What’s he say in them telegrams?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re not from father, Uncle Joe,” said the young -man, softening. “Jump in behind there. I’ll run you uptown -before the storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going uptown,” said Mr. Sikes obstinately. -“I’m stayin’ here for supper with Serepta. I just remembered -it,” he went on, with a guilty, apologetic look -at Mrs. Flame. “Oh, before I forget it, Oliver, is there -anything serious in them telegrams?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir! It certainly begins to look serious. I had -six at the store this morning, and a dozen telephone calls -besides. That’s one reason why I took the afternoon off. -Nearly every man on the County Central Committee has -telephoned or telegraphed me to-day. The pressure is -getting pretty strong, Uncle Joe, and I’m beginning to -weaken.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pressure? Weaken? What the devil are you talking -about now?” demanded Mr. Sikes, placing one foot on -the running-board and grasping the door-handle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They want me to make the race for State Senator -against Uncle Horace,” said Oliver. “Hop in! I’m going -to start.” Then, as the old man scrambled hurriedly -into the car, he added: “And I’ve about reached the conclusion -to go out and skin Uncle Horace alive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My God!” gasped Mr. Sikes, leaning forward and -gripping the back of the front seat with both hands. -“You—you don’t mean to tell me you’re going to run for -office, Oliver October Baxter!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hang onto your hat, Uncle Joe! I’m going to let her -out a little,” sang out Oliver, and “let her out” he did -as the car swept out of the driveway into the street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was standing up in the tonneau, grasping -the forward seat with one hand, and his hat with the -other. He leaned over and shouted in Oliver’s ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can’t do it! You mustn’t do it! It’s against my -wishes, and your pa’s, and—why, how many times have -I told you what the gypsy said about—Say! Slow -down a little, confound you! Have you told Serepty -Grimes about this fool notion of yours?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have. And she’s tickled to death. She says to go -ahead and skin him alive. That’s the kind of a hairpin -she is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes clung rigidly to the back of the seat for a -couple of hundred yards, speechless with a combination -of concern and exasperation. Then he sank down into the -side chair and bellowed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m through! I’m done! There’s no use trying to -save you—not a damn bit of use. Go ahead and run! -I’m through! Stick your neck right into it if you want to. -I’ve done my best—I’ve done all a man could do. I no -sooner see you safely out of a scrape with a light woman -than you start hell-bent for the halls of state. You—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you worry, Uncle Joe,” called out Oliver cheerily. -“Uncle Horace will probably snow me under a mile -deep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was silent for a few moments, contemplating -this calamity. Suddenly he banged the back of the seat -with his clenched fist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not on your life!” he roared. “We’ll skin him alive. -You’ll carry every darned precinct in the county. He -won’t—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hang onto your hat, Uncle Joe!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My what? Good Lord! I forgot—but never mind! -Don’t go back after it! It’s an old one anyhow. Yes, -sir; we’ll peel the hide off of old Gooch next November—every -inch of it. Let me out at the Hubbard House, -Oliver. Silas Link drops in there about this time every -evening to cool off under the electric fans. Does he know -about this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think he does,” said Oliver, drawing up to -the curb in front of the hotel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Sikes, with satisfaction. He -clambered out of the car. “Good day, ma’am. I hope -you don’t get wet.” He eyed her hair narrowly, even apprehensively. -“Hurry along, Oliver. You mustn’t keep -her out in the rain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-by, Mr. Sikes. Thank you for warning me,” -said Mrs. Flame, favoring him with a smile so enchanting -that instead of blurting out the latest news to Mr. -Link when he encountered him in the lobby of the hotel -a few moments later, he gloomily announced that a fellow -as young as Oliver didn’t have a ghost of a chance.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='212' id='Page_212'></span><h1>CHAPTER XVII</h1></div> - -<h3>MR. GOOCH DECLARES HIMSELF</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The Republicans of the county in convention a -week later went through the formality of nominating -a ticket, a heretofore useless procedure -attended by vainglorious claims, bombastic oratory, unbridled -denunciation and a grim sort of jauntiness that -passed for confidence and died as soon as the meeting -was over. Ever since the Civil War the party had stoutly -and steadfastly put up a ticket and just as regularly had -abandoned it to its fate. The candidates themselves, accepting -defeat at the outset, took little or no interest in -the campaign aside from the slight satisfaction they eked -out of seeing their names on the printed ballot. It was, -so to speak, like reading one’s own obituary notice—or, -as one hardy, perennial office-seeker remarked—attending -one’s own funeral and getting back home in time for -supper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the campaign of 1920 in this hide-bound Democratic -stronghold possessed strange, new elements; the -under-dog bounced up with surprising animation and -showed his teeth, prepared at last to fight for the bone -that so long had been denied him. In the first place, the -administration at Washington was standing with its back -to the wall; it was almost certain to be swept out of -power by the resistless force of public opinion. Faint-hearted -Republican politicians lost in the depths of -Democratic jungles saw light ahead and, rubbing their -eyes, started toward it, realizing it was no longer Will-o’-the-wisp -or Jack-o’-lantern that led them on. Their eyes -glittered, their fingers itched, and they became very -strong in the legs. If Harding and Coolidge were to be -swept in by the avalanche, why shouldn’t they hang on -behind and be sucked into office by the same gigantic -wave? In the second place, the Democrats of Applegate -County, fat and sluggish after years of plenty, had overslept -a little in their security. Too late they awoke to -the fact that they had four or five weak spots in their -county ticket, and while there was small danger of the -normal plurality being wiped out at the coming election -they were in very grave danger of having it reduced to a -humiliating extent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Horace Gooch, of Hopkinsville, heretofore a -miserly aspirant for legislative honors but persistently -denied the distinction for which he was loath to pay, -“came across” so handsomely—and so desperately—that -the bosses foolishly permitted him to be nominated for -the State Senate. The people did not want him; but that -made little or no difference to the party leaders; the people -had to take him whether they liked him or not. Mr. -Gooch’s astonishing contribution to the campaign fund -was not to be “passed up” merely because the people -didn’t approve of him. It is not good politics to allow -the people a voice in such matters. Old Gooch would -run behind the rest of the ticket, to be sure, but he would -“squeeze through” safely, and that was all that was necessary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The report that young Oliver Baxter, of Rumley, was -being urged to make the race against his uncle caused -no uneasiness among the bosses. It was not until after -the young man was nominated and actually in the field, -that misgivings beset the bosses. Young Baxter was -popular in the southern section of the county, he was a -war hero, and he was an upstanding figure in a community -where the voters were as likely as not to “jump the -traces.” And when the emboldened Republican press of -the county began to speak of their candidate as a “shark,” -there was active and acute dismay. They sent for Mr. -Gooch and suggested that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for -him to withdraw from the race—on account of his age, or -his health.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I’m not an old man,” protested Mr. Gooch irascibly, -“and I’ve never been sick a day in my life. I’m -sixty-four. You wouldn’t call that old, would you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No, the chairman wouldn’t call that old, but from what -he could gather this was destined to be “a young man’s -year.” Young men were in the saddle; you couldn’t -shake ’em out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to tell me,” began Horace, genuinely -amazed, “that you think this young whipper-snapper of -a nephew of mine is liable to defeat me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I guess perhaps we can pull you through,” said -the chairman, rather unfeelingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear sir, we have a safe majority of four thousand -votes in this county. Why do you say you ‘guess -perhaps’ you can pull me through? If you are joking, -I wish to state to you right here and now that I do not -approve of jokes. If you are in earnest, all I can say is -that you must be crazy. The people of this county want -a sound, solid, able business man to represent them in -the legislature. They don’t want a young, inexperienced, -untried whipper-snapper—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nobody knows what the people want,” said the chairman -sententiously. “Now, this young Baxter. He’s a -fine feller. He’s got lots of friends. Everybody likes -him. He has a clear record. There isn’t a thing we can -say against him. On the other hand, he can say a lot of -nasty things about you, Mr. Gooch. We can’t come back -at him when he begins stumping the county and talking -about tax-sales, foreclosures, ten per cent interest, people -having to go to the poorhouse, and all that kind of stuff. -What kind of a comeback have we? What are we to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No man can accuse me of being dishonest; no man -can question my integrity—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord bless you, Mr. Gooch, nobody’s going to accuse -you of being dishonest. All they’re going to say about -you is that you’re a rich man, a skinflint, a tax shark, a -gouger, a hypocrite, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a snake in -the grass, a Shylock, and a good many other things,” said -the county chairman, with brutal frankness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch was not greatly disturbed by the prospect. -He had heard all these terms of opprobrium before; he -was used to them. He said something about “water off -of a duck’s back,” and fell to twisting his wiry gray -beard with steady, claw-like fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can’t afford to lose a single seat in the legislature,” -went on the chairman. “That’s why we thought best to -put it up to you straight, Mr. Gooch. I’m not saying -you’ll be licked next November, but you stand a blamed -good chance of it, let me tell you, if this young Baxter -goes after you without gloves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve just been thinking,” said Mr. Gooch, leaning forward -in his chair, “suppose I go down to Rumley and -have a talk with Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What about?” demanded the other, sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may be able to reason with him. I understand he -has not definitely decided to make the race. I have an -idea I can persuade him to decline.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No chance,” said the other, shaking his head. “He’s -got it in for you, I hear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch got up and began pacing the floor. His -lean, mean face was set in even harder lines than usual; -his mouth was drawn down at the corners, the lower lip -protruding like a thin liver-colored cushion into which -his shaved upper lip seemed to sink rigidly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Smith,” he began, halting in front of the -“boss,” “I may as well come out flat-footed and tell you -I’ve never been satisfied with all these stories and speculations -concerning the disappearance of my brother-in-law -a year ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean this young feller’s father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I married his sister. I don’t know as you’ve -heard that young Oliver Baxter and his father were not -on very good terms. They quarreled a great deal. This -nephew of mine has got murderous instincts. He threw -rocks at me once. He’s got an ungovernable temper. -He—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve heard all that bunk about a gypsy or somebody -like that prophesying he’d be hung. It’s bunk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I agree with you. I took no stock in that gypsy’s -prophecy at the time, and I never have. But, as I say, -I’m not satisfied with things. It’s mighty queer that a -man like Oliver Baxter could disappear off of the face of -the earth and never be heard of again. Most people believe -he’s alive—hiding somewhere—but I don’t believe -it for a minute. He’s dead. He died that night a year -ago when he had his last row with his son. And, what’s -more to the point, I am here to say I don’t believe his -son has told all he knows about the—er—the matter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He waited to see what effect this statement would have -on the chairman. Mr. Smith’s eyes narrowed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, what are you trying to get at, Mr. Gooch? Are -you thinking of charging that boy with—with having -had a hand in—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not charging anything,” snapped Mr. Gooch. -“I’m only saying what I believe, and that is that Oliver -is holding something back. If my poor brother-in-law -is dead, I want to know it. I’m not saying there was -foul play, mind you. But I do say it’s possible he might -have made way with himself that night, and that Oliver -may know when and how he did it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Smith slowly, “that comes pretty near to -being a charge, doesn’t it, Mr. Gooch?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can call it what you please. All I’ve got to say -is that I’m not satisfied, and I’m going to the bottom of -this business if it’s possible to do so.” He sat down -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So that’s what you’re going to see young Baxter -about, is it? You’re going to threaten him with an investigation -if he doesn’t withdraw from the race, eh? -Well, what are you going to do if he up and tells you to -go to hell?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch winced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been told to go to -hell,” he said, with a wintry smile. “However, it is not -my intention to threaten my nephew, Mr. Smith. Nothing -is farther from my thoughts. I’m simply going to -let him understand that I am not satisfied with things as -they are. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve already made -a few inquiries and—well, there is something peculiar -about the whole business, that’s all I’ve got to say. It -won’t hurt my nephew to know that I’m interested, will -it?” he wound up, a sly, crafty twinkle in his eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You take a tip from me, Mr. Gooch,” said the chairman, -somewhat forcibly. “Let sleeping dogs lie. If you -go to making any cracks about this young feller that you -can’t prove, he’ll wipe the earth up with you next November. -I’ve been in politics a long time and I know -something about the human race. You are banking on -the big Democratic majority we usually have in this -county. I want to tell you right here and now that if you -start any ugly talk about young Baxter and can’t back it -up with facts, there won’t be a decent Democrat in the -county that’ll vote for you. And I guess we’re far -enough south to be able to say that most of us are decent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch arose. “You said a while ago that he -would stump this county from end to end, calling me -everything he can lay his tongue to. Well, all I’ve got to -say to you, Mr. Smith, is that he sha’n’t have it all his -own way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s just this difference, Mr. Gooch. The voters -will believe what he says about you, and they won’t believe -a blamed word you say about him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good day, Mr. Smith!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good day, Mr. Gooch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two days later, Horace Gooch stopped his ancient -automobile in front of the Baxter Block in Rumley and -inquired of a man in the doorway:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is young Oliver Baxter here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The loiterer turned his head lazily without changing -the position of his body, squinted searchingly into the -store, and then replied that he was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you ask him to step out here? I want a word -or two with him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another searching look into the store. “He seems to -be busy, Mister. Leastwise, he’s talkin’ to a couple of -men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him his uncle is out here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The citizen of Rumley started.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The one he’s runnin’ against?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. His Uncle Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I guess I can do that much for you, Mr. -Gooch,” drawled the other generously, and shuffled -slowly into the store. Presently he returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He says to hitch your Ford to that telephone pole -and come right in. He’ll be disengaged in a couple of -minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch glared. “You tell him I swore never to enter -that store again. If he wants to see me he will have to -come out here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The citizen disappeared. He was back in a jiffy, grinning -broadly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” demanded Mr. Gooch, as the messenger remained -silent. “What did he say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The citizen chuckled. “It ain’t fit to print,” said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Mr. Gooch, after a moment’s reflection, -“I don’t mind waiting a while. He’ll have to come out -some time, I reckon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The citizen shrugged his shoulders and spread his -palms in a gesture disclaiming all responsibility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch shut off his engine and settled back in the -seat, the personification of grim and dogged patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fifteen minutes passed. Passers-by, sensing something -unusual, found an excuse for loitering in front of -nearby showwindows; several persons entered Silas -Link’s undertaking parlors next door and seemed deeply -interested in the rubber plants that adorned the windows; -Marmaduke Smith, the messenger-boy, with two telegrams -in his book, pedaled his bicycle up to the curb and, -anchoring it with one thin and spidery leg, sagged limply -upon the handlebar and waited for something to happen. -Mr. Link came out of his office, and after taking one -look at the hard-faced old man in the automobile, hurried -to the rear of his establishment. A few seconds later -he returned, accompanied by Joseph Sikes. They took -up a position in the doorway and, ignoring Mr. Gooch, -gazed disinterestedly down the street in the opposite direction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last Oliver October appeared. He glanced at his -watch as he crossed the sidewalk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Uncle Horace,” was his greeting. “Sorry to -have kept you waiting. And I’m in a bit of a hurry, too. -Some friends coming down on Number Seventeen. Mr. -and Mrs. Sage—you remember them, no doubt. And -their daughter. The train’s due at 4:10—and it’s three -minutes of four now. Anything in particular you wanted -to see me about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, there is,” said Mr. Gooch harshly. “I came -over here to demand an apology from you, young man—a -public apology, printed over your signature in the newspapers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the joke, Uncle Horace?” asked Oliver -calmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Joke? There’s no joke about it. You know what I -mean. I demand an apology for what you said in the -letter you wrote in reply to mine of the twenty-seventh -inst.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you expect me to print my letter in the newspapers -together with the apology?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That isn’t necessary, young man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Oliver, unruffled. “I’ll -agree to publish your letter to me and my reply, and -I’ll follow them up with an apology for mine if you’ll -apologize to me for yours. That’s fair, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t beat about the bush,” snapped Mr. Gooch. -“Don’t get fresh, young man. I’m not here to bandy -words with you. I wrote you a very plain and dignified -letter in which I told you what I thought of the underhanded -way you acted in regard to those dear old ladies, -Mrs. Bannester and her sister. You know as well as I -do that it was my intention to restore their property to -them, absolutely tax free and without a single claim -against it. You simply sneaked in and got ahead of me, -and now you are giving people to understand that I -meant to foreclose on ’em and turn them out of house and -home. You—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes,” interrupted Oliver, looking at his watch -again, “I know that’s what you said in your letter—that -and a lot of other things, Uncle Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what did you say in reply to my simple, straightforward -letter? You said you wouldn’t trust me as far -as you could throw a locomotive with one hand, or something -like that. You said—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I know I said that—and a lot of other things -too. You don’t have to repeat what I said. I’ve got a -copy of the letter in my desk. It wasn’t a very long letter, -for that matter, and I can recall every word of it. -Do you want to continue this discussion, Uncle Horace? -If you’ll look around you will see that quite a little -crowd is collecting. Don’t you think you’d better drop -the matter right here and now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t. I don’t care how big a crowd there is. -The bigger the better, far as I’m concerned. If I don’t -have a written and published acknowledgment from you -that you deliberately misrepresented me, that you played -me an underhanded trick simply for political purposes, -I’ll—I’ll—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll make it so blamed hot for you you’ll wish you’d -never been born,” grated Mr. Gooch, shaking his bony -finger in his nephew’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Observing this physical symptom of animosity, the -Messrs. Sikes and Link hastily stepped forth from the -doorway and advanced toward the car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep your temper, Oliver,” called out the former -warningly. “Hang on to it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t forget yourself, boy,” cried Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch glanced at the two old men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You stay away from here, you meddling old—” he -started to shout.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blow your police whistle, Silas,” urged Mr. Sikes. -“Blow it! We’ll see if—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind, Uncle Joe,” interrupted Oliver, with an -airy wave of his hand. “No need of a cop, is there, Uncle -Horace?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at present,” replied his uncle grimly. “Later on -we may need one—but not just now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then we can end the discussion in two seconds. I -decline to apologize, I refuse to accept an apology from -you, and I’ll see you in Jericho before I’ll retract a word -I’ve said about the Bannester affair. The only thing I -will say to you is that I hadn’t the faintest idea of running -for office when I helped those poor old ladies out of -their trouble. You can lump it if you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what’s more,” broke in Mr. Sikes, heatedly, -“this nomination was forced on Oliver against the wishes -of his friends and family. When his poor old father sees -in the newspapers that Oliver is headed for the halls of -state, he’ll break his heart. No matter where Ollie is, -he grabs up the newspaper every morning of his life to -see what the news is from Rumley—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is <span class='it'>that</span> so?” snarled Mr. Gooch. “Well, I’m not so -sure of that, Mr. Swipes—I’m not so sure of it, and -neither are a great many other people. There are people -in this county—yes, right here in this town—that would -like to know a lot more about what has become of my -poor brother-in-law than they know at present.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am one of those people, Uncle Horace,” said Oliver -quietly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And don’t you go calling Ollie Baxter a brother-in-law,” -snorted Mr. Sikes. “I won’t stand here and let you -slander my lifelong friend by calling him a brother-in-law. -If you’ll get out of that automobile, I’ll—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold your horses, Joe,” put in Mr. Link, clutching his -crony’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, he can’t bulldoze me,” said Mr. Gooch loftily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Smash him, Mr. Sikes,” whispered young Marmaduke -Smith, excitedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Horace turned to his nephew. “It rests with you, -young man, whether a certain investigation takes place -or not,” he said, threateningly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean by investigation?” demanded -Oliver, his eyes narrowing. “Just what are you driving -at?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His uncle leaned forward and spoke slowly, distinctly. -“Is there any evidence that your father ever left this -place at all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver looked his uncle straight in the eye for many -seconds, a curious pallor stealing over his face. When he -spoke it was with a visible effort; and his voice was low -and tense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no evidence to the contrary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no evidence at all,” said Gooch, “either one -way or the other. There has never been anything like a -thorough search for him—in the neighborhood of his own -home. From all I can learn, you have run things to suit -yourself so far as the search around here is concerned. -Well, I am here to say that I’m not satisfied. I don’t -believe Oliver Baxter ever ran away from home. I believe -he’s out there in that swamp of yours. Now you -know what I mean by an investigation, young man—and -if it is ever undertaken I want to say to you it won’t -be under your direction and it won’t be a half-hearted -job. And the swamp won’t be the only place to be -searched. There are other places he might be besides -that swamp.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I get your meaning, Uncle Horace,” said -Oliver, now cool and self-possessed. “If I don’t do what -you ask, you’ll start something, eh? Your idea, I take it, -is to impress the voters of the county with the idea that -my father may have met with foul play, and that I know -more about the circumstances than I’ve—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not saying or claiming anything of the sort,” -broke in Mr. Gooch hastily, with visions of a suit for -slander looming up before him. “I am not accusing you -of anything, Oliver. All I want and all I shall insist on is -a thorough examination.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And if I agree to withdraw from the race and perjure -myself in the matter of the Bannester tax scandal, you -will drop the investigation and forget all about it—is that -the idea?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate to take any drastic step that might involve my -own nephew in—er—in fact, I’d a good deal sooner not -ask the authorities to take a hand in the matter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. The point I’m trying to get at is this, Uncle -Horace,” went on Oliver, relentlessly. “If I do what you -ask, you will agree to let me off scot-free even though I -may have killed my own father? You can answer that -question, can’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not here to argue with you,” snapped Mr. -Gooch, his gaze sweeping the ever-increasing group of -spectators. “Your candidacy has nothing to do with my -determination to sift this business to the bottom,” he -went on, suddenly realizing that he was now committed -to definite action. “I shall appeal to the proper authorities -and nothing you do or say, young man, can head off -the investigation. That’s final. I’m going to find out -what became of the money he drew out of the bank and -where you got the money to pay up for Mrs. Bannester -and her sister. I’m going to find out why you refuse to -let the dredgers go farther out into the swamp, and I’m -going to—Oh, you needn’t grin! There are plenty of -witnesses who will swear that you and him were not on -good terms, and that one day you threatened to hire an -aeroplane and take him up five miles and drop him overboard -if he didn’t quit pestering you with that story -about the gypsy. A lot of people heard you say that -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It begins to look as though you were actually accusing -me of murder, Uncle Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good boy!” cried Mr. Sikes, appeasingly. “That’s -the way to hold your temper. He’s wonderful, ain’t he, -Silas?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wonderful, nothing!” said Mr. Link. “He ain’t had -anything to get mad about, far as I can see. The thing -is, why ain’t he laughin’ himself sick at the darned old -nanny goat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You go to grass!” shouted Mr. Gooch furiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link joined in the gale of laughter -that went up from the crowd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch, crimson with rage, shook his finger at -Oliver. “That’s right—that’s right! Laugh while you -can, you young scoundrel. You think you’re safe and -that you got everything covered up, but you’ll be laughing -on the other side of the face before I get through with -you. I’m going to find out what happened to Oliver -Baxter if it takes all the rest of my life. You won’t be -laughing so darned idiotically when the prosecuting attorney -begins asking questions of you. You bet you -won’t. Because he’ll be getting at the truth and the real -facts, and that’s what you don’t want, my laddie buck. -I’m going to demand a complete investigation before I’m -a day older, and I’m going to show the people of this -here town that I mean business. The grand jury’s in -session now. I’ll have this business up before them to-morrow -and I’ll demand a complete investi—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He broke off in the middle of the oft-repeated word -and jerked his head back. Oliver had taken that instant -to snap his fingers under Mr. Gooch’s nose, not once but -thrice in rapid succession.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Investigate and be damned!” cried the young man -angrily. “You infernal old buzzard! Go ahead and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whoa, Oliver!” shouted Mr. Sikes, in a panic. “Don’t -lose your—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right, Uncle Joe,” gulped Oliver—“all right! I -came near letting go of myself for a—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He would have killed me in cold blood if I’d been -alone with him,” exclaimed Mr. Gooch. “My God, when -I think of poor old Oliver out there on that lonely back -road, trying to reason with him, I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Uncle Horace,” interrupted Oliver, in a -calm, matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll tell you what I will do. I -will give you five thousand dollars in cash if you find -my father for me. It has cost me twice that amount -already—my own money, mind you—but I’ll give you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dead or alive?” demanded Mr. Gooch sternly, accusingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, dead or alive. Now, wait a second. I’ve got something -more to say to you. My father always said you -were the meanest creature that God ever let live, and I -used to dispute it once in a while. I claimed that a -hyena was worse. Now I know he was right and I was -wrong. Go ahead with your investigation. Go as far as -you like. You can’t bluff me. I am in this race to stay -and I’m going after you tooth and nail. Now I guess we -understand each other. I’m going after you because of -the way you treated my father and I’m—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I’m going after you for the way <span class='it'>you</span> treated -him,” bawled Mr. Gooch, throwing in the clutch viciously. -Then he muttered an execration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’ll give Marmaduke Smith a dime he’ll crank -it for you,” said Oliver, turning on his heel. He glanced -up at the clock on the bank down the street. “Oh, thunder!” -he exclaimed in dismay. “You’ve made me miss -the train!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you crank that car, Marmaduke,” said Mr. Sikes -menacingly, “I’ll boot you all over town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Mr. Gooch got out and cranked the car, and drove -away to a chorus of undesirable invitations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Oliver?” demanded Mr. Sikes, as the car -turned the corner. “We got to stick purty close to him -from now on, Silas.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What for, Joe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So’s we can be ready to establish an alibi in case anything -happens to Horace Gooch. Supposin’ some poor -devil he’s made a beggar of takes it into his head to put -a bullet into—What say, Marmy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver took my wheel and beat it for the depot,” said -Marmaduke Smith happily.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='228' id='Page_228'></span><h1>CHAPTER XVIII</h1></div> - -<h3>JOSEPHINE AND HENRY THE EIGHTH</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The return of Mrs. Sage after an absence of -twenty-three years was an “event” far surpassing -in interest anything that had transpired in -Rumley since the strange disappearance of old Oliver -Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hundreds of people, eager to see the famous Josephine -Judge, crowded the station platform, long before the -train from Chicago was due to arrive; they filled the -depot windows; they were packed like sardines atop the -spare baggage and express trucks; they ranged in overflow -disorder along the sidewalks on both sides of the -street adjacent. In this curious throng were acquaintances -of another day, those who remembered her as the incomprehensible -wife of Parson Sage when Sharp’s Field was -a barren outskirt and the trains for Chicago passed -through Rumley at forty miles an hour—a whistle, a -rising and diminishing roar, a disdainful clanging of bells, -and then the tail end of a coach that left a whirlwind of -dust in its wake as it thundered away. The <span class='it'>Morning -Despatch</span> dug up an ancient and totally featureless picture -of Josephine Judge as she was at the time of her last -appearance in Chicago, some twenty years before, and -printed it, with rare tact on the part of the editor, in -that department of the paper devoted exclusively on -Saturdays—and this was Saturday—to church news and -a directory of divine services. Inasmuch as this sadly -blurred two-column “cut” represented Miss Judge as a -svelte Salvation Army lassie, the editor may have been -pardoned for giving it a prominent position on the -“Church page,” notwithstanding the fact that said lassie -was depicted in the act of tickling a tambourine with the -toe of her left foot. In any case, a great many people -who were not in the habit of reading the church section -studied it with interest this morning, and planned to take -half an hour or so off in the afternoon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The train pulled in. The crowd tiptoed and gaped, -craned its thousand necks, and then surged to the right. -Above the hissing of steam and the grinding of wheels -rose the voice of Sammy Parr far down the platform.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep back, everybody! Don’t crowd up so close. -Right this way, Mr. Sage—How are you? Open up -there, will you? Let ’em through. Got my new car over -here, Mr. Sage—lots of room. Hello, Jane! Great honor -to have the pleasure of taking Mrs. Sage home in my car. -Right over this way. Grab those suitcases, boys. Open -up, please!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage paused aghast half way down the steps of -the last coach but one. He stared, open-mouthed, out -over the sea of faces; his knees seemed about to give way -under him; his nerveless fingers came near relaxing their -grip on the suitcase handles; he was bewildered, stunned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In heaven’s name—” he groaned, and then, poor man, -over his shoulder in helpless distress to the girl behind -him—“Oh, Jane, why didn’t we wait for the midnight—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But some one had seized the bags and with them he -was dragged ingloriously to the platform. Jane came -next, crimson with embarrassment. She hurried down the -steps and waited at the bottom for her mother to appear. -As might have been expected of one so truly theatric, -Josephine delayed her appearance until the stage was -clear, so to speak. She even went so far as to keep her -audience waiting. Preceded by the Pullman porter, who -up to this time had remained invisible but now appeared -as a proud and shining minion bearing boxes and traveling -cases, wraps and furs, she at length appeared, stopping -on the last step to survey, with well-affected surprise -and a charming assumption of consternation, the -crowd that packed the platform. Recovering herself with -admirable aplomb, she rested her hand gracefully upon the -brass rail and bowed to the right and the left and straight -before her; the rigid smile with which every successful -actress nightly envelops her audience in response to curtain -calls parted her carmine lips while her big eyes -ranged with sightless intensity over a void studded with -what their fatuous owners were prone to call faces. Just -as she was on the point of stepping down to the platform, -her attention seemed suddenly to have been caught and -held by an object off to the left at an elevation of perhaps -ten feet above the heads of the spectators. She -studied this object smilingly for thirty or forty seconds. -As many as a dozen kodaks clicked during this brief -though providential period of inactivity on her part.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, a great many—perhaps all—of those who made -up the eager, curious crowd, expected to behold a young -and radiant Josephine Judge; they had seen her in the -illustrated Sunday supplements and in the pictorial magazines; -always she was sprightly and vivid and alluring. -They were confronted, instead, by a tall, angular woman -of fifty-two or-three, carelessly—even “sloppily”—dressed -in a slouchy two-piece pepper and salt tweed -walking costume, a glistening black straw hat that sat -well down upon a mass of bright auburn hair—(old-timers -in the crowd remembered her jet black tresses)—stout -English oxfords somewhat run down at the heel, -and a neck piece of white fur. What most of the observers -at first took to be a wad of light brown fur tucked -under her right arm was discovered later to be a beady-eyed -“Pekinese.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the minister’s wife was still a vividly handsome -woman; the years had put their lines at the corners of -her eyes, to be sure, and had pressed the fullness out of -her cheeks, but they had not dimmed the luster of her -eyes nor sobered the smile that played about her mirthful -lips. She had taken good care of herself; she had made -a business of keeping young in looks as well as in spirit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had gone away from Rumley with a cheap and -unlovely suitcase; she came back with twenty trunks, her -traveling bags of seal, her jewel box and toilet case, hat -boxes, shoe boxes, a pedigreed “Peke” named Henry the -Eighth, and an accent that could have come from nowhere -save the heart of London-town. In a clear, full -voice, trained to reach remote perches in lofty theaters, -she spoke to her husband from the coach steps:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Herbert, dear, have you the checks for my luggage, -or have I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I will attend to the trunks—” he began huskily, -only to be interrupted by the indefatigable Sammy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t give ’em another thought, Mr. Sage. I’ll see to -everything. Give me the checks and—right this way, -please, Mrs. Sage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you—thank you so much,” said Mrs. Sage -graciously, and, as Sammy bustled on ahead, inquired in -an undertone of Jane at whose side she walked: “Is that -the wonderful Oliver October I’ve been hearing so much -about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, Mother—that is Sammy Parr. I—I don’t see -Oliver anywhere. I wrote him the train we were coming—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few paces ahead Sammy was explaining loudly to -Mr. Sage: “I guess something important of a political -nature must have turned up to keep Oliver from meeting -the train. We had it all fixed up to meet you with my -car and he was to be here at four sharp. Doc Lansing’s -up at Harbor Point, Michigan, for a little vacation. -Won’t be back till Sunday week. Muriel’s out here in -the car, Mr. Sage. She’ll drive you home while I see -about the baggage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage had recovered his composure by this time. -He leaned close to Sammy’s ear and said gravely:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Luggage, Sammy—luggage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure—I get you,” said Sammy, winking. “But just -the same I’ll call it baggage till I’ve got it safely out of -the hands of Jim O’Brien, the baggage master. He -doesn’t like me any too well as it is, and if I called it—Here -we are! Hop right in, Jane. Permit me to introduce -myself, Mrs. Sage. I am—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I remember you quite well,” interrupted the great -actress (pronouncing it “quate”). “You are Sammy -Parr—little Sammy Parr who used to live—ah—let me -see, where was it you were living when I left Rumley, -Sammy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sammy flushed with joy to the roots of his hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t think you’d remember me, Mrs.—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pairfectly,” said she. “Oh, thank you so much. -What a lovely car you have. Don’t come too close to -Henry the Eighth—he has a vile way of snapping at -people, whether he likes them or not. My word, Sammy! -Jane! Herbert! Can I believe my eyes? Is this Rumley? -Is this—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is my wife, Mrs. Sage,” introduced Sammy, indicating -the bare-headed young lady at the wheel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you do, Mrs. Sage. I’m awfully thrilled to -meet you. I saw you act in London during the war. My -first husband was an officer in the American Army, you -see. You were perfectly lovely. I shall never forget—oh, -dear, what was the name of the play? I ought to remember—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t try,” interrupted Mrs. Sage. “I want to forget -it myself. I say, Herbert, old thing, you can’t make -me believe this is Rumley. You are deceiving me. I -don’t recognize a single—Oh, yes, I do! I take it all -back. I would know that man if I saw him in Timbuktu. -The old Johnnie in the car we just passed. It -was Gooch—the amiable Gooch—and, my word, what a -dust he was raising!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver, pedaling furiously, arrived at the parsonage -ten minutes behind the Sages. The minister greeted him -as he came clattering up the front steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh!” he cautioned, his finger to his lips. “Don’t -make such a noise, Oliver—if you please. She’s—she’s -resting. Sh! Do you mind tiptoeing, lad? Jane and -I have got quite in the habit of it the past two weeks. I -am happy to see you, my boy. She always rests about -this time of the day. You have come out for the senatorship, -I hear. Especially if she’s had a train trip or anything -like that. Well, well, I hope you will go in with -flying colors. If she doesn’t get her rest right on the -minute, she has a headache and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is Jane, Uncle Herbert?” broke in Oliver, -twiddling his hat. He was struck by the dazed, beatific, -and yet harassed expression in the minister’s eyes—as if -he were still in a maze of wonder and perplexity from -which he was vainly trying to extricate himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jane? Oh, yes, Jane. Why, Jane is upstairs with -her dear mother—helping her with her hair, I think. I -am sure she will not be down for some time, Oliver. -After the hair I think she rubs her back or something of -that sort. Do you mind toddling—I mean strolling—around -the yard with me, Oliver? I was on the point -of taking Henry the Eighth out for a little exercise—ten -minutes is the allotted time, ten to the second. He—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Henry the what?” inquired Oliver, still gripping the -pastor’s hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Eighth,” said Mr. Sage, looking about the porch -and shifting the position of his feet in some trepidation. -“Bless my soul, what can have become of him? I hope -I haven’t been standing on him. I should have squashed -him—Ah, I remember! The hatrack!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dashed into the hall, followed by Oliver, and there -was Henry the Eighth suspended from the hatrack by -his leash in such a precarious fashion that only by standing -on his hind legs was he able to avoid strangulation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am so absent-minded,” murmured Mr. Sage, rather -plaintively. “Poor doggie! Was he being hanged like a -horrid old murderer? Was he—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey!” cried Oliver. “He’s nipping your ankle, Uncle -Herbert.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know he is,” said Mr. Sage, smiling patiently. “He -does it every time he gets a chance. I’m quite used to it -by now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d kick his ugly little head off,” said Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear, no! You wouldn’t kick Henry the Eighth, -I’m sure you wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were out on the porch now, Mr. Sage holding the -leash at arm’s length and walking in a lopsided, overhanging -sort of manner in order to keep his ankles out -of reach of Henry the Eighth’s sharp little snappers. -Oliver followed down the steps and out upon the sunburnt -lawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does he snap at you like that all the time?” he inquired, -sending a swift, searching glance up at the second -floor windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid he does,” said Mr. Sage, dejectedly. “He -doesn’t like me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you what, Uncle Herbert,” began Oliver mendaciously; -“you just lead him around toward the back -of the house, out of sight of those windows up there, and -I’ll show you how to break him of that. I love dogs, and -I know how to make ’em love me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He will not allow you to pet him, Oliver,” said Mr. -Sage hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to pet him,” said Oliver grimly. “You -want to break him of biting, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should very much like to be on—er—friendly terms -with him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right then. Bring him back this way. We’ll give -him his first lesson in politeness. The trouble with Henry -the Eighth is he’s been spoiled by women. What he -needs is a good sound spanking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul, Oliver! You—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess it’s safe over there back of the woodshed, -Uncle Herbert. They can’t see or hear from the house. -Many’s the time I’ve been taken out to the woodshed, and -I don’t believe Henry the Eighth is any better than I -was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear boy, I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, let him snap at you a couple of times—let him -think he’s got you trembling all over with fright. That’s -the stuff! Gee, he’s a mean little beast, isn’t he? He’s -got the idea he’s a lion or a tiger. Now, yank him up by -the leash and take hold of the back of his neck with your -left hand—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do it, Oliver. Really, I—I—can’t,” pleaded Mr. -Sage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go ahead! Yank him up—look out, sir! He came -close to getting you that time. That’s the way. You -taught me the art of self-defense a long time ago. Turn -about is fair play, sir. I’m going to teach you the art of -self-protection. Now take the end of the leash and give -him ten sharp cuts with it. Go on! I’ll keep watch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so, to the immeasurable astonishment of Henry -the Eighth, ten chastening lashes were administered to -his squirming hindquarters, each succeeding one being a -little harder than its predecessor as the minister abandoned -himself to a most unseemly though delightful state -of malevolence. Half way through he decided to drag the -performance out a little by increasing the length of the -intervals between lashes, thus deceiving Henry the Eighth -into the belief that each blow was the last only to find -himself lamentably mistaken a few seconds later.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep a sharp watch, Oliver,” whispered Mr. Sage, between -his teeth somewhere along about the seventh lash.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will,” said Oliver, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of -the west window in what he knew to be Jane’s bed-chamber. -“Don’t you worry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For goodness’ sake, don’t—don’t let her catch me at -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m awfully sorry I wasn’t at the station when Jane—when -you got in, Uncle Herbert. Did you have a comfortable -trip down from—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nine,” counted Mr. Sage, and then fifteen seconds -later: “Ten. Now, what shall I do with him, Oliver? If -I let him down he’ll jump at me like a rattlesnake and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, he won’t,” said Oliver, reluctantly withdrawing -his gaze from the window and joining the other beyond -the corner of the woodshed. “He’ll lick your hand -if you hold it close enough to his nose. Let him down. -See that? He’s got his tail between his legs—or as much -of it as he can get there—and he’ll keep it there till he -thinks you want him to wag it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel like a brute,” muttered Mr. Sage, but not as -contritely as might have been expected. “I hope I -haven’t really injured the poor little fellow.” Henry the -Eighth, cringing flat on his little belly, peeped anxiously -but evilly up at his new master. “He doesn’t appear to -be able to stand on his feet, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does he know any tricks?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh my, yes. He’s really quite clever. He does quite -a few for Josephine. Rolls over, plays dead, jumps over -her foot, sits up and begs, and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him to roll over,” said Oliver sternly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, he won’t do them for me. He growls at me whenever -I attempt to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him to roll over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Roll over, Henry—roll over, sir! Why—why, bless -my soul, he’s doing it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him to play dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Henry the Eighth “played dead”—with his beady eyes -wide open, however—and then sat up on his haunches -and begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, see what he’ll do if you try to pat his head.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I wouldn’t like to risk—er—he is quite likely to -nip my fingers if I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If he tries it, spank him once or twice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Henry the Eighth plucked up the courage to growl -when the minister’s left hand neared his head. An instant -later, the flat of Mr. Sage’s right hand came in contact -with a portion of Henry’s anatomy that already had -suffered considerable pain and indignity. Whereupon he -squeezed out an apologetic little yelp and turned over on -his back to play dead again. Mr. Sage solemnly shook -both of the feathery front paws and called him a nice -doggie. He had to call him a nice doggie three times, -and, besides that, had to show his teeth in a broad, ingratiating -smile before Henry was willing to trust his -own eyes and ears. He wagged his bushy tail weakly, -experimentally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nice doggie,” said Mr. Sage again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t overdo it,” warned Oliver. “Don’t be too polite -to him. He’ll be thinking he’s a lion again, Uncle -Herbert.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t have Mrs. Sage know that I’ve thrashed -him for anything in the world,” said the minister guiltily. -“You won’t mention it, my lad?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t promise not to tell Jane about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t mind your telling Jane. She’s been at -me for a week to paddle him—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, Uncle Herbert, don’t you think Jane may have -finished—er—rubbing Mrs. Sage’s back by this time?” -inquired the impatient Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Possibly,” said the other. “Come along, doggie—let’s -romp a bit. Oh, by the way, before I forget it, Oliver, -Mrs. Sage prefers to be—er—called Miss Judge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s face fell. “Oh, thunder! Am I not to call -her Aunt Josephine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly—certainly, my boy. I mean, Miss Judge in -public. It seems to be a—er—a theatrical custom. On -the train coming down a gentleman from Hopkinsville -joined us for a few moments and I was obliged to introduce -her as ‘my wife, Miss Judge.’ Come along, Henry—there’s -a nice dog! Jump over my foot! Good! He -did it splendidly, didn’t he, Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile, Jane, having brushed her mother’s hair, -was now employed in the more laborious task of rubbing -the lady’s back—a task attended by grateful little grunts -and sighs on the part of the patient and a rather expressive -tightening of the lips and crinkling of the brow -on the part of the impatient daughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have a great deal of magnetism in your hands, -my dear,” droned Mrs. Sage, luxuriously—the sort of -thing one invariably purrs when one’s head is being -rubbed. “As I say, my maid always did it for me in -London, but God bless my soul, she never had the touch -that you have. Really, my dear, it was like being scraped -with sandpaper. The right shoulder now, please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think Oliver is downstairs with father,” began -Jane wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She was my dresser, too,” went on Mrs. Sage drowsily. -“Really, I wonder now that I endured her as long as I did. -And I shouldn’t, you may be sure, if she hadn’t—a little -lower down, dear—if she hadn’t—ah—what was I going -to say? Oh, yes; if she hadn’t been so kind to Henry -the Eighth. I do hope your father is giving him a nice -little romp in the front—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I run down and see, Mother?” broke in Jane -eagerly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Presently, my dear, presently. I shall be taking my -tub in a few—you say we have a bathroom now? Dear -me, how the house has grown. It used to be a sort of -stand-up process in a wash-tub half full of warm water -and suds. Ah me! What a change time has wrought. -You must take me all over the house to-morrow, Jane -dear. I sha’n’t be quite up to it this evening, don’t you -know. How many servants have we?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One,” said Jane succinctly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One?” gasped Josephine. “I never heard of such a -thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One is all we need, and besides one is all we can afford. -I am afraid you will have a lot to put up with, -Mother dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Josephine was silent for a long time. Suddenly she -lifted her head and looked up into her daughter’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear,” she said, with a wry little twist at the -corner of her generous mouth, “I’ve come home to stay. -I daresay you will find me capable of taking things as -they are. I did it once before and I can do it again. -Now, if you will draw me a nice warm tub; I’ll—I’ll—” -she yawned voluptuously—“I’ll get in and sozzle a bit. -And that reminds me, Jane. I shall never in any way -interfere with you as housekeeper here. Your father -assures me that you are a perfect manager. I was a very -poor one in my day. I daresay we’d better let well -enough alone. Don’t make it too hot, my dear—and do -see if you can find my bath slippers in that bag over there -by the door.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The express wagon with Mrs. Sage’s trunks arrived as -Oliver, in despair, was preparing to depart as he had -come, on Marmaduke Smith’s bicycle. He took fresh -hope. Here was a chance to see Jane after all. With -joyous avidity he offered to help Joe O’Brien lug the -trunks upstairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where do you want ’em, Jane?” he shouted from the -bottom of the stairs. There was no answer. “Where -shall we put them, Uncle Herbert?” he asked, his hands -jammed deep in his pockets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul, I—I haven’t an idea,” groaned Mr. -Sage, passing his hand over his brow. This act seemed -to have cleared some of the fog from his brain. “Unless -you put them in my study,” he suggested brightly. -“They will fill it to overflowing, but—but I can think of -no other place. Dear me, what a lot of them there are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fifteen minutes later, the trunks being piled high in -the pastor’s little study, Oliver mopped his brow and -expressed himself feelingly to Mr. Sage from the bottom -of the porch steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll make Uncle Horace sweat for this,” he growled. -“If he hadn’t come nosing around this afternoon, I would -have—At the same time, Uncle Herbert, I think Jane -might have been allowed a minute or two to say hello to a -fellow. Good Lord, sir, is—is this to be Jane’s job from -now on?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh! The windows are open, Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is she to be nothing but a lady’s maid to Aunt Josephine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are so happy to have her with us, my dear boy, -that—er—nothing—er—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understand, Uncle Herbert,” broke in Oliver contritely, -noting the pastor’s distress. “I’m sorry I spoke -as I did. Tell Jane I’ll call her up this evening. And -please tell Aunt Josephine I am awfully keen to see her. -I used to love her better than anything going, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s different now,” said Mr. Sage. “You are both -considerably older than you were. Will you come up to-night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir. I’ll come up and move the trunks for you, -Uncle Herbert. So that you can have room to write next -Sunday’s sermon,” he said, with his gay, whimsical smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he pedaled slowly away on Marmaduke’s wheel, -looking over his shoulder until the windows of the parsonage -were no longer visible.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='242' id='Page_242'></span><h1>CHAPTER XIX</h1></div> - -<h3>OLIVER COMPLAINS</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Three days later, the Sheriff of the County -served papers on Oliver October. The prosecuting -attorney had refused to lay the matter -before the grand jury, as requested by Horace Gooch, but -had grudgingly acceded to his demand that an official investigation -be instituted and carried to a definite conclusion -by the authorities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to understand, Oliver,” explained the -Sheriff, “that this is none of my doing. Gooch has obtained -an order from the court, calling for a search of -the swamp and your premises, basing his affidavit on the -suspicion that his brother-in-law came to his death by -foul means and—er—so on. He doesn’t charge anybody -with the crime, as you will see by reading a copy of the -order. I guess it won’t amount to much. You will have -to submit to an examination, answer a lot of questions, -and refrain from any interference whatsoever with the -search that is to be conducted. In plain English, the -order means that you are to have no voice in the matter -and that you are to take no part in the search. It’s in -the hands of the law now. I am authorized to begin the -investigation at once and not to stop until old Gooch is -thoroughly satisfied that a crime has not been committed. -As I was saying a few minutes ago, he agrees to pay all -the costs arising from this investigation in case nothing -comes of it. On the other hand, if your father’s body is -found and there is any evidence of foul play, the county -naturally is to assume all the costs. The court made him -sign a bond to that effect—a regular indemnifying bond. -The old man has hired two detectives from Chicago to -come down here and take active charge of the work. I -hope you won’t have any hard feelings toward me, Baxter. -I am only doing my duty as ordered by the court.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not the slightest feeling in the world, Sheriff,” said -Oliver warmly. “I wish you would do me a favor, however. -The next time you see my uncle, please remind -him that my offer to give him five thousand dollars if he -finds my poor father—dead or alive—still holds. You -can start digging whenever you are ready, Sheriff. You -are at liberty to ransack the house and outbuildings, dig -up the cellars, pull up the floors, drain the cistern and -well—do anything you like, sir; I sha’n’t interfere. If -any damage is done to the property, however, I shall be -obliged to compel my uncle to pay for it. Don’t forget -to tell him that, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheriff grinned. “I wonder if this old bird knows -how many votes he’s going to lose by this sort of thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver frowned. “His scheme is to throw suspicion on -me, Sheriff. That’s what he is after. It is possible that -a good many people will hesitate about voting for a man -who is suspected of killing his own father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you worry, Baxter,” cried the sheriff, slapping -the young man on the back. “My wife was talking to a -prominent county official this morning—a good Democrat -and a candidate for reëlection—and she made him promise -not to vote for old Horace Gooch next November. -She made him swear on his sacred word of honor not to -do it. He went even further and swore he would vote -for you, and it will be the first time he has ever voted -for a Republican. Well, so long. Here’s a reporter for -the <span class='it'>Evening Tribune</span> waiting to interview you. He came -down with me. He’s a nice feller and he’ll give you a -square deal in spite of the fact his paper is opposed to -you politically. Of course, he’ll have to play this business -up, so don’t get sore if you see your name in the -headlines to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sha’n’t,” said Oliver, but more soberly than before. -“I suppose there won’t be a day from now on that there -isn’t something in the papers about the sensational Baxter -case. I tell you, Sheriff, it hurts. I may act as if it -doesn’t hurt—but it does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know it does, Baxter,” said the sheriff sympathetically. -“I’m sorry—mighty sorry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fully a week passed before a move was made by the -authorities. The newspapers devoted considerable first -page space to the new angle in the unsolved Baxter mystery, -but not one of them took the matter up editorially. -The principal Democratic organ, <span class='it'>The Tribune</span>, hinted at -a possible disclosure, but went no farther; the Republican -sheets withheld their fire until the time seemed ripe to -open up on old man Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Notwithstanding the reticence of the press, the news -spread like wildfire that Horace Gooch was actually -charging his nephew with the murder of his father. The -town of Rumley went wild with anger and indignation. -A few hotheads talked of tar and feathers for old man -Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet deep down in the soul of every one who cried -out against Horace Gooch’s malevolence lurked a strange -uneasiness that could not be shaken off. The excitement -over the return of Mrs. Sage was short-lived on account -of the new and startling turn in the Baxter mystery. -Acute interest in the pastor’s wife dwindled into a mild, -almost innocuous form of curiosity. At best, she was a -three days’ wonder. If she had lived up to expectations -by appearing on the streets in startling gowns and hats, -or if she had behaved in public as actresses are supposed -to behave, she might have held her own against the odds; -but she did none of these. She wore what the women of -the town called very unstylish clothes; she behaved with -sickening propriety; she was a real disappointment. -People began to wonder what on earth all those trunks -contained that Joe O’Brien had hauled up to the parsonage. -If they contained clothes, where was she keeping -them and why didn’t she put them on once in a while?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ladies of the congregation, after a dignified season of -hesitation, called on her—that is to say, after forty-eight -hours—and were told by the servant that Miss Judge -was not at home. She would be at home only on Thursdays -from three to six. Some little confusion was caused -by the name, but this was satisfactorily straightened out -by the servant who explained that Miss Judge and Mrs. -Sage were one and the same person, and that she was -married all right and proper except, as you might say, in -name. Mrs. Serepta Grimes, being an old friend, was -one of the first to call. And this is what she said to -Oliver October that same evening:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ask me, did I see her? I did. I saw her sitting -at a window upstairs as I came up the walk. She didn’t -try to hide. She just sat there reading a book. I told -the hired girl to say who it was and that I’d just as soon -come upstairs as not if she didn’t feel like coming down. -The girl said she wasn’t home—and wouldn’t be till -Thursday. So I says, ‘You go up and tell her it’s me.’ -In a minute or two she came back and told me the bare-facedest -lie I ever heard. She knew she was lying, because -I never saw a human being turn as red in the face -as she did. She said Mrs. Sage wasn’t at home. She -said Mrs. Sage asked her to say would I please come on -Thursday next and have tea with her. She said Thursday -was her day. Well, do you know what I did, Oliver? -I just said ‘pooh’ and walked right up the stairs and into -her room. She got right up and kissed me five or six -times and—well, that’s about all, except I stayed so long -I was afraid I’d be late for supper. She’s a caution, isn’t -she? I declare I don’t know when I’ve had a better time. -She didn’t talk of anything else but you, Oliver. She -thinks you’re the finest—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you see Jane?” broke in Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly. Don’t you want to hear what Josephine -said about you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I can’t say that I do. By the way, Aunt Serepta, -there is something I’ve been wanting to ask you for quite -awhile. Do you think Jane is pretty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes pondered. “Well,” she said judicially, “it -depends on what you mean by pretty. Do you mean, is -she beautiful?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose that’s what I mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you want to know for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean, what’s the sense of asking me that question? -You wouldn’t believe me if I said she wasn’t pretty, -would you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’d just like to know whether you agree with -me or not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” said she, fixing him with an accusing eye; -“I do agree with you—absolutely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The strange thing about it,” he pursued defensively, -“is that I never thought of her as being especially good-looking -until recently. Funny, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are a lot of things we don’t notice,” said she, -“until some one else pinches us. Then we open our eyes. -I guess some one must have pinched you. It hurts more -when a man pinches you—’specially a big strong fellow -like Doc Lansing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A pained expression came into Oliver’s eyes. “The -trouble is, I’ve always looked upon her as a—well, as a -sort of sister or something like that. We grew up just -like brother and sister. How was I to know that she -was pretty? A fellow never thinks of his sister as being -pretty, does he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose not. But, on the other hand, he never loses -his appetite and mopes and has the blues if his sister happens -to take a fancy to a man who isn’t her brother. -That’s what you’ve been doing for two or three weeks. -If you had the least bit of gumption you’d up and tell -her you can’t stand being a brother to her any longer -and you’d like to be something else—if it isn’t too late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gee!” exclaimed he, ruefully. “But suppose she was -to say it is too late?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a nice way for a soldier to talk,” said Mrs. -Grimes scathingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw very little of Jane during the days that followed -Mrs. Sage’s return. Her mother demanded much -of her; she was constantly in attendance upon the pampered -lady. Oliver chafed. He complained to Jane on -one of the rare occasions when they were alone together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you’re nothing but a lady’s maid, Jane. You’ve -been home five days and I haven’t had a chance to say -ten words to you. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m -fond of Aunt Josephine. She’s great fun, but, hang it -all, she’s right smack in the center of the stage all the -time. It isn’t fair, Jane. You can’t go on being a slave -to her. She—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has always had some one to wait on her, Oliver,” -said Jane. “I don’t mind. I am really very fond of her. -And she is just beginning to care for me. At first, I -think she was a little afraid of me. She couldn’t believe -that I was real. The other day—in Chicago—she suddenly -reached out and touched my arm and said: ‘It -doesn’t seem possible that you ever squalled and made -the night hideous for me and your poor father. I can’t -believe that you are the same little baby I used to fondle -and spank when I wasn’t any older than you are now.’ -Besides, Oliver, I like doing things for her. It makes -father happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it doesn’t make me happy,” he grumbled. Then -his face brightened. “Wasn’t she great last night when -she got started on Uncle Horace and—and all this hullabaloo -he’s stirring up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fourth day after his wife’s return to Rumley, Mr. -Sage blurted out the question that had lain captive in his -mind for weeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it is a fair question, my dear, would you mind telling -me just why you came back to me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She leaned back in her chair and studied the ceiling -for a few minutes before answering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may as well be honest about it, Herby,” she said, -changing her position to meet his perplexed gaze with -one that was absolutely free from guile. “I came back -because they were through with me over there. I was -getting passé—in fact, I was quite passé. They were -beginning to cast me for old women and character parts. -Two or three years ago they started my funeral services -by seeing what I could do with Shakespeare. I played -Rosalind and Viola with considerable success. The next -season they had me do Lady Macbeth, and last season -there was talk of reviving Camille with me in the -title rôle. I was through. My musical comedy days -were over. The stage was crowded with young women -who could dance without wheezing like a horse with the -heaves and whose voices didn’t crack in the middle register. -People didn’t want to see me in musical comedy -any longer and they <span class='it'>wouldn’t</span> see me in anything else. -I’m fifty-three, Herbert—between you and me, mind you—and -just the right age to be a preacher’s wife. So I -made up my mind to retire. I used to have a hundred -pounds a week. Good pay over there. I was offered -twenty pounds a week for this season to tour the provinces -in a revival of Peter Pan—and that was the last straw. -Peter Pan! When an actress gets so old that she can’t -stand on one leg without expecting people to applaud her -for a feat of daring, they send her out into the woods to -revive poor Peter, the boy who isn’t allowed to grow old. -You notice, Herby, I didn’t cable to ask if I could come -home—I cabled that I was on the way. Now, you know -the secret of my home-coming. The time has come when -I must submit to being buried alive, and I’d sooner be -buried alive in Rumley than in London. It’s greener -here. Besides you are a human Rock of Ages, Herby. -I’m going to cling to you like a barnacle. I haven’t forgotten -what lovers and sweethearts we were in the old -days. I’ve been faithful to you, old dear. If I hadn’t -been faithful to you I would never have come back. By -the way, I’ve put by a little money—quite a sum, in -fact—so you mustn’t regard me as a charity patient. -We’ll pool our resources. And when the time comes for -you to step down and out of the pulpit for the same reason -that I chucked the stage—you see, Herby, audiences -and congregations are a good deal alike—why, we’ll have -enough to live on for the rest of our days. You won’t -have to write sermons and preach ’em, and I sha’n’t have -to listen to them. It’s an awful thing to say, but we’ll -both have to mend our ways if we want our grandchildren -to love us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laid his arm over her shoulder and gently caressed -her cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are still pretty much of a pagan, Jo,” was all -that he said, but he was smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you are jolly well pleased to have me back, -aren’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“More overjoyed than I can tell you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No doubts, no misgivings, no uneasiness over what I -may do or say to shock the worshipers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have confidence in your ability as an actress, Josephine,” -he said. “I am sure you can play the part of a -lady as well as anything else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed. “Score one,” she said. Then she sprang -to her feet, the old light of mischief in her wonderful -eyes. “But, my God, Herby, what’s going to happen -when I spring all my spangles on the innocent public?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shudder when I think of it,” said he, lifting his eyes -heavenward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I saved every respectable costume I’ve worn in the -last ten years—and some that are shocking. Twelve -trunks full of them. I’ll knock their eyes out when I -come on as the Princess Jalinka—last act glorification—and -as for the gold and turquoise gown that caused old -London to blink its weary eyes and catch its jaded -breath—my word, Herby, old thing, they’ll have me up -for wholesale murder. They’ll die all over the place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I really ought to caution you, Josephine—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind, old dear. I sha’n’t disgrace you. I’ve -got a few costumes I will put on in private for you—and -I wouldn’t feel safe in putting ’em on privately for any -one except a preacher in whom I had the most unusual -confidence. Bless your heart, Herby, don’t look so horrified. -I’ve still got my marriage certificate—though -God only knows where it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He cleared his throat. “I’ve got it, my dear. You -neglected to take it away with you when you left.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She smiled. “Well, I daresay it was safer with you -than it would have been with me.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='252' id='Page_252'></span><h1>CHAPTER XX</h1></div> - -<h3>DETECTIVE MALONE</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the fourth week in September when the detectives -arrived in Rumley; Oliver’s dredgers had -completed their contract; the swamp was clear of -men, machines and horses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The city editor of the <span class='it'>Despatch</span> interviewed Detective -Malone, the chief operative in charge of what the newspaper -man and others, including Oliver October, were -jocosely inclined to classify as the “expedition.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where do you intend to begin excavating, Mr. Malone?” -inquired the editor, notebook in hand. They were -in the lobby of the Hubbard House. “And when?” he -added.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Malone was very frank about it. “In China,” said -he. “We’re going to work from the bottom up. If you’ll -go out to the swamp to-morrow or next day and put -your ear to the ground—and hold it there long enough—you’ll -hear men’s voices but you won’t understand a word -they say. They’ll be speakin’ Chinese. We’ve got thirty-five -thousand coolies digging their way up from Shanghai, -and according to schedule they ought to be here by to-morrow -morning unless they’ve had a cave-in or stopped -off in hell for breakfast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The editor eyed him in a cold, inimical manner. -“Umph!” he grunted, flopping his notebook shut. “It’s -a good thing you’ve got your Chinese army, because you -won’t be able to get anybody to work for you in this -town. That’s how we feel about this business, Mr. Malone—rich -and poor, high and low. There isn’t a dago -here who will lift a spade to help you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess that’s up to the authorities,” said the detective -coolly. “I’m here to boss the job, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t find anything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Malone grinned. “Exactly what those two old -codgers out there on the sidewalk said to me not ten minutes -ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That afternoon the sheriff and the prosecuting attorney -stopped electioneering long enough to pay a hasty visit to -Rumley. They found Oliver waiting for them at his -home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, Mr. Baxter,” said the prosecutor, “you -have a right to refuse to answer every question I put to -you. So far as I am concerned, I merely intend to examine -you as I would examine any disinterested witness. -As I say, you may decline to answer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will answer any question you may choose to put to -me, Mr. Johnson.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheriff interposed. “Better have your lawyer here, -Baxter. I am obliged to warn you that anything you -say may be used against you in case—er—in case—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understand. In case I am charged with crime.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly,” said the sheriff.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can refuse to answer on the ground that it may -tend to incriminate you,” explained the prosecutor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have consulted a lawyer,” said Oliver. “He advises -me to help you in every way possible, Mr. Johnson. He -wanted to be here this afternoon, but I told him I knew -of no surer way to incriminate myself than to hire a -lawyer to see that I didn’t. Go ahead; ask all the questions -you like. No one wants to see this mystery cleared -up more than I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Half an hour later, the sheriff looked at his watch and -reminded his companion that they would be late for the -meeting at Monrovia if they didn’t start at once—and off -they sped in haste. Detective Malone and his partner, -who had joined the county officials at the Baxter house, -remained behind. They were smoking Oliver’s cigars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How long do you figure it will take you, Mr. Malone, -to finish up the job?” inquired the young man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone squinted at the tree-tops. “Our instructions -are to work slowly and surely. We are not to leave a -stone unturned. It may take six or eight weeks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In other words, you are not expected to be through -before election day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Unless we find what we are after before that time, -Mr. Baxter,” said the other. He had been out at the -back of the house, surveying with his eye the stretch of -swamp land. “It is a big job, as you can see for yourself. -Like looking for a needle in a haystack, eh, Charlie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His partner nodded his head in silent assent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll go out and take a walk around the swamp to-morrow,” -said Malone. “If you’ve got the time to spare, -Mr. Baxter, you might stroll out with us now to the place -where you last saw your father. That will have to be our -starting point. Then I’ll want to question your servants. -It seems that he is supposed to have come home to change -his clothes after he said good-by to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He did not say good-by to me,” corrected Oliver. “He -didn’t even say good night. Please get that straight, -Mr. Malone. He was angry with me—and I do not deny -that I was angry myself. We parted in anger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know a man named Peter Hines, Mr. Baxter?” -asked Malone abruptly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pete Hines? Certainly. He is a tenant of my -father’s. Lives in a shack up at the other end of the -swamp. He has done odd jobs for us ever since I can remember. -Wood-chopping, rail-splitting and all that. He -also does most of the drinking for the estate,” he concluded -dryly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A souse, eh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve never known him to be completely sober—and -I’ve never heard of him being completely drunk. He’s -that kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you remember seeing him the night your father -disappeared?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. I did not see him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the way, have you ever seen me before to-day?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not to my knowledge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Malone, with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve -been hanging around this burg since last Monday—five -days, in all. I’ve done quite a bit of sleuthing, as they -say in the dime novels. I’m the fellow that sold your -housekeeper, Mrs. Grimes, the beautifully illustrated set -of Jane Austen’s works day before yesterday. I also -sold an unexpurgated set of the Arabian Nights to Mr. -Samuel Parr, the insurance agent. He tells me your -father carried a fifteen thousand dollar life policy. I -tried to sell a set of Dickens to the Reverend Mr. Sage, -and succeeded in having a long talk with his daughter -about the book entitled ‘The Mystery of Edwin Drood.’ -That led up, quite naturally, to the mystery of Oliver -Baxter. I’ve had dealings with Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link, -Banker Lansing, John Phillips and a number of other -citizens, male and female.” He laughed quietly. “Of -course, the books will never be delivered, Mr. Baxter—but -as it is understood that no payments are to be made -until the first two volumes are delivered, I can’t be -charged with swindling. I can face my victims with perfect -equanimity—but I don’t believe they’ll recognize me. -I was in your store last Tuesday, but you were off on -political business. Shall we stroll down to the swamp, -Mr. Baxter, or would you rather wait a day or two? -Suit your own convenience. We’re in no hurry, you see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is obvious,” said Oliver curtly. “I must notify -you, Mr. Malone, that if you or any of your workmen -slip into one of those pits of mire out there and never -come up again, I am not to be held accountable. If you -venture out beyond the safety zone you do so at your -own risk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Right-o!” said Malone cheerily. They were well -around the corner of the house on their way to the swamp -road before he spoke again. “How many people have -lost their lives out there?” he inquired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None, so far as I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But there must have been any number of men who -have ventured out there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What makes you think so? I don’t know of a single -soul who has had the courage—or the folly—to go anywhere -near those sink-holes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, how do you know that those so-called bottomless -holes exist?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it’s tradition,” said Oliver. “I have heard -of animals—such as horses and cattle—sinking out of -sight. My father has often told me of such things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe he was just scaring you, so’s you’d keep out -of the swamp.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he scared me all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a trained civil engineer, I understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you’ve never gone out there to satisfy yourself -whether those pits are real or just something people like -to talk about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve never been out beyond that row of posts you see -over there,” said Oliver, pointing. “I had a wire fence -stretched along those posts last spring, Mr. Malone. -You are at liberty to go as far out as you please, however.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall,” said Malone crisply. “I am an old hand at -this business. I don’t believe such a thing exists as a -bottomless pit. Before I get through with this job, you -will find, Mr. Baxter, that there isn’t a spot in that slough -out there that is more than six or eight feet deep. Of -course, that is deep enough to bury a man, or a horse or -a cow. So, you needn’t expect me to step into every -mud puddle I come across out there, just to see if it’s -over my shoe tops. Now, just where was it that you and -your father parted company that night? As I understand -it, you and he sat for some time on that log over -there. It was a clear night and the road was very dusty. -There had been no rain in over three weeks. Am I -right?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver stared at him in amazement. The other detective -had turned down the slope and was striding off -toward the nearest ditch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You seem to be pretty well posted,” said he, his eyes -narrowing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I am an inquisitive sort of cuss,” drawled Malone. -“And I’m not what you’d call an idle person.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who told you we were sitting on that log? I don’t -remember ever having mentioned it. As a matter of -fact, I’d forgotten it completely. We did sit there for -ten or fifteen minutes. That was before we began to -quarrel. Then we got up and walked on a little farther -down the road. To the bend on ahead about fifty yards. -We stood there arguing for nearly half an hour. I left -him standing there. I went on to Mr. Sage’s. But who -told you we sat on that log?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you don’t mind, I’ll not answer that question,” -said Malone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You asked me a while ago if I had seen Pete Hines -that night. Was it Pete Hines?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone hesitated. “Well, it was Pete Hines who is -supposed to have seen you, Mr. Baxter, but it was not -he who told me about it. I went out to see him yesterday, -but his shack was boarded up and there was no sign -of him anywhere. Now this may interest you. There -was—and still is, as far as I know—a piece of pasteboard -tacked on his front door, with these words printed on it -in lead pencil: ‘Beware. This house is full of snakes.’ -That bears out your statement that he is never completely -sober, Mr. Baxter. Now, you say this is the place where -you parted that night—here at the turn. You left him -standing here, you say. In the middle of the road?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you walked off in this direction. Did you look -back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just kept right on—in the middle of the road, eh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone changed the subject abruptly. “That’s a great -fish story they tell about the gypsy prophesying you’d be -hung before you were thirty. Of all the bunk I ever -heard, that’s the worst. Mr. Gooch says he was present -when she told your fortune that night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you will excuse me, Mr. Malone, I must be getting -back to the house. It’s nearly seven o’clock and I am -expecting people to dine with me,” said Oliver a little -coldly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry I’ve detained you,” said the detective apologetically. -“I wish you had mentioned it, Mr. Baxter. -This could have waited till another day. I’ll stroll back -with you, if you don’t mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is your partner?” inquired Oliver, looking out -over the swamp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Charlie? Oh, he’ll be along directly. There he is, -over near the wire fence. He is seeing about how long -it would take a man to walk out to the edge of the mire -and back,” said Malone coolly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver looked at him sharply. “So that’s the idea, eh?” -he remarked, after a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We intend to conduct this investigation in an open -and above-board manner, Mr. Baxter. Cards on the -table, sir, all the way through. We’re looking for a dead -man, not a live one, if you see what I mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I shall be open and above-board with you, Mr. -Malone,” said Oliver, a trace of irony in his voice. “I -hope, therefore, that you won’t take it amiss if I suggest -that the sensible thing for your man to do would be to -make his calculations at night, when progress would naturally -be a great deal slower and infinitely more hazardous. -Besides, you ought to take into account the fact -that this part of the swamp was not drained at the time -my father disappeared. There were a lot of chuck-holes -and mud flats between here and that wire fence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve taken that into account—mud and everything,” -announced the detective, looking straight ahead. “I was -about to say that it’s going to take a good deal of tight -squeezing, Mr. Baxter, to get you indicted, tried and -executed inside of the next thirty days. The time is -pretty short, eh?” He laughed jovially.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver turned on him. “I’ll knock your damned head -off, Malone, if you make any more cracks like that. -Remember that, will you?” he cried hotly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone was genuinely surprised. He went very red -in the face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he said thickly, “I’ll be sure to remember it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver apologized to Malone as they were on the point -of separating in front of the house. They had traversed -the hundred yards or more in silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sorry I spoke to you as I did, Mr. Malone. I -hope you will overlook it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone held out his hand. “I’ve been spoken to a good -bit rougher than that in my time, Mr. Baxter, and never -turned a hair,” he said good-naturedly. “I don’t blame -you for calling me down. I guess I was fresh. But I -assure you I didn’t mean to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s my infernal temper,” explained Oliver, taking the -man’s hand. “You would think that after twenty years’ -training of the most drastic character I might be able to -control it, wouldn’t you? But every once in a while it -slips.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there’s no hard feelings on my part. Still I -hope you don’t mind my saying that a lot of men have -tried to knock my block off without success.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the more reason why I should apologize,” said -Oliver, with his old, disarming smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forget it,” said Mr. Malone magnanimously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little later on Oliver sat on his front porch waiting -for his guests to arrive. Mrs. Grimes, in her snug-fitting -black silk dress, rocked impatiently in a chair nearby. -The guests were late.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s Josephine Sage,” she observed crossly, breaking -a long silence. Oliver was startled out of his reflections. -“She’s the one that’s making ’em late. Mr. Sage was -telling me the other day that actresses are always late to -a party. He’s just got onto it, he says. He says it’s -what they call an entrance, though what that means I -don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at his watch. “It’s only half-past seven, -Aunt Serepta. They’re only fifteen minutes late. I’ve -been losing my temper again,” he said gloomily. “Probably -made an enemy of that detective, Malone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What difference does that make? He’s not a voter in -this county,” said the old lady composedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you know that Pete Hines has gone away?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t even know he’d come back,” said she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come back? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was away all last week. They say he’s making -corn whisky somewhere up in the hills back of Crow -Center. At any rate, he’s been peddling it around town -for a couple of months.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought it was gasolene he’s been selling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe that’s why Abel Conroy calls it fire-water. -Here they come. Goodness! The way that Parr boy -drives! He ought to be locked up for—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Oliver was at the bottom of the steps waiting for -the automobile. It swung around the curve in the drive -and came to an unbelievably gentle stop—almost what -might be called a tender stop—in precisely the right spot. -Oliver reached out his hand and opened the front door -of the car without changing his position so much as an -inch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perfect!” said Mrs. Sage, who sat beside the driver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The best trained automobile in America,” said Sammy, -with his customary modesty. “Kindness is what does -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So sorry to be late,” said she, as Oliver ceremoniously -handed her out of the car. “Good evening, Mrs. Grimes. -Is the soup cold?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was all Sammy’s fault,” cried Sammy’s wife. “He -poked along at only forty miles an hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul,” said Mr. Sage, drawing his first full, -free breath; “we were exactly three minutes coming -from my house to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Had to slow down a bit on Clay Street,” explained -Sammy. “Evening, Mrs. Grimes. Step lively, Muriel! -You’re holding up the procession.” He gave two short, -imperative honks. “That means full speed ahead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is this I hear, Oliver?” said the minister as he -stepped out of the car. Jane and Mrs. Sammy had preceded -him. “Is it true the detectives are here and expect -to start this ridiculous search to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re here all right,” replied Oliver. “One of them -tried to sell you a set of Dickens the other day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What!” cried Jane, gripping Oliver’s arm. “Was that -man a detective?” She was startled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No less a person than Mr. Sherlock Hawkshaw Malone, -the renowned sleuth,” said Oliver, smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The—the beast!” she cried hotly. “Good heavens! -That accounts for the interest he took in your father’s -disappearance. Oh, dear me, I—I wonder what I said to -him! He was so pleasant and so interested.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re not the only one he fooled, Jane. He got -Sammy for a set of books and Aunt Serepta and Mr. -Lansing—and I daresay he talked about the case with -every one of them. I haven’t had the nerve to spring it -on Aunt Serepta. She’s so happy over the prospect of -getting Jane Austen with illustrations, that she’ll die -when she hears she’s been tricked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At any rate,” said Mr. Sage, complacently, “he did -not succeed in selling us a set of Dickens.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane started to say something, but, instead, abruptly -turned away and joined the other women on the porch. -A queer little chill as of misgiving stole over her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey, Oliver!” called out Sammy from down the -drive where he was parking the car. “Come here a -minute, will you? Say,” he went on, lowering his voice -as Oliver came up, “I’ve just picked up something rich. -Fellow came in day before yesterday and showed me a -volume of the Arabian Nights, absolutely unexpurgated, -with some of the gosh-darnedest illustrations you ever—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. And you fell for it, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sh! Not so loud. My wife doesn’t know a thing -about it. I’ll have to keep ’em at the office. In the -safe. But say, who told you about it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s all over town,” said Oliver mendaciously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gee whiz!” gulped Sammy. “Impossible! It’s a -dead secret. He said he could be arrested for selling -’em—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aha!” broke in Oliver. “That explains everything. -The man who told me is a detective.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, for the Lord’s sake!” whispered Sammy in great -agitation. Then in a tone of relief: “Oh, but I’m all right. -All I’ve got to do is to cancel the order. I wasn’t to -pay anything until—What’s the joke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Oliver told him. Sammy leaned against the mudguard -and swore softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, I wish I could remember what I said to that guy -about—about your father. Lord, he had me talking a -blue streak. Darn my fool eyes! You’d think I’d have -sense enough to—Oh, well, go ahead and kick me, -Ollie. Right here. Just as hard as you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come on. They’re waiting for us. You needn’t worry -about the books, old boy. You’ll never get them. I say, -have you ever seen anything as gorgeous as Mrs. Sage is -to-night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Knocked me cold when she came down the parsonage -steps,” said Sammy. “The Queen of Sheba never had -anything on her, Ollie. I was standing at the bottom of -the steps with Jane. Mr. Sage was out on the sidewalk -chinning with Muriel. Jane and I joshed along for ten -or twelve minutes, waiting for Mrs. Sage—I mean, Miss -Judge. Suddenly the servant popped out and held the -screen door open. She was carrying that blue opera -wrap you saw on Mrs. Sage just now. Half a minute -later, out strolled Mrs. Sage, walking as slowly as if she -were following a coffin filled with royalty. I lost consciousness—honest -to God I did. Wait till you see her! -She’s dressed in pure silver from head to foot. When I -came to she was standing right under the porch light, -holding out her arms for the girl to slip on the opera -coat, and she was bowing to Jane and me all over -the place besides. ‘Good evening, Samuel,’ she said in -a voice such as I’ve never heard before—it was so deep -and musical. And say, boy! She’s got a figure! I -don’t know how old she is, but all the same she’s got -Venus backed off the boards. I’ll bet my last dollar if -you was to put a dress on Venus she’d look like a cripple -alongside of Mrs. S. Wait a second. There’s no rush, -and I want to prepare you. Well, sir, she starts down -the steps—me standing there with my mouth open and -batting my eyes. She reaches down and lifts her skirt -up to her knees and wraps it around them, and, by gosh, -Ollie, she’s got on silver slippers and light blue stockings -with diamond garters—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sammy!” piped a shrill, commanding voice from the -doorway above. “Hustle along! Don’t be all night. -You can talk politics with Oliver after dinner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Politics!” muttered Sammy, rolling his eyes. “And -to see her in her street clothes you’d swear she hadn’t -as much shape or style as—all right, Muriel! Coming!”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='265' id='Page_265'></span><h1>CHAPTER XXI</h1></div> - -<h3>LOVE WITHOUT JEALOUSY</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The young men entered the sitting-room. Mrs. -Sage was standing almost directly under the -chandelier, talking to dumpy little Mrs. Grimes; -the light from above fell upon her auburn crown, flooded -her magnificent shoulders and arms, and then wavered -timidly, almost helplessly, as it first came in contact with -resplendent opposition. The actress was a head taller -than Mrs. Grimes, who nevertheless bravely stood her -ground and faced comparison with all the hardihood of -the righteous. Oliver’s housekeeper succeeded in disguising -the astonishment occasioned by the gown of silver -spangles, but she could not master the wonder and the -admiration that filled her eyes as she gazed upon the -smooth, alabaster arms and neck and bosom of the magnificent -Josephine. Nor could she understand the soft, -warm cheeks, or the dusky shadows under the sparkling -eyes, or the moist black lashes that sometimes veiled -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage, with a distinctly bewildered and somewhat -embarrassed expression keeping company with the proud -and doting smile that seemed to be stamped upon his -lean visage, stood across the room with his daughter and -Mrs. Sammy, his hands behind his back, his feet spread -slightly apart the better to allow him the unctuous relaxation -of frequently rising on his toes and then slowly -settling back upon his heels again—another and simple -means of indicating partnership in pulchritude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can remember when there wasn’t a dinner jacket or -a dress suit in Rumley,” said Josephine as the two tall -young men approached. “And the only men who parted -their hair in the middle were the ones who didn’t have any -hair in the middle at all, at all. Most of the male member’s -of Herbert’s congregation left the price tags on their -Sunday suits for a whole winter so that people could tell -when they were dressed up. Do you mean to tell me, -Oliver, that those blighters intend to begin digging up -your place to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mere thought of it caused her to waft her handkerchief -in front of her nose, stirring the air with the rare, -pungent odor of <span class='it'>nuit de chine</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver laughed. “I think we’ll all rather enjoy the excitement, -Aunt Josephine,” he said. “Besides, now that -I am in politics, I want to keep as much in the limelight -as possible. I suppose they’ll begin prying up the kitchen -floor to-morrow, or digging trenches in the cellar, or -tearing up the flower-beds. It will be worth coming miles -to see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at him narrowly. “What utter rot! Do -they expect to find your father buried in the cellar or -under the kitchen floor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They don’t expect to find him at all,” replied Oliver, -with unintentional shortness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There will be trouble,” said Mrs. Grimes, the light of -battle in her eye, “if they make a mess around this -house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aunt Serepta will fix ’em,” said Oliver, putting his -arm around the little woman’s shoulders. “Won’t you, -Auntie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’ll boil ’em in oil,” said Sammy, very gravely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver glanced over his shoulder at Jane. Their eyes -met and their gaze held for some seconds. He detected -the clouded, troubled look in hers and was suddenly conscious -of what must have seemed to her a serious intensity -in his own. Without a word, he left Mrs. Sage and went -to Jane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t worry,” he said to her in a low tone. “You -couldn’t have said anything to Malone that—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It isn’t that,” she interrupted nervously. “It is the -feeling that we are all being spied upon.” She hesitated -a moment. “I remember one thing. He asked me what -kind of a night it was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there wasn’t any harm in telling him, was -there?” he chided. “That is, if you remembered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do remember. He said that some one had told him -it was a rainy, stormy night. I assured him he had been -misinformed—that it hadn’t rained for weeks. He—he -seemed surprised.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what of that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her wide-set gray eyes wavered. They steadied instantly, -however, and she smiled—a confident, disarming -smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it’s the finding out that he was a detective -and that he was pumping me,” she explained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anyhow, you are smiling again,” he half whispered, -“and that makes me want to sing and dance for joy.” -He was once more aware that his voice was throaty and -unsteady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A faint wave of color spread to her cheek and brow, -but she did not look away. When she spoke again it -was at the conclusion of a long, deep exhalation; the sentence -ended in a fluttering, breathless murmur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you think mother is perfectly wonderful, -Oliver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He nodded. He felt that he could not trust his voice. -He knew now that he was in love—that he always had -been in love with Jane, that he always would be in love -with her. He compressed his lips and fought against the -strange, mad impulse to shout that he was in love with -her, that she was his—all his—and that no man should -take her away from him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she? She was thinking of that dry, hot night -when he came to see her after leaving his father, out of -breath, his shoes covered with fresh black mud. There -had been no rain for weeks. The roads were thick with -dust. And Lansing too had noticed that his shoes were -muddy. He had spoken to her about them, he had wondered -where Oliver had been to get into mud up to his -shoe tops! And she, herself, had never ceased to wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sage was speaking to Mrs. Sammy. “Yes, my -dear Muriel, I can’t quite believe I am awake. It all -seems like a dream.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wife not only overheard this remark but obviously -the one that led up to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I say, old dear,” she exclaimed, “you must get -over the notion that you are asleep. It’s not complimentary -to me to have you going about everywhere pinching -yourself to see whether you’re awake or not. And the -worst of it is, he pinches me every now and then to see -whether I am flesh and blood or merely a hallucination.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sammy cleared his throat gallantly. “Permit me to -say, Miss Judge, that you <span class='it'>are</span> a dream, and if I was Mr. -Sage I’d <span class='it'>never</span> wake up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lifted her lorgnon and regarded him with languid -interest. “After that, my dear Sammy, I am sure your -wife will like me much better if you call me Aunt Josephine. -Even though I am old enough to be your mother, -I—Why, when I look at Jane I doubt my own eyes. -That I, Josephine Judge, should have a daughter as big -as Jane is more than I can grasp. I am filled with wonder. -I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s more of a wonder, Josephine Sage,” broke in -Mrs. Grimes tartly, “that you haven’t got any grandchildren.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Mrs. Grimes, don’t blame me for that,” -said Josephine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Supper’s ready,” shouted Lizzie Meggs, the “help” -from the center of the dining-room. Lizzie had a strong -voice and she believed in using it. It saved her many a -needless step. She was nearly thirty and thought she -was good enough for Oliver, or any other young man in -Rumley. Her parents brought her up in just that way—with -the aid of the movies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At table the conversation quite naturally dealt with -the advent of the detectives and the task that had been -set for them by the universally despised Mr. Gooch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s all bally nonsense,” said Mrs. Sage, at Oliver’s -right. “Your father will turn up one day and—Why, -look at me. Didn’t I turn up? Didn’t I come back? -Here am I as big as life, after twenty-three years, and -dear old Herbert goes about the house all day long saying -that nothing—absolutely nothing is impossible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you see, Aunt Josephine,” began Oliver, in his -good-humored drawl, “Uncle Herbert did an awful lot -of praying.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Morning and night I prayed,” said Mr. Sage earnestly. -“I prayed, and then I prayed that my prayers -might be answered. God saw fit to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Herbert, when a woman reaches my age she -begins to appreciate the advantages of a husband. If she -hasn’t got one, she begins desperately to look for one. I -could have had a dozen or more if I’d been of a mind, -but those were in the days when husbands were looking -for me. I mean other women’s husbands. When it so -happens, as in my case, that a perfectly good and reliable -husband has been mislaid in the haste and confusion of -youth, why, Fortune smiles, that’s all. It wasn’t your -praying. I should have come back if you hadn’t prayed -a lick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not say that, Josephine. I have already begun to -pray that you will never go away again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t let me catch you at it, old dear,” she warned. -“I dare say I shall get jolly well fed up with Rumley, -especially after Jane is married. Besides, I am living -in the hope that you may get a call to Chicago or New -York.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall never leave Rumley, Josephine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I said about London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What was that you said about Jane?” demanded -Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jane? Oh, yes; about her getting married? She -absolutely refuses to tell me who she is going to marry. -I fancy I can make a fairly good guess, however.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So can I,” cried Mrs. Sammy. “Oh, you Jane!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver swallowed hard. “How about it, Jane? Come -on! ’Fess up. You’re among friends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane smiled mischievously. “I promise, Oliver, to tell -you first of all. I sha’n’t keep you in suspense any -longer than I can help.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Before you tell your own mother,” cried Josephine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Much as I love you, Mother dear, I feel that I must -tell Oliver first. He is my oldest and best friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have just been thinking, Josephine,” began Mr. -Sage, guiltily and irrelevantly, “that I quite forgot to -take Henry the Eighth out for his walk this evening. -And even worse, I fear I left him hanging by his lead -from the top peg of the hatrack.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I really shouldn’t mind, my dear, if he were to expire -before we get home,” said she. “He is a traitor. -Would you believe it, Oliver, the little beast has taken -such a fancy to your Uncle Herbert that he has completely -turned against me. Snaps at me, growls at me, -barks at me every time I try to pat him. Hanging is too -good for him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speaking of hanging,” said Sammy, “old Joe Sikes -says he’s got a perfect alibi for you, Ollie, in connection -with that murder up in Grand Rapids. I mean the chap -who was found in a hotel room last night with his throat -cut. Joe says he can prove by thirty reputable witnesses -that you were not within four hundred miles of Grand -Rapids last night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver grinned. “That’s all he and Silas Link think -about these days—fixing up alibis for me. They grab up -the morning paper to see where the latest murder has -occurred and then they hustle out and establish an alibi -for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How perfectly delicious,” cried little Mrs. Sammy. -“Don’t you think it is really perfectly delicious, Mr. -Sage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon?” stammered the pastor apologetically. -“I am afraid I was thinking about Henry the -Eighth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you are <span class='it'>so</span> literary, Mr. Sage,” shrieked Mrs. -Sammy admiringly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was strangely restless during dinner, and immediately -after the company arose from the table at its conclusion -he asked Jane to come with him for a little stroll -in the open air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to speak to you about something,” he urged. -“Better throw something over your shoulders. The -night air—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ought you to go off and leave the others, Oliver?” she -began, a queer little catch, as of alarm, in her voice. -“Muriel and Sammy—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come along,” he pleaded. “They won’t mind. I -must see you alone for a few minutes, Jane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will get my wrap,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. -“It may be chilly outside.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you’re shivering now, Janie,” he whispered -anxiously, as he threw her wrap over her shoulders. “Are -you cold?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did not reply. He followed her out upon the -porch and down the steps. No word passed between -them until they had turned the bend in the drive and -were outside the radius of light shed from the windows. -He was the first to speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Jane,” he blurted out, “I’m—I’m terribly -troubled and upset.” That was as far as he got, speech -seeming to fail him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laid her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it about—about the detective, Oliver?” she asked -tremulously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” he answered, almost roughly. “It’s about you, -Jane. You’ve just got to answer me. Are you going to -be married?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said, her voice so low he could scarcely hear -the monosyllable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked on in silence for twenty paces or more, -turning down the path that led to the swamp road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I was afraid so,” he muttered. Then fiercely: -“Who are you going to marry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sighed. “I am going to marry the first man who -asks me,” she replied, and, having cast the die, was instantly -mistress of herself. “Have you any objections?” -she asked, almost mockingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If he heard the question he paid no heed to it. She -felt the muscles of his strong forearm grow taut, and she -heard the quick intake of his breath. She waited. She -began to hum a vagrant little air. It seemed an age to -her before he spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jane,” he said gently and steadily, “if you were a man -and in my place—I mean in my predicament—would you -go so far as to ask the girl you love better than anything -in all the world to marry you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know just what you mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean, supposing they find my father out there in -the swamp and there are indications that he met with -foul play, and I stand the chance of being accused—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be silly,” she cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—would you ask her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There couldn’t be any harm in asking her. She could -refuse you, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s so. She could, couldn’t she. I—I hadn’t -thought of that. Still you said you were going to marry -the first man who asks you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Oliver, I am—but, of course, I am expecting the -man I love to ask me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s the gypsy’s prophecy,” he murmured thickly. -“It—it may come true, Jane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It—it cannot come true,” she cried. “It cannot, -Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still it is something to be considered,” he said heavily -and judicially. His hand closed over hers and gripped -it tightly. “If you were in my place wouldn’t you hesitate -about inviting her to—to become a widow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I love you, Oliver, when your voice sounds as if it -had a laugh in it,” she whispered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a month I will be thirty,” he went on, his heart as -light as air. “I might ask her to give me a thirty day option, -or something like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You goose!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pressed her arm to his side, and was serious when -he spoke again, after a moment’s pause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have never asked a girl to marry me, Jane. Never -in all my life. Do you know why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She buried her face against his shoulder. A vast, -overwhelming thrill raced through him. Her warm, supple -body suddenly and mysteriously became that of another -woman—a strange woman so unlike Jane that his -senses swam with wonder. What magic was this? This -was not Jane—not the Jane he had known forever! -Something incredibly feminine, sensuous, intoxicating—His -arms went about her and drew her close.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God! Is—is this you, Jane?” he whispered. “Is it -really you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lifted her head. A little sob of joy broke on her -lips. Gazing up into his eyes, bright even in the darkness, -she murmured a bewildered question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—you are some other girl,” he replied, dazed by -ecstasy. “You can’t be Jane Sage. You don’t feel like -Jane Sage. You don’t—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed softly. “Do you think you ought to be -holding a strange girl in your arms—and do you think I -could possibly allow you to do it if I were not Jane -Sage?” A pause, then, faintly: “Oh, Oliver—dear -Oliver!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You—you are sure there isn’t any one else, Janie? -I—I am not too late? Tell me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There never has been any one else, Oliver. It has -always been you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never realized it, Jane—I never even thought of it -till just a little while ago—but now I know that I have -always loved you. That’s why I’ve never asked any one -else to—to marry me. I understand now why I couldn’t -possibly have asked any one else. All these years it has -been you—and I never knew. It was settled long ago—ages -ago, without my knowing it, that there was but one -girl I could ever ask to be my wife—only one girl that -I could ever really love.” He drew in a deep, long, -quivering breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her arm stole up about his neck, she raised her chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I began calling myself your wife, Oliver, when I -was a very little girl—when we first began playing house -together, and you were my husband and the dolls were -our children. That was twenty years ago. I have been -true to you ever since—all these years I have been a -true and faithful wife.” Their lips met—their first kiss -of passion, of love exalted. Then, a little later on, breathlessly: -“Do you realize that this is the first time you -have kissed your wife since she was ten years old?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He kissed her again, rapturously. “It—it wasn’t like -this when you were ten, Janie darling—nothing like this! -Oh, my God!” he burst out. “You’ll never know how -miserable I have been these last few weeks—how horribly -jealous I’ve been.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stroked his cheek—possessively. “I haven’t been -very happy myself,” she sighed. “I—I wasn’t quite sure -you would ever give me the chance to say I loved you, -Oliver—I wasn’t sure you would ever ask me to be your -wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That reminds me,” he cried boyishly. “Will you -marry me, Miss Sage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I will. Didn’t I say I would marry the -first—What was that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she uttered the exclamation under her breath, she -drew away from him quickly, looking over her shoulder -at the thick, shadowy underbrush that lined the road below -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t hear anything,” said he, turning with her. -“It must have been my heart trying to burst out of its—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I heard some one—or some thing,” she said, in a -voice of dismay. “Oh, Oliver, some one saw you kiss -me, some one heard what we—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Suppose he did,” cried he jubilantly. “Why should -we care? I’d like the whole world to know how happy—how -absolutely happy—I am, Jane. I’ve half a notion -to start out right now and run through the streets shouting -that I’m in love with you and am going to marry -you. When will you marry me, Jane? <span class='it'>When?</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman in her replied. “I must have time to get -some clothes and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t need any,” he broke in. “I mean any more -than you have now. I’m not marrying your clothes, -dear—I’m marrying <span class='it'>you</span>. Sh! Listen! There <span class='it'>is</span> some -one over there in the brush. Damn his sneaking eyes! -I’ll—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t! Don’t go down there!” she cried, clutching -his arm. “You must not leave me alone. I’m—I’m -afraid, Ollie. I am always afraid when I am near that -awful swamp. No matter if some one did see us. Let -him go. Besides, it may have been a dog or some other -animal—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s walk down the road a little way, Jane,” said he -stubbornly. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll stick close beside you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t go down into the swamp?” she cried anxiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. Just along the road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They ran down the little embankment into the road. -She clung tightly to his arm, feeling strangely secure in -the rigid strength of it—and proud of it, as well. The -night was dark, the road among the trees darker still. -After fifteen or twenty paces, Oliver pressed her arm -warningly and stopped to listen. Ahead of them, some -distance away, they heard footfalls—the slow, regular -tread of a man walking in the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will not go a step farther,” she whispered, holding -back as he started to go forward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He submitted. They stood still, listening. Suddenly -the footfalls ceased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He knows we have stopped,” said Oliver. “He’s listening -to see if we are following.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was silent for a moment. “You remember what -I said about being spied upon, Oliver. I feel it, I feel it -all about me. You are being watched all the time, Oliver. -Oh, how hateful, how unfair!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put his arm around her. “Jane dear, I am just -beginning to understand. They really suspect me. They -really think I may have had a hand in—Why, curse -them, they—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Oliver!” she cried softly. “The very worst -thing you can do is to fly into a rage over this silly—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my Lord!” he gasped, drawing back in sheer astonishment. -“<span class='it'>You</span> too, Jane? I’ve heard nothing for -twenty years but—Hang it all, dear, I <span class='it'>want</span> to get mad! -I want to rage like a lion and tear things to pieces. -Every time I frown the whole blamed town smooths my -back and says ‘Now-now!’ And Joe Sikes and Silas -Link—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know, I know,” she interrupted gently. “But you -mustn’t, just the same. You must treat this thing as a—a -sort of joke.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many seconds passed before he spoke. “It’s pretty -difficult to see anything humorous in being suspected of—Oh, -I can’t even say it! It’s too awful—too unspeakable!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d better be going back to the house, Oliver,” she -began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Jane, I’ve been thinking. It’s wrong for -me to ask you to marry me till all this mess is over. It’s -wrong for me to even ask you to consider yourself engaged -to me. We must wait. I mean it, dear. I’m under -a cloud. There’s no getting around that fact. -The—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nobody believes you had anything to do with—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear girl, nobody knows <span class='it'>what</span> to believe,” said -he seriously. “That’s the worst of it. My father is gone. -I was, so far as any one knows, the last to see him. As -you say, no one may believe that I had anything to do -with it, but—<span class='it'>where is he?</span> That’s the question they are -all asking—and no one answers. He is somewhere, living -or dead. That’s sure. He may be out there in that -swamp. And, Jane, here’s the horrible part of it. If he -is out there, no one will believe he committed suicide. -No one will believe that he made way with himself deliberately. -He may have wandered into the swamp while -out of his head—but he was not contemplating suicide. -If that had been his intention, why did he draw all that -money out of the bank? A queer thing has just happened. -You know Peter Hines—that queer old bird who -has always lived in the cabin at the lower end of the -swamp? You can see it from the road in the daytime. -He has skipped out. Boarded up the door and windows -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He started violently, the words dying on his lips. Off -to the south, beyond the almost impenetrable wall of -night, gleamed far-off lights in the windows of Peter -Hines’s shack.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He must have returned,” he said, in an odd voice. -“Those lights—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let us go in, dear,” she pleaded. “I—I hear something -moving among the weeds down there. It’s grisly, -Oliver—creepy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were at the foot of the porch steps when he kissed -her tenderly. “We must wait a little while, Janie, before -telling them about—us. Till all this is cleared up and -I am—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She faced him, her hands on his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall tell them to-night,” she said resolutely. “To-morrow -I shall tell everybody I know. What do you -think I am? A fraidy-cat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed quietly. “Have your own way, dear. You -always have had it where I am concerned. But,” and -here he dropped into his dry, whimsical drawl, “if I were -you I wouldn’t begin getting a trousseau together until -after my birthday next month. You might be wasting a -lot of time and money.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Oliver, don’t say such things!” she cried hotly. -“I wish that old gypsy were here. I’d wring her neck!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sage was holding forth in her most effective English -as they entered the sitting-room. She may have -eyed them narrowly for a second or two, but that was all. -She had an attentive audience; the division of interest -due to the return of absentees was of extremely short -duration; she knew how to hold the center of the stage -once she got it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As a matter of fact, they’re shorter in Rumley than -they are in London. I’ve seen more knees since I got -back to Rumley than I saw all the time I was in London. -And that, my dear Mrs. Grimes, despite the fact that -London has more knees than any other city in the world. -My daughter has provided me with a hundred surprises -since—I don’t mean that she has a hundred knees, of -course—what I mean to say is that Jane merely yawns -when I begin in a hushed voice to tell her of the very -latest crazes and vices of London. She yawns, I say, -and proceeds to inform me that they are all old in Rumley—<span class='it'>old</span>, -mind you. It really seems that just about the -time poor old London is struggling to learn a new dance, -Rumley is completely fed up with it. I go about in a -sort of daze. I wish—I devoutly wish—I could remember -all the things I’ve learned since I got back to Rumley. -Poor Herbert maintains that—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this juncture Sammy Parr, who had been observing -Oliver very closely, got up from his chair and marched -across the room, his hand extended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Congratulations, old man!” he shouted joyously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And little old Mrs. Grimes, from her place on the sofa, -remarked as she leaned back with a sigh of content:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, goodness knows it’s about time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Proving that since the entrance of the lovers the great -Josephine had failed signally to hold her audience spellbound.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='281' id='Page_281'></span><h1>CHAPTER XXII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE CORPUS DELICTI</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The ensuing three weeks were busy ones for -Oliver. He was off “electioneering” by day and -out speechmaking by night in district schoolhouses, -in town-halls, and at mass meetings held at the -county seat. The opposition press, stirred to action by -the harassed Mr. Gooch, printed frequent reports of the -progress made by the authorities in their search for old -Oliver Baxter. They made sensation out of two or three -minor discoveries—such as the finding of an old straw -hat in one of the pools; the unearthing of a stout spade -handle at the edge of the swamp not far from where the -old man and his son parted company; the turning up -among the weeds at the roadside of a small notebook -which, despite months of exposure to rain, snow and sun, -was identified as the property of the missing man. It -was Oliver October who unhesitatingly identified this -notebook. He recalled that his father had made notations -in it before they left the house on that all-important -night. The weather had rendered these and other notes -illegible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Strange to say, Peter Hines’s cabin was still boarded -up. The morning after Oliver and Jane observed the -motionless lights across the swamp, the former motored -over to the shack. He was amazed to find the door and -the windows nailed up securely; there was nothing to indicate -that they had been opened or tampered with during -the night. He went to Malone with the puzzle. The -detective promptly declared that neither he nor his partner -had been down at the shack the night before and -could offer no explanation. The cabin was watched every -night for a week, but the lights did not reappear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver was astonished to find that no one in Rumley -was surprised by the announcement that he and Jane -were engaged to be married. Apparently the whole town -knew about it weeks before he himself was aware of it! -Quite a number of people seemed to be frankly annoyed -because they had not announced their engagement a year -ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile, Malone and his gang of Italian laborers -were leisurely conducting the quest. The chief operative -was bored. He admitted that he was bored—admitted it -to Oliver and Mrs. Grimes and Lizzie Meggs and to the -high heavens besides.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mid-afternoon of a windy day in October—it was the -19th to be exact—he sat in the shelter of the kitchen-wing, -his chair propped against the wall, reading a book. -He yawned frequently and seemed to be having great -difficulty in keeping his pipe going. From time to time -he dozed. Some one had told him he ought to read this -book. It had been recommended to him as a rattling -good detective story. The only thing that kept him awake -was the thud of pick-axes under the kitchen porch just -beyond where he was sitting—not that he wasn’t accustomed -to the thuds and could have slept soundly in spite -of them, but there was always the possibility that Lizzie -Meggs might carry out her threat to “douse” everybody -with hot water if the noise got to be more than she could -bear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His partner, Charlie What’s-his-name, was out in the -swamp directing the efforts of eight or ten men who were -sounding the scattered “mudholes” with long poles or -digging at random in sections where the earth was sufficiently -solid to bear the weight of man or beast. These -men were now far out beyond the wire fence, within a -hundred yards or so of the pond. They had advanced -across the dangerous terrain with the aid of planks, and -they worked with such extreme caution that even Horace -Gooch, on the one surreptitious visit he paid to the locality, -was satisfied with the progress they were making: -they could not possibly complete the job before election -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Malone’s rest was disturbed shortly before three -o’clock by the arrival of Oliver October. The two had -become quite good friends.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Malone, would you mind calling off these gravediggers -of yours for half an hour or so? I am expecting -a committee here at three o’clock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” said Malone. He got up slowly. “Hey!” he -shouted over his shoulder. “Come out o’ that! Knock -off! It’s four o’clock. In New York,” he added in an -aside to Oliver. “As I’ve said before, Mr. Baxter, it’s all -damned foolishness digging up your place like this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Grimes says the house is likely to fall down on -our heads at any minute,” said Oliver. “How is your -lumbago, Malone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better. Mrs. Grimes almost succeeded in putting a -mustard plaster on me yesterday. She had me gargling -my throat last week. I’m never going to complain again -as long as I’m around where she is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the way, she notified me this noon that our hired girl, -Lizzie Meggs, has decided to give up her place unless -your men fill up some of the graves they’ve dug in -my cellar. She says that every time she goes down for a -pan of potatoes or a jar of pickles she has to jump over -a grave or two, and it’s getting on her nerves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll have ’em put some planks over those holes,” said -the detective. “That reminds me. Now that they’ve -stopped work under the porch, you might call off your -watch-dog. Give the old boy a little much needed rest. -He’s been sitting back there on the kitchen steps ever -since one o’clock—and he’s here every morning before we -begin work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver walked to the corner. Joseph Sikes was sitting -on the back steps, his coat collar turned up about his -throat, his aged back bent almost double, his chin resting -on the mittened hands that gripped the head of his cane, -his wrinkled face screwed up into a dogged scowl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better step into the kitchen, Uncle Joe, and ask Lizzie -for a cup of hot coffee. Work’s over for to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The hell it is,” growled Mr. Sikes, without changing -his position.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let him alone,” said Malone, good-naturedly. “He’s -hatching out some new trouble for me. Reminds me of a -crabbed old hen setting on a basket of eggs. As for the -other one—the chubby undertaker—he’s down there in -the swamp from morning till night, supervising the whole -blamed job.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are the best friends I’ve got in the world, Malone,” -said Oliver earnestly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, we’ll clear out so’s you can have your committee -meeting in peace,” said the detective.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two soiled Italians had crawled out from beneath the -porch and were making off with their coats and dinner-pails -in the direction of the barn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have put it up to County Headquarters, Malone,” -said Oliver, in an emotionless tone, “as to whether I -should stay in the race or withdraw.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean withdraw?” asked the detective -sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s only fair to give them a chance to put some -one else on the ticket in my place if they feel—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come off! In the first place, they can’t put anybody -in your place now. It’s too late. And in the second -place, you’ve got old Gooch licked to a standstill, so -what the devil’s got into you? You must be off your -nut. We’re not going to find your father’s body, my boy. -Why? Because it isn’t—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you know you are not going to find it?” was -Oliver’s surprising question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone stared. “What has caused you to change your -tone like this, Baxter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s getting on my nerves, Malone—I don’t mind saying -so,” said the younger man, frowning. “At first I -laughed at all this fuss, but lately I’ve been lying awake -thinking that maybe we’ve been wrong all the time and -that he is out there—My God, Malone, it—it turns the -blood cold in my veins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I get you,” said Malone, sympathetically. “It does -give a fellow the shivers. But now about this getting off -the ticket. Don’t you do anything of the sort, Baxter. -Don’t lay down. You’ve got this election sewed up—and -say, what if we do accidentally find your old man—what’s -that got to do with it? Haven’t you been looking -for him for over a year? Supposing he did wander -off into the swamp that night—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Malone, I can feel it in the air that a great many -people believe I know what became of him. It’s in the -air, I say. There may be people who believe that I had -something to do with putting him out of the way. People -like to believe the worst. The Democratic speakers -are mighty decent and so are the newspapers. They -haven’t uttered a word or printed one that isn’t fair and -square. But back in the minds of a lot of people is the -thought that perhaps, after all, I did murder my father. -You can’t blame—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes, who had shuffled around the corner, overheard -the remark. He fairly barked:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It don’t make a particle of difference what they believe -provided nobody is able to find the corpus delicti. -I don’t want to hear you say another word about murder, -young man—not another damned word. They’ve -got to dig up your father’s corpus delicti before—What -in thunder are you laughing at, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malone, to whom this question was addressed in Mr. -Sikes’s most aggressive manner, put his hand to his mouth -and, after a brief struggle, succeeded in replying with as -straight a face as possible:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been reading an awfully funny book, Mr. Sikes. -It’s about detectives.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, for the past two weeks Mr. Sikes and other overripe -citizens of Rumley had made frequent and profound -allusions to the corpus delicti. They didn’t know what -it was at first but Mr. Link soon found out. He said it -was French for “body.” Corpus delicti sounded so well—after -considerable practice—that most people preferred -to use it instead of “remains”; besides, it wasn’t quite so -personal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is no telling what Mr. Sikes would have said to -Mr. Malone about detectives in general if the delegation -from Republican headquarters had arrived a minute or -two later. He could have said a great deal in a minute -or two.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The automobile came swinging up the drive on the tail -of Mr. Malone’s defensive explanation. Oliver hurried -off to greet the occupants of the car, Mr. Sikes hobbling -along in his wake. Malone refilled his pipe as he strode -across the stable yard. In the lee of the barn he scorched -his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the swamp. Far out -in the “danger zone” a number of men were compactly -grouped. A solitary figure was running toward the Baxter -house, while from the main highway to the right of -the slough a dozen or more scattered people were picking -their way gingerly across the intervening space. The -detective dropped the charred match and started briskly -down to meet the runner. He was no longer bored. He -was an alert, vital, keen-sensed hunter of men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes appeared on the front porch as the three -committee-men stepped out of the car. She knew one of -them, James Parsons, a lawyer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good afternoon, Mrs. Grimes,” said he, coming up -the steps. “Baxter here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s around back. I’ll call—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just a second. I’d like a word with you in private. -Hello, here he is.” There were handshakings, and then -Parsons motioned with his head for Serepta to remain behind -as the others entered the house. “Say, have you got -any influence over him, Mrs. Grimes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit,” said Serepta. “What have you men decided -he ought to do? Drop out?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve decided—the whole Central Committee—that -he’d be a damned fool to drop out of the race. Excuse -my French.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With pleasure. Now, let me give you a piece of advice.” -She looked over her shoulder to make sure that -Oliver was out of hearing. “Don’t plead with him. Act -as mad as you know how. Don’t go in there and tell him -he’d be a damned fool to drop out—excuse <span class='it'>my</span> French—don’t -go at him that way. Tell him he’d be an ornery, -low-lifed skunk if he left you in the lurch like that. -Make it strong. Nobody on earth minds being called a -damned fool, Mr. Parsons, but it is something awful to -be called a skunk. He is really serious about withdrawing. -You mustn’t let him. All he needs is your encouragement -and he’ll—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You think it will encourage him if we call him a -skunk?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t say you were to call him one,” said she -tartly. “I said you were to tell him he’d <span class='it'>be</span> one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you have the slightest influence—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I told you I haven’t a bit. You men got him into this -race and it’s your business to keep him in it. I guess -you’d better go in. They’re calling you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes ambled up as Parsons disappeared through -the door. He stopped short in the gravel walk just below -where Mrs. Grimes was standing. After an instant’s -hesitation, he drew nearer to the rail, treading ruthlessly -upon the frost-ravaged peony bed that skirted the porch. -He felt that it was necessary to lower his voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve only six more days to go, Serepty,” he said. -“This is the nineteenth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. He will be thirty on the twenty-fifth. I hope -you’ll be satisfied, Joe Sikes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pondered gloomily. “Setting back there on the -kitchen steps I got to thinkin’ about the last time I was -up here before old Ollie disappeared. I wonder if you -remember what he said to me and Silas, setting right here -on this porch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He said a lot of things, Joe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you remember him telling us he was getting so he -hated to go to sleep at night in this house? Maybe he -said he was afraid to go to sleep, but no matter. Do you -remember?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I remember the poor old thing saying he couldn’t go -to sleep nights because he was afraid a mob would come -up to the house and take Oliver October out and hang -him for something he’d never done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess maybe that was it. And another thing. -Didn’t he say he wouldn’t blame Oliver if he up and beat -his brains out for letting that gypsy queen lift the veil -and cause all this worry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you trying to get at, Joe Sikes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—nothin’ particular. Only somehow I’ve got the -queerest feelin’ that something’s going to happen, Serepty—and -I—I just thought I’d warn you not to say anything -about our talk that night, ’specially what he said -about Oliver beatin’ his brains out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good gracious, man! Why should I say anything—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean,” began Mr. Sikes solemnly, “if—if you was -called as a witness—in court. If you was put under oath -and had to testify. That’s what I mean. I mean,” he repeated -sternly, “that you and me and Silas never heard -him say anything like that—then or any other time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s got into you, Joe? What do you mean by a -trial in court and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m just giving you a few instructions, Serepty, in -case anything <span class='it'>does</span> happen. I’ve been a little worried -over you, anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Worried over me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. You’re so darned good and conscientious, as the -saying is, that I’ve worried myself sick over you. I -mean about swearing to a lie. Of course Silas and I -would swear to a thousand of ’em if necessary, but would -you? That’s what’s worryin’ me. Would—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would swear to a million of them,” she cried, “if it -would be any help to Oliver October.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Birds of a feather,” said Mr. Sikes, rather proudly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An automobile, packed with men and running at a high -rate of speed, flashed past the Baxter house and was -almost instantly lost to sight around the bend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They ought to be locked up,” cried Mrs. Grimes, -scandalized.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes seized the opportunity to utter one withering -word—and on his lips it had all the ferocity of a -curse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Prohibition!” he snarled, his voice cracking on the -last syllable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes drew her shawl a little closer about her -throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seems to me it’s turning a lot colder, Joe,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better go in the house, Serepty,” he advised quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come in and have a cup of coffee, Joe,” said she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess I’d better go ’round the back way, Serepty, -so’s not to disturb Ollie and the committee. Has he set -the day for the wedding?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came down from the porch and together they -started for the rear of the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, he ain’t,” said she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought he had. He’d ought to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s not the one to do the setting, Joe Sikes. It’s -none of his business. That’s the girl’s lookout. Jane -has named the day, if that’s what you want to know. -It’s to be the tenth of November.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s a lucky feller,” said the old man. “Think of a -feller being able to get married to as purty a girl as -Jane and still not have any brother-in-laws.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you’d get tired talking about brothers-in-law -all the time,” she said, severely. “Don’t forget that -you are a brother-in-law yourself, Joe Sikes. You are a -brother-in-law to two men and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you trying to do, Serepty Grimes? Insult -me? Make a mortal enemy out of me? For two cents -I’d refuse to drink a mouthful of your coffee. And -what’s more—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look out yonder, Joe—in the swamp,” she broke in, -pointing through the fringe of trees. “There’s a crowd—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Serepty!” he cried bleakly. “They—they have found -something out yonder. I feel it in my bones. The corpus -delicti. I guess I won’t have any coffee. I’ll just mosey -out there and see what’s happened.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute. Isn’t that Silas Link coming across -the swamp?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He groaned. “If it is, he’ll never get here. He’s too -old and fat to be hurryin’ like that. He’ll drop dead. -He’s got a weak heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, Joe,” she said suddenly, after a quick look -at his paling face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess maybe I’d better,” he said weakly. “Just for -a second or two. My legs seem sort of wobbly and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t sit down yet,” she cried. “Wait till we get to -the steps. You’ll break a hip or something if you sit -down—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ain’t your legs sort of weak and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, they’re not,” she interrupted tartly. “Lean on -me, Joe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be dogged if I do!” he snorted vigorously. “What -do you take me for? Lean on a woman! Blast your -eyes, Serepty Grimes—how many more times are you -going to insult me to-day? Let me tell you one thing -more. I’m not going to set down as long as Silas Link -is on his feet. I am no quitter!” he bellowed, squaring -his broad old shoulders. “Not by a blamed sight!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood and waited. In due time, Silas Link panted -his way up the incline and came shuffling toward them. -He stopped at the corner of the barnyard, leaning against -the fence to get his breath. Mr. Sikes stalked forward, -followed by Mrs. Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” demanded the former.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They—fished—up—a—carcass,” puffed Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Absolute silence—except for the painful wheezing of -the last speaker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ollie’s?” asked Mr. Sikes at last, and quickly -hooked his arm through that of the tottering Mrs. Grimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No telling. Unrecognizable. Been in the mire for a -long time, according to my best judgment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure it’s a—a human being?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Male or female?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t I tell you it had been in the mire for a long -time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must have had clothes on,” put in Mrs. Grimes -stoutly. “Wouldn’t you know Ollie Baxter’s clothes if -you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hasn’t got any clothes on. Not a stitch. Shoes or -anything. It ain’t got <span class='it'>anything</span> on. Not even flesh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A—a skeleton?” gulped the old lady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No clothes on?” demanded Mr. Sikes. “Then it can’t -be Ollie. He had his new suit on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Link hesitated. “That detective says the chances -are that whoever did the killing stripped the body and -burnt the clothes,” he said slowly, weightily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A longer silence than before. Mr. Link’s listeners -seemed turned to stone. Finally Mr. Sikes moistened -his stiff lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean, Silas, by—by killing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you feel sort of squeamish, Serepty,” began Mr. -Link considerately, “maybe you’d better—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not squeamish,” retorted the redoubtable little -woman. “Go on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The top of the skull is smashed in—split wide open,” -announced the newsbearer, in a hushed, sepulchral voice. -Then, apparently eager to get it over with, he hurried -on: “Couldn’t have died a natural death. Couldn’t have -committed suicide. Somebody hit him over the head—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say <span class='it'>it</span>,” corrected Mr. Sikes. “You don’t know -whether it’s a man or woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—with a heavy instrument. Most likely an ax or -a hatchet. Buried six or eight feet deep in a mudhole. -They pulled up a hand first with one of them poles with -a hook on it. Then they set to work scooping out the -hole with shovels. Wasn’t long before they got down -where they could—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t tell any more—don’t tell any more!” quaked -Mrs. Grimes, covering her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lean on me, Serepty,” said Mr. Sikes, who, if anything, -was weaker than she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ve sent for the police and for my men,” went -on Mr. Link. “And they’re telephoning for the sheriff -and coroner and everybody else. Why, the news must -be all over town by this time. Look at the automobiles -rushing down that way—and people running on foot—and—oh, -my Lord, Joe! If it should turn out to be -Ollie it will—it will look mighty bad for Oliver October.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes was thoughtful. “Did you get a good look -at it, Silas?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t you recognize Ollie’s Adam’s apple if you -saw it—dead or alive?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not if it had been dead as long as this one has. -Your Adam’s apple ain’t a bone, Joe. It’s a cartilage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A cartridge?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess we’d better tell Oliver,” said Mrs. Grimes -briskly. She had, as usual, risen to the occasion.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='294' id='Page_294'></span><h1>CHAPTER XXIII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE BREWING OF THE STORM</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The news spread like wildfire. Before nightfall -every one in Rumley knew that the body of old -Oliver Baxter had been found and that he had -been foully murdered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With darkness came the inevitable gathering of excited, -bewildered people in the downtown streets. Groups of -men, conversing in lowered, guttural voices, discussed the -astounding and unexpected discovery. Women and children -hung about the edges of these groups, or hurried -from one to the other, drinking in the varied comments -and opinions. They listened to men putting two and two -together; they heard them connect seemingly unimportant -details and weld them into convincing facts—for -on all sides men were recalling once vague impressions -and giving them now the value of convictions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were talking of Oliver October’s muddy shoes, -of his strange behavior on the Lansing porch, of his unwillingness -to allow the ditchers to go beyond a certain -point in the swamp, of the rumor that Pete Hines had -heard the violent quarrel between father and son, of the -notebook found in the grass on the slope leading down -into the slough, of the broken spade handle (they -scowled with the thought of a blow forcible enough to -splinter a stout hickory handle) and of the singular and -significant fact that the heavy metal portion of the spade -had never been found.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every group had its individual who professed to be -able to explain away certain of these “discrepancies.” -He had it from persons who were in a position to know, -having been present or within hearing distance when, -earlier in the evening, Oliver October had accounted to -the sheriff and his men (in the presence of his lawyer) -for some of the suspicious features of the case. These -peregrinating individuals—assuming no responsibility -and by no means vouching for Oliver’s veracity—informed -their dubious hearers that Oliver remembered -stepping into a puddle of mud and water back of Josiah -Smith’s house, said puddle having been created by Josiah’s -street sprinkling wagon which always occupied the -same spot between sunset and daybreak and invariably -leaked all over the unpaved alley (a claim substantiated -by the town sprinkler, himself, who admitted that -he left his wagon out there every night and that it did -leak dreadfully up to the time he had it repaired, but -who also said he was not to blame if people preferred to -walk up an alley instead of on the sidewalk). And -Oliver had a very good reason for stopping the ditchers -where he did: he had inspected the slough out beyond -and was convinced, as an expert, that it could only be -reclaimed at a far greater cost than the land was worth -or ever would be worth. Moreover, the son of old man -Baxter unhesitatingly and emphatically had declared that -it wasn’t his father’s body at all, and refused point blank -to have anything to do with it. The word passed up and -down Clay Street that three doctors, including young -Doc Lansing, had examined the corpus delicti and pronounced -it to be that of a man in his seventies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then came the startling rumor that old man Baxter -had gone to his safety deposit box in the vaults of -the bank three days before his disappearance and had removed -five one thousand dollar Liberty bonds! Rumor, -pure and simple, yet accepted as fact by those who -roamed the streets. The old man’s life insurance policy -was discussed; and there was a story that he had openly -threatened to make a new will, disinheriting his son. A -grave, unanswered question, too, had to do with the money -so lavishly spent by young Oliver—several thousand dollars -in cash. Where had it come from? His father had -called him a loafer, had charged him with coming back -to Rumley to be supported in idleness. If Oliver had -come home from the war “dead broke,” how was it that -he had acquired several thousand dollars in cash? Thirty-five -hundred dollars in banknotes—the whole town -knew that the hardware merchant had drawn that amount -from the bank—and five Liberty bonds that could be -readily turned into money. Eighty-five hundred dollars! -Simple as rolling off a log! Ha! There wasn’t much -doubt as to where and how Oliver got his ready cash! -But to split his own father’s head open with a spade, and -throw him into a supposedly bottomless pit, and burn his -clothes!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For now all those who thronged the streets were saying -that Oliver October had murdered his father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Across the street from the Baxter Block, where Link’s -Undertaking Establishment was located, a morbid, motionless -crowd eyed the doors guarded by two policemen. -A single electric bulb at the rear of the main reception -room shed a feeble and rather ghastly light over the dim -interior. Every one knew that back of the reception -room was the stock-room, lined with caskets standing on -end behind glass doors, and beyond that was the workroom -where a grim and awful thing was lying—alone!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The street leading to the Baxter residence was alive -with people—curious, silent, awe-struck men and women -who stared intently at the windows of the house and wondered -what was going on behind the yellow shades. The -slow, solemn shuffle of aimless feet, passing, pausing and -repassing the house on the knoll, began early in the evening -and seemed endless. Automobiles filled with people -moved slowly along the highway skirting the dark, terrifying -swamp—all eyes turned toward the loathesome -tract as if expecting to glimpse some ghostly reënactment -of the afternoon’s scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Inside the brightly lighted house a small company was -assembled. It was not a cheerful company, nor yet a -gloomy one. Acting on the advice of the delegation from -Republican headquarters, Oliver reluctantly had canceled -an engagement to address a mass meeting at the county -seat. While no actual charge had been made against him, -there was small reason to doubt that the grand jury, then -in session, would bring in an indictment against him, perhaps -on the morrow. The coroner, who now had charge -of the body—or skeleton—had announced that he would -hold an inquest on the following day. The sheriff had -returned to the county seat after cautioning Oliver to -keep his head and await developments.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It looks pretty bad for you, Baxter,” he had said at -the end of a long interview, “but there’s only one thing -for you to do. People don’t want to believe you killed -your father, and that’s a big advantage. So it’s up to you -to stand your ground and face whatever comes. Don’t -talk. Keep your trap closed. I called your uncle up on the -telephone just before I came here this evening. He is -coming over to-morrow morning to see if he can identify -the body. Of course he can’t. You seem to be dead sure -that it isn’t your father. So is Mr. Sikes and Undertaker -Link. You all claim that your father was shorter by -several inches and had lost several of his teeth. But -your lawyer will look after all these points. Just sit -tight, Baxter, and keep cool. Don’t leave town. Understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The company in Oliver’s sitting-room included the redoubtable -and venerable Messrs. Sikes and Link, Judge -Shortridge, Mr. and Mrs. Sage and Jane, Dr. Lansing -and Mrs. Grimes. Sammy Parr was expected. He was -to bring in the news of the streets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver, a trifle pale but with a stubborn frown on his -brow, listened calmly to the animated conversation that -went on about him. He sat beside Jane on the sofa in -the corner of the room. From time to time Mr. Sikes got -up—with many a groan—and poked the blazing logs in -the fireplace. He too was frowning. Mr. Link was cheerful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If the worst comes, Bill,” said the latter, repeating -himself for perhaps the third time, “we can certainly -prove that there is insanity in the family. There’s his -uncle, old Horace Gooch. He’s as crazy as a loon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was addressed familiarly to Judge William Shortridge, -one time Justice of the Peace and now the Baxter -lawyer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sikes snorted. “Only by marriage, only by marriage,” -he growled. “Insanity by marriage is no defense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to know,” put in Mrs. Sage, “what possible -motive Oliver could have had for killing his father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver has not been accused of killing his father, -Madam,” Judge Shortridge reminded her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But if he <span class='it'>did</span> kill him,” announced Mr. Link earnestly—“now, -mind you, I’m not even hinting that he did—but, -the thing is, if he <span class='it'>did</span> do it, why, we can prove -that he had the best motive in the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In God’s name,” gasped the Judge, startled out of his -judicial composure, “what are you saying, Link? What -motive could he have—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The best motive in the world, I claim,” said Mr. Link -emphatically. “Insanity!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you know that insanity is not a motive?” -snapped the Judge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As for Pete Hines saying he heard Oliver and his -father quarreling that night,” said Mrs. Grimes, who -had been silent for a long time, “I wouldn’t believe him -on oath. If I was to meet him on the street and he was -to say it was a nice, bright, sunshiny day, I’d hurry home -and take off my rain-soaked clothes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Help yourself to another cigar, Judge,” said Oliver -from the sofa.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Any objections, ladies?” In turn, each lady shook -her head. “I was about to say, my friends” (with a -fixed stare at Mr. Link), “that in case the grand jury -finds a true bill against Oliver, I consider myself, as his -counsel, quite capable of deciding what kind of a defense -we shall put up—and it will not be insanity, Silas Link.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what <span class='it'>will</span> it be?” demanded Mr. Link.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience,” returned Judge Shortridge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s no defense,” protested the undertaker. “Whoever -heard of a man being acquitted of murder on the -grounds of patience?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will it make it any clearer to you if I state that all -we have to do is to be patient while the State is trying to -prove this absolutely unknown and absolutely unidentified -carcass is that of Oliver Baxter? We’ll make ’em -prove that it is his skeleton. We’ll make ’em prove to -the day just how long it has been out there in the swamp. -We’ll be able to prove that Oliver October had in the -neighborhood of fifteen thousand dollars on deposit in a -Chicago bank and that he spent a lot of it hunting for -his father. And, as I said before, we’ll make ’em prove -that Oliver Baxter is dead. They’ll have a hell of a time—er—a -very difficult time proving that our old friend is -dead. For all we know—or anybody else knows—that -body may have been out there for ten or fifteen years. -Doc Lansing here says it’s possible, and Doctor Robinson -the same thing. They can’t, to save their lives, produce -a medical expert who will swear positively it was out -there only a year and four months. Isn’t that a fact, -Doc?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” replied young Lansing. “The processes of disintegration -are so—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And this skeleton is said to be that of a fairly tall -man,” said Mr. Sage, “whereas I should unhesitatingly -say that Brother Baxter was not more than five feet six.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must not overlook the fact,” said Lansing, pursing -his lips, “that old age may have caused Mr. Baxter’s -frame to shrink somewhat from its original stature—er—ah—we -all know that he was considerably bent and -shriveled and that he was decidedly—er—bow-legged. -Now the bone structure of a human being more or less -assumes deceptive proportions after—er—the confining -tissue, the cartilages and so forth have—ah—we will say -disintegrated—permitting the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ollie was never more than five foot six or seven,” interrupted -Mr. Sikes impatiently. “In his stocking feet. -Now, as I said before, if I was sure it is Ollie’s corpus -delicti they have got and if it could be proved to me that -he was murdered by that boy setting over there in the -corner, I would be one of the first men to head a mob -to string him up to the limb of a tree.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glared around the room as if challenging any one -present—including Oliver—to question his right to do -just what he said he would do—if!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But nobody paid any attention to him. They had -heard him say it before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see how you can be so unmoved, so calm, -Oliver dear,” whispered Jane in her lover’s ear. “Just -think what they are talking about—and as if you were -not here at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stroked her hand. “I’ve been thinking of something -else, Jane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of me, I suppose, and the silly notion you have of -releasing me from my promise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I <span class='it'>do</span> release you, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I refuse to release <span class='it'>you</span>—so that’s that, as mother says. -I am ready and willing to have father marry us to-night, -Oliver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will have to wait, dear,” he said, rather wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Meggs appeared at the sitting-room door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the third time the telephone has rung, Oliver,” -she announced. “Hadn’t I better answer it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook his head. “No, Lizzie. Let ’em ring. It’s -probably the newspapers—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d better let her answer, Oliver,” broke in Mrs. -Grimes anxiously. “It may be some of your friends calling -up to sympathize—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All my real friends are here, Aunt Serepta—except -Sammy. We can’t be answering the telephone all night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This last one sounded like long distance, Oliver,” said -Lizzie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How does long distance sound, Lizzie?” he asked, -with a smile. “Never mind. You needn’t answer. Let -’em ring. Orders is orders. I told you half an hour ago -not to take that receiver off the hook.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grimes followed the servant out of the room, closing -the hall door after her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How many times, Lizzie Meggs, do I have to tell you -not to call Mr. Baxter Oliver when there’s company -here?” she said sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t help it. He’d drop dead if I called him Mr. -Baxter. We’ve called each other by our first names ever -since we were kids in school together. Say, how would it -sound if he was to begin calling me Miss Meggs? It’s -the same thing, isn’t it? We went to high-school together -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now don’t be saucy, Lizzie. I admit it’s nicer to be -democratic and all that but it’s not proper, and you know -it. I don’t know what we’re coming to. That young -fellow that comes up here to see you calls me Serepty -and then he turns around and calls you Miss Meggs. I -don’t see—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has known me only a few weeks and he’s known -you all his life,” retorted Lizzie stiffly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The front door opened suddenly and in walked Sammy -Parr. Both women uttered a startled exclamation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Excuse haste,” he said, tossing his hat and gloves on -a chair. “I’m back. Say, gee whiz, everybody in town -is out on Clay Street, Aunt Serepty. Lots of them down -this way, strolling past—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are people saying, Sammy?” she broke in, -grasping his arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he began, after a moment’s hesitation, “there’s -a good deal of talk—but let’s go in where the others -are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Meggs followed them into the sitting-room, nervously -twisting her hard and capable fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Much excitement downtown, Sammy?” inquired -Oliver, arising.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The streets are crowded. Not much excitement, however. -Everybody seems to be sort of knocked silly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are they saying?” demanded Judge Shortridge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I hate to tell you, but as far as I can make out, -Judge, there seems to be a general feeling that—that -Oliver did it,” said Sammy, wiping his moist forehead -with the back of a hand that shook slightly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Snap judgment,” said the lawyer, after silence had -reigned for a few seconds. “That is always the way with -the ignorant and uninformed. Nothing to worry about, -Oliver. They will be on your side to-morrow when they -understand the situation a little better. It’s always the -way with a crowd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Josephine Sage spread her hands in a gesture of contempt. -“ ‘What fools these mortals be,’ ” she declaimed -theatrically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But we cannot ignore public opinion,” cried Jane -miserably. “It is hard to fight public opinion. Oh, -Oliver, I am so—so worried.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you worry, Janie,” he said softly, putting his -arm about her. “Nothing will come of all this. We will -sweep away every suspicion—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Public opinion changes over night,” said Mr. Sage. -“The light of understanding—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The public!” broke in his wife scornfully. “What is -the public? I can tell you, my friends. It is the most -fickle thing in all this world. No matter how long, how -faithfully you serve the public, it turns upon you in time, -like the adder, and stings you to death. It feeds you with -praise, it fattens you with applause, it clothes you in garments -of gold, and then it strips you clean and leaves you -to starve. It turns its back on you and fattens another -favorite. You can’t tell me anything about the blooming -public. I know it to the core, and I am jolly well fed up -with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bravo!” cried the Judge. “And let me add, Miss -Judge, it’s easy to put a ring through the public nose -and lead it around in circles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but the thing is,” broke in Mr. Link, “they’re -accusing Oliver of murder. If they make up their minds -he’s guilty—well, it’ll take a lot of evidence to convince -’em he ain’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear man,” said Mrs. Sage, “I was the defendant -in the most celebrated murder trial ever known in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul, Josephine!” gasped her husband, -startled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I was sentenced to be hanged by the neck till -dead,” she finished in tragic tones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mercy!” cried Mrs. Grimes weakly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear wife, have you gone stark, staring mad?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit of it. Would you like to know how I got -out of it in the end? I was able to show that my beast -of a husband committed the murder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul!” again fell from the lips of the poor -minister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The magistrate was such a bally ass. He brayed all -through my best scene during an uninterrupted run of -forty weeks—and there was nothing I could do about it. -You see he was an actor-manager and there is nothing in -heaven or on earth that can keep an actor-manager from -hogging—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God!” murmured Mr. Sage, mopping his brow. -“It was in a play?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, my dear,” said she patiently. “I wore this -very dress in the trial scene.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was after eleven o’clock when Oliver’s friends departed. -He stood on the porch and watched them drive -off in the two automobiles. A few persons had stopped -at the bottom of the drive to see who were in the cars. -The flaring head-lights fell upon white, indistinct faces -and then almost instantly left them in pitch darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you had let Mr. Sage marry you and Jane to-night, -Oliver,” said Mrs. Grimes, at his side on the top -step. “You have the license and everything, and it could -all have been over in a few minutes. And Jane begged -you so hard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t do it, Aunt Serepta,” he said dejectedly. -“I don’t know what is ahead of me. I may be in jail -before I’m a day older.” He gave her a wry, bitter smile -as he put his arm over her shoulder and walked beside her -into the house. “Pleasant thought, isn’t it, old dear?—as -the celebrated Miss Judge would say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Clay Street was almost deserted as Lansing and Sammy -Parr drove through it after leaving the Baxter place. -The Sages were in the former’s car. In front of the hotel -Sammy, who was some distance ahead and who had -dropped the two old men at Silas Link’s home, slowed -down and waited for Lansing to draw alongside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Doc, it seems queer to me that there’s practically -nobody in the streets,” he said. “An hour ago you -couldn’t have got through here without blowing the horn -every ten feet. Women and children all over the place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s after eleven, Sammy. I daresay the thrill has -worn off and everybody’s gone home to bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rumley is not an all night town,” remarked Mrs. Sage -from the back seat. “It used to go to bed <span class='it'>en masse</span> at -nine o’clock. I daresay the movies keep them up later -than prayer-meeting did in the old days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t mind saying to you all that there was a lot of -ugly talk earlier in the evening,” said Sammy uneasily. -“A lot of nasty talk. I didn’t tell Oliver, but I heard -more than one man say he ought to be strung up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Sammy, do you think—” began Jane, in a sudden -agony of alarm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense!” cried the minister, instantly sensing her -fear. “Such things don’t happen in these days and in -this part of the country. The people will let the law -take its course. Have no fear on that score.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, anyhow, it looks mighty queer to me,” said -Sammy, tactlessly shaking his head. “I don’t like this -awful stillness. It isn’t like this even on ordinary nights.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jane clutched Lansing’s arm and shook it violently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doctor Lansing,” she cried, “we must return to -Oliver’s house immediately. He will have to come over -to our house—Better still, Sammy, you must drive him -up to the city. To-night. At once. I am frightened. -Something terrible is afoot. I know it. I feel it. It is -so still. Look! Why aren’t the street lamps in Maple -Avenue lighted? It is as dark as—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By jingo, Lansing!” exclaimed Sammy, starting up -from his seat to peer over the windshield. “See that? -Men running across Maple Avenue. ’Way up yonder -where that arc light is at Fiddler Street. Three or four -men. Didn’t you see them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must beat it back to Oliver’s,” half shouted -Lansing, excitedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take the women home first,” ordered Sammy, “and -then come back. I’ll go on ahead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait!” commanded Mr. Sage. “Drive on up Maple, -Sammy. Follow those men. See what they are up to. -They are headed for the swamp road. Lansing and I will -follow you in a jiffy. Drive like the devil!” he shouted -in ringing tones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, no!” screamed Jane. “The other way! To -Oliver’s! I will not go home. I am going to him! Turn -around—turn around! Do you hear me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where in God’s name are the police?” cried Josephine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can’t take you back there,” cried Lansing. “Hell -may be to pay. It’s no place for women, Jane. Sit still! -I’ll have you home in two minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will jump out! I swear to heaven I will,” she cried -shrilly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Turn back!” commanded Jane’s mother. “I am not -afraid of them. Jane is not afraid. We cannot desert -Oliver if he is in danger. Please God he may not be. -Turn back, I say!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes!” cried the minister. “We must go to Oliver—all -of us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two cars made reckless turns in the narrow street -and were off like the wind.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='308' id='Page_308'></span><h1>CHAPTER XXIV</h1></div> - -<h3>THE HANGING</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The mob, grim, silent and determined, advanced -upon the house from the upper reaches of the -swamp, a swaying, unwieldy mass that surged -up the slope and thinned into a compact, snake-like -column in the narrow road. Since ten o’clock men by -twos and threes and fours had been making their way -through back streets and lanes to an appointed spot an -eighth of a mile east of the Baxter home, the tree-bordered -swale that marked the extreme northern end of the -slough. There were no lights, and none spoke save in -cautious whispers, nor was there one in all the grim three -hundred who did not tremble under the strain of suppressed -excitement—as the dog trembles when he is held -in leash with the scent of the quarry in his quivering -nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Scouts, creeping up to the house, had witnessed the departure -of Oliver’s guests. Like swift, scarcely visible -shadows they sped back through the darkness of the -swamp road with their report. Whispers swelled into -hoarse, guttural mutterings as the mob, headed by its set-faced, -scowling leaders, left the swale and started on its -deadly march. Followed the shuffle of a multitude of -feet through dry grass and over the loose surface of the -dirt road; the harsh breathing of hundreds of throats -through tense nostrils or open, sag-lipped mouths; the -swish and rustle of dead leaves; in all, the hushed thunder -of men in motion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The leaders—two men from the hardware store of -Oliver Baxter!—strode out in front, crowded close by -the swift-moving horde that from time to time almost -overran them in its eagerness to have the dirty business -over with. There were guns and axes and sledge-hammers -in the hands of men at the head of the column.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sight of the lighted upstairs windows threw the mob -into a frenzy. They had come to kill and their prey was -up there behind a thin barricade of glass and parchment-colored -linen! And they were near three hundred -strong! A few scattered ill-timed shouts, were checked -by a mighty, sibilant hiss that swept through the -crowd; those who had ignored strict orders fell back -into pinched silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Quickly the house was surrounded. No avenue of -escape was left unguarded. A small, detached group advanced -toward the porch, above the roof of which were -lights in the windows of what every one knew to be young -Oliver Baxter’s bedroom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A loud voice called out:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oliver Baxter!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hush of death settled upon the crowd. Even the -breathing seemed to have ceased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A window shade flew up in one of the windows and the -figure of a man stood fully revealed. He stooped, his -face close to the pane as he peered intently out into the -blackness below. Shading his eyes with one hand, he -continued his search of the night. He was without coat -or vest; his white shirt was open at the throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man in the crowd below took a fresh grip on the rope -he carried in his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the loud, firm voice:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come out! We want to see you, Oliver Baxter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver raised the window and leaned out. “Who is it? -What do you want?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are your father’s friends,” came the reply. -“That’s all you need to know. Come out!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you got down there? A mob? I’ll see -you in hell before I’ll come out! If you’re after me, -you’ll have to come and get me. But I warn you! I’ve -got a gun up here and, so help me God, I’ll shoot to kill. -I’m not afraid of you. Wait till to-morrow, men. You -will be glad if you do. It is not my father’s body they -found. It will be proved to you. Go home, for God’s -sake, and don’t attempt to do this thing you are—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A deep growl rose from a hundred throats, stilled almost -instantly as the clear voice of the leader rang out -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will give you one minute to come out. If you -are not out here on the porch by that time we’ll smash -your damned doors in and we’ll drag you out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver glanced over his shoulder. Mrs. Grimes and -Lizzie, with blanched faces, had come to his bedroom -door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Telephone for the police, Lizzie,” he cried out sharply. -“No! Wait! Get out of the house yourselves. Don’t -think of me. You mustn’t be here if that mob breaks in -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not finish the sentence. In the middle of it he -uttered a shout of alarm and sprang toward the bureau on -the opposite side of the room. There was a rush of footsteps -in the hall, then the two women were flung aside -and into the room leaped three, four, half a dozen men. -As Lizzie fell back against the wall, she shrieked:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The back door! I forgot to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver knocked the first man sprawling, but the others -were upon him like an avalanche.... As they led him, -now unresisting, from the room his wild, beaten gaze fell -upon the huddled form of Serepta Grimes lying inert in -the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For God’s sake, be decent enough to look after her,” -he panted. “Don’t leave her lying—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The crash of splintering blows upon the outer door, -the jangle of shattered glass, the suddenly released howls -of human hounds—pandemonium so devilish that Oliver’s -fearless heart quailed and he began to cry for mercy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t kill me like this! Don’t! Don’t! Give -me a chance! Let me speak! Oh, my God!” Then -rage succeeded terror. “Let go of me, you dirty dogs! -Let go of me, Charlie! Steve! God damn your souls to -hell—give me a chance!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They dragged him down the stairs. The front door -gave way as they neared the bottom and over the wreckage -stumbled men with sledges, grunting, snarling men -whose teeth showed between stretched, drawn lips, and -who stopped short at sight of those descending.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve got him,” shouted one of his captors. “Make -way! Let us through!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no light in the hall, only that from the open -bedroom door above. Some one below flashed an electric -torch on the face of the captive. It was ghastly white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s him, all right,” cried several voices. “Open up! -We’ve got him! Make way out there!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Out of the house and down into the yard they hurried -him. There they paused long enough to tie his hands -securely behind his back. An awed silence had fallen -upon the crowd—the shouts ceased, curses died on men’s -lips. They had him! Tragedy was at hand. More than -one heart quaked in the presence of it, and more than -one stomach turned in revolt. It was grim business that -lay ahead of them and they were good citizens!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No lights!” shouted a loud-voiced man. “Come on! -Hustle up! Let’s get it over with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver strained at his bonds. His chest heaved, his -throat swelled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In Christ’s name, men—what are you going to do with -me?” he cried out in a strange, piercing voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shut up!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are making a horrible mistake,” cried the captive, -as he stumbled along between the men who held his -arms. “You are committing the most horrible—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something fell upon his head, scraped down over his -face. He stifled a scream. He felt the slack noose -tighten about his bare throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn you all to hell,” he raged, sinking his heels in -the earth and holding back with all his might. “You -beasts! You damned fools! Let go of me! Let me -speak! Isn’t there a sensible man among you? Are -you all—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was shoved forward, protesting shrilly, impatiently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had picked the spot: the place where father and -son parted on that distant night. And the tree: the sturdy -old oak whose limbs overhung the road. They had -picked the limb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no delay.... The stout rope was thrown -over the limb, the noose was drawn close about his neck -by cold, nervous fingers.... A prayer was strangled on -his writhing lips. Strong hands hauled at the rope. He -swung in the air....</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great white flare of light burst upon the grewsome -spectacle—the roar of a charging monster—the din of -shrieking klaxons—and then the piercing scream of a -woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dense mob in the road broke, fighting frantically -to get out of the path of Lansing’s car. Some were -struck and hurled screaming aside—and on came the car, -forging its way slowly but relentlessly through the struggling -mass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man standing up in the tonneau was crying in a -stentorian, far-reaching voice:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fools! Accursed fools! Ye know not what ye do! -Stop this hideous outrage! God forgive you if we are -too late! God forgive—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the woman’s scream.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is hanging! Hanging! Oh, God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up to the swaying, wriggling form shot the car, a force -irresistible guided by a man who thought not of the -human beings he might crush to death in his desire to -reach the one he sought to save.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let go of that rope!” yelled this man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Behind him came another car. Panic seized the mob. -The compact mass broke and scattered. Like sheep, men -plunged down the slope—now a frightened, safety-seeking -horde of cowards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A writhing, tortured figure lay in the middle of the -road, a loose rope swinging free from the limb. The bewildered, -startled men who had held it in their hands fell -back—uncertain, bewildered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lansing, unafraid, sprang from the car and rushed to -the prostrate form. In a second he was tugging at the -noose, cursing frightfully. No one opposed him. The -mob seemed suddenly to have become paralyzed, afflicted -by the stupor of indecision. Many were already fleeing -madly from the scene—down the road, across the slough—yellow-hearted -deserters whose only thought was to -escape the consequences of recognition. A few score, -falling back a little in stubborn disorder, stood glowering -and blinking outside the shafts of light. Men with guns -and pistols and axes they were, but cowed by the swift -realization that they dared not use them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The tall, gaunt figure in the tonneau was praying, his -hands uplifted. By his side stood a woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now a woman flung herself down beside the man with -the rope around his neck, sobbing, moaning, her arms -straining to lift his shoulders from the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A baffled roar went up from the mob. Men surged forward -and hands were laid upon the rope—too late. The -noose was off—and Sammy Parr standing over the doctor -and the distracted girl, had a revolver in his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come on!” he yelled. “Come on, you dirty cowards! -You swine! You damned Huns! Come on and get a -man-sized pill!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From all sides boomed the shouts and curses of a -quickly revived purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rush ’em!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kill the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beat their heads off!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get him! Get him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“String him up!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly a strange voice rose above the clamor. A -voice that seemed to come from nowhere and yet was -everywhere—the like of which no man there had ever -heard before. Rich, full, vibrant, it fell upon puzzled -ears and once again there was pause. The keyless chorus -of execrations ceased abruptly, as if a mighty hand were -clapped upon a hundred mouths.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All eyes were upon the owner of this wondrous, clarion -voice. A startling figure she was, standing erect upon the -front seat of Lansing’s car. Magically tall and mysterious -as she towered above and out of the path of light -thrown by the car behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Men of Rumley! Hold! Hold, I command you! Is -there one among you who has not heard of the gypsy’s -prophecy of thirty years ago? Let him speak who will, -and let him speak for all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A score of voices answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye!” she went on. “You all have heard it. It is as -familiar to you, old and young, as the story of the Crucifixion. -There are old men among you. Men who were -here when that truthful prophecy was uttered thirty years -ago. You old men heard of the gypsy’s prophecy within -twenty-four hours after it was spoken in the house you -have ravished to-night. You heard it word for word, -faithfully repeated by men and women who were present -and who have never forgotten what she said. I ask one -of you—any one of you—to stand forth and tell the rest -of this craven mob what the gypsy fortune-teller said on -that wild and stormy night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two or three men stepped forward as if fascinated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She said the baby son of Oliver Baxter would be hung -for murder before he was thirty years old,” bawled one -of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He killed his father. He ought to be hung. The -gypsy was right,” shouted another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what else did she say?” rang out the voice of -Josephine Judge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, a lot of things that don’t matter now,” yelled a -man back in the crowd. “Get busy, boys. We can’t—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stop! Wait, and I will tell you what she said. She -said one thing that all of you old men ought to remember. -It was the most important thing of all, the most -horrible. I was there. This man of God, my husband, -was there. Other honest people, friends of yours, were -there. They heard her words and they repeated them to -you the next day. Silence! Listen to me, varlets! You -believe she spoke the truth when she uttered that prophecy? -Answer!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes!” came from a hundred throats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, in God’s name, <span class='sc'>why are you murdering -oliver october baxter?</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We gave him a fair trial,” answered one of the leaders. -“We know all the facts. He is guilty of killing his -father. We don’t need any more proof—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you one of the men who heard the story thirty -years ago?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I am—and I heard it straight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you must know that this poor boy was adjudged -innocent of this crime on the day he was born,” -fell slowly, distinctly from the lips of Josephine. “I will -repeat the words of the gypsy woman. She said: ‘He -will not commit a murder. He will be hanged for a -crime he did not commit.’ Speak! Are not those the -words of the gypsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Absolute silence ensued. It was as if the crowd had -turned to stone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so,” she cried, leveling her finger at the men in -the front rank, “you have done your part toward making -the prophecy come true. You have hung Oliver October -Baxter in spite of the fact that you were told thirty years -ago that he would be innocent. It has all come out as the -fortune-teller said it would. She read his future in the -stars. She read it all from his own star—and, look ye, -fools of Rumley, in yonder black dome a single star is -shining. See! With your own blind eyes—see!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lifted a hand and pointed majestically. Every -eye followed the direction indicated by that dramatic -forefinger. A star gleamed brightly in the southern sky, -a single star in a desert of black.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is the star of Oliver October Baxter. He was -born under that star and, God help us all, I fear he has -died beneath it. Out of all the great and endless firmament, -that one star reveals itself to-night. Slink home, -assassins! Murderers all! May the curse of that shining -star fall upon ye—now, henceforth and forever! May -ye never escape from the light of that great accusing eye, -looking down upon you from Heaven! Slink home to -your wives and children and tell them what ye have done -this night!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the mob stood rooted to the ground. A sudden -shout went up from those in the front rank—a strange -shout of relief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver October was struggling to his feet, assisted by -Jane and Lansing. His arms, released from their bonds, -were thrown across their shoulders, his chin was high, he -was coughing violently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s all right!” yelled a man, and started eagerly -forward only to fall back as Jane Sage held up her hand -and screamed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep away! You will have to kill me before you -can touch him again, you beasts!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aw, I only want to help get him into the car—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stand back!” commanded Lansing. “We don’t need -your help.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three or four eager voices cried out shakily and in -unison:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take him to a doctor’s!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a tenser silence than before fell over the scene, -for Jane was crying:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you all right, Oliver? Can you speak? What -is it, dearest? What are you trying to say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t try to speak yet, Baxter,” cautioned Lansing. -“Plenty of time. You’re all right. You’ll be yourself in -a few minutes. Thank God, we got here when we did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep quiet!” ordered a voice in the mob. “He wants -to say something. He’s alive, and he wants to say something. -Sh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drop that rope!” roared Sammy as one of the crowd -left the circle and hastily reached for the rope. The fellow -leaped back as if stung.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was only meanin’ to take it back to Ollie’s store,” -he whined. “It belongs to him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take him to a doctor’s!” roared a dozen anxious -men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Clear the road!” roared others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Slink back into the foul fastnesses of yon accursed -swamp,” rang out the voice of the great Josephine Judge. -They got Oliver into the forward car, where he huddled -down between Jane and her mother. They heard him -whisper hoarsely, jerkily:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind about me—I’m—all right. They won’t -try—it again. Look after Aunt—Serepta first. She’s -hurt. They left her—lying up—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t worry, old top,” cried Sammy eagerly. “I’ll -go back and look out for her. You go along with Doc. -He’ll fix you up. All you need is a good stiff—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Clear the road!” roared a score of voices as Lansing’s -car moved slowly forward, and off the sides, down the -slope and up the bank, slunk the obedient lynchers. -Down through the lane of men who carefully shielded -their faces from the glare of the head-lights, Lansing’s -car advanced. It picked up speed and soon the little -red tail-light was lost to sight. Having watched it until -it disappeared, the mob, as one man, turned its anxious -eyes heavenward—not in supplication but for a somewhat -surreptitious look at Oliver’s shining star. They stared -open-mouthed. A miracle had happened. The sky was -full of merry, twinkling little stars—and more, like fairies, -came out to play and dance even as the watchers below -gazed up in wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two men slouched side-by-side behind all the others -as the once bloodthirsty horde bore off swiftly, apprehensively, -but still dubiously through the night which now -seemed to mock them with its silence. One of these men -said to the other:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve worked in that store for twenty-two years. -Where the dickens do you suppose I’ll find another job -at my age?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t need one,” said the other gloomily, “if my -prophecy comes true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your prophecy? What are you talking about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I prophesy we’ll all be in jail for this night’s work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A long silence. “Well,” said the other, “old man Sikes -and Silas Link can rest in peace from now on. He’s -been hung.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yep. He’s out of all his troubles and ours are just -beginning. I guess it must have been a lucky star he was -born under.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An hour later Sammy Parr expressed himself somewhat -irrelevantly in the parsonage sitting-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, Miss Judge, you were great. I never heard anything -like that speech of yours. And your voice—why, -it gave me the queerest kind of shivers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Josephine was pacing the floor, her fine brow knitted -in thought. She was muttering to herself. Oliver, lying on -a couch, smiled up into Jane’s lovely eyes. She sat beside -him, holding his hand in both of hers. Serepta Grimes, -having stubbornly refused to go to bed, sat in a morris -chair across the room and, perhaps for the first time in -her long life, was being forced to accept her own medicine -at the hands of a suddenly important Samaritan in the -person of Lizzie Meggs, who, without rime or reason, -had been plying her with aromatic spirits of ammonia for -the better part of an hour, reserving to herself the diminishing -contents of a silver hip-flask produced by the efficient -Mr. Parr. The Reverend Mr. Sage stood apart -with Dr. Lansing, deep in a low-voiced argument as to -whether God or man, Providence or science, had saved -the life of Oliver October. In the crook of the parson’s -arm snuggled Henry the Eighth, who, between intermittent -fits of dozing, licked the hand that had spanked devotion -into him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Judge paused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was rather good, wasn’t it?” she observed. “I am -trying to fix that speech in my mind. I shall have a play -written around it. I know the very man who can do it. -He has been eager to write a play for me. I shall telegraph -him to-morrow to come to Rumley at once. In -my mind’s eye I can visualize that remarkable scene, I -can—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Josephine!” cried Mr. Sage, aghast. “You are not -thinking of going back—going back—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She held up her hand. “Not to London, old thing—not -to London. It is possible I may consent to make a -farewell tour of America. Sarah Bernhardt, Ellen Terry—why -not I? My own company—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this juncture, Oliver sat up and claimed the audience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sammy,” he cried out thickly but with the ring of enthusiasm -in his voice, “do me a favor, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” cried Sammy, springing to his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stand up with me. I’m going to be married. I’ve -been best man for you twice—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great!” cried Sammy. “I’ll not only stand up with -you, old boy, but I’ll let you lean on me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now?” gasped Serepta Grimes, in great agitation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At once,” declared Oliver, struggling to his feet. “I -came near to losing her to-night. I’ll take no more -chances.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—now!” cried Jane softly, and for the first time -that night the color came back to her cheeks.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='322' id='Page_322'></span><h1>CHAPTER XXV</h1></div> - -<h3>MR. GOOCH SEES THINGS AT NIGHT</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Horace Gooch was going to bed. He had had -a hard day, and it was nine o’clock. He had a -notion he was not likely to sleep very well. The -sheriff of the county had telephoned earlier in the evening—in -fact, he was at supper—that a body had been -found in one of the marsh pools. The news rather took -his appetite away. He had a weak and treacherous -stomach to begin with, and the mere thought of going over -to Rumley in the morning to see if he could identify the -grewsome object caused him to suddenly realize that he -had a much weaker stomach than he had ever suspected -before. He had, besides, an absurd notion that he was -going to be haunted all night long by the ghastly remains -of his brother-in-law.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While he always had contended that Oliver Baxter did -not have much of a head to speak of, the fact that it had -been split wide open with an ax or something of the -sort was very likely to cause him to see things even with -his eyes closed and the bedroom in pitch darkness. He -decided to leave the light burning in his room, and then, -after further deliberation, concluded, that as long as it -had to be lit anyway it would be a very sensible thing on -his part if he were to put in the time reading instead of -wasting electricity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch slept in a night-shirt. He didn’t believe in -new-fangled things. He was a plain man. No frills for -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The windows of his bedroom looked out on to an extensive -lawn, formerly a rather pretentious and well-kept -half-acre but now unkempt, weedy and in a state of dire -neglect. Mr. Gooch had cunningly allowed his yard to -fall into a sort of groveling, imploring decrepitude, indicative -of poverty rather than parsimony. He wanted -the voters to understand that he was by no means as rich -as the unprincipled opposition said he was. He regarded -it as a very telling piece of political strategy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before retiring to the large four-poster bed—which, -now that he was a widower, seemed needlessly commodious -and would have been disposed of long ago but for a -thrifty far-sightedness that took into consideration the -possibility that he might get married again—before retiring, -he peeped out between the window curtains to see -whether the arc light was burning at the street corner -above. It was, and he experienced a singular sensation -of relief. Then he put on his spectacles and got into bed. -He had a book, a well-worn copy of “David Harum,” -but he did not begin reading at once. He was thinking -of the many dark and lonely nights old Oliver Baxter -had spent in Death Swamp. It gave him a creepy feeling. -He tucked the covers a little more tightly under his -chin—but still the creepy feeling persisted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just as he was beginning to wish that they had not -found his unfortunate brother-in-law, a pleasant and -agreeable alternative presented itself and he noticed an -immediate increase of warmth in his veins. Strange that -he had not thought of it sooner. It was most consoling, -after all, this finding of the corpus delicti. If they hadn’t -found it he would have been obliged to pay all costs arising -from the search and investigation. He had agreed -to do so. But now that the “body of the crime” had been -unearthed he would be relieved of this onerous obligation. -The county would have to pay for everything. -That was understood. He smiled a little, turned the -covers down from his chin, and took up his book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey, Horace!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lay perfectly still for a few seconds, his eyes glued -to the page. An icy chill, starting in his abdomen, spread -all over him, slowly at first, then with consuming swiftness. -He bit hard on his teeth to keep them from chattering. -The voice sounded as if it were just outside his -chamber window. He waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey, Horace!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A deep groan issued through Mr. Gooch’s stiffening -lips. He shrank down into the bed and pulled the covers -up over his head. He was haunted! There was no other -voice in the world like it. He would know it among a -million. Oliver Baxter had come to haunt him! He had -a horrifying mental vision of the unforgettable figure of -his brother-in-law floating in the air just outside—this -changed instantly to an even more appalling spectacle: -old Oliver emerging from his grave in the swamp and -speeding through the black night to pay him a visit—with -his skull split wide open—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some one was knocking at the front door. Even -through the thick bed-covers he could hear the sharp -tapping—not the tapping of flesh-covered knuckles but -of bare bones!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch’s grizzled head popped out from beneath -the covers. He remembered that his bedroom door was -unlocked. Anybody—any<span class='it'>thing</span> could walk right in—He -climbed out of bed with a spryness that would have -amazed him if he had been able to devote the slightest -thought to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the voice, but this time reassuringly remote from -his window-sill. He stopped irresolute half way to the -door. If he waited long enough, he reasoned, the ghost -would go away thinking he was not at home. There was -not the slightest doubt that it was farther away now than -when it spoke the first time. Besides there was something -more or less human in this last cry from the night. -It wasn’t at all spookish. It seemed to express wrath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right! You can go to Jericho.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch went to the window. He was still shivering -and he had a queer, unpleasant notion that his hair -was wilting—a most astonishing sensation. He hesitated -a moment, then boldly drew the curtains apart. The -light from the arc light at the corner, fairly well-spent -after traversing a couple of hundred feet, was of sufficient -strength to flood the lawn with a dim radiance. A shadowy -object half way down to the gate resolved itself -into the figure of a man as Mr. Gooch gazed upon it with -bewildered, incredulous eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Horace,” came wafting up to Mr. Gooch—apparently -from this shadowy object. “That you? Say, -open up and let me in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch grasped the window frame for support.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good God!” he gulped, but in a voice so strange and -hollow that he did not recognize it as his own. In a sudden -panic he threw up the window and screeched—in an -entirely different voice but equally as unrecognizable:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go away! Leave me alone!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, don’t you know who it is? It’s me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The figure drew nearer the house. At the same time -Mr. Gooch stuck his head out of the window and bawled:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Help! For God’s sake, somebody come and chase it -away! Help!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter with you, you darned old fool!” -barked the indistinct visitor. “You’ll wake the dead, yelling -like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wake the dead!” repeated Mr. Gooch in a low, -sepulchral voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m Ollie Baxter. For goodness’ sake, Horace, don’t -tell me you’ve forgotten your only brother-in-law. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go away! You’re dead. I don’t want any dead people -coming around here to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A shrill, lively cackle came up from the murk. Mr. -Gooch clapped his hand to his forehead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!” he groaned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ain’t you going to let me in? I’m not going to ask -you again, you darned old skinflint. I hate you anyhow, -and always did—but I thought maybe after me being -away for more than a year you’d be hospitable enough -to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stop talking!” commanded Mr. Gooch. “You always -did talk too much. Now, listen to me. Are you really -alive?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Course I am. What ails you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe it. They found your body this afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t say so!” gasped the object under the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Horribly decayed,” added Mr. Gooch sternly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll be danged!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you simply <span class='it'>can’t</span> be alive. Go away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is mighty queer. Are they positive it’s me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean are they sure it’s my body?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no evidence to the contrary. Seems to be -absolutely no doubt about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well! Where did they find me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know as well as I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know anything of the kind. It’s news to me, -Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Oliver, what’s the sense of lying to me? -You know you’re dead and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, suppose I am,” broke in the other irascibly; -“that’s no reason why you should stick your head out of -a window and tell the whole town of Hopkinsville about -it. You come down here and let me in. I’ll derned soon -show you I’m not dead. What’s more, I never have been -dead. So they couldn’t have found my body.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch was now convinced. It was Oliver Baxter -and he was very much alive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what do you want?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to come in and spend the night with you, -that’s what I want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a good hotel up on Jackson Street,” began -Mr. Gooch, but curiosity getting the better of him he -abruptly called out for Oliver to wait till he had put on -his pants and he would come down and let him in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he hurriedly started to slip on his trousers he heard -his brother-in-law whistling a strange and jaunty melody -out in the yard. He never had heard anything like it -before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sudden, desolating thought struck him as he sat on -the edge of the bed. His trousers were but half on when -the shock came. He knew not how long he sat there, -powerless and inactive, staring at nothing. A shout from -outside aroused him. He groaned and then slipped the -other leg into his trousers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Calamity! His cake was dough! The return of Oliver -Baxter meant his political doom. Young Oliver, vindicated, -would be carried into office by an unprecedented -majority, riding serene and triumphant on a wave of -popularity that would sweep all opposition before it. -Somewhere back in his mind lurked a very distasteful -phrase that ended with “cocked hat,” although he could -not quite remember the rest of it. He could and did remember -young Oliver’s campaign boast, for it was very -recent and distinct and unnecessarily public. “Skin him -alive” was the heathenish slogan.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he descended the stairs he tried to think of some -means to avert the calamity. He thought of locking his -brother-in-law in the cellar and keeping him there until -after election day. He wondered if he could persuade the -old man—for a substantial cash consideration—to remain -in seclusion or wander off again or—But, no; he -had sunk too much money already, and there was still an -additional thousand or two to be paid out for the search -and—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stopped suddenly, reeling as from a blow. The -lighted candle, held almost directly in front of his -face, witnessed a most astonishing transformation. Mr. -Gooch’s harassed visage slowly lighted up; it became almost -radiant. He hurried to the door and unbolted it -quickly, for he was now afraid that old Oliver might -have taken it into his head to disappear again!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had just remembered Oliver October’s promise to -pay him five thousand dollars in cash if he produced his -father, dead or alive! He was actually smirking as he -pressed the electric light button. The wind blew the candle -out as he threw the door open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come right in, Oliver,” he cried, quite heartily but -still with a trace of apprehension. He had not recovered -from his scare and half-expected Mr. Baxter to float past -him into the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A bent, disreputable-looking figure shuffled in, thumping -his cane on the floor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well!” exclaimed Mr. Gooch, holding the doorknob -in one hand and the candle-stick in the other—making -it obviously impossible for him to shake hands -with what might after all turn out to be a cadaver. “You—you -certainly gave me quite a scare.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He peered narrowly, intently at the weather-beaten -face of his wife’s brother. Old Oliver was looking around -the hall as if inspecting a most unfamiliar place. Mr. -Gooch, closing the door, risked a timid slap on the other’s -shoulder, and was greatly relieved to find that it was -solid. Mr. Baxter did not take kindly to this demonstration. -He winced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, don’t do that,” he said. “I’ve got rheumatism -in that shoulder. Comes from sleeping out in the open -air a good bit of the time this fall.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch stepped back, the better to survey his -brother-in-law’s person. There was every indication that -Mr. Baxter had taken the precaution to sleep in his -clothes pretty steadily all fall. They were wrinkled and -dusty and hung limply, crookedly on his graceless frame. -The coat collar was turned up and held tight to his throat -by a thick red muffler. He wore a sad-looking green -Homberg hat with a perky red feather sticking up from -the band.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take off your muffler,” said Horace, desiring indisputable -evidence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it’s there all right,” divined Mr. Baxter. “You -can feel it if you don’t believe me. It’s just as well you -didn’t offer to shake hands with me, Horace. I swore I’d -never shake hands with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come out to the kitchen,” said Gooch, scowling. “It’s -warm there, and besides you might like a cup of hot -coffee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All I want is a bed to sleep in. I haven’t slept in a -regular bed for the Lord knows how long. Thank God, -I’ll be sleeping in my own to-morrow night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He followed the puzzled Mr. Gooch to the kitchen and -at once drew a chair up to the stove.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where have you been all this time?” murmured Horace, -generously replenishing the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—traveling,” said Mr. Baxter casually. He removed -his hat and placed it on the floor beside the chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch leaned over and scrutinized the top of his -guest’s head. Then he deliberately felt of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you doing?” demanded Mr. Baxter sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—I was just wondering if—But never mind. -Now, Ollie, tell me all about yourself. We’ve been hunting -for you all over the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver’s cackle interrupted him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like chasing a flea, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “Before -we go any farther,” he went on seriously, “tell me about -my boy Oliver. How is he? Hasn’t been hung yet, has -he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not yet,” said Mr. Gooch sententiously. He placed -a chair on the opposite side of the stove and sat down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he’s in no danger now,” said Mr. Baxter. “And -what’s more, he never was in any danger of being hung. -That gypsy woman lied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I said at the time. Didn’t I tell you -what a darned fool you were?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How’s my boy, and where is he? I telephoned him -three times to-night but the doggoned system’s always -out of order. Couldn’t get any answer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s over in Rumley,” said Mr. Gooch shortly. “I -guess he’s all right. Leastwise he was up to this evening.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good. By glory, I’ll be glad to see him. I’ve -got some great news for him. Took me over a year to -get it and cost me a lot of money, but it was worth it. -My mind is at rest. Say, do you know I’ve been from -one end of this country to the other? On the go every -minute of the time. It wasn’t till about a month ago that -I run across the right band.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Band?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yep. Band. Struck ’em over in eastern Ohio. I -guess I must have tracked down seventy-five or a hundred -bands before I got the right one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gypsies,” said Mr. Baxter briefly, holding his gnarled -red hands out to the fire. “You said something about -coffee, Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch eyed him fearfully for a few moments.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Crazy as a loon,” he muttered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who? Me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no!” cried Mr. Gooch hastily. “Don’t get excited -now, Ollie. Keep calm. I’ll put the coffee pot on right -away. Just you keep quiet—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that what you were feeling my head for?” demanded -Mr. Baxter shrewdly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at all, not at all, just—affection, Ollie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Umph! Well, I’m not crazy—not on your life. -Hurry up with that coffee. Mind if I light my pipe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not. Go ahead,” urged Mr. Gooch, whose -antipathy to tobacco was so pronounced that no one ever -thought of smoking in his house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter stretched out his wrinkled legs, and filled -his pipe and lit it, all the while keeping his keen little -eyes on his brother-in-law. Mr. Gooch splashed considerable -water upon the hot stove as he filled the coffee -pot. The visitor seemed to find pleasure in exhaling -great clouds of rank-smelling smoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” he began presently; “I hunted this country -over before I found her. She remembered everything. She -even remembered you, Horace.” He cackled. “I’d hate -to tell you what she said about you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch was silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It took me nearly two weeks to get her to admit that -she lied,” went on Mr. Baxter. “And I guess she wouldn’t -have done it then if I hadn’t offered her a hundred dollars -to tell the truth. You see, Horace, it was this way. -As my boy Oliver grew up to be a man I realized that she -had lied dreadfully about one thing, so that set me to -thinking that she must have lied about others. She said -he would grow up to be the living image of his father. -Well, he didn’t. He’s a hundred per cent better looking -than I am or ever was. That’s a fact, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you talking about the gypsy who told his fortune?” -inquired Mr. Gooch, comprehending at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Queen Marguerite. Mrs. Tobias Spink in private. -One of the most interesting queens I’ve ever met, -and, by gosh, I’ve met a lot of ’em in my travels. As I -was saying, I got it into my head that if she could be wrong -about Oliver looking like me she could have been wrong -about everything else. So I made up my mind to find her -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So <span class='it'>that’s</span> what you’ve been up to, you blamed old -idiot!” exclaimed Mr. Gooch. “Sneaking away and leaving -everybody to wonder what had become of you. You -ought to be cow-hided, Oliver Baxter. All the trouble -and anxiety and worry you’ve caused me and your son -and everybody else! All the money your son spent looking -for you—to say nothing of what I’ve spent myself -lately. Why, you old—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep your shirt on, Horace,” advised Oliver blandly. -“Don’t get excited. I just had to do it. I couldn’t -stand it any longer. I would have lost my mind long -before Oliver was thirty if I had sat around waiting for -a year and more to see if he was really going to be hung. -Besides, it’s none of your business anyhow. You say -Oliver spent a lot of money trying to find me?” He put -the question eagerly, wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so did I,” snapped Mr. Gooch. “I’m not saying -Oliver spent his own money. He probably—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t care whose money he spent,” cried Mr. Baxter -joyously. “I’ll pay back all that you spent, so don’t -you worry, you derned old skinflint. Every nickel of -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will?” cried Mr. Gooch. “Is that a promise?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly. And my word is as good as my bond,” -said Mr. Baxter proudly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve always said you were an absolutely honest man, -Oliver,” said Mr. Gooch ingratiatingly. “Never knew -you to go back on your word. If you say you’ll pay, I -know you will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Figure it up and let me know,” said Mr. Baxter. “I -guess my business is still prospering. I had a kind of -notion Oliver October would step in and take hold of it -in my place after I went away, so—But never mind -about that. Yes, sir, I finally got the queen to confess -that <span class='it'>everything</span> she said that night was false. She wanted -two hundred, but I wouldn’t give it. Said she was ruining -herself by confessing, and all that. Oliver ain’t going -to be hung any more than you or I. All spite work, -she says. Got mad at all of us. He’s not even going -to be a general in the army, or a great and successful -business man, or enter the halls of state, or—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Gooch quickly, hopefully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—or look exactly like me,” concluded Mr. Baxter. -“She’s going to make an affidavit to it soon as we get -to Rumley to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch started, casting an anxious look toward -the kitchen door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say, you—you don’t mean to tell me you’ve got her -with you,” he rasped. “If that’s so, I want to tell you -right now, Ollie Baxter, I won’t have you bringing any -strange women into my house. My house is a respectable—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s out at the camp,” interrupted Mr. Baxter. -“We’ve camped just south of town. I’ve been sleeping -with her father for nearly a month—on rainy nights, I -mean, when we had to get into the caravan. His name -is Wattles. Eighty years old and still the best horsetrader -in the tribe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch groaned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll fix up the sofa in the parlor for you to sleep on, -Ollie,” he said after a long and thoughtful pause. “The -bed in the spare room isn’t made up. In fact, it’s down -altogether—being repaired,” he went on lamely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got a double bed in your room, haven’t you?” -said Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s boiling at last,” evaded Mr. Gooch. “Now, -we’ll have some nice hot coffee. Like it pretty strong?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Middling,” said Mr. Baxter reproachfully. “I was -counting on sleeping in a nice, warm, soft bed to-night, -Horace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His host pondered. “I was just thinking that maybe -I could bring down a mattress from the attic, Ollie, and -fix you up in the hall just outside my bedroom door. I’ll -leave the door open. Plenty of blankets and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right, all right,” broke in Mr. Baxter, and gulped -down some of the hot coffee. “I want to get an early -start to-morrow morning, so you don’t need to mind about -giving me a breakfast. We figure on getting away a little -after sunrise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His host remonstrated. “I won’t listen to it,” he said. -“You will go over to Rumley with me in my car just -as soon as we’ve had breakfast. Your friends—I mean -the gypsies—can follow along later. Not another word, -old boy. I insist on it. You will want to see your son -as soon as possible. I have to go to Rumley in the morning -anyway.” He hesitated a moment, eyeing his guest -keenly, and then proceeded: “Although I guess it won’t -be necessary for me to look at that—Ahem! Ah—er—I -was just wondering whose body it is, since it can’t -possibly be yours. The one they found in the swamp -yesterday, I mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter checked a yawn to inquire with sudden -interest: “In the swamp, eh? Out in one of the pools? -Well, by ginger!” He started up from his chair in a -state of great excitement. “Why, it must be Tom Sharp’s -body. Of all the—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tom Sharp? Who is Tom Sharp? Besides, it isn’t a -body. It’s a skeleton, so they say—with its head split -open.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tom Sharp,” declared Mr. Baxter with conviction. -“Old Wattles told me all about it. Tom Sharp was -killed with an ax right out there on the edge of the swamp -thirty years ago. Same night the queen came to my -house. He—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t be,” broke in Mr. Gooch. “The doctors say -this fellow has been dead only a year or so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How does anybody know how long a skeleton has -been dead?” demanded Mr. Baxter severely. “Of course -it’s Tom Sharp. He got smashed over the head with an -ax that night by another gypsy whose wife he had run -away with. The husband caught up with him at Rumley, -after chasing him for months. It’s against the gypsy -law for a man to steal another man’s wife. So they never -said anything about the killing. Just took Tom Sharp -out in the swamp and—er—sort of left him. The fellow -that killed him joined the band and went back to living -with his wife, who was a girl named Magda. Maybe -you recollect her. She was up to my house that night. -Her husband died five or six years ago. His widow—Say, -Horace, if they think that body is mine, who is -supposed to have killed me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch experienced a strange and unsuspected softening -of the heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A man that used to work around your place,” said -he, after a moment’s hesitation. “He skipped out a few -weeks ago,” he added, generously enlarging upon the lie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silence fell between them. Mr. Baxter was thinking -profoundly, his brow wrinkled, his eyes fixed on one of -his bony hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just so it wasn’t—Oliver,” he said at last, swallowing -hard. He had removed the gaudy muffler. His Adam’s -apple rose and fell twice convulsively. “I’d hate to have -people think he did it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your pipe’s gone out, Ollie,” said Mr. Gooch -brusquely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can’t blame it,” sighed Mr. Baxter, yawning -again. “I’m too tired to keep it going.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Horace busied himself about the stove and at the sink -over by the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess you won’t mind my asking a question, Ollie,” -he said, turning to his brother-in-law. “Seeing that you -hate me, what put it into your head to come here to-night -and ask for lodging in my house, knowing that I -hate you as much as you do me—or more?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you see,” began Mr. Baxter, very wistfully and -yet shamefacedly, “I’ve been among strangers for so -long, Horace, and I’ve been so homesick for some of my -own folks that I—well, I sort of felt I’d like to see even -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gooch pulled at his whiskers for a long time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come to think of it, Ollie,” he said, rather loudly, -due to the discovery that the other was having great -difficulty in keeping his eyes open, “I guess I’ll have you -sleep in that big feather bed in the—er—in my second -spare room. How will that suit you? And I’ll let you -have a nice, fresh night-shirt. Come along. Better get -to bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Baxter looked at him in a sort of mild, sleepy -wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you’re not half as stingy as I thought you’d -be,” said he slowly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anybody that says I am stingy don’t know what he’s -talking about,” said Mr. Gooch magnificently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He escorted his guest up the back stairs and ushered -him into the one and only spare room the house afforded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get undressed, Ollie,” said he. “I’ll be back in a -minute with the night-shirt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He hurried off to his own room. As he opened the -door he stopped—aghast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Darn my fool hide!” he grated under his breath. “I -left that light burning and it’s been going all the time I -was downstairs.”</p> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;'>THE END</p> - -<div><h1>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Inconsistency in hyphenation has been retained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Inconsistency in accents has been retained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When nested quoting was encountered, nested double quotes were -changed to single quotes.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLIVER OCTOBER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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